Becoming a Postmodern Collaborative Therapist

A Clinical and Theoretical Journey

Part I

Harlene Anderson

Houston Galveston Institute

Taos Institute

ABSTRACT

The development of practice and theory are a reflexive process. Here, I share my journey
toward a collaborative practice and a postmodern theory. My narrative of
transformation begins with a glimpse into the traditions from which my journey began
and pauses where I find myself at this time. My narrative is offered in two parts: Part I
describes the shift in practice that evolved out of my clinical experiences. Part II will
describe the shifts in theoretical biases and my current philosophical stance.

I have created an account my journey toward my current practices--a

postmodern collaborative approach. My account includes the tradition that I
stepped into, the shifts that occurred in my clinical experiences overtime and the
theoretical premises that surfaced along the way. I trace the distinguishing
features that emanated from these, and most important among these features
the postmodern notions of language and knowledge. As you will learn, I did not
awake one day and decide to be a postmodern therapist. Rather, my becoming
has been an evolving process, a process that continues, and in which practice
and theory are reflexive and assume a delicate balance. What follows might be
thought of as one history, a narrative of shifts in my own practices and thoughts
that occurred within dialogues with clients, colleagues and students. It might be
thought of as a narrative of transformation

This narrative, as does all narratives, occurs with a context that I think of as my
knowledge system. The system has ebbed and flowed with inspiring and
challenging colleagues, clients and students whom I have met around the world.
Many of these people have been associated with the Houston Galveston Institute
(HGI) at one time or another. (Since many of the ideas and practices developed
within HGI, those readers interested in learning more about this knowledge
system are referred to Anderson, 1997 and Anderson, Goolishian, Pulliam and
Winderman, 1986.) Thus, in this narrative because I believe that all creations are
communal, and to acknowledge the presence of Harry Goolishian in these
creations, I shift between I and we.

Stepping into a Tradition: Multiple Impact Therapy

I was introduced to family therapy in 1970 when I joined the Children and Youth
Project in the Pediatric Department at the University of Texas Medical Branch in
Galveston, Texas. Shortly after arriving I heard of Harry Goolishian, a
psychologist in the Psychiatry Department who was doing something-called
family therapy. Because Harry and family therapy were mentioned with such
enthusiasm and reverence, I wanted to meet him and know about his work, not-
knowing at the time how my curiosity would influence my professional future. So,
I attended a family therapy seminar where I immediately caught Harry and his
colleagues’ enthusiasm for family therapy. In retrospect, I had found something
that I had been searching for even though at that time I was not aware of my
search. Later, I also realized that I had stepped into the middle of one of the
pioneering efforts in family therapy—Multiple Impact Therapy (MIT). I want to
provide a brief overview of MIT because in my version of the history of my
current work, I trace some of its threads back to MIT

MIT was a short-term family-centered therapy approach conceived by Harry

Goolishian and his colleagues. It was a collaborative collegial effort where a
multidisciplinary team worked intensely with a family and relevant others over a
two-day period. Usually a team of three with a fourth colleague acting as a
consultant to the therapists met before the family arrived to review available
information and to share hypotheses with each other. The consultant was key in
all team meetings facilitating team members’ exchange of impressions and
information, and members’ analysis of their interactions with family members and
with each other. The team then met with the family members and relevant others
(usually community professionals who had been working with the then-called
identified patient) to begin exploring definitions of the problem, including, ideas
about etiology, previous treatment and expectations. This meeting (or conference
as they called it) usually lasted two hours and was followed by a team member
each meeting with a subsystem—parental, sibling and community professionals.
The consultant rotated through the subsystem conferences, and as necessary,
shared with each the focus of the others’ conversations. The two days were
composed of various meetings with varying membership. Each conference’s
membership was determined on a conversation by conversation basis. For
instance, two therapists might meet with one family member or one therapist with
the father and son; and, two meetings might overlap.

Theoretically and pragmatically MIT aimed to help a family grow as it confronted

the crisis of its adolescent member by capitalizing on the rapidity of change
possible in the adolescent years. MIT focused on creating a family self-
rehabilitating process, and included other significant members of the extended
family and relevant community professional and nonprofessionals in the therapy.
An important premise was "If the family itself can become a partner in therapy,
more energies are released for the task at hand" (MacGregor et al., p. viii). An
important focus was the relationship among the team members. This focus was
influenced by the research in the area of communications theory by Don D.
Jackson and his colleagues in Palo Alto as they sought to understand and
reduce interprofessional communication problem[s]. MIT was described by
Robert Sutherland, the then director of the Hogg Foundation as "fresh and
hopeful," having "far-reaching implications for the training of therapists" and
having "many implications for [a] new social theory" (MaCGregor et al., pps. Viii-
ix).

I have often thought that MIT was an approach ahead of its time. That is, as I
reflect on its key characteristics, I could be describing a contemporary theory and
practice.

• The team valued the importance of the individual and their relational
systems.
• Team represented a concept broader than numbers of therapists in a
therapy room or behind a mirror.
• The team believed that human creativity and ingenuity were boundless.
• The team’s role was to mobilize the resources of the family and
community members rather than to be the resource expert.
• The team believed in the importance of self-reflection and self-change,
and in learning together with the family.
• The team valued a multiplicity and diversity of voices.
• The team believed that it was important to understand a different point of
view rather than dismiss or judge it.
• The team valued each other openly probing and analyzing team members’
views in front of the family.
• The team valued live training and supervision with trainees working along
side professionals and equally participating.

Like other early pioneering family therapies MIT developed out of clinical
experiences and familiar psychotherapy theories and practices inability to meet
the demands faced by clinicians in their everyday practices. And, also like other
early efforts, the theoretical explanations about behavior and therapy came later
as clinicians searched to describe, understand and explain their work. Of course,
although early MIT team members were talking about multiple realities, multiple
relationships and so forth, they did not have the theoretical vocabulary for
descriptions. And, although I can trace some threads of a postmodern
collaborative back to MIT, the associated notions of language and knowledge
were not part of the then theory and practice.

The MIT approach, however, was part of an emerging paradigmatic shift on the
edges of the field of psychotherapy. The shift represented a move from viewing
human behavior as intrapsychic phenomena, to seeing it in the context of
interpersonal relationships, namely the family. Family therapists adopted various
systems theories as their explanatory metaphors. The family became the
relational system that was the chief subject of inquiry and explanation for an
individual’s problem. And, of course, this shift not only influenced psychotherapy
theory but also the professional education of therapists.

MIT gained recognition nationally and internationally and granted what had
become known informally as the Galveston group a reputation for continually
challenging tradition and being on the edge. When I met the then Galveston
group the MIT format had continued as a practice with initial referrals and as a
consultation with treatment failures. It had developed into an everyday family
therapy practice in which teams of therapists met with families and significant
others on an ongoing basis. And, it remained a mainstay for training therapists.

Intertwined with the MIT and everyday family therapy practice was an interest in
learning, using and teaching the various family therapy theories that were
developing around the States. We were particularly drawn to the theories and
practices of those following and expanding the legacy of Jackson at the Mental
Research Institute (MRI) and their radical move away from the traditional therapy
methods that focused on "teaching the client the therapist's language" toward the
therapist learning the client’s language. Historically, this interest in learning and
speaking the client’s language (metaphorically and literally) proved pivotal in the
shifts that occurred in our clinical experiences and the subsequent use of new
theoretical metaphors.

An Interest in Language:

Shifting From Hierarchical Strategy to Collaborative Inquiry

We purposely set about on a new endeavor: to learn a client's everyday ordinary

language, including their values, worldviews and beliefs as well as their words
and phrases. We wanted to converse within their language and use it
strategically. We believed that their language could provide clues for developing
and situating our therapist ideas—problem definitions, treatment goals, strategies
and interventions. We could then, for instance, use their language rhetorically as
a strategic tool of therapy, as an editing tool to influence a client's story and as
technique to invite cooperation toward change. We could use their language to
revise faulty beliefs or to correct futile attempts at solutions. Of course, to adapt
like chameleons to a client’s language required us to also pay careful attention to
our own language.

