Thinking about servant leadership

As a young professional, I was always slightly annoyed by the fact that a person’s age was closely related to the agreed perception about their capacity to lead.  It seemed to me that merely getting old opened the door to opportunities to be heard.  As a young woman who was constantly filled with new ideas and creative projects, I was frustrated by being constantly contained and restrained.  It is a marker of my youth that I was always racing to get through it, so I could reach the point where I was able to enact my ideas.  You could infer that I was lacking a little in the ‘presence’ department with this focus on future rather than in the moment.  Yes indeed. 

But here I am.  I turned 41 this week and I have fulfilled the assumptions of the hierarchy about the need for a link between age and leadership.  I seem to have run into it, just by being around long enough and being willing. As a result, the questions that have been distracting me since I turned 40 have been to do with leadership.  I have been studying the idea in different ways – participating in a Women in Leadership forum with colleagues from across the university, reading endless books, analyzing examples of leadership offered by friends and world leaders.  And of course, I have been talking about it incessantly with colleagues, students, family and friends. I notice that I have also been speaking to this topic in my previous blogs where I have discussed power and love, the power inherent in the use of the word ‘client’, and not least, changing the world.

What surprises me most about the experience of combining ageing and leadership is the lack of desire I have for it.  Even as I was questioning the validity of the relationship between age and power, I knew that I didn’t aspire to have power over others.  I wanted to be in relationship with power so that my ideas would have the possibility of being explored.  I wanted to be able to go to leadership and suggest things and have them heard, if not always accepted.  Over time, I came to identify as being a 2IC (second in charge), initially in small projects, and later in bigger systems.

Although my journey seems like a natural progression in retrospect, when leadership was finally thrust upon me from outside it took all my strength not to run away.  This was as true in my experience of parenting (which I see as a form of leadership) as it was professionally.  Despite my belief that I have an important contribution to make, I have had to come to terms with taking responsibility alongside that.  I had to stop speeding in my car when there was a baby in the backseat, and I have had to become more carefully attuned to the system that I work in and alert to the need to stand in my power for the benefit of others, even more so than for representing my own ideas.  I had no idea it would be like this when I was observing the phenomenon from my youthful perspective.

In all of my grappling to come to terms with this, the concept of servant leadership has had the greatest appeal for me.  This notion has been introduced in the contemporary literature by Robert Greenleaf, and I remember how my whole body resonated with it as I read about it in Joseph Jaworski’s writings, not least because he describes coming from a place of youthful self-absorption and then recognizing how important it was to fulfill on his commitment to others.  And then this morning I finished reading Paul Johnson’s book, “Jesus: A biography from a believer”. 

The form of leadership that Jesus embodied was truly the most inspirational, and even if you don’t choose to believe in any greater field of life than your own self, as Paul Johnson says, there is no doubt that as an individual his life was striking.  Jesus anticipated many of the issues that we continue to struggle with today and offered a way of being that was true leadership.  He never abused his power.  He always listened. He took time out to be alone and be nourished by his connection with a greater force.  He always recognized the importance of the ‘little people’ of his time even though the social conditions gave absolutely no power to them – women would be drowned in the river if they tried to leave their husbands, but their husbands could divorce them if the dinner was over-cooked!  He advocated for mercy and grace, rather than judgment. He enjoyed the company of others and recognized that all great things come to us through our relationships.  The list goes on, but what is striking is that the way of being that Jesus embodied would still be considered as great leadership to this day, and we still need it – though the historical descriptions in the text did remind me that we have come a long way.

It was truly inspiring to read a historical account of the life of a leader and to be reminded of how important it is to aspire to be as good as we can be.  As Greenleaf says, “the servant-leader shares power, puts the needs of others first and helps people develop and perform as highly as possible.” (https://www.greenleaf.org/what-is-servant-leadership/). I’ve seen many of you enact this kind of behavior and been the grateful recipient of it on many occasions.  Whatever our motivations, and no matter what direction we turn as we endeavor to live this way (management, parenting, musicking …), the concept of leading through living our life as best we can has enormous appeal to me.  I still have plenty of work to do in making it so, of course.  But I feel happy to be one who is striving, falling over, getting back up, and striving again.  And there is enormous joy to be gained in studying those who have been truly magnificent. 

