The Consequences of “Circling the Wagons”
In researching the Anna Stubblefield case (see Facilitator crimes), I came across a quote by Christine Ashby about double-blind testing that caught my attention. Ashby took Douglas Biklen’s place at Syracuse University’s Facilitated Communication Institute after he retired. The FCI keeps changing its name to deflect attention away from the fact that it maintains its pro-FC position despite overwhelming evidence against it. The FCI was known for a while as the “Institute on Communication and Inclusion,” but recently rebranded itself as “Inclusion and Communication Initiatives.”
Faraday apparatus to detect the ideomotor effect on table turning. July 1853. (Public domain Image available on WikiMedia Commons).
Apparently, Ashby gave a talk at a 2015 conference called “Circling the Wagons: How Shifting Definitions of ‘Research’ Keep the Voices of F.C. Users Out.” She told her audience:
Several years ago, one of the biggest F.C. skeptics offered something like $100,000 to any F.C. user who would go and pass his double-blind test. Do you know how badly I wanted to get one of the people I know and love to go do that? Just because I wanted to stick it in his face and use that money to do good work in the world. But I would never subject somebody to that…Who would do that? That is the most inhumane thing I’ve ever heard of. You go to see this person who despises you, who thinks you are incompetent and incapable. And you go perform in front of them like a show pony. And if you can do that, then he’ll still say that you probably weren’t autistic to begin with.”
My goodness. There is a lot to unpack in that statement.
When leaders call for a “circling of the wagons,” it is an attempt to unite their followers against a perceived threat. This is a common approach in cult-like organizations to keep people from hearing alternative viewpoints and to limit members’ exposure to outside influences. In Ashby’s case, it appears that anyone who criticizes FC for its lack of evidence is viewed, quite aggressively, as someone who is against individuals with disabilities. The problem with this approach is that closing ranks also means information that could (and does) run counter to proponent belief systems is prevented from getting in as well.
My guess is Ashby refers to James Randi in her comments. He was a skeptic and magician familiar with the art of illusion and the ideomotor response. Randi had first-hand experience with FC when he was contacted to test the psychic abilities of individuals being subjected to the technique. I wrote about that in a previous blog post. When Randi suggested facilitators test for authorship (i.e. facilitator influence) before testing for any psychic abilities, he was removed from the project.
At one time, the James Randi Educational Foundation (JREF) was offering a $1 million prize to psychics and others (including facilitators) who were making extraordinary claims of supernatural powers. Ashby passed up an opportunity to raise significant funds for her organization and help lay to rest the question of facilitator control over FCed messages claiming it would be a “pony show.” It is true Randi was a show person and not a communication specialist or psychologist, but the JREF took these claims seriously. I can understand some resistance to the testing if there was danger of it becoming a spectacle. However, as someone who has experienced double-blind testing, I can attest to the fact that it need not be conducted in the public eye nor is it inhumane. I will talk more about that in a minute.
Ashby claims in a very public way that “the skeptic” despises individuals with disabilities and their facilitators who are willing to go through double-blind testing. By “skeptic” does she mean just Randi or is she sending a signal to her followers that anyone who observes verbal and physical cuing by facilitators—and voices their concerns aloud—should be characterized in this way? FC is, by Ashby’s own description in an online webinar I attended, “a technique of last resort.” What is the price, then, of questioning whether the FCed messages are truly independent? Most likely, exclusion from the group. And then what?
If this is how Ashby characterizes all critics of FC to her followers, it is no wonder that facilitators do not want to undergo double-blind testing. The problem with “circling the wagons” and taking this rather defensive position is twofold:
It precludes the believer from getting to know the evaluators, their credentials, and their motivations. Granted, no one should work with someone who “despises” them, but proponents often equate criticism of FC with ad hominem attacks. The literature on FC—both pro and con—quite consistently indicates that, on the whole, facilitators are well-intentioned but largely unaware of the extent to which they are providing cues during the typing sessions. This extends to all forms of FC: typing to communicate, supported typing, spelling to communicate, rapid prompting method and whatever other names have been adopted for the technique.
