Social work

Paper social work

Table of Contents

ALSO BY IRVIN D. YALOM
Title Page
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS
INSTILLATION OF HOPE
UNIVERSALITY
IMPARTING INFORMATION
ALTRUISM
THE CORRECTIVE RECAPITULATION OF THE PRIMARY FAMILY GROUP
DEVELOPMENT OF SOCIALIZING TECHNIQUES
IMITATIVE BEHAVIOR

Chapter 2 – INTERPERSONAL LEARNING
THE IMPORTANCE OF INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS
THE CORRECTIVE EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE
THE GROUP AS SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM: A DYNAMIC INTERACTION
RECOGNITION OF BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS IN THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM—IS IT REAL?
OVERVIEW
TRANSFERENCE AND INSIGHT

Chapter 3 – GROUP COHESIVENESS
THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP COHESIVENESS

MECHANISM OF ACTION
SUMMARY

Chapter 4 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: AN INTEGRATION
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: THE CLIENT’S
VIEW
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: DIFFERENCES
BETWEEN CLIENTS’ AND …
THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: MODIFYING FORCES

Chapter 5 – THE THERAPIST: BASIC TASKS
CREATION AND MAINTENANCE OF THE GROUP
CULTURE BUILDING
HOW DOES THE LEADER SHAPE NORMS?
EXAMPLES OF THERAPEUTIC GROUP NORMS

Chapter 6 – THE THERAPIST: WORKING IN THE HERE – AND – NOW
DEFINITION OF PROCESS
PROCESS FOCUS: THE POWER SOURCE OF THE GROUP
THE THERAPIST’S TASKS IN THE HERE-AND-NOW
TECHNIQUES OF HERE-AND-NOW ACTIVATION
TECHNIQUES OF PROCESS ILLUMINATION
HELPING CLIENTS ASSUME A PROCESS ORIENTATION
HELPING CLIENTS ACCEPT PROCESS-ILLUMINATING COMMENTS
PROCESS COMMENTARY: A THEORETICAL OVERVIEW
THE USE OF THE PAST
GROUP – AS – A – WHOLE PROCESS COMMENTARY

Chapter 7 – THE THERAPIST: TRANSFERENCE AND TRANSPARENCY
TRANSFERENCE IN THE THERAPY GROUP

THE PSYCHOTHERAPIST AND TRANSPARENCY

Chapter 8 – THE SELECTION OF CLIENTS
CRITERIA FOR EXCLUSION
CRITERIA FOR INCLUSION
AN OVERVIEW OF THE SELECTION PROCEDURE
SUMMARY

Chapter 9 – THE COMPOSITION OF THERAPY GROUPS
THE PREDICTION OF GROUP BEHAVIOR
PRINCIPLES OF GROUP COMPOSITION
OVERVIEW
A FINAL CAVEAT

Chapter 10 – CREATION OF THE GROUP: PLACE, TIME, SIZE, PREPARATION
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS
DURATION AND FREQUENCY OF MEETINGS
BRIEF GROUP THERAPY
PREPARATION FOR GROUP THERAPY

Chapter 11 – IN THE BEGINNING
FORMATIVE STAGES OF THE GROUP
THE IMPACT OF CLIENTS ON GROUP DEVELOPMENT
MEMBERSHIP PROBLEMS

Chapter 12 – THE ADVANCED GROUP
SUBGROUPING
CONFLICT IN THE THERAPY GROUP
SELF-DISCLOSURE

TERMINATION

Chapter 13 – PROBLEM GROUP MEMBERS
THE MONOPOLIST
THE SILENT CLIENT
THE BORING CLIENT
THE HELP-REJECTING COMPLAINER
THE PSYCHOTIC OR BIPOLAR CLIENT
THE CHARACTEROLOGICALLY DIFFICULT CLIENT

Chapter 14 – THE THERAPIST: SPECIALIZED FORMATS AND PROCEDURAL
AIDS
CONCURRENT INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP THERAPY
COMBINING GROUP THERAPY AND TWELVE-STEP GROUPS
CO-THERAPISTS
THE LEADERLESS MEETING
DREAMS
AUDIOVISUAL TECHNOLOGY
WRITTEN SUMMARIES
GROUP THERAPY RECORD KEEPING
STRUCTURED EXERCISES

Chapter 15 – SPECIALIZED THERAPY GROUPS
MODIFICATION OF TRADITIONAL GROUP THERAPY FOR SPECIALIZED
CLINICAL SITUATIONS: …
THE ACUTE INPATIENT THERAPY GROUP
GROUPS FOR THE MEDICALLY ILL
ADAPTATION OF CBT AND IPT TO GROUP THERAPY
SELF-HELP GROUPS AND INTERNET SUPPORT GROUPS

Chapter 16 – GROUP THERAPY: ANCESTORS AND COUSINS
WHAT IS AN ENCOUNTER GROUP?
ANTECEDENTS AND EVOLUTION OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
GROUP THERAPY FOR NORMALS
THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE ENCOUNTER GROUP AND THE
THERAPY GROUP

Chapter 17 – TRAINING THE GROUP THERAPIST
OBSERVATION OF EXPERIENCED CLINICIANS
SUPERVISION
A GROUP EXPERIENCE FOR TRAINEES
PERSONAL PSYCHOTHERAPY
SUMMARY
BEYOND TECHNIQUE

Appendix – Information and Guidelines for Participation in Group Therapy
Notes
Index
Copyright Page

ALSO BY IRVIN D. YALOM
Existential Psychotherapy
Every Day Gets a Little Closer: A Twice-Told Therapy
(with Ginny Elkin)
Encounter Groups: First Facts
(with Morton A. Lieberman and Matthew B. Miles)
Inpatient Group Psychotherapy
Concise Guide to Group Psychotherapy
(with Sophia Vinogradov)
Love’s Executioner
When Nietzsche Wept
Lying on the Couch
Momma and the Meaning of Life
The Gift of Therapy
The Schopenhauer Cure

ALSO BY MOLYN LESZCZ

Treating the Elderly with Psychotherapy:
The Scope for Change in Later Life
(with Joel Sadavoy)

To the memory of my mother and father, RUTH YALOM and BENJAMIN YALOM

To the memory of my mother and father, CLARA LESZCZ and SAUL LESZCZ

Preface to the Fifth Edition
For this fifth edition of The Theory and Practice of Psychotherapy I have had the good
fortune of having Molyn Leszcz as my collaborator. Dr. Leszcz, whom I first met in 1980
when he spent a yearlong fellowship in group therapy with me at Stanford University, has
been a major contributor to research and clinical innovation in group therapy. For the past
twelve years, he has directed one of the largest group therapy training programs in the
world in the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Toronto, where he is an
associate professor. His broad knowledge of contemporary group practice and his
exhaustive review of the research and clinical literature were invaluable to the preparation
of this volume. We worked diligently, like co-therapists, to make this edition a seamless
integration of new and old material. Although for stylistic integrity we opted to retain the
first-person singular in this text, behind the “I” there is always a collaborative “we.”
Our task in this new edition was to incorporate the many new changes in the field and to
jettison outmoded ideas and methods. But we had a dilemma: What if some of the changes
in the field do not represent advances but, instead, retrogression? What if marketplace
considerations demanding quicker, cheaper, more efficient methods act against the best
interests of the client? And what if “efficiency” is but a euphemism for shedding clients
from the fiscal rolls as quickly as possible? And what if these diverse market factors force
therapists to offer less than they are capable of offering their clients?
If these suppositions are true, then the requirements of this revision become far more
complex because we have a dual task: not only to present current methods and prepare
student therapists for the contemporary workplace, but also to preserve the accumulated
wisdom and techniques of our field even if some young therapists will not have immediate
opportunities to apply them.
Since group therapy was first introduced in the 1940s, it has undergone a series of
adaptations to meet the changing face of clinical practice. As new clinical syndromes,
settings, and theoretical approaches have emerged, so have corresponding variants of
group therapy. The multiplicity of forms is so evident today that it makes more sense to
speak of “group therapies” than of “group therapy.” Groups for panic disorder, groups for
acute and chronic depression, groups to prevent depression relapse, groups for eating
disorders, medical support groups for patients with cancer, HIV/AIDS, rheumatoid
arthritis, multiple sclerosis, irritable bowel syndrome, obesity, myocardial infarction,
paraplegia, diabetic blindness, renal failure, bone marrow transplant, Parkinson’s, groups
for healthy men and women who carry genetic mutations that predispose them to develop
cancer, groups for victims of sexual abuse, for the confused elderly and for their
caregivers, for clients with obsessive-compulsive disorder, first-episode schizophrenia, for
chronic schizophrenia, for adult children of alcoholics, for parents of sexually abused
children, for male batterers, for self-mutilators, for the divorced, for the bereaved, for
disturbed families, for married couples—all of these, and many more, are forms of group
therapy.
The clinical settings of group therapy are also diverse: a rapid turnover group for

chronically or acutely psychotic patients on a stark hospital ward is group therapy, and so
are groups for imprisoned sex offenders, groups for residents of a shelter for battered
women, and open-ended groups of relatively well functioning individuals with neurotic or
personality disorders meeting in the well-appointed private office of a psychotherapist.
And the technical approaches are bewilderingly different: cognitive-behavioral,
psychoeducational, interpersonal, gestalt, supportive-expressive, psychoanalytic, dynamic-
interactional, psychodrama—all of these, and many more, are used in group therapy.
This family gathering of group therapies is swollen even more by the presence of
distant cousins to therapy groups entering the room: experiential classroom training
groups (or process groups) and the numerous self-help (or mutual support) groups like
Alcoholics Anonymous and other twelve-step recovery groups, Adult Survivors of Incest,
Sex Addicts Anonymous, Parents of Murdered Children, Overeaters Anonymous, and
Recovery, Inc. Although these groups are not formal therapy groups, they are very often
therapeutic and straddle the blurred borders between personal growth, support, education,
and therapy (see chapter 16 for a detailed discussion of this topic). And we must also
consider the youngest, most rambunctious, and most unpredictable of the cousins: the
Internet support groups, offered in a rainbow of flavors.
How, then, to write a single book that addresses all these group therapies? The strategy
I chose thirty-five years ago when I wrote the first edition of this book seems sound to me
still. My first step was to separate “front” from “core” in each of the group therapies. The
front consists of the trappings, the form, the techniques, the specialized language, and the
aura surrounding each of the ideological schools; the core consists of those aspects of the
experience that are intrinsic to the therapeutic process—that is, the bare-boned
mechanisms of change.
If you disregard the “front” and consider only the actual mechanisms of effecting
change in the client, you will find that the change mechanisms are limited in number and
are remarkably similar across groups. Therapy groups with similar goals that appear
wildly different in external form may rely on identical mechanisms of change.
In the first two editions of this book, caught up in the positivistic zeitgeist surrounding
the developing psychotherapies, I referred to these mechanisms of change as “curative
factors.” Educated and humbled by the passing years, I know now that the harvest of
psychotherapy is not cure—surely, in our field, that is an illusion—but instead change or
growth. Hence, yielding to the dictates of reality, I now refer to the mechanisms of change
as “therapeutic factors” rather than “curative factors.”
The therapeutic factors constitute the central organizing principle of this book. I begin
with a detailed discussion of eleven therapeutic factors and then describe a
psychotherapeutic approach that is based on them.
But which types of groups to discuss? The array of group therapies is now so vast that it
is impossible for a text to address each type of group separately. How then to proceed? I
have chosen in this book to center my discussion around a prototypic type of group
therapy and then to offer a set of principles that will enable the therapist to modify this

fundamental group model to fit any specialized clinical situation.
The prototypical model is the intensive, heterogeneously composed outpatient
psychotherapy group, meeting for at least several months, with the ambitious goals of both
symptomatic relief and personality change. Why focus on this particular form of group
therapy when the contemporary therapy scene, driven by economic factors, is dominated
by another type of group—a homogeneous, symptom-oriented group that meets for briefer
periods and has more limited goals?
The answer is that long-term group therapy has been around for many decades and has
accumulated a vast body of knowledge from both empirical research and thoughtful
clinical observation. Earlier I alluded to contemporary therapists not often having the
clinical opportunities to do their best work; I believe that the prototypical group we
describe in this book is the setting in which therapists can offer maximum benefit to their
clients. It is an intensive, ambitious form of therapy that demands much from both client
and therapist. The therapeutic strategies and techniques required to lead such a group are
sophisticated and complex. However, once students master them and understand how to
modify them to fit specialized therapy situations, they will be in a position to fashion a
group therapy that will be effective for any clinical population in any setting. Trainees
should aspire to be creative and compassionate therapists with conceptual depth, not
laborers with little vision and less morale. Managed care emphatically views group
therapy as the treatment modality of the future. Group therapists must be as prepared as
possible for this opportunity.
Because most readers of this book are clinicians, the text is intended to have immediate
clinical relevance. I also believe, however, that it is imperative for clinicians to remain
conversant with the world of research. Even if therapists do not personally engage in
research, they must know how to evaluate the research of others. Accordingly, the text
relies heavily on relevant clinical, social, and psychological research.
While searching through library stacks during the writing of early editions of this book,
I often found myself browsing in antiquated psychiatric texts. How unsettling it is to
realize that the devotees of such therapy endeavors as hydrotherapy, rest cures, lobotomy,
and insulin coma were obviously clinicians of high intelligence, dedication, and integrity.
The same may be said of earlier generations of therapists who advocated venesection,
starvation, purgation, and trephination. Their texts are as well written, their optimism as
unbridled, and their reported results as impressive as those of contemporary practitioners.
Question: why have other health-care fields left treatment of psychological disturbance
so far behind? Answer: because they have applied the principles of the scientific method.
Without a rigorous research base, the psychotherapists of today who are enthusiastic about
current treatments are tragically similar to the hydrotherapists and lobotomists of
yesteryear. As long as we do not test basic principles and treatment outcomes with
scientific rigor, our field remains at the mercy of passing fads and fashions. Therefore,
whenever possible, the approach presented in this text is based on rigorous, relevant
research, and attention is called to areas in which further research seems especially
necessary and feasible. Some areas (for example, preparation for group therapy and the

reasons for group dropouts) have been widely and competently studied, while other areas
(for example, “working through” or countertransference) have only recently been touched
by research. Naturally, this distribution of research emphasis is reflected in the text: some
chapters may appear, to clinicians, to stress research too heavily, while other chapters may
appear, to research-minded colleagues, to lack rigor.
Let us not expect more of psychotherapy research than it can deliver. Will the findings
of psychotherapy research affect a rapid major change in therapy practice? Probably not.
Why? “Resistance” is one reason. Complex systems of therapy with adherents who have
spent many years in training and apprenticeship and cling stubbornly to tradition will
change slowly and only in the face of very substantial evidence. Furthermore, front-line
therapists faced with suffering clients obviously cannot wait for science. Also, keep in
mind the economics of research. The marketplace controls the focus of research. When
managed-care economics dictated a massive swing to brief, symptom-oriented therapy,
reports from a multitude of well-funded research projects on brief therapy began to appear
in the literature. At the same time, the bottom dropped out of funding sources for research
on longer-term therapy, despite a strong clinical consensus about the importance of such
research. In time we expect that this trend will be reversed and that more investigation of
the effectiveness of psychotherapy in the real world of practice will be undertaken to
supplement the knowledge accruing from randomized controlled trials of brief therapy.
Another consideration is that, unlike in the physical sciences, many aspects of
psychotherapy inherently defy quantification. Psychotherapy is both art and science;
research findings may ultimately shape the broad contours of practice, but the human
encounter at the center of therapy will always be a deeply subjective, nonquantifiable
experience.
One of the most important underlying assumptions in this text is that interpersonal
interaction within the here-and-now is crucial to effective group therapy. The truly potent
therapy group first provides an arena in which clients can interact freely with others, then
helps them identify and understand what goes wrong in their interactions, and ultimately
enables them to change those maladaptive patterns. We believe that groups based solely on
other assumptions, such as psychoeducational or cognitive-behavioral principles, fail to
reap the full therapeutic harvest. Each of these forms of group therapy can be made even
more effective by incorporating an awareness of interpersonal process.
This point needs emphasis: It has great relevance for the future of clinical practice. The
advent of managed care will ultimately result in increased use of therapy groups. But, in
their quest for efficiency, brevity, and accountability, managed-care decision makers may
make the mistake of decreeing that some distinct orientations (brief, cognitive-behavioral,
symptom-focused) are more desirable because their approach encompasses a series of
steps consistent with other efficient medical approaches: the setting of explicit, limited
goals; the measuring of goal attainment at regular, frequent intervals; a highly specific
treatment plan; and a replicable, uniform, manual-driven, highly structured therapy with a
precise protocol for each session. But do not mistake the appearance of efficiency for true
effectiveness.