Can I change the world? No, but we can do it together!

I had to change the name of my Blogspot.  Although I am passionate about my career as a music therapist, I am also passionate about my kids, my friends, and the world at large.  It was too hard to separate them out.  So now I am just meandering about anything, including music therapy.

As the title suggests, I want to contribute to change happening in our world, and soon.  And I finally worked out how to do it.  It's about having little conversations, insightful dialogues that get underneath assumptions about 'that's just the way things are' and start asking about how 'we want things to be'.

I was inspired to do this when challenged by the question - if not you, who?  If I don't do something, then who is going to?  Gina?  Bob?  Catrin?  Hussain?  Giulia?  Amira?  Ngon?  Well yes, maybe they will.  But not by themselves.  We all have to do it.  If not you, then who?  Who is going to make the changes that you know need to happen?  It's very dis-empowered to assume there is nothing you can do.

There has never been a time like this before.  The world grows more amazing every day in nearly every way.  And yet we seem to think that we should maintain the same old attitudes towards things???  That doesn't make sense does it?  Don't we need to evolve our attitudes to keep up with teh changes, or better still, drive them.

I think we can do little things to start.  So I was talking with my son today about using 'and' instead of 'but'.  We had been to the water park all day and it was great.  Naturally we began to compare it to other water parks we've been too, most notably, the one in Bali 6 months ago which was more than great.  It was AMAZING!

To begin, my sweet son was trying not to be critical of the little Victorian version, so he said it was just as good.  I challenged him to be more discriminating about it, since he is a highly intelligent young man and of course he knows that 17 wild rides (in Bali) is a lot more than 2 (ok, there was also some good mini-golf, archery, a little go-karting track - I mean, it really was pretty good).  So he tried again "The Victorian water park is really quite good, but, the one in Bali was heaps better.'  I congratulated him, and my daughter joined in as we enthusiastically recounted our favourite rides and moments from the day.

Then I took it one step further.  "You know Liam, why don't we try saying this one was good AND the one in Bali was even better."  Bless him.  He took me seriously and considered it.  "But Mum, it just doesn't sound right if you say it that way."  I agreed with him about the sound of it and went on to explain how we need to give up 'either/or' dichotomies of dualistic thinking (inspired by Fr. Richard Rohr) and that sometimes we need to change the way we use language because words create reality and can reinforce dogmas we don't agree with (inspired by Philosophy in general, I suppose particularly Habermas or Freire, as beautifully explained by Daphne Rickson).  Actually, I kept it simpler than that, he's only 8 after all, and the two of them have been known to start laughing at me if I get too full of big words.  But you get the point.  It is possible to perceive many different ways of seeing things and valuing things, and using language that reflects only two possibilities 'either / or', 'right / wrong' suggests otherwise.  So we can change our language to reflect our beliefs better.

So, I didn't really win them over to my argument this afternoon, but it's more about what I do than what I say anyway.  I'm trying to live it.  I'm trying to change the world. I'm trying to create a culture that reflects my dreams about a world that is run through mutually empowered and collaborative relationships so that we all have enough love, food, hygiene, education.  You probably agree right?  Well if you're not going to help me co-create this world, then who?  Will you?  Please?  Let's take little steps together to begin.

Are you my 'client'?