We believed if we were successful in our new endeavor that therapy would be

more successful. That is, a client would be more amenable to a therapist’s
diagnosis and interventions, and resistance would be less likely to occur.
Overtime, however, as we continued on this path several interrelated
experiences combined to create a significant turning point in the way that we
thought about, talked with and acted with our clients.

We became genuinely immersed in and inquisitive about what our clients said.
We spontaneously became more focused on maintaining coherence within a
client's experience and committed to being informed by their story. That is, we
less and less tried to make sense of our clients’ stories, making them fit our
therapists’ maps. Rather, we were absorbed with trying to understand the sense
they made of things and their maps. Consequently, in this effort to learn and
understand more about what they said—i.e., their stories and views of their
dilemmas--our questions began to be informed by what was just said or what we
later described as coming from within the local conversation rather than being
informed from outside by preknowledge.

We learned an individual’s not a family’s language. We noticed that, rather than

learning a family's language, we were learning the particular language of each
family member. The family did not have a language nor did a family have a belief
or a reality. Rather its individual members did. And, each member's language
was distinctive.

For instance, each had their own description of the problem and its solution, as
well as their own description of the family and therapy. There was no such thing,
therefore, as a problem, a solution, or even a family for that matter. Rather there
were at least as many descriptions of these as there were system members. We
were fascinated by these differences in language, including the differences in
descriptions, explanations and meanings attributed to the same event or person.
We had a sense that somehow these differences were valuable and held
possibilities; therefore, we no longer wanted to negotiate, blur or strive for
consensus (i.e., seek inga problem definition or an imagined solution). We
wanted to maintain the richness of differences.

We listened differently. Our intense interest in each person and in each version
of the story found us talking to each person one at a time in a concentrated
manner. We discovered that while we were talking intensely with one person that
the others seemed to listen in a way that we had not experienced before. They
listened attentively and undefensively, seeming eager to hear more of what the
other was saying, being less apt to interrupt, correct or negate the other. We
understood this as twofold. First, we conveyed in our words and actions that we
were sincerely interested in, respected, gave ample time and tried to understand
what each person said. Thus, the teller did not have to work so hard to try to get
us to understand or convince us of their version of the story. Second, the familiar
story was being told and heard differently than before. The content was the same
but somehow the pieces were assembled differently; they newly fit together in a
way that people had an altered sense of their experiences and each other. We
did not purposefully try to influence their stories, their sensemaking. New ways of
understanding their life struggles and relationships, for them and for us, seemed
a natural consequence of this new way of talking and listening.

We learned and spoke the client’s everyday ordinary not our professional
language. When we talked about our clients outside the therapy room we
identified them by their self-descriptions and shared their self-told stories as they
had narrated them to us. For instance, in hospital staffings or school
consultations we described our clients and told their stories in their words and
phrases. In doing this we found that we were using clients’ everyday ordinary
language rather than our professional language.

Telling our clients’ stories as they had told them to us captured the uniqueness of
each client, making them and their situation come alive. Students often
commented that clients no longer seemed like look-alike classifications (known
visions produced by professional descriptions, explanations and diagnoses) that
overlooked their humanness. The sameness that dominated from professional
language receded and the specialness of each client emerged. Consequently,
this different way of talking about and thinking about our clients in their ordinary
language not only made clients more human but brought forward the therapist as
human, leaving the therapist as technician behind.

We suspended our preknowledge and focused on the client’s knowledge. As our

interest in and value of the client’s story grew, so did our interest in their
knowledge and expertise on themselves and their lives. Our own knowledge and
content expertise continued to be less important. We found ourselves
spontaneously and openly suspending our preknowledge—our sensemaking
maps, biases and opinions about such things as how families ought to be, how
narratives ought to be constructed and what were more useful narratives. By
suspend I mean we were able to leave our preknowledges hanging in the
forefront for us and others to be aware of, observe, reflect on, doubt, challenge
and change. The more we suspended our own knowing the more room there was
for a client's voice to be heard and for their expertise to come to the forefront.

We moved from a one-way inquiry toward a mutual inquiry. As we immersed

ourselves in learning our client’s language and meanings in the manner that was
developing, we realized that we and our clients were spontaneously becoming
engaged with each other in a mutual or shared inquiry. We were engaged in a
partnered process of coexploring the problem and codeveloping the possibilities.
Therapy became a two-way conversational give-and-take process, an exchange
and a discussion and a criss-crossing of ideas, opinions and questions.
Consequently the stoiy telling process itself ,became more important that the
story’s content or details. We began to focus on the conversational process of
therapy and how we could create a space for and facilitate the process.

Our need for interventions dissolved. As we learned about a client’s language

and meanings, we spontaneously began to abandon our expertise on how
people ought to be and how they ought to live their lives. We found, for instance,
that we did not need to use this expertise to create in-session or end-of-session
interventions. When we examined what we thought were individually tailored
therapist-designed interventions, we discovered that they were not interventions
at all in the usual sense. That is, although we thought we were doing
"interventions," we were not. The ideas and actions—the new possibilities--
emerged from the local therapy conversations inside the therapy room and were
not brought in by us as an outside expert. And, because the client participated in
the conception and construction of the newness generated through conversaton,
the newness was more coherent with, logical for and unique to the family and its
members. Consequently, our therapy began to look more like everyday ordinary
conversations, sometimes described by others expecting interventions or content

expertise as parsimonious, unexciting and even doing nothing

We entertained uncertainty. All of these experiences combined to leave us in a

constant state of uncertainty. We began to appreciate and value this sense of
unpredictability, which in a strange way provided feelings of freedom and
comfort. We had the freedom of "not-knowing," of not having to know. Not-
knowing liberated us, for instance, from needing to know how clients ought to live
their lives, the right question to ask or the best narrative. We did not need to be
content or outcome experts. We did not need to be narrative editors or use
language as an editing tool. We were comfortable that our knowledge was not
superior to our client’s knowledge. In turn, our not-knowing position allowed an
expanded capacity for imagination and creativity. Not-knowing became a pivotal
concept and would mark a significant distinction between our and others’ ideas
about therapy. I will address the concept of not-knowing more in Part II.

We were more aware of the reflexive nature of our practicing and teaching. We
were influenced by our students’ voices—their remarks, questions and critiques.
Their voices forced new ways of thinking about, describing and explaining our
work. Students often commented on the positive way we spoke about our clients.
They described our manner and attitude as respectful and humble. They were
amazed at our excitement about each client and clinical situation. They were
astonished that we in fact seemed to like those clients whom others might deem
socially detestable. They were surprised by how many of our mandated referrals
not only came to the first session but continued. They were puzzled that our
therapy looked like "just having a conversation." In an effort to describe our
approach to therapy, a student once wondered, "If I were observing and did not
know who the therapist was, I wonder if I could identify them?"

We were going public and hierarchies were dissolving. These combined clinical
experiences and our conversations with others about our experiences influenced
our teamwork and teaching. For the most part family therapy teams are
organized in a hierarchical and dualistic manner. The team members behind the
mirror are attributed a meta-position where they are thought to able to observe
more correctly and quickly--as if they are "real knowers." The mirror is thought to
give the members protection from being swooped up in the family's dysfunction,
faulty reality or emotional field. The team members talk privately and come to a
synthesis of their multiple voices—their hypotheses, suggestions, questions or
opinions--and funnel what they believe to be the most fruitful consensus
conclusion to the therapist and the family. What is taken back to the client is
preselected by a team and therapist and looses the richness of the multiplicity of
views. Whether a therapist is involved in the discussion or not, the therapist is
often merely an implicit or explicit voice of the team, a carrier of their meta-view
that will influence subsequent actions and thoughts in the therapy room.