In this text we discuss, in depth, the extent and nature of the interactional focus and its
potency in bringing about significant character and interpersonal change. The interactional
focus is the engine of group therapy, and therapists who are able to harness it are much
better equipped to do all forms of group therapy, even if the group model does not
emphasize or acknowledge the centrality of interaction.
Initially I was not eager to undertake the considerable task of revising this text. The
theoretical foundations and technical approach to group therapy described in the fourth
edition remain sound and useful. But a book in an evolving field is bound to age sooner
than later, and the last edition was losing some of its currency. Not only did it contain
dated or anachronistic allusions, but also the field has changed. Managed care has settled
in by now, DSM-IV has undergone a text revision (DSM-IV-TR), and a decade of clinical
and research literature needed to be reviewed and assimilated into the text. Furthermore,
new types of groups have sprung up and others have faded away. Cognitive-behavioral,
psychoeducational, and problem-specific brief therapy groups are becoming more
common, so in this revision we have made a special effort throughout to address the
particular issues germane to these groups.
The first four chapters of this text discuss eleven therapeutic factors. Chapter 1 covers
instillation of hope, universality, imparting information, altruism, the corrective
recapitulation of the primary family group, the development of socializing techniques, and
imitative behavior. Chapters 2 and 3 present the more complex and powerful factors of
interpersonal learning and cohesiveness. Recent advances in our understanding of
interpersonal theory and the therapeutic alliance that can strengthen therapist effectiveness
have influenced our approach to these two chapters.
Chapter 4 discusses catharsis and existential factors and then attempts a synthesis by
addressing the comparative importance and the interdependence of all eleven therapeutic
factors.
The next two chapters address the work of the therapist. Chapter 5 discusses the tasks of
the group therapist—especially those germane to shaping a therapeutic group culture and
harnessing the group interaction for therapeutic benefit. Chapter 6 describes how the
therapist must first activate the here-and-now (that is, plunge the group into its own
experience) and then illuminate the meaning of the here-and-now experience. In this
edition we deemphasize certain models that rely on the elucidation of group-as-a-whole
dynamics (for example, the Tavistock approach)—models that have since proven
ineffective in the therapy process. (Some omitted material that may still interest some
readers will remain available at www.yalom.com.)
While chapters 5 and 6 address what the therapist must do, chapter 7 addresses how the
therapist must be. It explicates the therapist’s role and the therapist’s use of self by
focusing on two fundamental issues: transference and transparency. In previous editions, I
felt compelled to encourage therapist restraint: Many therapists were still so influenced by
the encounter group movement that they, too frequently and too extensively, “let it all
hang out.” Times have changed; more conservative forces have taken hold, and now we
feel compelled to discourage therapists from practicing too defensively. Many

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contemporary therapists, threatened by the encroachment of the legal profession into the
field (a result of the irresponsibility and misconduct of some therapists, coupled with a
reckless and greedy malpractice industry), have grown too cautious and impersonal.
Hence we give much attention to the use of the therapist’s self in psychotherapy.
Chapters 8 through 14 present a chronological view of the therapy group and emphasize
group phenomena and techniques that are relevant to each stage. Chapters 8 and 9, on
client selection and group composition, include new research data on group therapy
attendance, dropouts, and outcomes. Chapter 10, which describes the practical realities of
beginning a group, includes a lengthy new section on brief group therapy, presents much
new research on the preparation of the client for group therapy. The appendix contains a
document to distribute to new members to help prepare them for their work in the therapy
group.
Chapter 11 addresses the early stages of the therapy group and includes new material on
dealing with the therapy dropout. Chapter 12 deals with phenomena encountered in the
mature phase of the group therapy work: subgrouping, conflict, self-disclosure, and
termination.
Chapter 13, on problem members in group therapy, adds new material to reflect
advances in interpersonal theory. It discusses the contributions of intersubjectivity,
attachment theory, and self psychology. Chapter 14 discusses specialized techniques of the
therapist, including concurrent individual and group therapy (both combined and
conjoint), co-therapy, leaderless meetings, dreams, videotaping, and structured exercises,
the use of the written summary in group therapy, and the integration of group therapy and
twelve-step programs.
Chapter 15, on specialized therapy groups, addresses the many new groups that have
emerged to deal with specific clinical syndromes or clinical situations. It presents the
critically important principles used to modify traditional group therapy technique in order
to design a group to meet the needs of other specialized clinical situations and populations,
and describes the adaptation of cognitive-behavioral and interpersonal therapy to groups.
These principles are illustrated by in-depth discussions of various groups, such as the
acute psychiatric inpatient group and groups for the medically ill (with a detailed
illustration of a group for patients with cancer). Chapter 15 also discusses self-help groups
and the youngest member of the group therapy family—the Internet support group.
Chapter 16, on the encounter group, presented the single greatest challenge for this
revision. Because the encounter group qua encounter group has faded from contemporary
culture, we considered omitting the chapter entirely. However, several factors argue
against an early burial: the important role played by the encounter movement groups in
developing research technology and the use of encounter groups (also known as process
groups, T-groups (for “training”), or experiential training groups) in group psychotherapy
education. Our compromise was to shorten the chapter considerably and to make the entire
fourth edition chapter available at www.yalom.com for readers who are interested in the
history and evolution of the encounter movement.
Chapter 17, on the training of group therapists, includes new approaches to the

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supervision process and on the use of process groups in the educational curriculum.
During the four years of preparing this revision I was also engaged in writing a novel,
The Schopenhauer Cure, which may serve as a companion volume to this text: It is set in a
therapy group and illustrates many of the principles of group process and therapist
technique offered in this text. Hence, at several points in this fifth edition, I refer the
reader to particular pages in The Schopenhauer Cure that offer fictionalized portrayals of
therapist techniques.
Excessively overweight volumes tend to gravitate to the “reference book” shelves. To
avoid that fate we have resisted lengthening this text. The addition of much new material
has mandated the painful task of cutting older sections and citations. (I left my writing
desk daily with fingers stained by the blood of many condemned passages.) To increase
readability, we consigned almost all details and critiques of research method to footnotes
or to notes at the end of the book. The review of the last ten years of group therapy
literature has been exhaustive.

Most chapters contain 50–100 new references. In several locations throughout the book,
we have placed a dagger (†) to indicate that corroborative observations or data exist for
suggested current readings for students interested in that particular area. This list of
references and suggested readings has been placed on my website, www.yalom.com.

http://www.yalom.com

Acknowledgments
(Irvin Yalom)
I am grateful to Stanford University for providing the academic freedom, library
facilities, and administrative staff necessary to accomplish this work. To a masterful
mentor, Jerome Frank (who died just before the publication of this edition), my thanks for
having introduced me to group therapy and for having offered a model of integrity,
curiosity, and dedication. Several have assisted in this revision: Stephanie Brown, Ph.D.
(on twelve-step groups), Morton Lieberman, Ph.D. (on Internet groups), Ruthellen
Josselson, Ph.D. (on group-as-a-whole interventions), David Spiegel (on medical groups),
and my son Ben Yalom, who edited several chapters.

(Molyn Leszcz)
I am grateful to the University of Toronto Department of Psychiatry for its support in
this project. Toronto colleagues who have made comments on drafts of this edition and
facilitated its completion include Joel Sadavoy, M.D., Don Wasylenki, M.D., Danny
Silver, M.D., Paula Ravitz, M.D., Zindel Segal, Ph.D., Paul Westlind, M.D., Ellen
Margolese, M.D., Jan Malat, M.D., and Jon Hunter, M.D. Liz Konigshaus handled the
painstaking task of word-processing, with enormous efficiency and unyielding good
nature. Benjamin, Talia, and Noah Leszcz, my children, and Bonny Leszcz, my wife,
contributed insight and encouragement throughout.

Chapter 1
THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS
Does group therapy help clients? Indeed it does. A persuasive body of outcome research
has demonstrated unequivocally that group therapy is a highly effective form of
psychotherapy and that it is at least equal to individual psychotherapy in its power to
provide meaningful benefit.1
How does group therapy help clients? A naive question, perhaps. But if we can answer
it with some measure of precision and certainty, we will have at our disposal a central
organizing principle with which to approach the most vexing and controversial problems
of psychotherapy. Once identified, the crucial aspects of the process of change will
constitute a rational basis for the therapist’s selection of tactics and strategies to shape the
group experience to maximize its potency with different clients and in different settings.
I suggest that therapeutic change is an enormously complex process that occurs through
an intricate interplay of human experiences, which I will refer to as “therapeutic factors.”
There is considerable advantage in approaching the complex through the simple, the total
phenomenon through its basic component processes. Accordingly, I begin by describing
and discussing these elemental factors.
From my perspective, natural lines of cleavage divide the therapeutic experience into
eleven primary factors:
1. Instillation of hope
2. Universality
3. Imparting information
4. Altruism
5. The corrective recapitulation of the primary family group
6. Development of socializing techniques
7. Imitative behavior
8. Interpersonal learning
9. Group cohesiveness
10. Catharsis
11. Existential factors
In the rest of this chapter, I discuss the first seven factors. I consider interpersonal
learning and group cohesiveness so important and complex that I have treated them
separately, in the next two chapters. Existential factors are discussed in chapter 4, where
they are best understood in the context of other material presented there. Catharsis is
intricately interwoven with other therapeutic factors and will also be discussed in chapter

4.
The distinctions among these factors are arbitrary. Although I discuss them singly, they
are interdependent and neither occur nor function separately. Moreover, these factors may
represent different parts of the change process: some factors (for example, self-
understanding) act at the level of cognition; some (for example, development of
socializing techniques) act at the level of behavioral change; some (for example, catharsis)
act at the level of emotion; and some (for example, cohesiveness) may be more accurately
described as preconditions for change.† Although the same therapeutic factors operate in
every type of therapy group, their interplay and differential importance can vary widely
from group to group. Furthermore, because of individual differences, participants in the
same group benefit from widely different clusters of therapeutic factors.†
Keeping in mind that the therapeutic factors are arbitrary constructs, we can view them
as providing a cognitive map for the student-reader. This grouping of the therapeutic
factors is not set in concrete; other clinicians and researchers have arrived at a different,
and also arbitrary, clusters of factors.2 No explanatory system can encompass all of
therapy. At its core, the therapy process is infinitely complex, and there is no end to the
number of pathways through the experience. (I will discuss all of these issues more fully
in chapter 4.)
The inventory of therapeutic factors I propose issues from my clinical experience, from
the experience of other therapists, from the views of the successfully treated group patient,
and from relevant systematic research. None of these sources is beyond doubt, however;
neither group members nor group leaders are entirely objective, and our research
methodology is often crude and inapplicable.
From the group therapists we obtain a variegated and internally inconsistent inventory
of therapeutic factors (see chapter 4). Therapists, by no means disinterested or unbiased
observers, have invested considerable time and energy in mastering a certain therapeutic
approach. Their answers will be determined largely by their particular school of
conviction. Even among therapists who share the same ideology and speak the same
language, there may be no consensus about the reasons clients improve. In research on
encounter groups, my colleagues and I learned that many successful group leaders
attributed their success to factors that were irrelevant to the therapy process: for example,
the hot-seat technique, or nonverbal exercises, or the direct impact of a therapist’s own
person (see chapter 16).3 But that does not surprise us. The history of psychotherapy
abounds in healers who were effective, but not for the reasons they supposed. At other
times we therapists throw up our hands in bewilderment. Who has not had a client who
made vast improvement for entirely obscure reasons?
Group members at the end of a course of group therapy can supply data about the
therapeutic factors they considered most and least helpful. Yet we know that such
evaluations will be incomplete and their accuracy limited. Will the group members not,
perhaps, focus primarily on superficial factors and neglect some profound healing forces
that may be beyond their awareness? Will their responses not be influenced by a variety of
factors difficult to control? It is entirely possible, for example, that their views may be

distorted by the nature of their relationship to the therapist or to the group. (One team of
researchers demonstrated that when patients were interviewed four years after the
conclusion of therapy, they were far more apt to comment on unhelpful or harmful aspects
of their group experience than when interviewed immediately at its conclusion.)4 Research
has also shown, for example, that the therapeutic factors valued by group members may
differ greatly from those cited by their therapists or by group observers,5 an observation
also made in individual psychotherapy. Furthermore, many confounding factors influence
the client’s evaluation of the therapeutic factors: for example, the length of time in
treatment and the level of a client’s functioning,6 the type of group (that is, whether
outpatient, inpatient, day hospital, brief therapy),7 the age and the diagnosis of a client,8
and the ideology of the group leader.9 Another factor that complicates the search for
common therapeutic factors is the extent to which different group members perceive and
experience the same event in different ways.† Any given experience may be important or
helpful to some and inconsequential or even harmful to others.
Despite these limitations, clients’ reports are a rich and relatively untapped source of
information. After all, it is their experience, theirs alone, and the farther we move from the
clients’ experience, the more inferential are our conclusions. To be sure, there are aspects
of the process of change that operate outside a client’s awareness, but it does not follow
that we should disregard what clients do say.
There is an art to obtaining clients’ reports. Paper-and-pencil or sorting questionnaires
provide easy data but often miss the nuances and the richness of the clients’ experience.
The more the questioner can enter into the experiential world of the client, the more lucid
and meaningful the report of the therapy experience becomes. To the degree that the
therapist is able to suppress personal bias and avoid influencing the client’s responses, he
or she becomes the ideal questioner: the therapist is trusted and understands more than
anyone else the inner world of the client.
In addition to therapists’ views and clients’ reports, there is a third important method of
evaluating the therapeutic factors: the systematic research approach. The most common
research strategy by far is to correlate in-therapy variables with outcome in therapy. By
discovering which variables are significantly related to successful outcomes, one can
establish a reasonable base from which to begin to delineate the therapeutic factors.
However, there are many inherent problems in this approach: the measurement of outcome
is itself a methodological morass, and the selection and measurement of the in-therapy
variables are equally problematic.a10
I have drawn from all these methods to derive the therapeutic factors discussed in this
book. Still, I do not consider these conclusions definitive; rather, I offer them as
provisional guidelines that may be tested and deepened by other clinical researchers. For
my part, I am satisfied that they derive from the best available evidence at this time and
that they constitute the basis of an effective approach to therapy.

INSTILLATION OF HOPE
The instillation and maintenance of hope is crucial in any psychotherapy. Not only is hope
required to keep the client in therapy so that other therapeutic factors may take effect, but
faith in a treatment mode can in itself be therapeutically effective. Several studies have
demonstrated that a high expectation of help before the start of therapy is significantly
correlated with a positive therapy outcome.11 Consider also the massive data documenting
the efficacy of faith healing and placebo treatment—therapies mediated entirely through
hope and conviction. A positive outcome in psychotherapy is more likely when the client
and the therapist have similar expectations of the treatment.12 The power of expectations
extends beyond imagination alone. Recent brain imaging studies demonstrate that the
placebo is not inactive but can have a direct physiological effect on the brain.13
Group therapists can capitalize on this factor by doing whatever we can to increase
clients’ belief and confidence in the efficacy of the group mode. This task begins before
the group starts, in the pregroup orientation, in which the therapist reinforces positive
expectations, corrects negative preconceptions, and presents a lucid and powerful
explanation of the group’s healing properties. (See chapter 10 for a full discussion of the
pregroup preparation procedure.)
Group therapy not only draws from the general ameliorative effects of positive
expectations but also benefits from a source of hope that is unique to the group format.
Therapy groups invariably contain individuals who are at different points along a coping-
collapse continuum. Each member thus has considerable contact with others—often
individuals with similar problems—who have improved as a result of therapy. I have often
heard clients remark at the end of their group therapy how important it was for them to
have observed the improvement of others. Remarkably, hope can be a powerful force even
in groups of individuals combating advanced cancer who lose cherished group members to
the disease. Hope is flexible—it redefines itself to fit the immediate parameters, becoming
hope for comfort, for dignity, for connection with others, or for minimum physical
discomfort.14
Group therapists should by no means be above exploiting this factor by periodically
calling attention to the improvement that members have made. If I happen to receive notes
from recently terminated members informing me of their continued improvement, I make
a point of sharing this with the current group. Senior group members often assume this
function by offering spontaneous testimonials to new, skeptical members.
Research has shown that it is also vitally important that therapists believe in themselves
and in the efficacy of their group.15 I sincerely believe that I am able to help every
motivated client who is willing to work in the group for at least six months. In my initial
meetings with clients individually, I share this conviction with them and attempt to imbue
them with my optimism.
Many of the self-help groups—for example, Compassionate Friends (for bereaved

parents), Men Overcoming Violence (men who batter), Survivors of Incest, and Mended
Heart (heart surgery patients)—place heavy emphasis on the instillation of hope.16 A
major part of Recovery, Inc. (for current and former psychiatric patients) and Alcoholics
Anonymous meetings is dedicated to testimonials. At each meeting, members of
Recovery, Inc. give accounts of potentially stressful incidents in which they avoided
tension by the application of Recovery, Inc. methods, and successful Alcoholics
Anonymous members tell their stories of downfall and then rescue by AA. One of the
great strengths of Alcoholics Anonymous is the fact that the leaders are all alcoholics—
living inspirations to the others.
Substance abuse treatment programs commonly mobilize hope in participants by using
recovered drug addicts as group leaders. Members are inspired and expectations raised by
contact with those who have trod the same path and found the way back. A similar
approach is used for individuals with chronic medical illnesses such as arthritis and heart
disease. These self-management groups use trained peers to encourage members to cope
actively with their medical conditions.17 The inspiration provided to participants by their
peers results in substantial improvements in medical outcomes, reduces health care costs,
promotes the individual’s sense of self-efficacy, and often makes group interventions
superior to individual therapies.18
UNIVERSALITY
Many individuals enter therapy with the disquieting thought that they are unique in their
wretchedness, that they alone have certain frightening or unacceptable problems, thoughts,
impulses, and fantasies. Of course, there is a core of truth to this notion, since most clients
have had an unusual constellation of severe life stresses and are periodically flooded by
frightening material that has leaked from their unconscious.
To some extent this is true for all of us, but many clients, because of their extreme
social isolation, have a heightened sense of uniqueness. Their interpersonal difficulties
preclude the possibility of deep intimacy. In everyday life they neither learn about others’
analogous feelings and experiences nor avail themselves of the opportunity to confide in,
and ultimately to be validated and accepted by, others.
In the therapy group, especially in the early stages, the disconfirmation of a client’s
feelings of uniqueness is a powerful source of relief. After hearing other members disclose
concerns similar to their own, clients report feeling more in touch with the world and
describe the process as a “welcome to the human race” experience. Simply put, the
phenomenon finds expression in the cliché “We’re all in the same boat”—or perhaps more
cynically, “Misery loves company.”
There is no human deed or thought that lies fully outside the experience of other people.
I have heard group members reveal such acts as incest, torture, burglary, embezzlement,
murder, attempted suicide, and fantasies of an even more desperate nature. Invariably, I