Double-blind testing could, potentially, rule out facilitator control just as easily as it could rule it in. Skeptics want to know who is controlling the typing—the facilitator or the individual with disabilities. The communications cannot be attributed to both people (as it is now with all forms of FC) and still be considered independent. To everyone but FC believers, independent communication is communication without interference from the facilitator. Should the results of a reliably controlled test (e.g., where the facilitator is blinded to test protocols) demonstrate independent communication, skeptics would respect that result. The problem, to date, is that under reliably controlled conditions, facilitator control has not been ruled out. That’s over thirty years proponents have failed to back up their claims of independent communication with reliable evidence. I submit that rather than despise individuals willing to go through double-blind testing, skeptics would admire the people for the courage of their convictions.
Someone recently asked me why I want to take people’s voices away by insisting that facilitators undergo message-passing tests. Shouldn’t I just be satisfied with other forms of testing (i.e., the ones that do not explore the question of authorship and facilitator control)? Shouldn’t I just presume competence in the individuals with disabilities?
I find this quite curious, because embedded in the proponent’s own question is the assumption that a message-passing test would fail to demonstrate independent communication and, therefore, facilitators would have to stop using FC. That is, facilitators, deep down, seem to have an understanding that FC cannot exist without facilitator control over the typing. They, themselves, are unwilling to explore the option of double-blind testing because it might bring to fruition their own fears about the results. Equally, they seem unaware of their own circled wagon reasoning.
As a former facilitator, I get it, but, having gone through double-blind testing myself, I’d answer those questions by saying I have heaps more faith in individuals with disabilities—regardless of their ability to communicate verbally, through typing or other means—than I do with facilitated communication itself.
Let me explain.
Just like facilitators of today, I was advised by workshop leaders to disregard negative reports about FC. I know, now, that back in the early 1990s when I was trained, the “negative reports” included Paul Heinrich’s reporting of the “Carla” case in Australia. This was among the first false allegations of abuse cases and involved Rosemary Crossley, one of FC’s founders, and eight of her trained facilitators. (See False Allegations Abuse) The judge presiding over the case called it a travesty and admonished the facilitators for not doing their due diligence. Naturally, the leadership would want to hide this information from their new recruits. It was not as easy to get access to FC news accounts as it is now with Google searches.
The O.D. Heck Center had published or was in the process of publishing the results from their double-blind tests. The research was among the first in the U.S. to document facilitator control in all of their Syracuse trained facilitators. Other controlled tests conducted around that time repeated the findings. (See Controlled Studies) Common to all facilitators is the belief that mistakes can happen in other people, but not in themselves. That’s why double-blind testing is so important. But instead of taking a step back and reworking FC, workshop leaders told us to ignore the results and, just like current day leaders, characterized critics as people to be despised.
Jon Palfreman, too, had begun an in-depth investigation of FC that would lead to the 1993 Frontline documentary, Prisoners of Silence. I eventually spoke to him in person, though pressure from my superintendent precluded me from participating on screen. Jon was one of the people who talked to me about the scientific evidence (or lack thereof) behind FC. He wrote about the dark legacy of FC in this article.
Despite warnings not to test FC, I agreed to undergo double-blind testing for reasons I wrote about in a 2012 article. Without a doubt, it was an emotionally challenging experience, but part of the reason why I ended up as a critic of FC is because the experience allowed me access to the scientific evidence regarding FC use and facilitator control, something not afforded to us in the workshop.
Additionally, I realized that my experience with double-blind testing and contact with “skeptics” was diametrically opposed to what I learned to expect from the workshop.
1) The test was not conducted in a “cold” laboratory setting. The room was one my student and I had been in many times while “successfully” facilitating.
2) No one was trying to “trick” my student or test her IQ. The materials used for the testing were common, everyday items and objects. The questions asked were based on my student’s life experiences.