We began to realize how much of the richness of diversity was lost when we
preselected what clients should hear when clients began to be inquisitive about
the teams’ messages. In some instances clients demanded to meet the team
"face-to-face" and hear what each of them had to say. Sometimes, clients stood
up, facing the mirror, pointing their fingers and talking to the team behind it.
Baffled and thinking perhaps we needed to more clearly deliver the teams’
words, we experimented by writing every thought, question and suggestion so
that a therapist could take these into the therapy room. This not only proved
timely and cumbersome, but often the client still wanted to talk with the team. So,
we sent the team into the therapy room so that each member could offer their
ideas in person and then return to the other side of the mirror. The clients still
had questions. So, we next encouraged the client and therapist to talk with each
other about what they heard the team say. We were surprised with what each
person was most occupied by or ignored and what each liked or disliked. We
were fascinated by the conversations they had, how together the client members
with each other and with the therapist puzzled over the team’s offerings and we
were impressed with what they collectively did with what they heard.

The therapist was no longer an agent of the team who hid behind the mirror and
no longer had privileged access to the team’s thoughts. Neither the team nor the
therapist chose what could be heard. The therapist could now genuinely and
spontaneously puzzle with the family about what they all heard together. This led
to a growing sense of openness and unity between the team, therapist and
family. Family members and the therapist felt free to ask a team member for
clarification or to disagree with them. This began to make all thoughts more
public and to collapse the artificial professionally imposed boundaries between
team members, therapist and family.

We placed multiple therapists in the room. In learning situations, we preferred

two-person student therapy teams. We encouraged both students to be in the
therapy room because we found that if one were in the room and the other
behind the mirror, often the student behind the mirror felt, or at least acted if, they
knew more. The student in the therapy room often felt awkward, as if they should
have known or discounted, as if their thoughts were not as important as those
were behind the mirror.
We encouraged the students to talk with each other, share their ideas with each
other, question each other and disagree with each other openly in front of the
client. If they had conversations (i.e., with each other, with a supervisor and a
referring person) about the family outside of their presence they were to offer a
summary of their conversations to the family when they next met with them. This
part of our history is compatible with Tom Andersen and his colleagues'
development of the innovative reflecting team concept and practice (Andersen,
1987). Both approaches place an importance on respecting the integrity of the
other, making room for multiple voices and encouraging therapists to share
thoughts publicly.

Searching for Meaning:

Practice and Theory as Reflexive Processes

These early, and subsequent, shifts in our clinical experiences not only
influenced the way that we began to prefer to practice but also compelled us to
search for more suitable metaphors to describe, explain and understand these
experiences. We purposely explored and sometimes serendipitously bumped into
theories of biology, physics, anthropology and philosophy. These included the
notions of chaos theory, randomness, and evolutionary systems, structure
determinism and autopoiesis, constructivist theory, language theories, narrative
theories, postmodern feminist perspectives, hermeneutics and social
construction theories. In Part II I will discuss how these notions influenced how
we came to describe, explain and understand our clinical experiences. I will
discuss which of these theories and related premises remain in the forefront and
the implications of our new views of the notions of language and knowledge
changed and gained prominence.

References

Anderson, H. (1997). Conversation, Language and Possibilities: A Postmodern

Approach to Therapy. New York: Basic Books.

Anderson, H., Goolishian, H., Pulliam, G. & Winderman, L. (1986). The

Galveston Family Institute: A personal and historical perspective. In D. Efron
(Ed.).Journeys: Expansions of the Strategic-Systemic Therapies. (pp. 97-124).
New York: Bruner/Mazel.

MacGregor, R., Ritchie, A.M., Serrano, A.C., Schuster, F.P., McDanald, E.C. &
Goolishian, H.A. (1964). Multiple Impact Therapy with Families. New York:
McGraw-Hill.
DRAFT version of:

BECOMING A POSTMODERN COLLABORATIVE THERAPIST

A CLINICAL AND THEORETICAL JOURNEY

PART II

Harlene Anderson

Houston Galveston Institute

Taos Institute

Abstract

The development of practice and theory are a reflective process. Here, I share
my journey toward a collaborative practice and a postmodern theory. My
narrative of transformation begins with a glimpse into the traditions from which
my journey began and pauses where I find myself at this time. Part I described
the shift in practice that evolved out of my clinical experiences. Part II describes
the shifts in theoretical biases along the way to my current philosophical stance.

The Theoretical Path

The world around us is fast changing—shrinking, becoming enormously more

complex and uncertain—and our cultures are touching each other in ways that
they have not before, and in some instances becoming intertwined. Many familiar
explanatory concepts no longer help account for and deal with the complexities
of these changes and the impact they have on human beings and our everyday
lives. What I learned from clients over the years led me to question and abandon
some familiar concepts such as " universal truths, knowledge and knower as
independent, language as representative, and the meaning is in the word. Such
concepts risk placing human behavior into frameworks of understanding that
seduce therapists into hierarchical expert-nonexpert dichotomies, into discourses
of pathology and dysfunction, and into a world of knowing and certainty. My
journey, which spans three decades, in reaching this place has been an exciting
one and has opened options for my clients and me.
I begin my story in 1970 when I joined the family therapy program developed
from the Multiple Impact Therapy (MIT) research project initiated in 1956 in the
Psychiatry Department’s Child and Adolescent Division at the medical school in
Galveston, Texas as a learner. We all live and work in knowledge or learning
communities, some have expansive perimeters and permeable boundaries and
some are like little black boxes. I unknowingly stepped into the former, a learning
community with a rich tradition of challenge, innovation, and transformation. I did
not know where this adventure, influenced by circumstance and curiosity, would
take me. I shared my clinical journey in Part I, focusing on its MIT roots and the
shifts in clinical work that my colleagues and I experienced over time. Here I
share the theoretical journey, highlighting the influences that cybernetic, social,
evolutionary, constructivist, hermeneutic, narrative, social constructionist and
philosophical theories played in the development of the postmodern collaborative
approach.,,

This approach represents more a philosophy of life than a theory of therapy, a

way of thinking about and being with the people whom I meet in my work whether
that arena is therapy, learning, research, or organizational consultation.
Philosophy, since its origins in ancient Greece, focuses on questions about
ordinary human life: self-identity, relationships, mind, and knowledge. Philosophy
is not about finding scientific truths; rather it involves ongoing analysis, inquiry,
and reflection. I believe that how I prefer to understand therapy, including its
process and the client-therapist relationship, and how I prefer to be as a therapist
and in all my life roles reflects a worldview that does not separate professional
and personal. Inherent in my view is an appreciative belief in the good and the
positive--that most human beings value, want, and strive toward healthy
successful lives and relationships.

I trace the evolution of the approach in a historical context and hope to alleviate
any misunderstandings that my colleagues or I simply woke up one day and
decided to be postmodern and collaborative. And though the journey took a
meandering path, I present the theoretical developments in a sequence, the
influences sometimes overlapped, intertwined, or faded away. Colleagues who
participated in this journey will each have their unique version and highlights of
this story. The journey has been exciting; I hope I convey the enthusiasm and
energy as well as the creative and rebellious nature of the people and the work.
Much of this story could not have occurred without Harry Goolishian: his
leadership, his intellectual curiosity, his humor, his rebelliousness, and his
humanness, and his ability to inspire others. I dedicate this account to Harry
Goolishian in honor of the tenth anniversary of his death.