have observed other group members reach out and embrace these very acts as within the
realm of their own possibilities, often following through the door of disclosure opened by
one group member’s trust or courage. Long ago Freud noted that the staunchest taboos
(against incest and patricide) were constructed precisely because these very impulses are
part of the human being’s deepest nature.
Nor is this form of aid limited to group therapy. Universality plays a role in individual
therapy also, although in that format there is less opportunity for consensual validation, as
therapists choose to restrict their degree of personal transparency.
During my own 600-hour analysis I had a striking personal encounter with the
therapeutic factor of universality. It happened when I was in the midst of describing my
extremely ambivalent feelings toward my mother. I was very much troubled by the fact
that, despite my strong positive sentiments, I was also beset with death wishes for her, as I
stood to inherit part of her estate. My analyst responded simply, “That seems to be the way
we’re built.” That artless statement not only offered me considerable relief but enabled me
to explore my ambivalence in great depth.
Despite the complexity of human problems, certain common denominators between
individuals are clearly evident, and the members of a therapy group soon perceive their
similarities to one another. An example is illustrative: For many years I asked members of
T-groups (these are nonclients—primarily medical students, psychiatric residents, nurses,
psychiatric technicians, and Peace Corps volunteers; see chapter 16) to engage in a “top-
secret” task in which they were asked to write, anonymously, on a slip of paper the one
thing they would be most disinclined to share with the group. The secrets prove to be
startlingly similar, with a couple of major themes predominating. The most common secret
is a deep conviction of basic inadequacy—a feeling that one is basically incompetent, that
one bluffs one’s way through life. Next in frequency is a deep sense of interpersonal
alienation—that, despite appearances, one really does not, or cannot, care for or love
another person. The third most frequent category is some variety of sexual secret. These
chief concerns of nonclients are qualitatively the same in individuals seeking professional
help. Almost invariably, our clients experience deep concern about their sense of worth
and their ability to relate to others.b
Some specialized groups composed of individuals for whom secrecy has been an
especially important and isolating factor place a particularly great emphasis on
universality. For example, short-term structured groups for bulimic clients build into their
protocol a strong requirement for self-disclosure, especially disclosure about attitudes
toward body image and detailed accounts of each member’s eating rituals and purging
practices. With rare exceptions, patients express great relief at discovering that they are
not alone, that others share the same dilemmas and life experiences.19
Members of sexual abuse groups, too, profit enormously from the experience of
universality.20 An integral part of these groups is the intimate sharing, often for the first
time in each member’s life, of the details of the abuse and the ensuing internal devastation
they suffered. Members in such groups can encounter others who have suffered similar
violations as children, who were not responsible for what happened to them, and who have

also suffered deep feelings of shame, guilt, rage, and uncleanness. A feeling of
universality is often a fundamental step in the therapy of clients burdened with shame,
stigma, and self-blame, for example, clients with HIV/AIDS or those dealing with the
aftermath of a suicide.21
Members of homogeneous groups can speak to one another with a powerful authenticity
that comes from their firsthand experience in ways that therapists may not be able to do.
For instance, I once supervised a thirty-five-year-old therapist who was leading a group of
depressed men in their seventies and eighties. At one point a seventy-seven-year-old man
who had recently lost his wife expressed suicidal thoughts. The therapist hesitated, fearing
that anything he might say would come across as naive. Then a ninety-one-year-old group
member spoke up and described how he had lost his wife of sixty years, had plunged into
a suicidal despair, and had ultimately recovered and returned to life. That statement
resonated deeply and was not easily dismissed.
In multicultural groups, therapists may need to pay particular attention to the clinical
factor of universality. Cultural minorities in a predominantly Caucasian group may feel
excluded because of different cultural attitudes toward disclosure, interaction, and
affective expression. Therapists must help the group move past a focus on concrete
cultural differences to transcultural—that is, universal—responses to human situations and
tragedies.22 At the same time, therapists must be keenly aware of the cultural factors at
play. Mental health professionals are often sorely lacking in knowledge of the cultural
facts of life required to work effectively with culturally diverse members. It is imperative
that therapists learn as much as possible about their clients’ cultures as well as their
attachment to or alienation from their culture.23
Universality, like the other therapeutic factors, does not have sharp borders; it merges
with other therapeutic factors. As clients perceive their similarity to others and share their
deepest concerns, they benefit further from the accompanying catharsis and from their
ultimate acceptance by other members (see chapter 3 on group cohesiveness).
IMPARTING INFORMATION
Under the general rubric of imparting information, I include didactic instruction about
mental health, mental illness, and general psychodynamics given by the therapists as well
as advice, suggestions, or direct guidance from either the therapist or other group
members.
Didactic Instruction
Most participants, at the conclusion of successful interactional group therapy, have learned
a great deal about psychic functioning, the meaning of symptoms, interpersonal and group

dynamics, and the process of psychotherapy. Generally, the educational process is implicit;
most group therapists do not offer explicit didactic instruction in interactional group
therapy. Over the past decade, however, many group therapy approaches have made
formal instruction, or psychoeducation, an important part of the program.
One of the more powerful historical precedents for psychoeducation can be found in the
work of Maxwell Jones, who in his work with large groups in the 1940s lectured to his
patients three hours a week about the nervous system’s structure, function, and relevance
to psychiatric symptoms and disability.24
Marsh, writing in the 1930s, also believed in the importance of psychoeducation and
organized classes for his patients, complete with lectures, homework, and grades.25
Recovery, Inc., the nation’s oldest and largest self-help program for current and former
psychiatric patients, is basically organized along didactic lines.26 Founded in 1937 by
Abraham Low, this organization has over 700 operating groups today.27 Membership is
voluntary, and the leaders spring from the membership. Although there is no formal
professional guidance, the conduct of the meetings has been highly structured by Dr. Low;
parts of his textbook, Mental Health Through Will Training,28 are read aloud and
discussed at every meeting. Psychological illness is explained on the basis of a few simple
principles, which the members memorize—for example, the value of “spotting”
troublesome and self-undermining behaviors; that neurotic symptoms are distressing but
not dangerous; that tension intensifies and sustains the symptom and should be avoided;
that the use of one’s free will is the solution to the nervous patient’s dilemmas.
Many other self-help groups strongly emphasize the imparting of information. Groups
such as Adult Survivors of Incest, Parents Anonymous, Gamblers Anonymous, Make
Today Count (for cancer patients), Parents Without Partners, and Mended Hearts
encourage the exchange of information among members and often invite experts to
address the group.29 The group environment in which learning takes place is important.
The ideal context is one of partnership and collaboration, rather than prescription and
subordination.
Recent group therapy literature abounds with descriptions of specialized groups for
individuals who have some specific disorder or face some definitive life crisis—for
example, panic disorder,30 obesity,31 bulimia,32 adjustment after divorce, 33 herpes,34
coronary heart disease,35 parents of sexually abused children,36 male batterers,37
bereavement,38 HIV/AIDS,39 sexual dysfunction,40 rape,41 self-image adjustment after
mastectomy,42 chronic pain,43 organ transplant,44 and prevention of depression relapse.45
In addition to offering mutual support, these groups generally build in a
psychoeducational component approach offering explicit instruction about the nature of a
client’s illness or life situation and examining clients’ misconceptions and self-defeating
responses to their illness. For example, the leaders of a group for clients with panic
disorder describe the physiological cause of panic attacks, explaining that heightened
stress and arousal increase the flow of adrenaline, which may result in hyperventilation,

shortness of breath, and dizziness; the client misinterprets the symptoms in ways that only
exacerbate them (“I’m dying” or “I’m going crazy”), thus perpetuating a vicious circle.
The therapists discuss the benign nature of panic attacks and offer instruction first on how
to bring on a mild attack and then on how to prevent it. They provide detailed instruction
on proper breathing techniques and progressive muscular relaxation.
Groups are often the setting in which new mindfulness- and meditation-based stress
reduction approaches are taught. By applying disciplined focus, members learn to become
clear, accepting, and nonjudgmental observers of their thoughts and feelings and to reduce
stress, anxiety, and vulnerability to depression.46
Leaders of groups for HIV-positive clients frequently offer considerable illness-related
medical information and help correct members’ irrational fears and misconceptions about
infectiousness. They may also advise members about methods of informing others of their
condition and fashioning a less guilt-provoking lifestyle.
Leaders of bereavement groups may provide information about the natural cycle of
bereavement to help members realize that there is a sequence of pain through which they
are progressing and there will be a natural, almost inevitable, lessening of their distress as
they move through the stages of this sequence. Leaders may help clients anticipate, for
example, the acute anguish they will feel with each significant date (holidays,
anniversaries, and birthdays) during the first year of bereavement. Psychoeducational
groups for women with primary breast cancer provide members with information about
their illness, treatment options, and future risks as well as recommendations for a healthier
lifestyle. Evaluation of the outcome of these groups shows that participants demonstrate
significant and enduring psychosocial benefits.47
Most group therapists use some form of anticipatory guidance for clients about to enter
the frightening situation of the psychotherapy group, such as a preparatory session
intended to clarify important reasons for psychological dysfunction and to provide
instruction in methods of self-exploration.48 By predicting clients’ fears, by providing
them with a cognitive structure, we help them cope more effectively with the culture
shock they may encounter when they enter the group therapy (see chapter 10).
Didactic instruction has thus been employed in a variety of fashions in group therapy: to
transfer information, to alter sabotaging thought patterns, to structure the group, to explain
the process of illness. Often such instruction functions as the initial binding force in the
group, until other therapeutic factors become operative. In part, however, explanation and
clarification function as effective therapeutic agents in their own right. Human beings
have always abhorred uncertainty and through the ages have sought to order the universe
by providing explanations, primarily religious or scientific. The explanation of a
phenomenon is the first step toward its control. If a volcanic eruption is caused by a
displeased god, then at least there is hope of pleasing the god.
Frieda Fromm-Reichman underscores the role of uncertainty in producing anxiety. The
awareness that one is not one’s own helmsman, she points out, that one’s perceptions and
behavior are controlled by irrational forces, is itself a common and fundamental source of

anxiety.49
Our contemporary world is one in which we are forced to confront fear and anxiety
often. In particular, the events of September 11, 2001, have brought these troubling
emotions more clearly to the forefront of people’s lives. Confronting traumatic anxieties
with active coping (for instance, engaging in life, speaking openly, and providing mutual
support), as opposed to withdrawing in demoralized avoidance, is enormously helpful.
These responses not only appeal to our common sense but, as contemporary
neurobiological research demonstrates, these forms of active coping activate important
neural circuits in the brain that help regulate the body’s stress reactions.50
And so it is with psychotherapy clients: fear and anxiety that stem from uncertainty of
the source, meaning, and seriousness of psychiatric symptoms may so compound the total
dysphoria that effective exploration becomes vastly more difficult. Didactic instruction,
through its provision of structure and explanation, has intrinsic value and deserves a place
in our repertoire of therapeutic instruments (see chapter 5).
Direct Advice
Unlike explicit didactic instruction from the therapist, direct advice from the members
occurs without exception in every therapy group. In dynamic interactional therapy groups,
it is invariably part of the early life of the group and occurs with such regularity that it can
be used to estimate a group’s age. If I observe or hear a tape of a group in which the
clients with some regularity say things like, “I think you ought to …” or “What you should
do is …” or “Why don’t you … ?” then I can be reasonably certain either that the group is
young or that it is an older group facing some difficulty that has impeded its development
or effected temporary regression. In other words, advice-giving may reflect a resistance to
more intimate engagement in which the group members attempt to manage relationships
rather than to connect. Although advice-giving is common in early interactional group
therapy, it is rare that specific advice will directly benefit any client. Indirectly, however,
advice-giving serves a purpose; the process of giving it, rather than the content of the
advice, may be beneficial, implying and conveying, as it does, mutual interest and caring.
Advice-giving or advice-seeking behavior is often an important clue in the elucidation
of interpersonal pathology. The client who, for example, continuously pulls advice and
suggestions from others, ultimately only to reject them and frustrate others, is well known
to group therapists as the “help-rejecting complainer” or the “yes … but” client (see
chapter 13).51 Some group members may bid for attention and nurturance by asking for
suggestions about a problem that either is insoluble or has already been solved. Others
soak up advice with an unquenchable thirst, yet never reciprocate to others who are
equally needy. Some group members are so intent on preserving a high-status role in the
group or a facade of cool self-sufficiency that they never ask directly for help; some are so
anxious to please that they never ask for anything for themselves; some are excessively
effusive in their gratitude; others never acknowledge the gift but take it home, like a bone,
to gnaw on privately.

Other types of more structured groups that do not focus on member interaction make
explicit and effective use of direct suggestions and guidance. For example, behavior-
shaping groups, hospital discharge planning and transition groups, life skills groups,
communicational skills groups, Recovery, Inc., and Alcoholics Anonymous all proffer
considerable direct advice. One communicational skills group for clients who have
chronic psychiatric illnesses reports excellent results with a structured group program that
includes focused feedback, videotape playback, and problem-solving projects.52 AA
makes use of guidance and slogans: for example, members are asked to remain abstinent
for only the next twenty-four hours—“One day at a time.” Recovery, Inc. teaches
members how to spot neurotic symptoms, how to erase and retrace, how to rehearse and
reverse, and how to apply willpower effectively.
Is some advice better than others? Researchers who studied a behavior-shaping group of
male sex offenders noted that advice was common and was useful to different members to
different extents. The least effective form of advice was a direct suggestion; most effective
was a series of alternative suggestions about how to achieve a desired goal.53
Psychoeducation about the impact of depression on family relationships is much more
effective when participants examine, on a direct, emotional level, the way depression is
affecting their own lives and family relationships. The same information presented in an
intellectualized and detached manner is far less valuable.54
ALTRUISM
There is an old Hasidic story of a rabbi who had a conversation with the Lord about
Heaven and Hell. “I will show you Hell,” said the Lord, and led the rabbi into a room
containing a group of famished, desperate people sitting around a large, circular table. In
the center of the table rested an enormous pot of stew, more than enough for everyone.
The smell of the stew was delicious and made the rabbi’s mouth water. Yet no one ate.
Each diner at the table held a very long-handled spoon—long enough to reach the pot and
scoop up a spoonful of stew, but too long to get the food into one’s mouth. The rabbi saw
that their suffering was indeed terrible and bowed his head in compassion. “Now I will
show you Heaven,” said the Lord, and they entered another room, identical to the first—
same large, round table, same enormous pot of stew, same long-handled spoons. Yet there
was gaiety in the air; everyone appeared well nourished, plump, and exuberant. The rabbi
could not understand and looked to the Lord. “It is simple,” said the Lord, “but it requires
a certain skill. You see, the people in this room have learned to feed each other!”c
In therapy groups, as well as in the story’s imagined Heaven and Hell, members gain
through giving, not only in receiving help as part of the reciprocal giving-receiving
sequence, but also in profiting from something intrinsic to the act of giving. Many
psychiatric patients beginning therapy are demoralized and possess a deep sense of having
nothing of value to offer others. They have long considered themselves as burdens, and

the experience of finding that they can be of importance to others is refreshing and boosts
self-esteem. Group therapy is unique in being the only therapy that offers clients the
opportunity to be of benefit to others. It also encourages role versatility, requiring clients
to shift between roles of help receivers and help providers.55
And, of course, clients are enormously helpful to one another in the group therapeutic
process. They offer support, reassurance, suggestions, insight; they share similar problems
with one another. Not infrequently group members will accept observations from another
member far more readily than from the group therapist. For many clients, the therapist
remains the paid professional; the other members represent the real world and can be
counted on for spontaneous and truthful reactions and feedback. Looking back over the
course of therapy, almost all group members credit other members as having been
important in their improvement. Sometimes they cite their explicit support and advice,
sometimes their simply having been present and allowing their fellow members to grow as
a result of a facilitative, sustaining relationship. Through the experience of altruism, group
members learn firsthand that they have obligations to those from whom they wish to
receive care.
An interaction between two group members is illustrative. Derek, a chronically anxious
and isolated man in his forties who had recently joined the group, exasperated the other
members by consistently dismissing their feedback and concern. In response, Kathy, a
thirty-five-year-old woman with chronic depression and substance abuse problems, shared
with him a pivotal lesson in her own group experience. For months she had rebuffed the
concern others offered because she felt she did not merit it. Later, after others informed
her that her rebuffs were hurtful to them, she made a conscious decision to be more
receptive to gifts offered her and soon observed, to her surprise, that she began to feel
much better. In other words, she benefited not only from the support received but also in
her ability to help others feel they had something of value to offer. She hoped that Derek
could consider those possibilities for himself.
Altruism is a venerable therapeutic factor in other systems of healing. In primitive
cultures, for example, a troubled person is often given the task of preparing a feast or
performing some type of service for the community.56 Altruism plays an important part in
the healing process at Catholic shrines, such as Lourdes, where the sick pray not only for
themselves but also for one another. People need to feel they are needed and useful. It is
commonplace for alcoholics to continue their AA contacts for years after achieving
complete sobriety; many members have related their cautionary story of downfall and
subsequent reclamation at least a thousand times and continually enjoy the satisfaction of
offering help to others.
Neophyte group members do not at first appreciate the healing impact of other
members. In fact, many prospective candidates resist the suggestion of group therapy with
the question “How can the blind lead the blind?” or “What can I possibly get from others
who are as confused as I am? We’ll end up pulling one another down.” Such resistance is
best worked through by exploring a client’s critical self-evaluation. Generally, an
individual who deplores the prospect of getting help from other group members is really