I have been challenged recently to think more deeply about my rejection of the word 'client'. I’ve been trying not to use the word for a number of years, and frankly, it’s been a hard habit to break.  But I had made a very conscious decision in opposition to what I perceived as the institutionalised power imbalance invoked when the ‘client’ was framed as a recipient of my expert treatment.  The use of the word 'institutionalised' refers to the unconscious use of the word; the fact it was just accepted that people who participate in music therapy in all places and various ways should simply be considered to be one amalgamated whole, rather than the unique, context bound beings that they are.  'Power imbalance' referred to my belief that music therapy, as I practice it, is more of collaborative act than one directed by my superior understanding of a vulnerable person's needs. I use 'recipient' as suggestive of passivity on the part of the people who participate in music therapy, in contrast to the well-documented need for active commitment as fundamental to the success of therapy. 'Expert treatment' refers to the assumed use of a treatment model, which in my opinion is a very specific model involving formal stages of referral, assessment, goal setting, implementation of the planned activity, followed by evaluation of efficacy.

So, I had my issues with the relevance of the word client to the way I practice music therapy and perhaps even the way music therapy is practiced in many contexts informed by contemporary social policy.

Client is a convenient word however, and it is pragmatic to argue that replacing one word with what would potentially be four - person / people participating in music therapy - is both inefficient and confusing. However, I do recall the movement in the 1990s from language where people were described as 'autistic child' to 'child with autism', and at the time the change felt problematic for the same reason.  The importance of putting the person before the diagnosis seemed to make it worthwhile however, and it no longer feels cumbersome at all.

A problem with removing all connotations of power imbalance in music therapy was suggested by a colleague of mine, Jason Kenner, who pointed out that avoiding the reality that we have power in the relationship with our client is irresponsible. We are responsible for the music therapy context and committed to striving for therapeutic outcomes in relationship with our clients.  He suggests that by removing the recognition of this power, we may actually be disempowering ourselves and inadvertently relieving ourselves of responsibility within the therapeutic process. He feels that acknowledging our power helps us to be more responsible to the people we work with.

My own position is to emphasise mutual empowerment.  Perhaps my practice of music therapy is less effective than others, but my experience is that I am not able to take responsibility for the therapeutic outcomes; this is something I am enthusiastic about, and energetic towards, but not responsible for.  This is also in keeping with common factors research into the effectiveness of psychotherapy (Duncan, Miller, & Sparks, 2007).  If people do not wish to sing when I have suggested singing, there is only so much I can do.  If people choose to play, but not to discuss what they have played, I am often unable to convince them to do so.  Their agency is a critical dimension of the therapeutic encounter, combined with my capacity to create the conditions wherein the desire to participate can happen. 

Randi Rolvsjord (2010) elaborates her position on the concept of empowerment in the context of adult mental health, and I have a well-thumbed copy of her contribution to the topic and have commented on it previously (McFerran & Campbell, in-press). It has always confused me that she also likes to use the word client.  I have no doubt that she has been reflexive in considering this language, which reminds me about how important it is to consider the ways that words are used in different contexts.  Another heavily reflexive Norwegian, Brynjulf Stige (2002), points to Wittgenstein’s ideas to explain this contextualized use of language as it has come to be understood in the past century.  Perhaps words do not provide a direct mirror of reality, but rather point to meanings that are co-created in a given social context. Therefore it is easy to see that my use of the word client may be different to Randi and Jason’s use of it.

Another colleague, Grace Thompson, has been instrumental in influencing my own thinking on this topic, informed by her work in the Early Childhood Intervention sector where partnership with families has become the dominant model.   The sector has worked hard to illuminate implicit or explicit assumptions about the helper’s knowledge and resources being ‘superior’ to the local knowledge held by families (Davis, Day, & Bidmead, 2002, p. 47) and ultimately to provide alternative models to the expert helper.  The importance of collaborative relationships has been emphasized, and the use of language that suggests anything other than mutually empowering relationships has been considered detrimental to the success of the collaboration. 

This is obviously not a topic that is restricted to the music therapy profession.  A quick Google search reveals discussion on this topic from a range of fields and Jason Kenner discovered an article in psychiatry where ‘patient’ is reported to be the preferred language according to a sample of users/consumers/patients/clients in the UK (Simmons, Hawley, Gale, & Sivakumaran, 2010).   

