Power and Struggle

Many years ago, I wrote a book about grief and change reactions. This was long before the term crisis psychiatry was commonly used, but in essence we are talking about many of the same emotions and reactions. Over the years, this led me to give lectures at many seminars and courses on such topics. In recent years, I have also taught personnel connected to crisis and rescue services after major accidents — helicopter pilots, rescue workers, doctors in air ambulances, ambulance drivers, nurses, anaesthesiologists, firefighters, police officers, priests, and funeral service staff. All were highly qualified in their practical tasks, but often unprepared for their own and others’ psychological reactions in situations of stress and catastrophe.

At the beginning of one such course, deep in the Ringebu mountains in Gudbrandsdalen, I got a provocative idea. Instead of lecturing about crisis reactions — I would create them.

The seminar was scheduled to start at 2:00 p.m. A crisis psychiatrist and a Gestalt therapist, who were also lecturers, were part of the plan — but we said nothing in advance. We only told participants the seminar would start exactly on time. We opened the doors five minutes before the start. Most people were already waiting outside.

Inside, we had placed thirty-four chairs — one for each participant — arranged in three circles: six in the inner circle, eleven in the middle, fifteen in the outer. I sat in the inner circle. The crisis psychiatrist sat in the middle, and the Gestalt therapist in the outer circle. Most participants looked surprised. Some tried to joke. But everyone found a chair. At exactly 2:00 p.m., two chairs were still empty. One of them beside me.

We continued to say nothing. Our defined positional power as seminar leaders was enough. After less than a minute, someone carefully tried the door — and realised it was locked. Restlessness began. No one answered. People started whispering, then several began speaking loudly, demanding that we open the door. We did nothing. Many addressed me directly, since I was perceived as the main lecturer. I remained silent.

The tone became more direct and aggressive. One participant said clearly that he would not pay for a course where the lecturer was obviously “on vacation.”

Someone suggested opening the door, then looked at me as if asking for permission. I stared straight ahead. One participant stood up decisively and walked toward the door.

“It seems dangerous to accept that nothing is happening,” I said.

The man turned sharply and sat down again. Silence followed. Someone spoke and asked angrily how long we were expected to sit like this. I said nothing. Others raised their voices, everyone speaking into the air or directly to me — no real communication between participants, everyone competing for attention. Someone suggested forming an alliance. Two people in the outer circle stood up to leave.

“It is clear that some want to escape both the situation and the responsibility,” the Gestalt therapist said.

One participant took control immediately. He stood up and ordered the two who were leaving to sit down. They obeyed. He moved to the front of the room and began a long explanation of what was happening and what the course leaders probably intended. There was little response — but also no resistance.

“The group is clearly so frustrated that it accepts any leadership,” I said.

The silence became something people could feel. After a long while, the atmosphere changed — the silence felt safer. Someone looked at the clock and said it would soon be time for dinner. Another said it had been a strange experience. Others expressed curiosity and wanted to understand more. A firefighter who had attended one of my courses earlier said: “In these two hours, I have learned something about myself and my needs that I believe is important.”

At exactly 4:00 p.m., I stood up and left. The Gestalt therapist stayed a little longer and said we would review the exercise in detail during the evening session.

I admit it was a powerful experience — especially because it was not listed in the programme. The participants were completely unprepared, and reacted accordingly. In the following plenary discussion, we systematised what had happened against known theories of large-group dynamics and leadership. In a concentrated form, we observed a development through eight phases:

Mark which of the eight phases your own team or organisation is moving through right now — this saves to your report, and nowhere else.

Where does your own team or organisation sit right now?

But more about the large group process in Secret 10,3 — Large Group Process.