saying, “I have nothing of value to offer anyone.”
There is another, more subtle benefit inherent in the altruistic act. Many clients who
complain of meaninglessness are immersed in a morbid self-absorption, which takes the
form of obsessive introspection or a teeth-gritting effort to actualize oneself. I agree with
Victor Frankl that a sense of life meaning ensues but cannot be deliberately pursued: life
meaning is always a derivative phenomenon that materializes when we have transcended
ourselves, when we have forgotten ourselves and become absorbed in someone (or
something) outside ourselves.57 A focus on life meaning and altruism are particularly
important components of the group psychotherapies provided to patients coping with life-
threatening medical illnesses such as cancer and AIDS.†58
THE CORRECTIVE RECAPITULATION OF THE
PRIMARY FAMILY GROUP
The great majority of clients who enter groups—with the exception of those suffering
from posttraumatic stress disorder or from some medical or environmental stress—have a
background of a highly unsatisfactory experience in their first and most important group:
the primary family. The therapy group resembles a family in many aspects: there are
authority /parental figures, peer/sibling figures, deep personal revelations, strong
emotions, and deep intimacy as well as hostile, competitive feelings. In fact, therapy
groups are often led by a male and female therapy team in a deliberate effort to simulate
the parental configuration as closely as possible. Once the initial discomfort is overcome,
it is inevitable that, sooner or later, the members will interact with leaders and other
members in modes reminiscent of the way they once interacted with parents and siblings.
If the group leaders are seen as parental figures, then they will draw reactions associated
with parental/authority figures: some members become helplessly dependent on the
leaders, whom they imbue with unrealistic knowledge and power; other blindly defy the
leaders, who are perceived as infantilizing and controlling; others are wary of the leaders,
who they believe attempt to strip members of their individuality; some members try to
split the co-therapists in an attempt to incite parental disagreements and rivalry; some
disclose most deeply when one of the co-therapists is away; some compete bitterly with
other members, hoping to accumulate units of attention and caring from the therapists;
some are enveloped in envy when the leader’s attention is focused on others: others
expend energy in a search for allies among the other members, in order to topple the
therapists; still others neglect their own interests in a seemingly selfless effort to appease
the leaders and the other members.
Obviously, similar phenomena occur in individual therapy, but the group provides a
vastly greater number and variety of recapitulative possibilities. In one of my groups,
Betty, a member who had been silently pouting for a couple of meetings, bemoaned the
fact that she was not in one-to-one therapy. She claimed she was inhibited because she

knew the group could not satisfy her needs. She knew she could speak freely of herself in
a private conversation with the therapist or with any one of the members. When pressed,
Betty expressed her irritation that others were favored over her in the group. For example,
the group had recently welcomed another member who had returned from a vacation,
whereas her return from a vacation went largely unnoticed by the group. Furthermore,
another group member was praised for offering an important interpretation to a member,
whereas she had made a similar statement weeks ago that had gone unnoticed. For some
time, too, she had noticed her growing resentment at sharing the group time; she was
impatient while waiting for the floor and irritated whenever attention was shifted away
from her.
Was Betty right? Was group therapy the wrong treatment for her? Absolutely not! These
very criticisms—which had roots stretching down into her early relationships with her
siblings—did not constitute valid objections to group therapy. Quite the contrary: the
group format was particularly valuable for her, since it allowed her envy and her craving
for attention to surface. In individual therapy—where the therapist attends to the client’s
every word and concern, and the individual is expected to use up all the allotted time—
these particular conflicts might emerge belatedly, if at all.
What is important, though, is not only that early familial conflicts are relived but that
they are relived correctively. Reexposure without repair only makes a bad situation worse.
Growth-inhibiting relationship patterns must not be permitted to freeze into the rigid,
impenetrable system that characterizes many family structures. Instead, fixed roles must
be constantly explored and challenged, and ground rules that encourage the investigation
of relationships and the testing of new behavior must be established. For many group
members, then, working out problems with therapists and other members is also working
through unfinished business from long ago. (How explicit the working in the past need be
is a complex and controversial issue, which I will address in chapter 5.)
DEVELOPMENT OF SOCIALIZING TECHNIQUES
Social learning—the development of basic social skills—is a therapeutic factor that
operates in all therapy groups, although the nature of the skills taught and the explicitness
of the process vary greatly, depending on the type of group therapy. There may be explicit
emphasis on the development of social skills in, for example, groups preparing
hospitalized patients for discharge or adolescent groups. Group members may be asked to
role-play approaching a prospective employer or asking someone out on a date.
In other groups, social learning is more indirect. Members of dynamic therapy groups,
which have ground rules encouraging open feedback, may obtain considerable information
about maladaptive social behavior. A member may, for example, learn about a
disconcerting tendency to avoid looking at the person with whom he or she is conversing;
about others’ impressions of his or her haughty, regal attitude; or about a variety of other

social habits that, unbeknownst to the group member, have been undermining social
relationships. For individuals lacking intimate relationships, the group often represents the
first opportunity for accurate interpersonal feedback. Many lament their inexplicable
loneliness: group therapy provides a rich opportunity for members to learn how they
contribute to their own isolation and loneliness.59
One man, for example, who had been aware for years that others avoided social contact
with him, learned in the therapy group that his obsessive inclusion of minute, irrelevant
details in his social conversation was exceedingly off-putting. Years later he told me that
one of the most important events of his life was when a group member (whose name he
had long since forgotten) told him, “When you talk about your feelings, I like you and
want to get closer; but when you start talking about facts and details, I want to get the hell
out of the room!”
I do not mean to oversimplify; therapy is a complex process and obviously involves far
more than the simple recognition and conscious, deliberate alteration of social behavior.
But, as I will show in chapter 3, these gains are more than fringe benefits; they are often
instrumental in the initial phases of therapeutic change. They permit the clients to
understand that there is a huge discrepancy between their intent and their actual impact on
others.†
Frequently senior members of a therapy group acquire highly sophisticated social skills:
they are attuned to process (see chapter 6); they have learned how to be helpfully
responsive to others; they have acquired methods of conflict resolution; they are less likely
to be judgmental and are more capable of experiencing and expressing accurate empathy.
These skills cannot but help to serve these clients well in future social interactions, and
they constitute the cornerstones of emotional intelligence.60
IMITATIVE BEHAVIOR
Clients during individual psychotherapy may, in time, sit, walk, talk, and even think like
their therapists. There is considerable evidence that group therapists influence the
communicational patterns in their groups by modeling certain behaviors, for example,
self-disclosure or support.61 In groups the imitative process is more diffuse: clients may
model themselves on aspects of the other group members as well as of the therapist. 62
Group members learn from watching one another tackle problems. This may be
particularly potent in homogeneous groups that focus on shared problems—for example, a
cognitive-behavior group that teaches psychotic patients strategies to reduce the intensity
of auditory hallucinations.63
The importance of imitative behavior in the therapeutic process is difficult to gauge, but
social-psychological research suggests that therapists may have underestimated it.
Bandura, who has long claimed that social learning cannot be adequately explained on the

basis of direct reinforcement, has experimentally demonstrated that imitation is an
effective therapeutic force.†64 In group therapy it is not uncommon for a member to
benefit by observing the therapy of another member with a similar problem constellation
—a phenomenon generally referred to as vicarious or spectator therapy.65
Imitative behavior generally plays a more important role in the early stages of a group,
as members identify with more senior members or therapists. 66 Even if imitative behavior
is, in itself, short-lived, it may help to unfreeze the individual enough to experiment with
new behavior, which in turn can launch an adaptive spiral (see chapter 4). In fact, it is not
uncommon for clients throughout therapy to “try on,” as it were, bits and pieces of other
people and then relinquish them as ill fitting. This process may have solid therapeutic
impact; finding out what we are not is progress toward finding out what we are.

Chapter 2
INTERPERSONAL LEARNING
Interpersonal learning, as I define it, is a broad and complex therapeutic factor. It is the
group therapy analogue of important therapeutic factors in individual therapy such as
insight, working through the transference, and the corrective emotional experience. But it
also represents processes unique to the group setting that unfold only as a result of specific
work on the part of the therapist. To define the concept of interpersonal learning and to
describe the mechanism whereby it mediates therapeutic change in the individual, I first
need to discuss three other concepts:
1. The importance of interpersonal relationships
2. The corrective emotional experience
3. The group as social microcosm
THE IMPORTANCE OF INTERPERSONAL
RELATIONSHIPS
From whatever perspective we study human society—whether we scan humanity’s broad
evolutionary history or scrutinize the development of the single individual—we are at all
times obliged to consider the human being in the matrix of his or her interpersonal
relationships. There is convincing data from the study of nonhuman primates, primitive
human cultures, and contemporary society that human beings have always lived in groups
that have been characterized by intense and persistent relationships among members and
that the need to belong is a powerful, fundamental, and pervasive motivation.1
Interpersonal relatedness has clearly been adaptive in an evolutionary sense: without deep,
positive, reciprocal interpersonal bonds, neither individual nor species survival would
have been possible.
John Bowlby, from his studies of the early mother-child relationship, concludes not only
that attachment behavior is necessary for survival but also that it is core, intrinsic, and
genetically built in.2 If mother and infant are separated, both experience marked anxiety
concomitant with their search for the lost object. If the separation is prolonged, the
consequences for the infant will be profound. Winnicott similarly noted, “There is no such
thing as a baby. There exists a mother-infant pair.”3 We live in a “relational matrix,”
according to Mitchell: “The person is comprehensible only within this tapestry of
relationships, past and present.”4
Similarly, a century ago the great American psychologist-philosopher William James
said:

We are not only gregarious animals liking to be in sight of our fellows, but we
have an innate propensity to get ourselves noticed, and noticed favorably, by our
kind. No more fiendish punishment could be devised, were such a thing physically
possible, than that one should be turned loose in society and remain absolutely
unnoticed by all the members thereof.5
Indeed, James’s speculations have been substantiated time and again by contemporary
research that documents the pain and the adverse consequences of loneliness. There is, for
example, persuasive evidence that the rate for virtually every major cause of death is
significantly higher for the lonely, the single, the divorced, and the widowed.6 Social
isolation is as much a risk factor for early mortality as obvious physical risk factors such
as smoking and obesity.7 The inverse is also true: social connection and integration have a
positive impact on the course of serious illnesses such as cancer and AIDS.8
Recognizing the primacy of relatedness and attachment, contemporary models of
dynamic psychotherapy have evolved from a drive-based, one-person Freudian
psychology to a two-person relational psychology that places the client’s interpersonal
experience at the center of effective psychotherapy. †9 Contemporary psychotherapy
employs “a relational model in which mind is envisioned as built out of interactional
configurations of self in relation to others.”10
Building on the earlier contributions of Harry Stack Sullivan and his interpersonal
theory of psychiatry,11 interpersonal models of psychotherapy have become prominent.12
Although Sullivan’s work was seminally important, contemporary generations of
therapists rarely read him. For one thing, his language is often obscure (though there are
excellent renderings of his work into plain English);13 for another, his work has so
pervaded contemporary psychotherapeutic thought that his original writings seem overly
familiar or obvious. However, with the recent focus on integrating cognitive and
interpersonal approaches in individual therapy and in group therapy, interest in his
contributions have resurged.14 Kiesler argues in fact that the interpersonal frame is the
most appropriate model within which therapists can meaningfully synthesize cognitive,
behavioral, and psychodynamic approaches—it is the most comprehensive of the
integrative psychotherapies.†15
Sullivan’s formulations are exceedingly helpful for understanding the group therapeutic
process. Although a comprehensive discussion of interpersonal theory is beyond the scope
of this book, I will describe a few key concepts here. Sullivan contends that the
personality is almost entirely the product of interaction with other significant human
beings. The need to be closely related to others is as basic as any biological need and is, in
the light of the prolonged period of helpless infancy, equally necessary to survival. The
developing child, in the quest for security, tends to cultivate and to emphasize those traits
and aspects of the self that meet with approval and to squelch or deny those that meet with
disapproval. Eventually the individual develops a concept of the self based on these
perceived appraisals of significant others.
The self may be said to be made up of reflected appraisals. If these were chiefly

derogatory, as in the case of an unwanted child who was never loved, of a child
who has fallen into the hands of foster parents who have no real interest in him as a
child; as I say, if the self-dynamism is made up of experience which is chiefly
derogatory, it will facilitate hostile, disparaging appraisals of other people and it
will entertain disparaging and hostile appraisals of itself.16
This process of constructing our self-regard on the basis of reflected appraisals that we
read in the eyes of important others continues, of course, through the developmental cycle.
Grunebaum and Solomon, in their study of adolescents, have stressed that satisfying peer
relationships and self-esteem are inseparable concepts.17 The same is true for the elderly
—we never outgrow the need for meaningful relatedness.18
Sullivan used the term “parataxic distortions” to describe individuals’ proclivity to
distort their perceptions of others. A parataxic distortion occurs in an interpersonal
situation when one person relates to another not on the basis of the realistic attributes of
the other but on the basis of a personification existing chiefly in the former’s own fantasy.
Although parataxic distortion is similar to the concept of transference, it differs in two
important ways. First, the scope is broader: it refers not only to an individual’s distorted
view of the therapist but to all interpersonal relationships (including, of course, distorted
relationships among group members). Second, the theory of origin is broader: parataxic
distortion is constituted not only of the simple transferring onto contemporary
relationships of attitudes toward real-life figures of the past but also of the distortion of
interpersonal reality in response to intrapersonal needs. I will generally use the two terms
interchangeably; despite the imputed difference in origins, transference and parataxic
distortion may be considered operationally identical. Furthermore, many therapists today
use the term transference to refer to all interpersonal distortions rather than confining its
use to the client-therapist relationship (see chapter 7).
The transference distortions emerge from a set of deeply stored memories of early
interactional experiences.19 These memories contribute to the construction of an internal
working model that shapes the individual’s attachment patterns throughout life.20 This
internal working model also known as a schema21 consists of the individual’s beliefs about
himself, the way he makes sense of relationship cues, and the ensuing interpersonal
behavior—not only his own but the type of behavior he draws from others. 22 For
instance, a young woman who grows up with depressed and overburdened parents is likely
to feel that if she is to stay connected and attached to others, she must make no demands,
suppress her independence, and subordinate herself to the emotional needs of others.†
Psychotherapy may present her first opportunity to disconfirm her rigid and limiting
interpersonal road map.
Interpersonal (that is, parataxic) distortions tend to be self-perpetuating. For example,
an individual with a derogatory, debased self-image may, through selective inattention or
projection, incorrectly perceive another to be harsh and rejecting. Moreover, the process
compounds itself because that individual may then gradually develop mannerisms and
behavioral traits—for example, servility, defensive antagonism, or condescension—that
eventually will cause others to become, in reality, harsh and rejecting. This sequence is

commonly referred to as a “self-fulfilling prophecy”—the individual anticipates that
others will respond in a certain manner and then unwittingly behaves in a manner that
brings that to pass. In other words, causality in relationships is circular and not linear.
Interpersonal research supports this thesis by demonstrating that one’s interpersonal
beliefs express themselves in behaviors that have a predictable impact on others.23
Interpersonal distortions, in Sullivan’s view, are modifiable primarily through
consensual validation—that is, through comparing one’s interpersonal evaluations with
those of others. Consensual validation is a particularly important concept in group therapy.
Not infrequently a group member alters distortions after checking out the other members’
views of some important incident.
This brings us to Sullivan’s view of the therapeutic process. He suggests that the proper
focus of research in mental health is the study of processes that involve or go on between
people.24 Mental disorder, or psychiatric symptomatology in all its varied manifestations,
should be translated into interpersonal terms and treated accordingly.25 Current
psychotherapies for many disorders emphasize this principle.† “Mental disorder” also
consists of interpersonal processes that are either inadequate to the social situation or
excessively complex because the individual is relating to others not only as they are but
also in terms of distorted images based on who they represent from the past. Maladaptive
interpersonal behavior can be further defined by its rigidity, extremism, distortion,
circularity, and its seeming inescapability.26
Accordingly, psychiatric treatment should be directed toward the correction of
interpersonal distortions, thus enabling the individual to lead a more abundant life, to
participate collaboratively with others, to obtain interpersonal satisfactions in the context
of realistic, mutually satisfying interpersonal relationships: “One achieves mental health to
the extent that one becomes aware of one’s interpersonal relationships.”27 Psychiatric cure
is the “expanding of the self to such final effect that the patient as known to himself is
much the same person as the patient behaving to others.”28 Although core negative beliefs
about oneself do not disappear totally with treatment, effective treatment generates a
capacity for interpersonal mastery29 such that the client can respond with a broadened,
flexible, empathetic, and more adaptive repertoire of behaviors, replacing vicious cycles
with constructive ones.
Improving interpersonal communication is the focus of a range of parent and child
group psychotherapy interventions that address childhood conduct disorders and antisocial
behavior. Poor communication of children’s needs and of parental expectations generates
feelings of personal helplessness and ineffectiveness in both children and parents. These
lead to the children’s acting-out behaviors as well as to parental responses that are often
hostile, devaluing, and inadvertently inflammatory.30 In these groups, parents and children
learn to recognize and correct maladaptive interpersonal cycles through the use of
psychoeducation, problem solving, interpersonal skills training, role-playing, and
feedback.
These ideas—that therapy is broadly interpersonal, both in its goals and in its means—

are exceedingly germane to group therapy. That does not mean that all, or even most,
clients entering group therapy ask explicitly for help in their interpersonal relationships.
Yet I have observed that the therapeutic goals of clients often undergo a shift after a
number of sessions. Their initial goal, relief of suffering, is modified and eventually
replaced by new goals, usually interpersonal in nature. For example, goals may change
from wanting relief from anxiety or depression to wanting to learn to communicate with
others, to be more trusting and honest with others, to learn to love. In the brief group
therapies, this translation of client concerns and aspirations into interpersonal ones may
need to take place earlier, at the assessment and preparation phase (see chapter 10).31
The goal shift from relief of suffering to change in interpersonal functioning is an
essential early step in the dynamic therapeutic process. It is important in the thinking of
the therapist as well. Therapists cannot, for example, treat depression per se: depression
offers no effective therapeutic handhold, no rationale for examining interpersonal
relationships, which, as I hope to demonstrate, is the key to the therapeutic power of the
therapy group. It is necessary, first, to translate depression into interpersonal terms and
then to treat the underlying interpersonal pathology. Thus, the therapist translates
depression into its interpersonal issues—for example, passive dependency, isolation,
obsequiousness, inability to express anger, hypersensitivity to separation—and then
addresses those interpersonal issues in therapy.
Sullivan’s statement of the overall process and goals of individual therapy is deeply
consistent with those of interactional group therapy. This interpersonal and relational
focus is a defining strength of group therapy.† The emphasis on the client’s understanding
of the past, of the genetic development of those maladaptive interpersonal stances, may be
less crucial in group therapy than in the individual setting where Sullivan worked (see
chapter 6).
The theory of interpersonal relationships has become so much an integral part of the
fabric of psychiatric thought that it needs no further underscoring. People need people—
for initial and continued survival, for socialization, for the pursuit of satisfaction. No one
—not the dying, not the outcast, not the mighty—transcends the need for human contact.
During my many years of leading groups of individuals who all had some advanced
form of cancer,32 I was repeatedly struck by the realization that, in the face of death, we
dread not so much nonbeing or nothingness but the accompanying utter loneliness. Dying
patients may be haunted by interpersonal concerns—about being abandoned, for example,
even shunned, by the world of the living. One woman, for example, had planned to give a
large evening social function and learned that very morning that her cancer, heretofore
believed contained, had metastasized. She kept the information secret and gave the party,
all the while dwelling on the horrible thought that the pain from her disease would
eventually grow so unbearable that she would become less human and, finally,
unacceptable to others.
The isolation of the dying is often double-edged. Patients themselves often avoid those
they most cherish, fearing that they will drag their family and friends into the quagmire of
their despair. Thus they avoid morbid talk, develop an airy, cheery facade, and keep their