My own conclusion is that the word client is convenient, simple and universally used within music therapy.  I continue to struggle with its relevance to my own work and cannot help but associate it with a classic treatment model that I no longer find useful.  However, I acknowledge that it may be the most appropriate term in some contexts.  In private practice, I can see that the word ‘client’ might be the most appropriate word, especially if the individual is paying for therapy.  In hospitals it makes sense that patient would be the preferred term, and I see no reason why a music therapist would introduce the use of the term client in contrast to that.  In education it is helpful to use the word student.  In work with young people in the community or in mental health care, another colleague, Cherry Hense, confirms that ‘young person’ is the preferred language in her institution.  I can see now see that it is just as inappropriate to reject the word ‘client’ as it is to accept it without conscious reflection.  My own issues with the word are local and grounded in my experiences of how that language is used and obviously this is not the same as other people’s experiences.  But I would argue that it requires due consideration and should not be a term that is used without critical reflection.  I guess I still don’t like it.

Davis, H., Day, C., & Bidmead, C. (2002). Working in partnership with parents: The parent adviser model. London: Harcourt Assessment.

Duncan, B. L., Miller, S. D., & Sparks, J. (2007). Common factors and the uncommon heroism of youth. Psychotherapy in Australia, 13(2), 34-43.

McFerran, K., & Campbell, C. (in-press). Music therapist’s use of interviews to evaluate group programs with young people: Integrating Wilber’s quadrant perspectives. Nordic Journal of Music Therapy.

Rolvsjord, R. (2010). Resource Oriented Music Therapy. Gilsum, NH: Barcelona Publishers.

Simmons, P., Hawley, C. J., Gale, T. M., & Sivakumaran, T. (2010). Service user, patient, client, user or survivor: describing recipients of mental health services. The Psychiatrist, 34, 20-23. doi: 10.1192/pb.bp.109.025247

Stige, B. (2002). Culture-centered music therapy. Gilsum, NH: Barcelona Publishers.

First Published on www.voices.no
McFerran, Katrina (20012). Who is my "Client" . Voices: A World Forum for Music Therapy. Retrieved September 03, 2012, from http://www.voices.no/?q=fortnightly-columns/2012-who-my-client

Reconsidering Resilience

I went to a seminar on Resilience yesterday, presented by a famous child psychiatrist called Bruce Perry.  Although I wasn't wildly impressed by the way that he used basic research to support loosely related theoretical propositions, he alerted me to a constructionist discourse on resilience that I thought made a lot of sense.  Ok, that's the end of the ranting in big words.  The idea he presented was beautiful in its simplicity and I want to share about it.

He dared to suggest that perhaps resilience is not a personal trait.  There has been a huge interest in studying 'resilient' people and trying to work out why they cope better with trauma than other people, and this research has all been based on the assumption that it is a personal capacity.  This has been a vexed stream of investigation, mostly because when they looked closely, resilience seemed like something that couldn't be learned.  Research seemed to suggest that some people are just born resilient and others aren't.  Martin Seligman went so far as to suggest that we all have a set-point for happiness.  Some people are genetically predisposed to be happy, and others, well, a bit gloomy.  Not much you can do about it. Interesting theory I guess, but not very helpful.

But Michael Ungar has proposed a novel way of explaining resilience that resonates with my experiences as a human being and a music therapist.  He says that resilience is displayed when people negotiate the processing of an adverse experience by navigating towards available resources.  So firstly, resilience isn't a personality trait, it's an action.  Second, that action doesn't happen once, it's a process that is ongoing for as long as the challenging experience is being dealt with.  And the third point is what Bruce Perry stated so emphatically; that the quality of the social networks is therefore what confers resilience (the Europeans would probably use the word 'affords' rather than confers, but it was nice to hear a more familiar word:).  Because if you are dealing with a challenging situation and trying to 'navigate towards helpful resources' and there is none around, then you will just sail around in circles, usually within yourself.  Or if it looks like there are people that can help, but they seem to fade away like a mirage when you try to access them, you're just left sitting there, out at sea.  But if you have something bad happen and the people around you get up underneath you to help you cope, then you're going to be more resilient.  Doesn't that make sweet sense?