Threads of a Tradition

The threads of the fabric called a postmodern collaborative approach can be

traced to the original MIT: the client as the expert, the importance of multiple
voices and realities, a nonpathologizing view of families, and therapists being
public with their thoughts. Of course, at the time the MIT colleagues did not have
today’s theoretical vocabularies to use to describe, explain, and understand their
work. They drew from their unique clinical experiences, familiar developmental
theory, and the early writings of Jackson, Bateson, and their colleagues in Palo
Alto, California about communication, theory of schizophrenia, families and
conjoint family therapy. They also took from the current work of others like
Sullivan’s practice of including all hospital ward personnel as part of the
therapeutic environment, Bell’s family group therapy and Bowen’s hospitalization
of whole families. Going back and reading about the MIT project was like going
into a dusty attic and seeing traditions. When you look at this work and realize
the time in which it was produced, it was incredible. It was a therapy ahead of its
time. I pause here to highlight some aspects of its theoretical footing, to show the
threads that held through time, to honor it, and to share it with those not familiar
with it.

MIT had several foundational assumptions (MacGregor, Richie, Serrano,

Shuster, McDanald & Goolishian, 1964). One assumption focused on the
therapist’s stance, including the importance of therapist attitude about the client’s
potential and their relationship with the client.

therapists’ demonstrating confidence in the self-rehabilitative potential of

the family more than into developing the patient’s faith in the doctor...the
human encounters involved at the inception of therapy, including the
feeling of commitment to a constructive endeavor, may be the most
therapeutic of experiences situations (p. 8).

Another assumption focused on the importance of the client’s expertise on their

life, the therapist’s learning the client’s perspective of their life dilemma, and the
therapist’s continually checking-out to make sure they understood what the client
said:

members of the family are invited to outline in their own words the nature
of the immediate crisis and their views . . .the patient is invited to
participate in this recapitulation and to make needed corrections; and the
notion of reflections as a team member "responds to this summary by
reflecting (p.6).

Team members were aware that their way of being with families might be
different from previous experiences with other professionals saying, "Most
families are unaccustomed to this to this novel interchange" (p. 6).

The team’s assumption concerning problem formation and resolution was not
unlike that developed by other family therapy theories. Symptom development
was conceptualized as collusions across generational boundaries that limited
communication and forced members into repetitive roles during stress that were
incompatible with natural family growth and transitions. The symptom was
characterized by the problem requirements of the developmental period in which
the collusion occurred. The team’s role was to "temporarily interrupt the arresting
forces in the family by participating in family communications as a healthy model
of interpersonal interaction which showed particular respect for the family’s
problems and defenses" (MacGregor, et al., p. 10). From their experiences, the
team found that interruptions in family members’ interactions and the subsequent
change occurred in a brief sequence of therapy and was sustained, as the family
relied on their newly discovered inner resources, knowing more where to turn in
its own community: "[T]he growth potential of family members. . .would yield
further improvement during extended periods of living, without therapeutic
supervision" (MacGregor, p. 10). Interestingly, the team did not think that they
empowered the family but instead helped them find and use their inherent
potentials.

The team’s practice evolved as they reflected on it and learned from its
anomalies, a process characterized by curiosity, flexibility, and change:
"Sometimes their [the team’s] method fails; at other times it prepares the way for
different forms of therapy. And, the "method" itself is constantly undergoing
change. Flexibility of pattern is a principal characteristic. The basic notion allows
for all manner of variation" (MacGregor, p. x). As I mentioned in Part I MIT
evolved into an everyday family therapy practice, with teams meeting with
families and mostly using the MIT format for consultations stuck clinical
situations, and teaching.

Theoretically, MIT and the family therapy practice that evolved from it continued
on the backdrop of the two dominant, fundamental, and intertwined principles
that first organized family therapists’ thinking: a negative-feedback, homeostatic
cybernetics systems theory and an order-imposing, hierarchically layered social
systems theory. The principles mechanistically described and explained a human
system as an assemblage of parts whose process is determined by its structure.
Both principles brought to family therapy that which distinguished it from most
psychotherapy theories: a contextual systems paradigm. People live and
experience the events of their lives in interactional systems. Problems, in this
view, become social phenomena whose development, persistence, and
elimination take place within this interactional arena rather than characteristics or
properties of individuals.

The Palo Alto colleagues turned first to cybernetics theory for a language to
describe family interaction. Families, as cybernetic-like energy and feedback
systems, were considered a kind of servomechanism with a governor that
protected the norm and prevented change. The symptom made sense only
within, and as an expression of, the total family context. It no longer represented
an individual disturbance, but a signal that a family was having difficulty meeting
the demands of stress, change, or natural transition points--difficulty, that is, in
moving toward greater complexity. The meaning of the symptom was related to
the family system's structure and functioned to maintain the present system's
homeostasis: its status, structure, and organization, its stability, continuity, and
relationship definition. This cybernetic metaphor was basic to understanding both
healthy and pathological family organization.

Interestingly, although the MIT team studied and was strongly influenced by the
Palo Alto group and their introduction of cybernetics (first-order cybernetics), the
team early on expressed disagreement with the notion of homeostasis. They
found it "does not embrace the aspects of growth that have to do with the
emergence form the family matrix; nor does it adequately cover the therapeutic
mobilization of self-rehabilitative processes" (McGregor et al, 1964, p. 9). Yet, it
would be years later when the Galveston group (Dell, 1982) and others like
Hoffman, Maruyama, and Speer, strongly challenged the principal and
contradiction of homeostasis. If families, like other living systems, were unable to
avoid growth and change, then this was contradictory to the cybernetic notion of
homeostasis, a contradiction that had been veiled in the belief that the slow
movement or stuckness often seen in families was the pathology.

My Entrance

When I began studying with the Galveston group they were interested in
communication and language, inspired by the Palo Alto colleagues Watzlawick,
Beaven, and Jackson's Pragmatics of Human Communication. Pragmatics was
the colleagues’ first effort to pull together the Palo Alto developments and fully
articulate their interactional view: Communication influences human interaction
and all behavior is communication. The effects of communication and behavior
are a communicative reaction to a particular situation rather than evidence of the
disease of an individual mind. That is, communication becomes the social
organization and symptom development becomes the way a family member
indulges in the self-sacrifice required to maintain family stability without
undergoing organizational change. Earlier, Jackson (1965), drawing on Bateson's
ideas about learning theory and communication theory, asserted that every
utterance has a content (report) and a relationship (command) aspect; the former
conveys information about facts, opinions, feelings, experiences, and so forth.,
and the latter defines the nature of the relationship between the communicants."
For Bateson, this relational and communicative context is essential to the
meanings that we give words and actions. Perhaps this idea was an early seed
of the collaborative approach’s supposition that relationship and conversation
going hand-in-hand.

Cybernetics Continued and Beyond:

In the 1970s in the teaching seminars at the medical school we immersed

ourselves in the developments within family therapy, early on inspired by
Bateson’s Steps to Ecology of the Mind. Then Watzlawick, Weakland & Fisch’s
Change introduced the second-order cybernetics systems notions of positive
feedback and observer-dependent systems to family therapists. Positive
feedback challenged the idea that one part of a system could control another part
without itself changing and observer-dependent systems challenged the idea of
objective reality and subject-object. Pathology, including defective structure, was
no longer a necessary condition for the development of problem behavior nor
were symptoms thought to serve a function. Distinctions that we call reality, like
pathology, were no longer thought to be out there but observer punctuation. A
major implication of second-order cybernetics for understanding human problems
and the therapist's role was Bateson’s suggestion that therapists were dealing
with family beliefs not pathology and that proposing pathology is an
epistemological error.

Along the way we admired Auerswald’s ecological perspective on human

systems and later read Selvini Palazzoli’s Self-starvation, the Milan group’s
Paradox and Counterparadox and Hoffman’s Foundations and of course,
numerous family therapy journal articles. Sprinkled throughout this period was an
interest with the group relations and organizational theory and practice advanced
by the Tavistock Institute known as the A. K. Rice movement. We experimented
with the ideas in our practice and collegial relationships, invited in A.K. Rice
consultants, and participated in experiential group training events. These
experiments gave us an early awareness of gender issues and the importance of
each person’s voice. We would later challenge some feminist family therapists’
versions of gender issues as participating in what is trying to be changed:
oppressing voices.