fears to themselves. Their friends and family contribute to the isolation by pulling back,
by not knowing how to speak to the dying, by not wanting to upset them or themselves. I
agree with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross that the question is not whether but how to tell a patient
openly and honestly about a fatal illness. The patient is always informed covertly that he
or she is dying by the demeanor, by the shrinking away, of the living.33
Physicians often add to the isolation by keeping patients with advanced cancer at a
considerable psychological distance—perhaps to avoid their sense of failure and futility,
perhaps also to avoid dread of their own death. They make the mistake of concluding that,
after all, there is nothing more they can do. Yet from the patient’s standpoint, this is the
very time when the physician is needed the most, not for technical aid but for sheer human
presence. What the patient needs is to make contact, to be able to touch others, to voice
concerns openly, to be reminded that he or she is not only apart from but also a part of.
Psychotherapeutic approaches are beginning to address these specific concerns of the
terminally ill—their fear of isolation and their desire to retain dignity within their
relationships.† Consider the outcasts—those individuals thought to be so inured to
rejection that their interpersonal needs have become heavily calloused. The outcasts, too,
have compelling social needs. I once had an experience in a prison that provided me with
a forceful reminder of the ubiquitous nature of this human need. An untrained psychiatric
technician consulted me about his therapy group, composed of twelve inmates. The
members of the group were all hardened recidivists, whose offenses ranged from
aggressive sexual violation of a minor to murder. The group, he complained, was sluggish
and persisted in focusing on extraneous, extragroup material. I agreed to observe his group
and suggested that first he obtain some sociometric information by asking each member
privately to rank-order everyone in the group for general popularity. (I had hoped that the
discussion of this task would induce the group to turn its attention upon itself.) Although
we had planned to discuss these results before the next group session, unexpected
circumstances forced us to cancel our presession consultation.
During the next group meeting, the therapist, enthusiastic but professionally
inexperienced and insensitive to interpersonal needs, announced that he would read aloud
the results of the popularity poll. Hearing this, the group members grew agitated and
fearful. They made it clear that they did not wish to know the results. Several members
spoke so vehemently of the devastating possibility that they might appear at the bottom of
the list that the therapist quickly and permanently abandoned his plan of reading the list
aloud.
I suggested an alternative plan for the next meeting: each member would indicate whose
vote he cared about most and then explain his choice. This device, also, was too
threatening, and only one-third of the members ventured a choice. Nevertheless, the group
shifted to an interactional level and developed a degree of tension, involvement, and
exhilaration previously unknown. These men had received the ultimate message of
rejection from society at large: they were imprisoned, segregated, and explicitly labeled as
outcasts. To the casual observer, they seemed hardened, indifferent to the subtleties of
interpersonal approval and disapproval. Yet they cared, and cared deeply.

The need for acceptance by and interaction with others is no different among people at
the opposite pole of human fortunes—those who occupy the ultimate realms of power,
renown, or wealth. I once worked with an enormously wealthy client for three years. The
major issues revolved about the wedge that money created between herself and others. Did
anyone value her for herself rather than her money? Was she continually being exploited
by others? To whom could she complain of the burdens of a ninetymillion-dollar fortune?
The secret of her wealth kept her isolated from others. And gifts! How could she possibly
give appropriate gifts without having others feel either disappointed or awed? There is no
need to belabor the point; the loneliness of the very privileged is common knowledge.
(Loneliness is, incidentally, not irrelevant to the group therapist; in chapter 7, I will
discuss the loneliness inherent in the role of group leader.)
Every group therapist has, I am sure, encountered group members who profess
indifference to or detachment from the group. They proclaim, “I don’t care what they say
or think or feel about me; they’re nothing to me; I have no respect for the other members,”
or words to that effect. My experience has been that if I can keep such clients in the group
long enough, their wishes for contact inevitably surface. They are concerned at a very
deep level about the group. One member who maintained her indifferent posture for many
months was once invited to ask the group her secret question, the one question she would
like most of all to place before the group. To everyone’s astonishment, this seemingly
aloof, detached woman posed this question: “How can you put up with me?”
Many clients anticipate meetings with great eagerness or with anxiety; some feel too
shaken afterward to drive home or to sleep that night; many have imaginary conversations
with the group during the week. Moreover, this engagement with other members is often
long-lived; I have known many clients who think and dream about the group members
months, even years, after the group has ended.
In short, people do not feel indifferent toward others in their group for long. And clients
do not quit the therapy group because of boredom. Believe scorn, contempt, fear,
discouragement, shame, panic, hatred! Believe any of these! But never believe
indifference!
In summary, then, I have reviewed some aspects of personality development, mature
functioning, psychopathology, and psychiatric treatment from the point of view of
interpersonal theory. Many of the issues that I have raised have a vital bearing on the
therapeutic process in group therapy: the concept that mental illness emanates from
disturbed interpersonal relationships, the role of consensual validation in the modification
of interpersonal distortions, the definition of the therapeutic process as an adaptive
modification of interpersonal relationships, and the enduring nature and potency of the
human being’s social needs. Let us now turn to the corrective emotional experience, the
second of the three concepts necessary to understand the therapeutic factor of
interpersonal learning.
THE CORRECTIVE EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE

In 1946, Franz Alexander, when describing the mechanism of psychoanalytic cure,
introduced the concept of the “corrective emotional experience.” The basic principle of
treatment, he stated, “is to expose the patient, under more favorable circumstances, to
emotional situations that he could not handle in the past. The patient, in order to be helped,
must undergo a corrective emotional experience suitable to repair the traumatic influence
of previous experience.”34 Alexander insisted that intellectual insight alone is insufficient:
there must be an emotional component and systematic reality testing as well. Patients,
while affectively interacting with their therapist in a distorted fashion because of
transference, gradually must become aware of the fact that “these reactions are not
appropriate to the analyst’s reactions, not only because he (the analyst) is objective, but
also because he is what he is, a person in his own right. They are not suited to the situation
between patient and therapist, and they are equally unsuited to the patient’s current
interpersonal relationships in his daily life.”35
Although the idea of the corrective emotional experience was criticized over the years
because it was misconstrued as contrived, inauthentic, or manipulative, contemporary
psychotherapies view it as a cornerstone of therapeutic effectiveness. Change both at the
behavioral level and at the deeper level of internalized images of past relationships does
not occur primarily through interpretation and insight but through meaningful here-and-
now relational experience that disconfirms the client’s pathogenic beliefs. 36 When such
discomfirmation occurs, change can be dramatic: clients express more emotion, recall
more personally relevant and formative experiences, and show evidence of more boldness
and a greater sense of self.37
These basic principles—the importance of the emotional experience in therapy and the
client’s discovery, through reality testing, of the inappropriateness of his or her
interpersonal reactions—are as crucial in group therapy as in individual therapy, and
possibly more so because the group setting offers far more opportunities for the generation
of corrective emotional experiences. In the individual setting, the corrective emotional
experience, valuable as it is, may be harder to come by, because the client-therapist
relationship is more insular and the client is more able to dispute the spontaneity, scope,
and authenticity of that relationship. (I believe Alexander was aware of that, because at
one point he suggested that the analyst may have to be an actor, may have to play a role in
order to create the desired emotional atmosphere.)38
No such simulation is necessary in the therapy group, which contains many built-in
tensions—tensions whose roots reach deep into primeval layers: sibling rivalry,
competition for leaders’/parents’ attention, the struggle for dominance and status, sexual
tensions, parataxic distortions, and differences in social class, education, and values
among the members. But the evocation and expression of raw affect is not sufficient: it has
to be transformed into a corrective emotional experience. For that to occur two conditions
are required: (1) the members must experience the group as sufficiently safe and
supportive so that these tensions may be openly expressed; (2) there must be sufficient
engagement and honest feedback to permit effective reality testing.
Over many years of clinical work, I have made it a practice to interview clients after

they have completed group therapy. I always inquire about some critical incident, a
turning point, or the most helpful single event in therapy. Although “critical incident” is
not synonymous with therapeutic factor, the two are not unrelated, and much may be
learned from an examination of single important events. My clients almost invariably cite
an incident that is highly laden emotionally and involves some other group member, rarely
the therapist.
The most common type of incident my clients report (as did clients described by Frank
and Ascher)39 involves a sudden expression of strong dislike or anger toward another
member. In each instance, communication was maintained, the storm was weathered, and
the client experienced a sense of liberation from inner restraints as well as an enhanced
ability to explore more deeply his or her interpersonal relationships.
The important characteristics of such critical incidents were:
1. The client expressed strong negative affect.
2. This expression was a unique or novel experience for the client.
3. The client had always dreaded the expression of anger. Yet no catastrophe ensued:
no one left or died; the roof did not collapse.
4. Reality testing ensued. The client realized either that the anger expressed was
inappropriate in intensity or direction or that prior avoidance of affect expression
had been irrational. The client may or may not have gained some insight, that is,
learned the reasons accounting either for the inappropriate affect or for the prior
avoidance of affect experience or expression.
5. The client was enabled to interact more freely and to explore interpersonal
relationships more deeply.
Thus, when I see two group members in conflict with one another, I believe there is an
excellent chance that they will be particularly important to one another in the course of
therapy. In fact, if the conflict is particularly uncomfortable, I may attempt to ameliorate
some of the discomfort by expressing that hunch aloud.
The second most common type of critical incident my clients describe also involves
strong affect—but, in these instances, positive affect. For example, a schizoid client
described an incident in which he ran after and comforted a distressed group member who
had bolted from the room; later he spoke of how profoundly he was affected by learning
that he could care for and help someone else. Others spoke of discovering their aliveness
or of feeling in touch with themselves. These incidents had in common the following
characteristics:
1. The client expressed strong positive affect—an unusual occurrence.
2. The feared catastrophe did not occur—derision, rejection, engulfment, the
destruction of others.
3. The client discovered a previously unknown part of the self and thus was enabled
to relate to others in a new fashion.

The third most common category of critical incident is similar to the second. Clients
recall an incident, usually involving self-disclosure, that plunged them into greater
involvement with the group. For example, a previously withdrawn, reticent man who had
missed a couple of meetings disclosed to the group how desperately he wanted to hear the
group members say that they had missed him during his absence. Others, too, in one
fashion or another, openly asked the group for help.
To summarize, the corrective emotional experience in group therapy has several
components:
1. A strong expression of emotion, which is interpersonally directed and constitutes a
risk taken by the client.
2. A group supportive enough to permit this risk taking.
3. Reality testing, which allows the individual to examine the incident with the aid of
consensual validation from the other members.
4. A recognition of the inappropriateness of certain interpersonal feelings and
behavior or of the inappropriateness of avoiding certain interpersonal behavior.
5. The ultimate facilitation of the individual’s ability to interact with others more
deeply and honestly.
Therapy is an emotional and a corrective experience. This dual nature of the therapeutic
process is of elemental significance, and I will return to it again and again in this text. We
must experience something strongly; but we must also, through our faculty of reason,
understand the implications of that emotional experience.† Over time, the client’s deeply
held beliefs will change—and these changes will be reinforced if the client’s new
interpersonal behaviors evoke constructive interpersonal responses. Even subtle
interpersonal shifts can reflect a profound change and need to be acknowledged and
reinforced by the therapist and group members.
Barbara, a depressed young woman, vividly described her isolation and alienation
to the group and then turned to Alice, who had been silent. Barbara and Alice had
often sparred because Barbara would accuse Alice of ignoring and rejecting her.
In this meeting, however, Barbara used a more gentle tone and asked Alice about
the meaning of her silence. Alice responded that she was listening carefully and
thinking about how much they had in common. She then added that Barbara’s
more gentle inquiry allowed her to give voice to her thoughts rather than defend
herself against the charge of not caring, a sequence that had ended badly for them
both in earlier sessions. The seemingly small but vitally important shift in
Barbara’s capacity to approach Alice empathically created an opportunity for
repair rather than repetition.
This formulation has direct relevance to a key concept of group therapy, the here-and-
now, which I will discuss in depth in chapter 6. Here I will state only this basic premise:
When the therapy group focuses on the here-and-now, it increases in power and
effectiveness.

But if the here-and-now focus (that is, a focus on what is happening in this room in the
immediate present) is to be therapeutic, it must have two components: the group members
must experience one another with as much spontaneity and honesty as possible, and they
must also reflect back on that experience. This reflecting back, this self-reflective loop, is
crucial if an emotional experience is to be transformed into a therapeutic one. As we shall
see in the discussion of the therapist’s tasks in chapter 5, most groups have little difficulty
in entering the emotional stream of the here-and-now; but generally it is the therapist’s job
to keep directing the group toward the self-reflective aspect of that process.
The mistaken assumption that a strong emotional experience is in itself a sufficient
force for change is seductive as well as venerable. Modern psychotherapy was conceived
in that very error: the first description of dynamic psychotherapy (Freud and Breuer’s
1895 Studies on Hysteria)40 described a method of cathartic treatment based on the
conviction that hysteria is caused by a traumatic event to which the individual has never
fully responded emotionally. Since illness was supposed to be caused by strangulated
affect, treatment was directed toward giving a voice to the stillborn emotion. It was not
long before Freud recognized the error: emotional expression, though necessary, is not a
sufficient condition for change. Freud’s discarded ideas have refused to die and have been
the seed for a continuous fringe of therapeutic ideologies. The Viennese fin-de-siècle
cathartic treatment still lives today in the approaches of primal scream, bioenergetics, and
the many group leaders who place an exaggerated emphasis on emotional catharsis.
My colleagues and I conducted an intensive investigation of the process and outcome of
many of the encounter techniques popular in the 1970s (see chapter 16), and our findings
provide much support for the dual emotional-intellectual components of the
psychotherapeutic process.41
We explored, in a number of ways, the relationship between each member’s experience
in the group and his or her outcome. For example, we asked the members after the
conclusion of the group to reflect on those aspects of the group experience they deemed
most pertinent to their change. We also asked them during the course of the group, at the
end of each meeting, to describe which event at that meeting had the most personal
significance. When we correlated the type of event with outcome, we obtained surprising
results that disconfirmed many of the contemporary stereotypes about the prime
ingredients of the successful encounter group experience. Although emotional experiences
(expression and experiencing of strong affect, self-disclosure, giving and receiving
feedback) were considered extremely important, they did not distinguish successful from
unsuccessful group members. In other words, the members who were unchanged or even
had a destructive experience were as likely as successful members to value highly the
emotional incidents of the group.
What types of experiences did differentiate the successful from the unsuccessful
members? There was clear evidence that a cognitive component was essential; some type
of cognitive map was needed, some intellectual system that framed the experience and
made sense of the emotions evoked in the group. (See chapter 16 for a full discussion of
this result.) That these findings occurred in groups led by leaders who did not attach much

importance to the intellectual component speaks strongly for its being part of the
foundation, not the facade, of the change process.42
THE GROUP AS SOCIAL MICROCOSM
A freely interactive group, with few structural restrictions, will, in time, develop into a
social microcosm of the participant members. Given enough time, group members will
begin to be themselves: they will interact with the group members as they interact with
others in their social sphere, will create in the group the same interpersonal universe they
have always inhabited. In other words, clients will, over time, automatically and inevitably
begin to display their maladaptive interpersonal behavior in the therapy group. There is no
need for them to describe or give a detailed history of their pathology: they will sooner or
later enact it before the other group members’ eyes. Furthermore, their behavior serves as
accurate data and lacks the unwitting but inevitable blind spots of self-report. Character
pathology is often hard for the individual to report because it is so well assimilated into
the fabric of the self and outside of conscious and explicit awareness. As a result, group
therapy, with its emphasis on feedback, is a particularly effective treatment for individuals
with character pathology.43
This concept is of paramount importance in group therapy and is a keystone of the
entire approach to group therapy. Each member’s interpersonal style will eventually
appear in his or her transactions in the group. Some styles result in interpersonal friction
that will be manifest early in the course of the group. Individuals who are, for example,
angry, vindictive, harshly judgmental, self-effacing, or grandly coquettish will generate
considerable interpersonal static even in the first few meetings. Their maladaptive social
patterns will quickly elicit the group’s attention. Others may require more time in therapy
before their difficulties manifest themselves in the here-and-now of the group. This
includes clients who may be equally or more severely troubled but whose interpersonal
difficulties are more subtle, such as individuals who quietly exploit others, those who
achieve intimacy to a point but then, becoming frightened, disengage themselves, or those
who pseudo-engage, maintaining a subordinate, compliant position.
The initial business of a group usually consists of dealing with the members whose
pathology is most interpersonally blatant. Some interpersonal styles become crystal-clear
from a single transaction, some from a single group meeting, and others require many
sessions of observation to understand. The development of the ability to identify and put
to therapeutic advantage maladaptive interpersonal behavior as seen in the social
microcosm of the small group is one of the chief tasks of a training program for group
psychotherapists. Some clinical examples may make these principles more graphic.d
The Grand Dame