3) Neither my student nor I was treated unfairly or with disrespect. Despite my nervousness and the seriousness of the situation, the evaluator did his best to reassure both my student and me during the activities. The student’s guardian ad litem was also present and reassured me he would stop the testing if he thought my student was being treated unfairly. There was no need for his intervention. The testing was not oppositional. It was not a “pony show.”
4) My student was not under duress or uncooperative. The typing session felt the same as it did on any other day. Without my knowledge the student was instructed that she could stop the testing whenever she wanted by using a code word or getting up and leaving the room. She was in complete control as to how long she wanted to participate. She stayed through the whole exam.
Not all facilitators who go through double-blind testing reject FC, even when the results clearly indicate facilitator control over the typing sessions. I understand the psychological difficulties with accepting the truth about FC. Facilitators often stake their reputations on their role as facilitator. The leadership is quick to blame facilitators (like me) for poor test results under controlled settings. By participating in double-blind testing and/or accepting the results should facilitator influence be documented, facilitators risk exile from their “community” ( the “circled wagon one“ and the “one of last resort”). Proponents fall back to their default position which disparages the examiner (rather than risk looking internally for answers). And, remarkably, I have also read reports where facilitators blame the FCed student for inaccurate typed responses, accusing them of spelling the wrong answers on purpose. It seems no one is safe as facilitators rationalize away the results and latch on to any excuse to maintain their (closed) belief system.
If other people’s experiences with double-blind testing are anything like mine, as a facilitator, I can understand why the controlled setting increases facilitators’ anxiety. FC is, after all, about facilitator behavior and not the capabilities of individuals with disabilities. No one wants to be proven wrong. But, as a person alerted to the dangers of FC, I absolutely think testing is warranted.
The heightened attention on facilitation in controlled settings increases the facilitator’s awareness of their own thoughts and actions. These thoughts and actions surface in every day facilitation sessions, but are not necessarily consciously attended to in unstructured settings: “I moved my student’s hand this time but won’t next time,” or, “I wonder what the color of uncle so-and-so’s car is?,” or “Is she seeing the same picture as I am or is it different?” Biklen’s article “Communication Unbound” documents facilitator doubts as well. (See Rationalizations Abound)
The facilitator’s mind is not blank or still during FC sessions. It is active in a way a fiction writer’s mind is active. If the facilitator knows the answer—or thinks they know the answer—it comes out on the page. (See Wegner et. al., 2003) Based on my personal experiences and later research, my working theory is that facilitators, unwittingly, fabricate an idealized version of their client in their minds and that is who they are talking to when they type out FCed messages. These “conversations” feel real, just like fiction writers report their “dialogue” with their characters feels real.
Another facilitator once asked, “You mean, all this time I’ve been talking to myself?” Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. It’s a difficult concept to accept. I’m not sure the person ever did.
Facilitators have an emotional stake in creating a worldview that demonizes outside views—to circle the wagons, as Ashby puts it. I have seen—and felt—firsthand how fragile the FC belief system is and how quickly it can come tumbling down when facts are introduced. The only defense in maintaining the belief system seems to lie in psychologically putting distance between believers and critics of the technique. I think it explains the ferocity of some proponents’ statements in workshops, on blogs, and in the press.
I, like many critics, have compassion for rank-and-file facilitators. It is FC—the technique--that is problematic, not the individuals caught up in the movement. I think facilitators are, for the most part, compassionate and well-intentioned. Equally, I think they are doing their clients, themselves, and, ironically, FC a disservice by not participating in double-blind testing. The fact that this type of testing is actively discouraged by leaders in the movement—called inhumane, even--should give prospective clients pause for thought. By “circling the wagons,” what is it that the leadership doesn’t want you to know about their technique? What information are they hiding from you? Why wouldn’t they want to be absolutely sure the typed words are not being controlled by the facilitators? What is more inhumane—double blind testing or facilitators who obfuscate the words of people with disabilities and replace them with their own, even if unwittingly? And, finally, what harm would it do to test the technique under double-blind conditions?
Could it be that, deep down, facilitators know the answers to these questions? By their own actions and comments, I think they do.