We always wanted to meet and talk with the authors first hand, inviting them or
going to see them, introducing our colleagues to them by including them in
national and international conferences. Bateson consulted with the MIT project;
early on Weakland, Watzlawick, Hoffman and others came to do seminars; later
we invited Boscolo, Cecchin, Keeney, Laing, Penn, and von Foerster among
others; and some traveled to MRI and various seminars. We have had sustained
relationships over time with conversational partners and kindred spirits Lynn
Hoffman and Tom And ersen. Lynn always—and still does--asked questions and
made comments about our work and had a knack for words that pushed us to
think deeper and to clarify and amplify our thoughts. It was from Lynn that I
learned to think carefully about the words that I choose to articulate a meaning
that I want to convey; for instance, choosing "collaborative" instead of
"cooperative" or "public" isntead of "transparent." Tom was--and is—endlessly
challenging and innovative, and we felt like he was a kindred soul "out there" with
us in what could be an exciting but lonely place when you are questioning others
beloved traditions. From Tom, I learned to value humility. We found large
conferences seldom provided the space for the kinds of intimate conversations
that we liked to have with others. So, we, inspired by a conversation between
Lynn and Harry, created forums where participants from around the world self-
organized, talking in small conversational clusters about topics of interest to
them. It was at the first of these in 1988 that Harry publicly articulated our leaving
behind second-order cybernetics and constructivism and the new sense that
language made to us: Our lives—e.g. events, experiences, relationships, and
theories—are simply expressions of our socially constructed language and
narratives; and agency is the transformation of our language and narratives into
action. We also presented and tested out our ideas at numerous workshops and
found, as I still do, that these were an important context for shaping and clarifying
our evolving ideas.

Influences from Science and Philosophy

Parallel to the influence of second-order cybernetics on our practice and theory

were similar ones from science and philosophy such as those of Bohm, Derrida,
Einstein, Gadamer, Kuhn, Habermas, Heidegger, Husserl, Merleau-Ponty,
Prigogene, Rorty, and Wittgenstein who challenged realism: objective reality,
observer-independent knowledge, subject-object dualism, and language as
representational. These developments caught us on fire. In the latter 1970s
faculty and students began an informal study group in the evenings hosted in
homes to delve into these, and for us, new developments. The seminars were
the beginning of a teaching tradition at the Institute--theoretical seminar--where
faculty and students learn and struggle with new subjects together rather than
faculty teaching students.

In particular, we intuitively felt a fit with the works of physicist Ilya Prigogene and
biologist Humburto Maturana. Prigogene’s theory of "far-from-equilibrium"
systems and "order through fluctuation" called "dissipative structures" proposed
that to maintain stability systems must constantly change. He also proposed, as
did some other scientists and philosophers, that reality, and therefore change, is
multidimensional and does not result or arise from a pyramid-like foundation.
Instead, reality evolves in a non-hierarchical, web-like nature with the web of
descriptions becoming more and more complex. Maturana’s "autopoiesis" theory
suggested that systems are self-organizing and self-recursive: "the product of an
autopoietic organization is always the system itself" (Dell & Goolishian, 1981, p.
442). Wanting to meet the sources and gain a better understanding of their work,
we invited Maturana to spend a week with us; George Pulliam, Harry, and I drove
to the University of Texas in Austin to spend a day with one of Prigogene’s
associates. We began to write about these new vocabularies, how they fit with
our clinical experiences, and consequently, provided alternative ways to
understand human systems and our work with them (See Anderson, Goolishian,
Pulliam & Winderman, 1986; Dell, 1982,1985; Dell & Goolishian, 1979, 1981a,b).

Social Systems Metaphor

Harry challenged the relevance of the hierarchically layered social systems view
to family therapy describing it as an "onion theory" (Goolishian, 1985). Like the
layers of an onion, from its core outwards, the individual is encircled by the
family, the family by the larger system, the larger system by the community, and
so forth. Each layer is subordinate to and controlled by the surrounding layer in
the service of its own requirements--for maintenance and order. In this view,
social systems are objectively defined and are independent of the people
involved and of the observers. This onion-like, cybernetic-like social theory
contextualizes behavior, naming what should be fixed—the social structure and
organization—and thus supports the notion of psychopathology. In this
framework, a problem is caused by the system superordinate to the deviant one.
And, when relationships are considered nested and based on role and structure,
the duality of the individual and the individual in relationship (i.e., with the family)
is maintained. Interestingly, early MRI theory denounced the family role concept
in favor of family rules because role is individual in origin and orientation and
suggests a reliance on a priori theoretical and cultural definitions that exist
independently of behavioral data, and therefore, no allowance is made for the
relationship. This implies that the therapist is an independent external observer, a
knower or expert hierarchically superior to the system. Therapy informed by this
view risks bumping the container of the pathology up a level, for instance, from
individual to family or family to social agency. Either punctuation, however, still
denotes pathology and places it within a system.

In our practices, dating back to the original MIT, we included members of the
clients’ larger family, social, and professional system in therapy (Anderson &
Goolishian, 1981). We did not think about this practice theoretically, however,
until we began to realize how pejorative and blaming family therapy had become
regarding families and their fellow professionals. Harry used to say "everyone is
in love with family therapy except families." The realization that family therapy
often simply bumped the level of blame led to questioning the onion theory and to
developing an alternative way of understanding broader familial and professional
contexts and their relationships to therapy. Others (e.g. Auerswald, Hoffman &
Long, Imber-Coopersmith, Keeney, and Selvini-Palazzoli and colleagues)
explored these contexts, referring to them as the ecological system, the larger
system, the meaningful system, and the relevant system. Along the way as our
unique therapy approach continued to evolve, we studied and experimented with
developments by family therapists such as Minuchin, Erickson, and Haley. We
remained, however, mostly influenced by the MRI associates, especially the
notions of reality and language that appeared throughout their work. As Susan
McDaniel (personal communication, August 2, 2001) remembers from her 1977-
78 psychology doctoral internship and 1979-80 postgraduate fellowship,

When I first came to Galveston you and Harry were very fired up
about strategic ideas and paradox, and reacting against
psychodynamic thought. The piece that continued was the intense
interest in language. . .On my return the theorizing seemed less
reactive to the other schools [family therapy] or psychodynamic
work and was beginning to have more of its own integrity. The
common threads: respect for people’s strengths and the pathology
 of paternalizing interventions. There are common threads
throughout the years, as if you tried on others’ thoughts and
eventually boiled it down more to the essence of what you think.

I discussed in Part I how "trying on" the MRI associates’ notion of speaking the
client’s language rather than teaching the client the therapist’s language
unpredictably began to transform our work, subsequently leading to new
theoretical interests and a new family therapy paradigm.

Constructivism: Reality is Invented

Our continued interest in the developments at MRI naturally took us to

constructivism. Closely connected to second-order cybernetics, constructivism is
a theory of knowledge that challenges the notions of a tangible, external reality
that can be known, discovered, or described and of a knowledge that is
representative or reflective of reality. From this perspective, reality represents a
human functional adaptation: humans, as experiencing subjects and observers
construct and interpret reality, inventing the world they live in. The mind "brings
forth" (Maturana, 1978). Therapy informed by constructivism and second-order
cybernectics, however, still focused on problems and pathology.; the only
difference was that they were not thought to result from what Hoffman called
"faulty lenses."