Valerie, a twenty-seven-year-old musician, sought therapy with me primarily because of
severe marital discord of several years’ standing. She had had considerable, unrewarding
individual and hypnotic uncovering therapy. Her husband, she reported, was an alcoholic
who was reluctant to engage her socially, intellectually, or sexually. Now the group could
have, as some groups do, investigated her marriage interminably. The members might
have taken a complete history of the courtship, of the evolution of the discord, of her
husband’s pathology, of her reasons for marrying him, of her role in the conflict. They
might have followed up this collection of information with advice for changing the marital
interaction or perhaps suggestions for a trial or permanent separation.
But all this historical, problem-solving activity would have been in vain: this entire line
of inquiry not only disregards the unique potential of therapy groups but also is based on
the highly questionable premise that a client’s account of a marriage is even reasonably
accurate. Groups that function in this manner fail to help the protagonist and also suffer
demoralization because of the ineffectiveness of a problem-solving, historical group
therapy approach. Let us instead observe Valerie’s behavior as it unfolded in the here-and-
now of the group.
Valerie’s group behavior was flamboyant. First, there was her grand entrance, always
five or ten minutes late. Bedecked in fashionable but flashy garb, she would sweep in,
sometimes throwing kisses, and immediately begin talking, oblivious to whether another
member was in the middle of a sentence. Here was narcissism in the raw! Her worldview
was so solipsistic that it did not take in the possibility that life could have been going on in
the group before her arrival.
After very few meetings, Valerie began to give gifts: to an obese female member, a copy
of a new diet book; to a woman with strabismus, the name of a good ophthalmologist; to
an effeminate gay client, a subscription to Field and Stream magazine (intended, no doubt,
to masculinize him); to a twenty-four-year-old virginal male, an introduction to a
promiscuous divorced friend of hers. Gradually it became apparent that the gifts were not
duty-free. For example, she pried into the relationship that developed between the young
man and her divorced friend and insisted on serving as confidante and go-between, thus
exerting considerable control over both individuals.
Her efforts to dominate soon colored all of her interactions in the group. I became a
challenge to her, and she made various efforts to control me. By sheer chance, a few
months previously I had seen her sister in consultation and referred her to a competent
therapist, a clinical psychologist. In the group Valerie congratulated me for the brilliant
tactic of sending her sister to a psychologist; I must have divined her deep-seated aversion
to psychiatrists. Similarly, on another occasion, she responded to a comment from me,
“How perceptive you were to have noticed my hands trembling.”
The trap was set! In fact, I had neither “divined” her sister’s alleged aversion to
psychiatrists (I had simply referred her to the best therapist I knew) nor noted Valerie’s
trembling hands. If I silently accepted her undeserved tribute, then I would enter into a
dishonest collusion with Valerie; if, on the other hand, I admitted my insensitivity either to
the trembling of the hands or to the sister’s aversion, then, by acknowledging my lack of

perceptivity, I would have also been bested. She would control me either way! In such
situations, the therapist has only one real option: to change the frame and to comment on
the process—the nature and the meaning of the entrapment. (I will have a great deal more
to say about relevant therapist technique in chapter 6.)
Valerie vied with me in many other ways. Intuitive and intellectually gifted, she became
the group expert on dream and fantasy interpretation. On one occasion she saw me
between group sessions to ask whether she could use my name to take a book out of the
medical library. On one level the request was reasonable: the book (on music therapy) was
related to her profession; furthermore, having no university affiliation, she was not
permitted to use the library. However, in the context of the group process, the request was
complex in that she was testing limits; granting her request would have signaled to the
group that she had a special and unique relationship with me. I clarified these
considerations to her and suggested further discussion in the next session. Following this
perceived rebuttal, however, she called the three male members of the group at home and,
after swearing them to secrecy, arranged to see them. She engaged in sexual relations with
two; the third, a gay man, was not interested in her sexual advances but she launched a
formidable seduction attempt nonetheless.
The following group meeting was horrific. Extraordinarily tense and unproductive, it
demonstrated the axiom (to be discussed later) that if something important in the group is
being actively avoided, then nothing else of import gets talked about either. Two days later
Valerie, overcome with anxiety and guilt, asked for an individual session with me and
made a full confession. It was agreed that the whole matter should be discussed in the next
group meeting.
Valerie opened the next meeting with the words: “This is confession day! Go ahead,
Charles!” and then later, “Your turn, Louis,” deftly manipulating the situation so that the
confessed transgressions became the sole responsibilities of the men in question, and not
herself. Each man performed as she bade him and, later in the meeting, received from her
a critical evaluation of his sexual performance. A few weeks later, Valerie let her estranged
husband know what had happened, and he sent threatening messages to all three men.
That was the last straw! The members decided they could no longer trust her and, in the
only such instance I have known, voted her out of the group. (She continued her therapy
by joining another group.) The saga does not end here, but perhaps I have recounted
enough to illustrate the concept of the group as social microcosm.
Let me summarize. The first step was that Valerie clearly displayed her interpersonal
pathology in the group. Her narcissism, her need for adulation, her need to control, her
sadistic relationship with men—the entire tragic behavioral scroll—unrolled in the here-
and-now of therapy. The next step was reaction and feedback. The men expressed their
deep humiliation and anger at having to “jump through a hoop” for her and at receiving
“grades” for their sexual performance. They drew away from her. They began to reflect: “I
don’t want a report card every time I have sex. It’s controlling, like sleeping with my
mother! I’m beginning to understand more about your husband moving out!” and so on.
The others in the group, the female members and the therapists, shared the men’s feelings

about the wantonly destructive course of Valerie’s behavior—destructive for the group as
well as for herself.
Most important of all, she had to deal with this fact: she had joined a group of troubled
individuals who were eager to help each other and whom she grew to like and respect; yet,
in the course of several weeks, she had so poisoned her own environment that, against her
conscious wishes, she became a pariah, an outcast from a group that could have been very
helpful to her. Facing and working through these issues in her subsequent therapy group
enabled her to make substantial personal changes and to employ much of her considerable
potential constructively in her later relationships and endeavors.
The Man Who Liked Robin Hood
Ron, a forty-eight-year-old attorney who was separated from his wife, entered therapy
because of depression, anxiety, and intense feelings of loneliness. His relationships with
both men and women were highly problematic. He yearned for a close male friend but had
not had one since high school. His current relationships with men assumed one of two
forms: either he and the other man related in a highly competitive, antagonistic fashion,
which veered dangerously close to combativeness, or he assumed an exceedingly
dominant role and soon found the relationship empty and dull.
His relationships with women had always followed a predictable sequence: instant
attraction, a crescendo of passion, a rapid loss of interest. His love for his wife had
withered years ago and he was currently in the midst of a painful divorce.
Intelligent and highly articulate, Ron immediately assumed a position of great influence
in the group. He offered a continuous stream of useful and thoughtful observations to the
other members, yet kept his own pain and his own needs well concealed. He requested
nothing and accepted nothing from me or my co-therapist. In fact, each time I set out to
interact with Ron, I felt myself bracing for battle. His antagonistic resistance was so great
that for months my major interaction with him consisted of repeatedly requesting him to
examine his reluctance to experience me as someone who could offer help.
“Ron,” I suggested, giving it my best shot, “let’s understand what’s happening. You
have many areas of unhappiness in your life. I’m an experienced therapist, and you come
to me for help. You come regularly, you never miss a meeting, you pay me for my
services, yet you systematically prevent me from helping you. Either you so hide your
pain that I find little to offer you, or when I do extend some help, you reject it in one
fashion or another. Reason dictates that we should be allies. Shouldn’t we be working
together to help you? Tell me, how does it come about that we are adversaries?”
But even that failed to alter our relationship. Ron seemed bemused and skillfully and
convincingly speculated that I might be identifying one of my problems rather than his.
His relationship with the other group members was characterized by his insistence on
seeing them outside the group. He systematically arranged for some extragroup activity
with each of the members. He was a pilot and took some members flying, others sailing,

others to lavish dinners; he gave legal advice to some and became romantically involved
with one of the female members; and (the final straw) he invited my co-therapist, a female
psychiatric resident, for a skiing weekend.
Furthermore, he refused to examine his behavior or to discuss these extragroup
meetings in the group, even though the pregroup preparation (see chapter 12) had
emphasized to all the members that such unexamined, undiscussed extragroup meetings
generally sabotage therapy.
After one meeting when we pressured him unbearably to examine the meaning of the
extragroup invitations, especially the skiing invitation to my co-therapist, he left the
session confused and shaken. On his way home, Ron unaccountably began to think of
Robin Hood, his favorite childhood story but something he had not thought about for
decades.
Following an impulse, he went directly to the children’s section of the nearest public
library to sit in a small child’s chair and read the story one more time. In a flash, the
meaning of his behavior was illuminated! Why had the Robin Hood legend always
fascinated and delighted him? Because Robin Hood rescued people, especially women,
from tyrants!
That motif had played a powerful role in his interior life, beginning with the Oedipal
struggles in his own family. Later, in early adulthood, he built up a successful law firm by
first assisting in a partnership and then enticing his boss’s employees to work for him. He
had often been most attracted to women who were attached to some powerful man. Even
his motives for marrying were blurred: he could not distinguish between love for his wife
and desire to rescue her from a tyrannical father.
The first stage of interpersonal learning is pathology display. Ron’s characteristic modes
of relating to both men and women unfolded vividly in the microcosm of the group. His
major interpersonal motif was to struggle with and to vanquish other men. He competed
openly and, because of his intelligence and his great verbal skills, soon procured the
dominant role in the group. He then began to mobilize the other members in the final
conspiracy: the unseating of the therapist. He formed close alliances through extragroup
meetings and by placing other members in his debt by offering favors. Next he endeavored
to capture “my women”—first the most attractive female member and then my co-
therapist.
Not only was Ron’s interpersonal pathology displayed in the group, but so were its
adverse, self-defeating consequences. His struggles with men resulted in the undermining
of the very reason he had come to therapy: to obtain help. In fact, the competitive struggle
was so powerful that any help I extended him was experienced not as help but as defeat, a
sign of weakness.
Furthermore, the microcosm of the group revealed the consequences of his actions on
the texture of his relationships with his peers. In time the other members became aware
that Ron did not really relate to them. He only appeared to relate but, in actuality, was
using them as a way of relating to me, the powerful and feared male in the group. The

others soon felt used, felt the absence of a genuine desire in Ron to know them, and
gradually began to distance themselves from him. Only after Ron was able to understand
and to alter his intense and distorted ways of relating to me was he able to turn to and
relate in good faith to the other members of the group.
“Those Damn Men”
Linda, forty-six years old and thrice divorced, entered the group because of anxiety and
severe functional gastrointestinal distress. Her major interpersonal issue was her
tormented, self-destructive relationship with her current boyfriend. In fact, throughout her
life she had encountered a long series of men (father, brothers, bosses, lovers, and
husbands) who had abused her both physically and psychologically. Her account of the
abuse that she had suffered, and suffered still, at the hands of men was harrowing.
The group could do little to help her, aside from applying balm to her wounds and
listening empathically to her accounts of continuing mistreatment by her current boss and
boyfriend. Then one day an unusual incident occurred that graphically illuminated her
dynamics. She called me one morning in great distress. She had had an extremely
unsettling altercation with her boyfriend and felt panicky and suicidal. She felt she could
not possibly wait for the next group meeting, still four days off, and pleaded for an
immediate individual session. Although it was greatly inconvenient, I rearranged my
appointments that afternoon and scheduled time to meet her. Approximately thirty minutes
before our meeting, she called and left word with my secretary that she would not be
coming in after all.
In the next group meeting, when I inquired what had happened, Linda said that she had
decided to cancel the emergency session because she was feeling slightly better by the
afternoon, and that she knew I had a rule that I would see a client only one time in an
emergency during the whole course of group therapy. She therefore thought it might be
best to save that option for a time when she might be even more in crisis.
I found her response bewildering. I had never made such a rule; I never refuse to see
someone in real crisis. Nor did any of the other members of the group recall my having
issued such a dictum. But Linda stuck to her guns: she insisted that she had heard me say
it, and she was dissuaded neither by my denial nor by the unanimous consensus of the
other group members. Nor did she seem concerned in any way about the inconvenience
she had caused me. In the group discussion she grew defensive and acrimonious.
This incident, unfolding in the social microcosm of the group, was highly informative
and allowed us to obtain an important perspective on Linda’s responsibility for some of
her problematic relationships with men. Up until that point, the group had to rely entirely
on her portrayal of these relationships. Linda’s accounts were convincing, and the group
had come to accept her vision of herself as victim of “all those damn men out there.” An
examination of the here-and-now incident indicated that Linda had distorted her
perceptions of at least one important man in her life: her therapist. Moreover—and this is
extremely important—she had distorted the incident in a highly predictable fashion: she

experienced me as far more uncaring, insensitive, and authoritarian than I really was.
This was new data, and it was convincing data—and it was displayed before the eyes of
all the members. For the first time, the group began to wonder about the accuracy of
Linda’s accounts of her relationships with men. Undoubtedly, she faithfully portrayed her
feelings, but it became apparent that there were perceptual distortions at work: because of
her expectations of men and her highly conflicted relationships with them, she
misperceived their actions toward her.
But there was more yet to be learned from the social microcosm. An important piece of
data was the tone of the discussion: the defensiveness, the irritation, the anger. In time I,
too, became irritated by the thankless inconvenience I had suffered by changing my
schedule to meet with Linda. I was further irritated by her insistence that I had proclaimed
a certain insensitive rule when I (and the rest of the group) knew I had not. I fell into a
reverie in which I asked myself, “What would it be like to live with Linda all the time
instead of an hour and a half a week?” If there were many such incidents, I could imagine
myself often becoming angry, exasperated, and uncaring toward her. This is a particularly
clear example of the concept of the self-fulfilling prophecy described on page 22. Linda
predicted that men would behave toward her in a certain way and then, unconsciously,
operated so as to bring this prediction to pass.
Men Who Could Not Feel
Allen, a thirty-year-old unmarried scientist, sought therapy for a single, sharply delineated
problem: he wanted to be able to feel sexually stimulated by a woman. Intrigued by this
conundrum, the group searched for an answer. They investigated his early life, sexual
habits, and fantasies. Finally, baffled, they turned to other issues in the group. As the
sessions continued, Allen seemed impassive and insensitive to his own and others’ pain.
On one occasion, for example, an unmarried member in great distress announced in sobs
that she was pregnant and was planning to have an abortion. During her account she also
mentioned that she had had a bad PCP trip. Allen, seemingly unmoved by her tears,
persisted in posing intellectual questions about the effects of “angel dust” and was puzzled
when the group commented on his insensitivity.
So many similar incidents occurred that the group came to expect no emotion from him.
When directly queried about his feelings, he responded as if he had been addressed in
Sanskrit or Aramaic. After some months the group formulated an answer to his oft-
repeated question, “Why can’t I have sexual feelings toward a woman?” They asked him
to consider instead why he couldn’t have any feelings toward anybody.
Changes in his behavior occurred very gradually. He learned to spot and identify
feelings by pursuing telltale autonomic signs: facial flushing, gastric tightness, sweating
palms. On one occasion a volatile woman in the group threatened to leave the group
because she was exasperated trying to relate to “a psychologically deaf and dumb
goddamned robot.” Allen again remained impassive, responding only, “I’m not going to
get down to your level.”

However, the next week when he was asked about the feelings he had taken home from
the group, he said that after the meeting he had gone home and cried like a baby. (When
he left the group a year later and looked back at the course of his therapy, he identified this
incident as a critical turning point.) Over the ensuing months he was more able to feel and
to express his feelings to the other members. His role within the group changed from that
of tolerated mascot to that of accepted compeer, and his self-esteem rose in accordance
with his awareness of the members’ increased respect for him.

In another group Ed, a forty-seven-year-old engineer, sought therapy because of loneliness
and his inability to find a suitable mate. Ed’s pattern of social relationships was barren: he
had never had close male friends and had only sexualized, unsatisfying, short-lived
relationships with women who ultimately and invariably rejected him. His good social
skills and lively sense of humor resulted in his being highly valued by other members in
the early stages of the group.
As time went on and members deepened their relationships with one another, however,
Ed was left behind: soon his experience in the group resembled closely his social life
outside the group. The most obvious aspect of his behavior was his limited and offensive
approach to women. His gaze was directed primarily toward their breasts or crotch; his
attention was voyeuristically directed toward their sexual lives; his comments to them
were typically simplistic and sexual in nature. Ed considered the men in the group
unwelcome competitors; for months he did not initiate a single transaction with a man.
With so little appreciation for attachments, he, for the most part, considered people
interchangeable. For example, when a member described her obsessive fantasy that her
boyfriend, who was often late, would be killed in an automobile accident, Ed’s response
was to assure her that she was young, charming, and attractive and would have little
trouble finding another man of at least equal quality. To take another example, Ed was
always puzzled when other members appeared troubled by the temporary absence of one
of the co-therapists or, later, by the impending permanent departure of a therapist.
Doubtless, he suggested, there was, even among the students, a therapist of equal
competence. (In fact, he had seen in the hall a bosomy psychologist whom he would
particularly welcome as therapist.)
He put it most succinctly when he described his MDR (minimum daily requirement) for
affection; in time it became clear to the group that the identity of the MDR supplier was
incidental to Ed—far less relevant than its dependability.
Thus evolved the first phase of the group therapy process: the display of interpersonal
pathology. Ed did not relate to others so much as he used them as equipment, as objects to
supply his life needs. It was not long before he had re-created in the group his habitual—
and desolate—interpersonal universe: he was cut off from everyone. Men reciprocated his
total indifference; women, in general, were disinclined to service his MDR, and those
women he especially craved were repulsed by his narrowly sexualized attentions. The
subsequent course of Ed’s group therapy was greatly informed by his displaying his

interpersonal pathology inside the group, and his therapy profited enormously from
focusing exhaustively on his relationships with the other group members.
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM: A DYNAMIC
INTERACTION
There is a rich and subtle dynamic interplay between the group member and the group
environment. Members shape their own microcosm, which in turn pulls characteristic
defensive behavior from each. The more spontaneous interaction there is, the more rapid
and authentic will be the development of the social microcosm. And that in turn increases
the likelihood that the central problematic issues of all the members will be evoked and
addressed.
For example, Nancy, a young woman with borderline personality disorder, entered the
group because of a disabling depression, a subjective state of disintegration, and a
tendency to develop panic when left alone. All of Nancy’s symptoms had been intensified
by the threatened breakup of the small commune in which she lived. She had long been
sensitized to the breakup of nuclear units; as a child she had felt it was her task to keep her
volatile family together, and now as an adult she nurtured the fantasy that when she
married, the various factions among her relatives would be permanently reconciled.
How were Nancy’s dynamics evoked and worked through in the social microcosm of
the group? Slowly! It took time for these concerns to manifest themselves. At first,
sometimes for weeks on end, Nancy would work comfortably on important but minor
conflict areas. But then certain events in the group would fan her major, smoldering
concerns into anxious conflagration. For example, the absence of a member would
unsettle her. In fact, much later, in a debriefing interview at the termination of therapy,
Nancy remarked that she often felt so stunned by the absence of any member that she was
unable to participate for the entire session.
Even tardiness troubled her and she would chide members who were not punctual.
When a member thought about leaving the group, Nancy grew deeply concerned and
could be counted on to exert maximal pressure on the member to continue, regardless of
the person’s best interests. When members arranged contacts outside the group meeting,
Nancy became anxious at the threat to the integrity of the group. Sometimes members felt
smothered by Nancy. They drew away and expressed their objections to her phoning them
at home to check on their absence or lateness. Their insistence that she lighten her
demands on them simply aggravated Nancy’s anxiety, causing her to increase her
protective efforts.
Although she longed for comfort and safety in the group, it was, in fact, the very
appearance of these unsettling vicissitudes that made it possible for her major conflict
areas to become exposed and to enter the stream of the therapeutic work.