And what I loved even more was the way it supports our new MusicMatters in Schools program.  Along with my co-directors Kate Teggelove and Lucy Bolger, I've been experimenting with a new way of contributing as a music therapist in schools.  It is about fostering musical cultures in schools that promote wellbeing and connectedness; flourishing musical cultures where students make music often and teachers use music in classrooms and differences are transcended while diverse groups jam, sing and dance together in all kinds of ways.  We have been focused on partnerships with schools and collaborations with students, rather than providing expert services.  And it was all in the name of supporting young people before they needed more clinical care.  We were fostering resilience, and now, I can better understand why that seemed the right way to do it.  Because making music with others strengthens your social networks and it improves the quality of your connections with peers and teachers, and THAT makes navigating to helpful resources much easier.  How about that. Thank you Michale Ungar. 

Power and Love

Power and Love are two words that are rarely spoken in the music therapy literature.  Love, like spirituality, has often been considered too soft; too open to misinterpretation.  Love does not share the same space as evidence-based practice, and therefore it always seems to be regarded as a little bit dangerous.  Discussions of power are avoided for different reasons.  We love to talk about 'empowering' others as music therapists, but we don't like to talk about the power that we have.  Adam Kahane (Power and Love, 2010) suggests that "This problem of love that conceals power often shows up in the helping professions, where power is always present bur frequently indiscussable." (p. 48)  I think he has a point.

I have been thinking a lot about power in my discussions with the music therapy students this year.  I have been arguing that focusing only on people's strengths is a form of denial.  For those that know me, it goes without saying that I find an exclusive focus on pathology even more abhorrent.  I have been using language from Ignatian Spiritulity to emphasise the importance of 'discernment'.  It's not so different to assessment in traditional, clinical music therapy language.  In relation to practice, it involves having understanding and compassion for the unique challenges that people face, in balance with a recognition of their capacity and resources. 

In my own music therapy journey, I now think that I have been overly focused on strengths.  To some degree, I have been in denial of people's limitations.  Music is such a wonderful tool for adopting a positive perspective after all.  Teenagers who will not speak to their counsellor will happily write a song that details their emotional journey.  Children with profound disabilities are able to reach out and connect in music whilst not being able to communicate in any other traditional way.  Older people with dementia can sing all the lines of their favourite songs, but cannot hold a conversation.  The examples are endless, and I love them all.  It feels so good to engage with the healthy aspects of someone who is usually seen through the lens of their limitations.  So what's my problem?

Adam Kahane has articulated it better than I can.  "Love without power is sentimental, and anemic, or worse. Power without love is reckless, and abusive, or worse." (p. 53)  Sometimes my music therapy work can be a bit sentimental.  It's full of assumptions about the fact that beautiful relationships create a space for personal growth.  These ideas are deeply grounded in my study of humanistic theory and the core tenet of unconditional positive regard.  You might notice that unconditional positive regard is not discerning, or at least, not overtly.   Ken Aigen seems enamoured with these kinds of ideas too, and I love reading about his deep commitment to the power of musical relationships (see Music Centred Music Therapy).  But I've been thinking about how easy it is to deny how mutually satisfying it is to be in these relationships.  Randi Rolvsjord begins to delve into this in her theoretical treatise and her ideas are pointing in the same direction, but perhaps with a little more restraint than I am advocating (see Resource Oriented Music Therapy).

I continue to believe that mutually empowering relationships can lead to change - they afford opportunities for change (to use the language made popular by Tia De Nora).  But the relationship  needs to be actively in service of that change.  I have been expecting it to just lead there, naturally, through extended music making.  As I become more interested in creating systemic change that leads to personal and social justice for many more people, I am beginning to recognise that ensuring the benefits of mutually empowering, musical relationships extend beyond the therapy room takes a huge effort.  Grace Thompson turned me on to this years ago, and I've been allowing it to influence my thinking and direct my research ever since.  Another voice has been that of Lucy Bolger, who keeps demanding that we turn our attention to developing sustainable programs, music therapy that doesn't always need a music therapist...