Evolutionary Systems: Process Determines Structure

Lynn Hoffman (1981) referred to the new paradigm arising in family therapy from
these intertwined second-order cybernetic and constructivist metaphors and
those transported in from biology and physics by us and a few others as the
"evolutionary paradigm." The paradigm represented a continued movement away
from the concept of homeostasis and causation (both linear and circular).
Systems were viewed as evolutionary, non-equilibrium, non-lineal, self-
organizing, and self-recursive networks that are in a constant state of
discontinuous change. From this perspective systems are always in the process
of change; their change is random, unpredictable, discontinuous, and always
leads to higher levels of complexity: "This view of evolutionary systems
emphasizes process over structure and flexibility and change over stability" (Dell
and Goolishian, 1981, p. 442). As Harry and Paul Dell radically suggested,
applying these concepts to human systems implied that neither therapy nor the
therapist could unilaterally amplify one fluctuation over another or determine the
direction of change (Dell & Goolishian, 1979, Dell, 1982). In surrendering this
hierarchy and dualism, the therapist does not control the system; instead they
are an active part of a mutual evolutionary process. That is, a therapist cannot
intervene to determine the outcome or the "ongoingness" (Dell & Goolishian,
1981, p. 444) of the system’s evolution. And furthermore, as Bateson (1975)
cautioned, the word "change" is an epistemological confusion--a system does not
change. Change and system are observer punctuations; the observer is part of
each. This was the beginning of separating ourselves from the pragmatists in
family therapy who thought that they could change others and strove to do so.

This conception of a mutual evolutionary process combined with later

developments in our conceptualization of language eventually enabled us to
move entirely from the mechanic-like cybernetic, onion-like social system, and
pyramid-like reality metaphors to conceptualizing human systems as linguistic
systems--fluid, evolving communicating systems that exist in language. These
views allowed an understanding of therapy as a shift away from thinking of a
system as a collective, contained entity that acts, feels, thinks, and believes
toward a system as people who coalesced around a particular relevance. When
the relevance for coalescing dis-solves the system dissolves. We referred to
these systems as problem-determined systems (Anderson, Goolishian &
Winderman, 1986) and problem-organizing, problem- dis-solving systems
(Goolishian & Anderson, 1987, Anderson & Goolishian, 1988).

The developments and curiosities in our theory and practice to date along with
Bateson’s various emphases on epistemology sparked an interest in the nature
of knowledge and the ways in which we know. We co-organized the pivotal
Epistemology, Psychotherapy and Psychopathology conference in September
1982 to explore the nature of the theories emerging outside the psychotherapy
disciplines that we believed held such a challenge, relevance, and a promise for
transforming understandings of humans and psychotherapy and that went
beyond the traditions of family therapy.

Language and the Coordination of Behavior

According to Maturana (1978), the observer is a languaging entity who operates

in language with other observers. "[T]his entity generates the self and its
circumstances as linguistic distinctions of its participation in a linguistic domain.
In this way, meaning arises as a relationship of linguistic distinctions. And
meaning becomes part of our domain of conversation of adaptation" (p. 211).
These generated domains "become part of our domain of existence and
constitute part of the environment in which we conserve identity and adaptation"
(p. 234).

Also for Maturana, all living systems are autonomous--autopoietic systems. They
behave according to their structure, not according to their interactions with their
environment. They are structurally determined. A characteristic of such systems
is that they structurally couple, referring to the relationship between a system and
the medium in which it exits—more specifically, referring to the process of
existing. In this view lineal causality or instructive interaction is not possible: One
person cannot unilaterally determine another’s response, perception,
interpretation, or behavior. Information does not objectively exist; it is observer
punctuation. Each person or system uniquely interprets what appears to be
information. Information, like an observer, cannot influence a system in a
predetermined way. This view of lineal causality and instructive interaction fits
with Bateson’s notion that "change" is an epistemological error and our
experience that a therapist cannot be a causal agent or an agent of change.
Maturana’s notion of instructive interaction would help us make sense of a
difference that we were slowly beginning to experience in our clinical work.
Through learning and speaking the client’s languages "interventions" emerged
within the conversations of mutual inquiry and were therefore tailored to the
particular client and their situation. So, what we had been thinking of as
interventions were no longer such, but simply a product of the conversation (See
Part I). And, we soon to begin to think that families would do what they needed to
do if the therapist would just stay out of their way. The family would tap their own
resources and wisdom as proposed by the early MIT team’s notion of self-
rehabilitative potential.

Hermeneutics and Other Philosophies

Our interest in language continued and in the 1980s we moved from the realm of
science to philosophy, reading in cultural anthropology along the way. With effort
we read philosophers like Rorty and Wittgenstein and contemporary hermeneutic
thinkers like Gadamer, Habermas, and Heidegger among others. In one way or
another all challenged the notion of language and knowledge as
representational. All challenged the individual or knower as autonomous and
separate from that which he or she observes, describes, and explains and that
the mind can act as an inner mental representation of reality or knowledge. All
challenged that reality or knowledge is fixed, a priori, empirical fact independent
of the observer. All challenged that knowledge is conveyed in language or that
language can correctly represent knowledge.

Hermeneuticists concerned themselves with understanding and interpretation:

understanding the meaning of a text or discourse, including human emotion and
behavior, as a process influenced by the beliefs, assumptions, and intentions of
the interpreter. In this view "understanding is always interpretive, there is no
uniquely privileged standpoint for understanding" (Hoy 1986, p. 399). One,
therefore, can never reach a true understanding of an event or a person. Each
account is only one version of the truth. Each is influenced by what the
interpreter brings to the encounter.

The hermeneutic process of understanding is a two-way joint activity, a

dialogue--being open to the other and trying to understand them. Hermeneutics
"assumes that problems in understanding are problems of a temporary failure to
understand a person's or group's intentions, a failure which can be overcome by
continuing the dialogic, interpretive process" (Warneke 1987, p. 120). A person
can never fully understand another person or arrive at a speaker's intention and
meaning. This is impossible because the act of understanding is a generative
process, producing something different from that which one is trying to
understand. For us, the implications of hermeneutics extended beyond the
individual to between people or to people in relationship, moving toward, as
Gergen (1985, 1994) suggests a relational theory of meaning.

Hence, came our ideas about the unsaid and the not-yet-said in therapy. We
placed emphasis on trying to understand the other person and learning about
their views, but experienced that in the participatory process of articulating a view
that views altered, new ones emerged, and some dissolved away—for us and
our clients. And, about this time we began to think that this process occurred in a
metaphorical space between us. Along with these new ways of thinking about our
clients and our work together came a lesson in uncertainty and a trust that the
process would lead to yet-known possibilities. Expertise as we had learned to
think about it and use it—content, narrative, or outcome expertise--was no longer
needed. The therapist is simply an expert in a process. Thus, the hierarchy and
dualism of therapy systems and relationships begin to collapse into more
egalitarian ones, and ones that bear more resemblance to everyday ordinary life.
In the end our clients were, as our MIT forefathers knew and as we began to say,
the heroes and heroines of their own lives.

In reading philosophy it made sense for me to think of my approach not as

representing or informed by a theory, but as a philosophy of life. This notion was
reinforced by Wittgenstein’s later works and his bringing attention to how we
participate in language with each other--to how we understand, relate, and
respond with each other—how we go on with each other. How client and
therapist go on with each other, we said, is mutually determined.

Social Constructionism

Berger and Luckmann’s The Social Construction of Reality, around since the mid
1960s, suggested a relationship between individual perspective and social
process, and accordingly, the social nature of knowledge and a multiplicity of
possible interpretations. It would not be, however, until we started reading
Gergen’s (1982, 1985) version of social constructionism as well as others in the
same ballpark like Brunner, Geertz, Goodman, Harre, Polkinghorne, Sarbin,
Shotter, and Taylor that social construction caught our attention. Harry met
Gergen at an American Psychological Association meeting in the early 1980s
and returned even more inspired by Gergen’s ideas.