Not only does the small group provide a social microcosm in which the maladaptive
behavior of members is clearly displayed, but it also becomes a laboratory in which is
demonstrated, often with great clarity, the meaning and the dynamics of the behavior. The
therapist sees not only the behavior but also the events triggering it and sometimes, more
important, the anticipated and real responses of others.
The group interaction is so rich that each member’s maladaptive transaction cycle is
repeated many times, and members have multiple opportunities for reflection and
understanding. But if pathogenic beliefs are to be altered, the group members must receive
feedback that is clear and usable. If the style of feedback delivery is too stressful or
provocative, members may be unable to process what the other members offer them.
Sometimes the feedback may be premature—that is, delivered before sufficient trust is
present to soften its edge. At other times feedback can be experienced as devaluing,
coercive, or injurious.44 How can we avoid unhelpful or harmful feedback? Members are
less likely to attack and blame one another if they can look beyond surface behavior and
become sensitive to one another’s internal experiences and underlying intentions.† Thus
empathy is a critical element in the successful group. But empathy, particularly with
provocative or aggressive clients, can be a tall order for group members and therapists
alike.†
The recent contributions of the intersubjective model are relevant and helpful here.45
This model poses members and therapists such questions as: “How am I implicated in
what I construe as your provocativeness? What is my part in it?” In other words, the group
members and the therapist continuously affect one another. Their relationships, their
meaning, patterns, and nature, are not fixed or mandated by external influences, but jointly
constructed. A traditional view of members’ behavior sees the distortion with which
members relate events—either in their past or within the group interaction—as solely the
creation and responsibility of that member. An intersubjective perspective acknowledges
the group leader’s and other members’ contributions to each member’s here-and-now
experience—as well as to the texture of their entire experience in the group.
Consider the client who repeatedly arrives late to the group meeting. This is always an
irritating event, and group members will inevitably express their annoyance. But the
therapist should also encourage the group to explore the meaning of that particular client’s
behavior. Coming late may mean “I don’t really care about the group,” but it may also
have many other, more complex interpersonal meanings: “Nothing happens without me,
so why should I rush?” or “I bet no one will even notice my absence—they don’t seem to
notice me while I’m there,” or “These rules are meant for others, not me.”
Both the underlying meaning of the individual’s behavior and the impact of that
behavior on others need to be revealed and processed if the members are to arrive at an
empathic understanding of one another. Empathic capacity is a key component of
emotional intelligence46 and facilitates transfer of learning from the therapy group to the
client’s larger world. Without a sense of the internal world of others, relationships are

confusing, frustrating, and repetitive as we mindlessly enlist others as players with
predetermined roles in our own stories, without regard to their actual motivations and
aspirations.
Leonard, for example, entered the group with a major problem of procrastination. In
Leonard’s view, procrastination was not only a problem but also an explanation. It
explained his failures, both professionally and socially; it explained his discouragement,
depression, and alcoholism. And yet it was an explanation that obscured meaningful
insight and more accurate explanations.
In the group we became well acquainted and often irritated or frustrated with Leonard’s
procrastination. It served as his supreme mode of resistance to therapy when all other
resistance had failed. When members worked hard with Leonard, and when it appeared
that part of his neurotic character was about to be uprooted, he found ways to delay the
group work. “I don’t want to be upset by the group today,” he would say, or “This new job
is make or break for me”; “I’m just hanging on by my fingernails”; “Give me a break—
don’t rock the boat”; “I’d been sober for three months until the last meeting caused me to
stop at the bar on my way home.” The variations were many, but the theme was consistent.
One day Leonard announced a major development, one for which he had long labored:
he had quit his job and obtained a position as a teacher. Only a single step remained:
getting a teaching certificate, a matter of filling out an application requiring approximately
two hours’ labor.
Only two hours and yet he could not do it! He delayed until the allowed time had
practically expired and, with only one day remaining, informed the group about the
deadline and lamented the cruelty of his personal demon, procrastination. Everyone in the
group, including the therapists, experienced a strong desire to sit Leonard down, possibly
even in one’s lap, place a pen between his fingers, and guide his hand along the
application form. One client, the most mothering member of the group, did exactly that:
she took him home, fed him, and schoolmarmed him through the application form.
As we began to review what had happened, we could now see his procrastination for
what it was: a plaintive, anachronistic plea for a lost mother. Many things then fell into
place, including the dynamics behind Leonard’s depressions (which were also desperate
pleas for love), alcoholism, and compulsive overeating.
The idea of the social microcosm is, I believe, sufficiently clear: if the group is
conducted such that the members can behave in an unguarded, unselfconscious manner,
they will, most vividly, re-create and display their pathology in the group. Thus in this
living drama of the group meeting, the trained observer has a unique opportunity to
understand the dynamics of each client’s behavior.
RECOGNITION OF BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS IN THE
SOCIAL MICROCOSM

If therapists are to turn the social microcosm to therapeutic use, they must first learn to
identify the group members’ recurrent maladaptive interpersonal patterns. In the incident
involving Leonard, the therapist’s vital clue was the emotional response of members and
leaders to Leonard’s behavior. These emotional responses are valid and indispensable
data: they should not be overlooked or underestimated. The therapist or other group
members may feel angry toward a member, or exploited, or sucked dry, or steamrollered,
or intimidated, or bored, or tearful, or any of the infinite number of ways one person can
feel toward another.
These feelings represent data—a bit of the truth about the other person—and should be
taken seriously by the therapist. If the feelings elicited in others are highly discordant with
the feelings that the client would like to engender in others, or if the feelings aroused are
desired, yet inhibit growth (as in the case of Leonard), then therein lies a crucial part of the
client’s problem. Of course there are many complications inherent in this thesis. Some
critics might say that a strong emotional response is often due to pathology not of the
subject but of the respondent. If, for example, a self-confident, assertive man evokes
strong feelings of fear, intense envy, or bitter resentment in another man, we can hardly
conclude that the response is reflective of the former’s pathology. There is a distinct
advantage in the therapy group format: because the group contains multiple observers, it is
easier to differentiate idiosyncratic and highly subjective responses from more objective
ones.
The emotional response of any single member is not sufficient; therapists need
confirmatory evidence. They look for repetitive patterns over time and for multiple
responses—that is, the reactions of several other members (referred to as consensual
validation) to the individual. Ultimately therapists rely on the most valuable evidence of
all: their own emotional responses. Therapists must be able to attend to their own reactions
to the client, an essential skill in all relational models. If, as Kiesler states, we are
“hooked” by the interpersonal behavior of a member, our own reactions are our best
interpersonal information about the client’s impact on others.47
Therapeutic value follows, however, only if we are able to get “unhooked”—that is, to
resist engaging in the usual behavior the client elicits from others, which only reinforces
the usual interpersonal cycles. This process of retaining or regaining our objectivity
provides us with meaningful feedback about the interpersonal transaction. From this
perspective, the thoughts, fantasies, and actual behavior elicited in the therapist by each
group member should be treated as gold. Our reactions are invaluable data, not failings. It
is impossible not to get hooked by our clients, except by staying so far removed from the
client’s experience that we are untouched by it—an impersonal distance that reduces our
therapeutic effectiveness.
A critic might ask, “How can we be certain that therapists’ reactions are ‘objective’?”
Co-therapy provides one answer to that question. Co-therapists are exposed together to the
same clinical situation. Comparing their reactions permits a clearer discrimination
between their own subjective responses and objective assessments of the interactions.
Furthermore, group therapists may have a calm and privileged vantage point, since, unlike

individual therapists, they witness countless compelling maladaptive interpersonal dramas
unfold without themselves being at the center of all these interactions.
Still, therapists do have their blind spots, their own areas of interpersonal conflict and
distortion. How can we be certain these are not clouding their observations in the course
of group therapy? I will address this issue fully in later chapters on training and on the
therapist’s tasks and techniques, but for now note only that this argument is a powerful
reason for therapists to know themselves as fully as possible. Thus it is incumbent upon
the neophyte group therapist to embark on a lifelong journey of self-exploration, a journey
that includes both individual and group therapy.
None of this is meant to imply that therapists should not take seriously the responses
and feedback of all clients, including those who are highly disturbed. Even the most
exaggerated, irrational responses contain a core of reality. Furthermore, the disturbed
client may be a valuable, accurate source of feedback at other times: no individual is
highly conflicted in every area. And, of course, an idiosyncratic response may contain
much information about the respondent.
This final point constitutes a basic axiom for the group therapist. Not infrequently,
members of a group respond very differently to the same stimulus. An incident may occur
in the group that each of seven or eight members perceives, observes, and interprets
differently. One common stimulus and eight different responses—how can that be? There
seems to be only one plausible explanation: there are eight different inner worlds.
Splendid! After all, the aim of therapy is to help clients understand and alter their inner
worlds. Thus, analysis of these differing responses is a royal road—a via regia—into the
inner world of the group member.
For example, consider the first illustration offered in this chapter, the group containing
Valerie, a flamboyant, controlling member. In accord with their inner world, each of the
group members responded very differently to her, ranging from obsequious acquiescence
to lust and gratitude to impotent fury or effective confrontation.
Or, again, consider certain structural aspects of the group meeting: members have
markedly different responses to sharing the group’s or the therapist’s attention, to
disclosing themselves, to asking for help or helping others. Nowhere are such differences
more apparent than in the transference—the members’ responses to the leader: the same
therapist will be experienced by different members as warm, cold, rejecting, accepting,
competent, or bumbling. This range of perspectives can be humbling and even
overwhelming for therapists, particularly neophytes.
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM—IS IT REAL?
I have often heard group members challenge the veracity of the social microcosm.
Members may claim that their behavior in this particular group is atypical, not at all
representative of their normal behavior. Or that this is a group of troubled individuals who

have difficulty perceiving them accurately. Or even that group therapy is not real; it is an
artificial, contrived experience that distorts rather than reflects one’s real behavior. To the
neophyte therapist, these arguments may seem formidable, even persuasive, but they are in
fact truth-distorting. In one sense, the group is artificial: members do not choose their
friends from the group; they are not central to one another; they do not live, work, or eat
together; although they relate in a personal manner, their entire relationship consists of
meetings in a professional’s office once or twice a week; and the relationships are transient
—the end of the relationship is built into the social contract at the very beginning.
When faced with these arguments, I often think of Earl and Marguerite, members in a
group I led long ago. Earl had been in the group for four months when Marguerite was
introduced. They both blushed to see the other, because, by chance, only a month earlier,
they had gone on a Sierra Club camping trip together for a night and been “intimate.”
Neither wanted to be in the group with the other. To Earl, Marguerite was a foolish, empty
girl, “a mindless piece of ass,” as he was to put it later in the group. To Marguerite, Earl
was a dull nonentity, whose penis she had made use of as a means of retaliation against
her husband.
They worked together in the group once a week for about a year. During that time, they
came to know each other intimately in a fuller sense of the word: they shared their deepest
feelings; they weathered fierce, vicious battles; they helped each other through suicidal
depressions; and, on more than one occasion, they wept for each other. Which was the real
world and which the artificial?
One group member stated, “For the longest time I believed the group was a natural
place for unnatural experiences. It was only later that I realized the opposite—it is an
unnatural place for natural experiences.”48 One of the things that makes the therapy group
real is that it eliminates social, sexual, and status games; members go through vital life
experiences together, they shed reality-distorting facades and strive to be honest with one
another. How many times have I heard a group member say, “This is the first time I have
ever told this to anyone”? The group members are not strangers. Quite the contrary: they
know one another deeply and fully. Yes, it is true that members spend only a small fraction
of their lives together. But psychological reality is not equivalent to physical reality.
Psychologically, group members spend infinitely more time together than the one or two
meetings a week when they physically occupy the same office.
OVERVIEW
Let us now return to the primary task of this chapter: to define and describe the therapeutic
factor of interpersonal learning. All the necessary premises have been posited and
described in this discussion of:
1. The importance of interpersonal relationships

2. The corrective emotional experience
3. The group as a social microcosm
I have discussed these components separately. Now, if we recombine them into a logical
sequence, the mechanism of interpersonal learning as a therapeutic factor becomes
evident:
I. Psychological symptomatology emanates from disturbed interpersonal
relationships. The task of psychotherapy is to help the client learn how to develop
distortion-free, gratifying interpersonal relationships.
II. The psychotherapy group, provided its development is unhampered by severe
structural restrictions, evolves into a social microcosm, a miniaturized
representation of each member’s social universe.
III. The group members, through feedback from others, self-reflection, and self-
observation, become aware of significant aspects of their interpersonal behavior:
their strengths, their limitations, their interpersonal distortions, and the
maladaptive behavior that elicits unwanted responses from other people. The
client, who will often have had a series of disastrous relationships and
subsequently suffered rejection, has failed to learn from these experiences because
others, sensing the person’s general insecurity and abiding by the rules of etiquette
governing normal social interaction, have not communicated the reasons for
rejection. Therefore, and this is important, clients have never learned to
discriminate between objectionable aspects of their behavior and a self-concept as
a totally unacceptable person. The therapy group, with its encouragement of
accurate feedback, makes such discrimination possible.
IV. In the therapy group, a regular interpersonal sequence occurs:
a. Pathology display: the member displays his or her behavior.
b. Through feedback and self-observation, clients
1. become better witnesses of their own behavior;
2. appreciate the impact of that behavior on
a. the feelings of others;
b. the opinions that others have of them;
c. the opinions they have of themselves.
V. The client who has become fully aware of this sequence also becomes aware of
personal responsibility for it: each individual is the author of his or her own
interpersonal world.
VI. Individuals who fully accept personal responsibility for the shaping of their
interpersonal world may then begin to grapple with the corollary of this discovery:
if they created their social-relational world, then they have the power to change it.

VII. The depth and meaningfulness of these understandings are directly proportional
to the amount of affect associated with the sequence. The more real and the more
emotional an experience, the more potent is its impact; the more distant and
intellectualized the experience, the less effective is the learning.
VIII. As a result of this group therapy sequence, the client gradually changes by
risking new ways of being with others. The likelihood that change will occur is a
function of
a. The client’s motivation for change and the amount of personal
discomfort and dissatisfaction with current modes of behavior;
b. The client’s involvement in the group—that is, how much the client
allows the group to matter;
c. The rigidity of the client’s character structure and interpersonal style.
IX. Once change, even modest change, occurs, the client appreciates that some feared
calamity, which had hitherto prevented such behavior, has been irrational and can
be disconfirmed; the change in behavior has not resulted in such calamities as
death, destruction, abandonment, derision, or engulfment.
X. The social microcosm concept is bidirectional: not only does outside behavior
become manifest in the group, but behavior learned in the group is eventually
carried over into the client’s social environment, and alterations appear in clients’
interpersonal behavior outside the group.
XI. Gradually an adaptive spiral is set in motion, at first inside and then outside the
group. As a client’s interpersonal distortions diminish, his or her ability to form
rewarding relationships is enhanced. Social anxiety decreases; self-esteem rises;
the need for self-concealment diminishes. Behavior change is an essential
component of effective group therapy, as even small changes elicit positive
responses from others, who show more approval and acceptance of the client,
which further increases self-esteem and encourages further change.49 Eventually
the adaptive spiral achieves such autonomy and efficacy that professional therapy
is no longer necessary.
Each of the steps of this sequence requires different and specific facilitation by the
therapist. At various points, for example, the therapist must offer specific feedback,
encourage self-observation, clarify the concept of responsibility, exhort the client into risk
taking, disconfirm fantasized calamitous consequences, reinforce the transfer of learning,
and so on. Each of these tasks and techniques will be fully discussed in chapters 5 and 6.
TRANSFERENCE AND INSIGHT
Before concluding the examination of interpersonal learning as a mediator of change, I

wish to call attention to two concepts that deserve further discussion. Transference and
insight play too central a role in most formulations of the therapeutic process to be passed
over lightly. I rely heavily on both of these concepts in my therapeutic work and do not
mean to slight them. What I have done in this chapter is to embed them both into the
factor of interpersonal learning.
Transference is a specific form of interpersonal perceptual distortion. In individual
psychotherapy, the recognition and the working through of this distortion is of paramount
importance. In group therapy, working through interpersonal distortions is, as we have
seen, of no less importance; however, the range and variety of distortions are considerably
greater. Working through the transference—that is, the distortion in the relationship to the
therapist—now becomes only one of a series of distortions to be examined in the therapy
process.
For many clients, perhaps for the majority, it is the most important relationship to work
through, because the therapist is the personification of parental images, of teachers, of
authority, of established tradition, of incorporated values. But most clients are also
conflicted in other interpersonal domains: for example, power, assertiveness, anger,
competitiveness with peers, intimacy, sexuality, generosity, greed, envy.
Considerable research emphasizes the importance many group members place on
working through relationships with other members rather than with the leader.50 To take
one example, a team of researchers asked members, in a twelve-month follow-up of a
short-term crisis group, to indicate the source of the help each had received. Forty-two
percent felt that the group members and not the therapist had been helpful, and 28 percent
responded that both had been helpful. Only 5 percent said that the therapist alone was a
major contributor to change.51
This body of research has important implications for the technique of the group
therapist: rather than focusing exclusively on the client-therapist relationship, therapists
must facilitate the development and working-through of interactions among members. I
will have much more to say about these issues in chapters 6 and 7.
Insight defies precise description; it is not a unitary concept. I prefer to employ it in the
general sense of “sighting inward”—a process encompassing clarification, explanation,
and derepression. Insight occurs when one discovers something important about oneself—
about one’s behavior, one’s motivational system, or one’s unconscious.
In the group therapy process, clients may obtain insight on at least four different levels:
1. Clients may gain a more objective perspective on their interpersonal presentation.
They may for the first time learn how they are seen by other people: as tense, warm, aloof,
seductive, bitter, arrogant, pompous, obsequious, and so on.
2. Clients may gain some understanding into their more complex interactional patterns
of behavior. Any of a vast number of patterns may become clear to them: for example, that
they exploit others, court constant admiration, seduce and then reject or withdraw,
compete relentlessly, plead for love, or relate only to the therapist or either the male or
female members.