I know, it breaks every definition of music therapy in the book.  But that's what I'm wondering about at the moment.  Is this precisely the unspoken power dynamic that we could become conscious of in music therapy discourse?  Do we need to be needed in order for music therapy to be helpful.  It's interesting, isn't it?

Does music therapy do any harm?

I was reading an article today on potential of eLearning in university environments (Conole, 2010, Journal of eLearning and Knowledge Society). This author was pointing out how very few academic environments have truly fulfilled on the promises made – for “personalisation, student-centred learning, to support new forms of communication and dialogical learning and enriched multi-model forms of representation” (p.13).  But what really caught my attention was the author’s reference to NO SIGNIFICANT DIFFERENCE being evident in studies of eLearning vs. traditional learning.

It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps we music therapists have been approaching the idea of statistical significance all wrong.  Instead of comparing our programs to other existing programs and being disappointed that we are not SIGNIFICANTLY MORE effective, we should be comparing ourselves to other equivalent programs of excellence and showing that we are NOT SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE! 

The author had used the argument in the way that music therapists do.  Under controlled conditions there was no evidence that eLearning was better.  But to my reading, as an interested and detached observer of the phenomenon, that was all I needed to hear – that it was no worse.  Times are moving forward and the only thing standing in the way of eLearning would be if it were detrimental to student learning.

Similarly, music therapy is an appealing and engaging form of therapy in many contexts.  There is often strong support from families and participants for music therapy programs, but funding is often not forthcoming, perhaps because of the lack of evidence. The argument we should be making is that the evidence shows that music therapy is doing no harm and that it is also desirable to consumers.  We should be conducting investigations to make sure that it is not detrimental, instead of constantly focusing on analysis of results to identify which dimensions we can claim statistically significant improvements on.    The best outcome we should be hoping for is equivalence, since I think we would all agree that we find music therapy as effective as other means of achieving therapeutic outcomes, but not necessarily more?  Or perhaps that’s just me?

Do we really have to take sides?

I was lucky enough to participate in a discussion today where a group of mature and thoughtful music therapy researchers debated how much our beliefs influence our research.  Earlier this week I sat with a group of enthusiastic and insightful music therapy students as we grappled with how our beliefs influence the therapy that we do. I learned a great deal from both, but I wanted to take the chance to consider two different approaches to this kind of learning.

If I adopted a dualistic approach, which I often have, I would be inclined to simplify the discussions by offering  a group of ideas to choose between.  This provides a structure for thinking and talking and allows us to acknowledge different ideas.  I have used this method quite consciously in response to my own experience of being confused by thoughtful people asking me to share my opinions on issues that I barely understand and therefore cannot really make an argument about.

But I am increasingly unable to rely on this favourite old strategy of mine.  I am finding it difficult to see the divides between perspectives anymore, and I often end up gazing at the overlap, which is even less helpful if I am trying to facilitate thinking and discussion.  Ken Wilber's concept of integral thinking is my saving grace in trying to understand why this has happened and how I am increasingly experiencing things.

It's not just that I can see the different perspectives and just don't feel like aligning myself with only one of them.  It's more like the perspectives are meeting and greeting one another and then transcending the false divides that seem to exist between them.  For me, this is the same experience as when you sing, or make music, or go to a concert with a whole group of strangers that you don't know (Christopher Small described this aptly as musicking).  You feel connected to one another in a deep understanding and sharing way, but you are a whole entity in yourself at the same time.  You neither lose yourself, nor maintain your need to distinguish yourself.

Not surprisingly then, this sounds as though my views on music and knowledge are integrating with my spiritual beliefs.  But instead of feeling all lined up and neat, it feels greater than, and expanded. 

My conclusion is that integral living works for me and I live integral thinking on my best days.  But then, of course, there's the other days ...