Social constructionism is a form of inquiry concerned with explicating the

processes by which people come to describe, explain, and account for the world
(including themselves) in which they live. What intrigued us about social
constructionism was its move away from constructivism’s idea of the individual
constructing mind and the autonomous individual. Although both reject the notion
that the mind reflects reality and advance that knowledge is a construction, social
constructionism emphasizes the interactional and communal context as the
meaning maker. Mind is relational and the development of meaning is discursive
in nature, or what Shotter (1993b) refers to as "conversational realities." Social
constructionism moves beyond the social contextualization of behavior and
simple relativity. Context is thought of as a multi-relational and linguistic domain
in which behavior, feelings, emotions, understandings, and so forth are
communal constructions. These occur within a plurality of ever-changing,
complex web of relationships and social processes, and within local and broad
linguistic domains and discourses.

Knowledge likewise, including self-knowledge or self-narrative, is a communal

construction, a product of social exchange. From this perspective ideas, truths, or
self-identities for instance, are products authored in a community of persons and
relationships. The meanings that we attribute to the things, the events, and the
people in our lives, and to our selves, are arrived at through the language used
by persons--through social dialogue, interchange, and interaction between
people. The emphasis is on the "contextual basis of meaning, and its continuing
negotiation across time" (Gergen 1994, p. 66) rather than on locating the origins
of meaning. We felt liberated by this move away from the notion of individual
authorship to multi- or plural-authorship, and the possibilities associated with it.
And, it fit with our clinical experiences of how stories are told and retold and how
new stories emerge from these tellings and retellings.

Through Gergen we met Shotter, inviting both of them, along with Tom Andersen
and Rachael Hare Mustin, to join us in our Narrative and Psychotherapy
Conference in Houston in May 1991. Shotter is influenced by the likes of Bakhtin,
Billig, Vogotsky and Voloshinov and through his writings he introduced us to their
ideas.and he helped us have a deeper understanding of Wittgenstein. Shotter
refers to his version of social construction as a rhetorical-responsive one. Shotter
is particularly occupied with the self-other relationship and the ways in which
people spontaneously coordinate their everyday activities with each other. He is
concerned with what it is like to be a particular person living within a network of
relations with others, a person positioned or situated in relation to others in
different ways at different times. He calls this self-other dimension of interaction
"joint action," saying "all actions by human beings involved with others in a social
group in this fashion are dialogically or responsively linked in some way, both to
previous, already executed actions and to anticipated, next possible actions"
(Shotter, 1984, p. 52-53).

From this period on we became increasingly critical of how the culture of

psychology and psychotherapy created deficiency based language, language
that labels and classifies a person or group of persons like a family rather than
telling us about them. Diagnoses, for instance, operate as cultural and
professional codes that function to gather, analyze, and order the waiting-to-be-
discovered data. As similarities and patterns are found, people and problems are
fitted into a deficit-based system of categories that are sustained through
language and discourse. This creates an illusion of generalizable psychological
knowledge. The language and vocabularies of psychotherapy become
impersonalized and disregard the uniqueness of each individual and each
situation (Gergen, Hoffman, and Anderson, 1995).

Up until 1988 Harry and I were mixing the metaphors of second-order

cybernetics, constructivism, hermeneutics, social constructionism, and narrative
theories. This changed dramatically during a conference organized by Tom
Andersen in Sulitjelma, Norway in 1988. Tom brought together epistemologists
and clinicians to explore second-order cybernetics and constructivist theories and
their practical applications. The details of the story are too many for these pages,
but it became clear to us from that experience that our current views of language
and conversation did not fit with these metaphors. That conference represented
our informal parting with second-order cybernectics and constructivism, which
was more formally addressed at the first Galveston Symposium, mentioned
earlier (Anderson & Goolishian, 1989).

From Families and Individual to Persons-in-Relationships

All along we slowly abandoned the dichotomy of individual and family,

(re)discovering the individual. We were discovering, however, a different
individual than that of traditional psychological theories. We found that social
constructionism and other postmodern theories bring the individual and the
relationship to the forefront. And, importantly, their emphasis on relationships
entails rethinking the notion of individual and self(whether the subject of inquiry is
a single self or collective selves) to the self- or individual-in-relationship.

Expanding the notion of the individual(s) in relationship to include relationship to

oneself or one's selves, to others, and to one's historical, cultural, political, and
environmental world transcends individual and relationship dichotomies inherent
in such layered social-systems frameworks as individual-family, family-therapist,
individual-collective behavior, or biological-mental. It moves beyond defining the
relationship focus as two or more intimately related people with a shared history
who form a social system, beyond family relationships, and beyond privileging
one level of a system over another. It challenges the restrictive definition of family
therapy and its narrow concept of relationship by redefining the domain and
focus. That is, it challenges the familiar what and means of inquiry--what is
examined and described and the means of examination and description. The
focus is neither the interior of the individual nor the family, but the person(s)-in-
relationship. This shift in domain and focus challenges the very notion of family
therapy itself and systems theories as the explanatory models. We moved away
from family therapy, as it had been conceptualized (Anderson & Goolishian,
1988; Anderson, 1994, 1997).

In our clinical work, this new conceptualization of the individual fit with our earlier
experiences of trying to talk the family’s language. We found that we could not
learn a family’s language because families did not have a language. Family
members, however, did have a language and we could learn and talk within the
language of each member. And, the differences in these languages

Narrative, Self and Identity: Linguistic and Social Constructs

Since narrative is such a crucial dimension of hermeneutics, social construction,

and other philosophies, it was only natural that it surfaced as another major
interest. Narrative is more than a storytelling metaphor. It is a form of discourse,
the discursive way in which we organize, account for, give meaning, understand,
and provide structure and coherence to the circumstances, events, and
experiences in our lives for ourselves and for others. From this narrative view,
our descriptions, our vocabularies, and our stories constitute our understanding
of human nature and behavior. Our stories form, inform, and reform our sources
of knowledge and views of reality. Narratives are created, experienced, and
shared by individuals in conversation and action with one another and with one's
self. They are the "stories [that] serve as communal resources that people use in
ongoing relationships" (Gergen 1994, p. 189). I use narrative as a metaphor for a
process, not as a template or map for understanding, interpreting, or predicting
human behavior.

Language is the vehicle of the narrating process: We use it to construct, to

organize, and to attribute meaning to our stories. Meaning and action cannot be
separated. The limits of our language constrain what can be expressed and how
it can be expressed--our stories, and thus, our futures. Stories are not
accomplished facts but are stories in the process of being made, of evolving.
Narrative becomes the way we imagine alternatives and create possibilities, and
the way we actualize these options. Narrative is the source of transformation.

Our ideas about narrative, self, and identity are influenced by numbers of authors
such as Beneviste, Bruner, Gadamer, Gergen, Harre, Rorty, and Shotter. From a
linguistic and social construction perspective, self (and other) is a created
concept, a created narrative, linguistically constructed and existing in dialogue
and in relationship. In this view, the self is a dialogical-narrative self and identity
is a dialogical-narrative identity.

The self in this view exists in language and is therefore always engaged in
conversational becoming, constructed and reconstructed, and shifting identities
through continuous interactions, through relationships (Anderson and Goolishian
1988a; Goolishian and Anderson 1994). We are always forming and performing
I. We are always as many potential selves as are embedded within and created
by our conversations. In this view identity and continuity or what we think of as
selfhood becomes maintaining coherence and continuity in the stories we tell
about ourselves. Inherent in this view a narrative never represents a single voice;
the narrator is an multi-authored polyphony self.
In this view since self, or I, does not exist outside of language and discourse,
there is no inner core or fixed tangible self. Critics often fear that this view loses
the individual, including individual rights and responsibility. To the contrary, the
individual and individual responsibility have a place of primary importance. The
difference is in how the individual and responsibility are conceived. As individuals
absorbed in others, as non-solitary selves, we are confronted more, not less, with
issues of responsibility. Critics also fear that socially constructed multiple self’s
result in a fragmented self. Hermans et al. (1992) response to this concern is that
"the multiplicity of the self does not result in fragmentation, because it is the
same I that is moving back and forth [my emphasis] between several positions"
(p. 28-29.

Confronting these notions of self further solidified our move away from thinking in
terms of causes, behaviors, and objects to focusing on the person, agency, and
action. This linguistic and dialogical path, this relational path, took us beyond the
view of narrative therapy as storytelling and story making and the self as the
narrator. It took us beyond the risk of the therapist being the expert who chooses,
directs, and edits--subtly or not--the story to be told, how it is told, and what
emerges from it.

Persons, Agency, Action and Therapists

Self-agency refers to one’s perception of competency or ability to perform or take

action. It refers to having possible choices and to participating in the creation or
expansion of choices. Self-narratives can permit or hinder self-agency. That is,
our self-narratives create identities that permit or hinder us from doing what we
need or want to do (Anderson & Goolishian, 1988a, Goolishian, 1989; Goolishian
& Anderson, 1994). In therapy we meet people whose "problems" can be thought
of as emanating from social narratives and self-definitions or -stories that do not
yield choices or that blind a person to choices.

In this narrative view, self is no longer the subject of the verb change; a client is
no longer a subject that a therapist changes. The purpose of therapy becomes to
help people tell and participate in their telling of their first-person narratives. The
therapist’s role is not to be an editor or expert on these narratives and choices,
but to participate in a dialogical process, remaining open to the unexpected
newness that emerges. In this process, self-identities transform to ones that
allow for self-agency, for varied ways of being in and acting in the world, and for
multiple possibilities regarding the life circumstances we sometimes think of as
problems.

The intent with which and the way a therapist participates in the narrating
process distinguish a postmodernist collaborative narrative perspective from
other narrative informed therapies. In this participation, striving for a relational
means of joint construction of the "new" narrative, a therapist must have an
awareness of and take care in the way they use language and the language
choices they make. The therapist must not be indifferent to their participation in
the conversation; they must have an awareness of and be responsible for their
contributions to the conversation and the meanings that they participate in
constructing and inventing. The therapist does not choose or direct the narrative
account that they think should emerge, does not privilege one account over
another, and does not determine which account is the truest or most useful.
Again, the therapist is not a narrative expert or editor. For instance, new
language may be introduced in an attempt to understand the client. That is, a
therapist’s saying back to a client exactly what they have said does not confirm
understanding. Understanding often requires offering what a client has said in
comparable terms, giving the client a chance to clarify, correct, or confirm the
therapist’s understanding. The intent of these therapist’s utterances would not be
to rewrite the client’s narrative. Interestingly though, in this process of client
telling and therapist learning something that Rorty talks about begins to happen
spontaneously: The familiar begins to be talked about in unfamiliar terms, giving
new meaning to the familiar. The intent of any therapist language (verbal and
nonverbal) is to facilitate generativity: Possibilities for new meanings, new
narratives, new self-identities, new agency, and new actions for client and
therapist. At the time of his death, Harry’s interest lay in the notions of narrative,
self, and self-identity (Goolishian & Anderson, 1994).

A Postmodern Umbrella

As we continued to move further away from our inherited traditions regarding

human systems and therapy, and as we collected the bits and pieces of new
ways of describing, understanding, and explaining our clinical experiences
discussed above, we eventually found ourselves under a postmodern umbrella.
Postmodern, broadly speaking refers an ideological critique of traditional views of
knowledge that developed among scholars within several disciplines such as
architecture, art, literature, poetry, and social sciences. Postmodern invites an
ongoing skeptical attitude and critical reflection of foundational knowledge and
privileging discourses, including their certainty and power and it alternatively
suggests a move to local knowledge and a multiplicity of truths. Specifically, it
represents a challenge to meta-narratives, universal truths, objective reality,
language as representational, and the scientific criteria of knowledge as objective
and fixed. The postmodern critique includes a self-critique of postmodernism
itself. Uncertainty, unpredictability, and the unknown, therefore, characterize
postmodernism.

From a postmodernism perspective knowledge is socially constructed;

knowledge and the knower are interdependent; and all knowledge and knowing
are embedded within context, culture, language, experience, and understanding.
We can only know the world through our experiences; we cannot have direct
knowledge of it. We continually interpret our experiences and interpret our
interpretations. And, as such, knowledge fluid, continually evolving, broadening,
and changing. Dispensing with the notion of absolute truth and taking a position
of plurality does not imply nihilism or solipsism. Rather, from a postmodern
perspective everything is open to challenge including postmodernism itself.

Postmodernism provided an umbrella under we could cluster the premises of our

post-cybernetics era. A consistent thread runs through the various versions of
postmodernism that I find appealing: the notion that language and knowledge are
relational and generative. Transformation (e.g.. new knowledge, expertise,
identities, and futures), therefore, is inherent in the inventive and creative aspects
of language. This transformative view of language invites a view of human beings
as resilient; it invites an appreciative approach.

This conceptualization of knowledge and language inform my preference for

collaborative relationships and dialogical conversations and involves a particular
kind of attitude or position that I call a philosophical stance (Anderson, 1997).
Philosophical stance refers to a way of being: a way of thinking about,
experiencing, being in relationship with, talking with, acting with, and responding
with the people we met in therapy. Intertwined characteristics of therapy informed
by this stance include: client and therapist become conversational partners who
engage in collaborative relationships and dialogical conversations; the client is
the expert on his or her life; the therapist’s expertise is in creating a space for
and facilitating collaborative relationships and dialogical conversations; the
therapist is a not-knower who learns from the client; the therapist is public,
making his or her thoughts visible; these kinds of relationships and conversations
involve uncertainty; and client and therapist are shaped and reshaped—
transformed—as they go about their work together. I reiterate, this philosophical
stance is an attitude and position about a way of being in the world and it must
be a natural and spontaneous fit for the therapist. It is not a technique nor does it
yield techniques. In sincerely adopting this stance, the therapist is present as a
human being, client-therapist relationships become less hierarchical and dualistic
and therapy becomes more like everyday ordinary life. Most importantly,
unexpected and endless possibilities are imagined for client and therapist.

Current Interests and Directions

In recent years I have been increasingly interested in experimenting with

postmodern ideas in the areas of learning, research, and organizational
consultation (Anderson, 2000, Anderson & Burney, 1997; Anderson & Swim,
1994). I have expanded my long-time interest in the voices of therapy clients to
the voices of learners, coresearchers, and people in organizations. What can we
learn from them that will help all of us be more successful in our various
endeavors? How can the other(s) and we mutually determine, design, and
implement joint tasks. How can we in our profession cross and blur disciplinary
boundaries to learn with others and from the richness they can offer for
expanding our language and options? Inspired by my colleagues at Grupo
Campos Eliseos in Mexico City I have gained an interest in the relevance and
use of art, literature, and museums in all my practices. All in the vein of my ever
present question in one form or another: How can therapists, teachers, and
consultants create the kinds of relationships and conversations with their clients
that allow all parties to access their creativities and develop possibilities where
none seemed to exist before?

I am often asked, "Where are you going from here?" and "What’s after
postmodern?" I respond, "I don’t know." Postmodernism is still in its infancy in
regards to our broader intellectual and psychotherapy cultures. Unlimited
challenges and possibilities, and opportunities yet to be tapped to deepen and
broaden the postmodern perspective and its applications abound.

To highlight and summarize the theoretical and philosophical developments

along the way to a postmodern collaborative approach has been a daunting task.
There are always risks that putting words on paper might reify them.
Undoubtedly, I would tell this story differently at another point in time and context.
This has been a trip down memory lane. I could not include all the pauses and
people along the way. I hope that my account invites smiling memories for those
who have been on paths of this journey. And, I hope it gives those new to this
journey a panorama snapshot of the development of a still evolving postmodern
collaborative approach.

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