3. The third level may be termed motivational insight. Clients may learn why they do
what they do to and with other people. A common form this type of insight assumes is
learning that one behaves in certain ways because of the belief that different behavior
would bring about some catastrophe: one might be humiliated, scorned, destroyed, or
abandoned. Aloof, detached clients, for example, may understand that they shun closeness
because of fears of being engulfed and losing themselves; competitive, vindictive,
controlling clients may understand that they are frightened of their deep, insatiable
cravings for nurturance; timid, obsequious individuals may dread the eruption of their
repressed, destructive rage.
4. A fourth level of insight, genetic insight, attempts to help clients understand how they
got to be the way they are. Through an exploration of the impact of early family and
environmental experiences, the client understands the genesis of current patterns of
behavior. The theoretical framework and the language in which the genetic explanation is
couched are, of course, largely dependent on the therapist’s school of conviction.
I have listed these four levels in the order of degree of inference. An unfortunate and
long-standing conceptual error has resulted, in part, from the tendency to equate a
“superficial-deep” sequence with this “degree of inference” sequence. Furthermore,
“deep” has become equated with “profound” or “good,” and superficial with “trivial,”
“obvious,” or “inconsequential.” Psychoanalysts have, in the past, disseminated the belief
that the more profound the therapist, the deeper the interpretation (from the perspective of
early life events) and thus the more complete the treatment. There is, however, not a single
shred of evidence to support this conclusion.
Every therapist has encountered clients who have achieved considerable genetic insight
based on some accepted theory of child development or psychopathology—be it that of
Freud, Klein, Winnicott, Kernberg, or Kohut—and yet made no therapeutic progress. On
the other hand, it is commonplace for significant clinical change to occur in the absence of
genetic insight. Nor is there a demonstrated relationship between the acquisition of genetic
insight and the persistence of change. In fact, there is much reason to question the validity
of our most revered assumptions about the relationship between types of early experience
and adult behavior and character structure.52
For one thing, we must take into account recent neurobiological research into the
storage of memory. Memory is currently understood to consist of at least two forms, with
two distinct brain pathways.53 We are most familiar with the form of memory known as
“explicit memory.” This memory consists of recalled details, events, and the
autobiographical recollections of one’s life, and it has historically been the focus of
exploration and interpretation in the psychodynamic therapies. A second form of memory,
“implicit memory,” houses our earliest relational experiences, many of which precede our
use of language or symbols. This memory (also referred to as “procedural memory”)
shapes our beliefs about how to proceed in our relational world. Unlike explicit memory,
implicit memory is not fully reached through the usual psychotherapeutic dialogue but,
instead, through the relational and emotional component of therapy.
Psychoanalytic theory is changing as a result of this new understanding of memory.

Fonagy, a prominent analytic theorist and researcher, conducted an exhaustive review of
the psychoanalytic process and outcome literature. His conclusion: “The recovery of past
experience may be helpful, but the understanding of current ways of being with the other
is the key to change. For this, both self and other representations may need to alter and
this can only be done effectively in the here and now.”54 In other words, the actual
moment-to-moment experience of the client and therapist in the therapy relationship is the
engine of change.
A fuller discussion of causality would take us too far afield from interpersonal learning,
but I will return to the issue in chapters 5 and 6. For now, it is sufficient to emphasize that
there is little doubt that intellectual understanding lubricates the machinery of change. It is
important that insight—“sighting in”—occur, but in its generic, not its genetic, sense. And
psychotherapists need to disengage the concept of “profound” or “significant” intellectual
understanding from temporal considerations. Something that is deeply felt or has deep
meaning for a client may or—as is usually the case—may not be related to the unraveling
of the early genesis of behavior.

Chapter 3
GROUP COHESIVENESS
In this chapter I examine the properties of cohesiveness, the considerable evidence for
group cohesiveness as a therapeutic factor, and the various pathways through which it
exerts its therapeutic influence.
What is cohesiveness and how does it influence therapeutic outcome? The short answer
is that cohesiveness is the group therapy analogue to relationship in individual therapy.
First, keep in mind that a vast body of research on individual psychotherapy demonstrates
that a good therapist-client relationship is essential for a positive outcome. Is it also true
that a good therapy relationship is essential in group therapy? Here again, the literature
leaves little doubt that “relationship” is germane to positive outcome in group therapy. But
relationship in group therapy is a far more complex concept than relationship in individual
therapy. After all, there are only two people in the individual therapy transaction, whereas
a number of individuals, generally six to ten, work together in group therapy. It is not
enough to say that a good relationship is necessary for successful group therapy—we must
specify which relationship: The relationship between the client and the group therapist (or
therapists if there are co-leaders)? Or between the group member and other members? Or
perhaps even between the individual and the “group” taken as a whole?

Over the past forty years, a vast number of controlled studies of psychotherapy outcome
have demonstrated that the average person who receives psychotherapy is significantly
improved and that the outcome from group therapy is virtually identical to that of
individual therapy.1 Furthermore there is evidence that certain clients may obtain greater
benefit from group therapy than from other approaches, particularly clients dealing with
stigma or social isolation and those seeking new coping skills.2
The evidence supporting the effectiveness of group psychotherapy is so compelling that
it prompts us to direct our attention toward another question: What are the necessary
conditions for effective psychotherapy? After all, not all psychotherapy is successful. In
fact, there is evidence that treatment may be for better or for worse—although most
therapists help their clients, some therapists make some clients worse.3 Why? What makes
for successful therapy? Although many factors are involved, a proper therapeutic
relationship is a sine qua non for effective therapy outcome. 4 Research evidence
overwhelmingly supports the conclusion that successful therapy—indeed even successful
drug therapy—is mediated by a relationship between therapist and client that is
characterized by trust, warmth, empathic understanding, and acceptance.5 Although a
positive therapeutic alliance is common to all effective treatments, it is not easily or
routinely established. Extensive therapy research has focused on the nature of the
therapeutic alliance and the specific interventions required to achieve and maintain it.6

Is the quality of the relationship related to the therapist’s school of conviction? The
evidence says, “No.” Experienced and effective clinicians from different schools
(Freudian, nondirective, experiential, gestalt, relational, interpersonal, cognitive-
behavioral, psychodrama) resemble one another (and differ from nonexperts in their own
school) in their conception of the ideal therapeutic relationship and in the relationship they
themselves establish with their clients.7
Note that the engaged, cohesive therapeutic relationship is necessary in all
psychotherapies, even the so-called mechanistic approaches—cognitive, behavioral, or
systems-oriented forms of psychotherapy.8 A recent secondary analysis of a large
comparative psychotherapy trial, the National Institute of Mental Health’s (NIMH)
Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program, concluded that successful
therapy, whether it was cognitive-behavioral therapy or interpersonal therapy, required
“the presence of a positive attachment to a benevolent, supportive, and reassuring
authority figure.”9 Research has shown that the client-therapist bond and the technical
elements of cognitive therapy are synergistic: a strong and positive bond in itself
disconfirms depressive beliefs and facilitates the work of modifying cognitive distortions.
The absence of a positive bond renders technical interventions ineffective or even
harmful.10
As noted, relationship plays an equally critical role in group psychotherapy. But the
group therapy analogue of the client-therapist relationship in individual therapy must be a
broader concept, encompassing the individual’s relationship to the group therapist, to the
other group members, and to the group as a whole.† At the risk of courting semantic
confusion, I refer to all of these relationships in the group with the term “group
cohesiveness.” Cohesiveness is a widely researched basic property of groups that has been
explored in several hundred research articles. Unfortunately, there is little cohesion in the
literature, which suffers from the use of different definitions, scales, subjects, and rater
perspectives.11
In general, however, there is agreement that groups differ from one another in the
amount of “groupness” present. Those with a greater sense of solidarity, or “we-ness,”
value the group more highly and will defend it against internal and external threats. Such
groups have a higher rate of attendance, participation, and mutual support and will defend
the group standards much more than groups with less esprit de corps. Nonetheless it is
difficult to formulate a precise definition. A recent comprehensive and thoughtful review
concluded that cohesiveness “is like dignity: everyone can recognize it but apparently no
one can describe it, much less measure it.”12 The problem is that cohesiveness refers to
overlapping dimensions. On the one hand, there is a group phenomenon—the total esprit
de corps; on the other hand, there is the individual member cohesiveness (or, more strictly,
the individual’s attraction to the group).13
In this book, cohesiveness is broadly defined as the result of all the forces acting on all
the members such that they remain in the group,14 or, more simply, the attractiveness of a
group for its members.15 Members of a cohesive group feel warmth and comfort in the

group and a sense of belongingness; they value the group and feel in turn that they are
valued, accepted, and supported by other members.16†
Esprit de corps and individual cohesiveness are interdependent, and group cohesiveness
is often computed simply by summing the individual members’ level of attraction to the
group. Newer methods of measuring group cohesiveness from raters’ evaluations of group
climate make for greater quantitative precision, but they do not negate the fact that group
cohesiveness remains a function and a summation of the individual members’ sense of
belongingness.17 Keep in mind that group members are differentially attracted to the group
and that cohesiveness is not fixed—once achieved, forever held—but instead fluctuates
greatly during the course of the group.18 Early cohesion and engagement is essential for
the group to encompass the more challenging work that comes later in the group’s
development, as more conflict and discomfort emerges.19 Recent research has also
differentiated between the individual’s sense of belonging and his or her appraisal of how
well the entire group is working. It is not uncommon for an individual to feel “that this
group works well, but I’m not part of it.”20 It is also possible for members (for example
eating disorder clients) to value the interaction and bonding in the group yet be
fundamentally opposed to the group goal.21
Before leaving the matter of definition, I must point out that group cohesiveness is not
only a potent therapeutic force in its own right. It is a precondition for other therapeutic
factors to function optimally. When, in individual therapy, we say that it is the relationship
that heals, we do not mean that love or loving acceptance is enough; we mean that an ideal
therapist-client relationship creates conditions in which the necessary risk taking,
catharsis, and intrapersonal and interpersonal exploration may unfold. It is the same for
group therapy: cohesiveness is necessary for other group therapeutic factors to operate.
THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP COHESIVENESS
Although I have discussed the therapeutic factors separately, they are, to a great degree,
interdependent. Catharsis and universality, for example, are not complete processes. It is
not the sheer process of ventilation that is important; it is not only the discovery that
others have problems similar to one’s own and the ensuing disconfirmation of one’s
wretched uniqueness that are important. It is the affective sharing of one’s inner world and
then the acceptance by others that seem of paramount importance. To be accepted by
others challenges the client’s belief that he or she is basically repugnant, unacceptable, or
unlovable. The need for belonging is innate in us all. Both affiliation within the group and
attachment in the individual setting address this need.22 Therapy groups generate a
positive, self-reinforcing loop: trust–self-disclosure–empathy–acceptance–trust.23 The
group will accept an individual, provided that the individual adheres to the group’s
procedural norms, regardless of past life experiences, transgressions, or social failings.
Deviant lifestyles, history of prostitution, sexual perversion, heinous criminal offenses—

all of these can be accepted by the therapy group, so long as norms of nonjudgmental
acceptance and inclusiveness are established early in the group.
For the most part, the disturbed interpersonal skills of our clients have limited their
opportunities for effective sharing and acceptance in intimate relationships. Furthermore,
some members are convinced that their abhorrent impulses and fantasies shamefully bar
them from social interaction. † I have known many isolated clients for whom the group
represented their only deeply human contact. After just a few sessions, they have a
stronger sense of being at home in the group than anywhere else. Later, even years
afterward, when most other recollections of the group have faded from memory, they may
still remember the warm sense of belonging and acceptance.
As one successful client looking back over two and a half years of therapy put it, “The
most important thing in it was just having a group there, people that I could always talk to,
that wouldn’t walk out on me. There was so much caring and hating and loving in the
group, and I was a part of it. I’m better now and have my own life, but it’s sad to think that
the group’s not there anymore.”
Furthermore, group members see that they are not just passive beneficiaries of group
cohesion, they also generate that cohesion, creating durable relationships—perhaps for the
first time in their lives. One group member commented that he had always attributed his
aloneness to some unidentified, intractable, repugnant character failing. It was only after
he stopped missing meetings regularly because of his discouragement and sense of futility
that he discovered the responsibility he exercised for his own aloneness: relationships do
not inevitably wither—his had been doomed largely by his choice to neglect them.
Some individuals internalize the group: “It’s as though the group is sitting on my
shoulder, watching me. I’m forever asking, ‘What would the group say about this or
that?’” Often therapeutic changes persist and are consolidated because, even years later,
the members are disinclined to let the group down.24
Membership, acceptance, and approval in various groups are of the utmost importance
in the individual’s developmental sequence. The importance of belonging to childhood
peer groups, adolescent cliques, sororities or fraternities, or the proper social “in” group
can hardly be overestimated. Nothing seems to be of greater importance for the self-
esteem and well-being of the adolescent, for example, than to be included and accepted in
some social group, and nothing is more devastating than exclusion.25
Most of our clients, however, have an impoverished group history; they have never
been valuable and integral to a group. For these individuals, the sheer successful
negotiation of a group experience may in itself be curative. Belonging in the group raises
self-esteem and meets members’ dependency needs but in ways that also foster
responsibility and autonomy, as each member contributes to the group’s welfare and
internalizes the atmosphere of a cohesive group.26
Thus, in a number of ways, members of a therapy group come to mean a great deal to
one another. The therapy group, at first perceived as an artificial group that does not count,
may in fact come to count very much. I have known groups whose members experience

together severe depressions, psychoses, marriage, divorce, abortions, suicide, career shifts,
sharing of innermost thoughts, and incest (sexual activity among the group members). I
have seen a group physically carry one of its members to the hospital and seen many
groups mourn the death of members. I have seen members of cancer support groups
deliver eulogies at the funeral of a fallen group member. Relationships are often cemented
by moving or hazardous adventures. How many relationships in life are so richly layered?
Evidence
Empirical evidence for the impact of group cohesiveness is not as extensive or as
systematic as research documenting the importance of relationship in individual
psychotherapy. Studying the effect of cohesiveness is more complex27 because it involves
research on variables closely related to cohesion such as group climate (the degree of
engagement, avoidance, and conflict in the group)28 and alliance (the member-therapist
relationship).29 The results of the research from all these perspectives, however, point to
the same conclusion: relationship is at the heart of good therapy. This is no less important
in the era of managed care and third-party oversight than it was in the past. In fact, the
contemporary group therapist has an even larger responsibility to safeguard the therapeutic
relationship from external intrusion and control.30
I now turn to a survey of the relevant research on cohesion. (Readers who are less
interested in research methodology may wish to proceed directly to the summary section.)
• In an early study of former group psychotherapy clients in which members’
explanations of the therapeutic factors in their therapy were transcribed and
categorized, investigators found that more than half considered mutual support the
primary mode of help in group therapy. Clients who perceived their group as
cohesive attended more sessions, experienced more social contact with other
members, and felt that the group had been therapeutic. Improved clients were
significantly more likely to have felt accepted by the other members and to
mention particular individuals when queried about their group experience.31
• In 1970, I reported a study in which successful group therapy clients were asked to
look back over their experience and to rate, in order of effectiveness, the series of
therapeutic factors I describe in this book.32 Since that time, a vast number of
studies using analogous designs have generated considerable data on clients’ views
of what aspects of group therapy have been most useful. I will examine these
results in depth in the next chapter; for now, it is sufficient to note that there is a
strong consensus that clients regard group cohesiveness as an extremely important
determinant of successful group therapy.
• In a six-month study of two long-term therapy groups,33 observers rated the process
of each group session by scoring each member on five variables: acceptance,
activity, desensitivity, abreaction, and improvement. Weekly self-ratings were also
obtained from each member. Both the research raters and group members

considered “acceptance” to be the variable most strongly related to improvement.
• Similar conclusions were reached in a study of forty-seven clients in twelve
psychotherapy groups. Members’ self-perceived personality change correlated
significantly with both their feelings of involvement in the group and their
assessment of total group cohesiveness.34
• My colleagues and I evaluated the one-year outcome of all forty clients who had
started therapy in five outpatient groups.35 Outcome was then correlated with
variables measured in the first three months of therapy. Positive outcome in
therapy significantly correlated with only two predictor variables: group
cohesiveness36 and general popularity—that is, clients who, early in the course of
therapy, were most attracted to the group (high cohesiveness) and who were rated
as more popular by the other group members at the sixth and the twelfth weeks had
a better therapy outcome at the fiftieth week. The popularity finding, which in this
study correlated even more positively with outcome than did cohesiveness, is, as I
shall discuss shortly, relevant to group cohesiveness and sheds light on the
mechanism through which group cohesiveness mediates change.
• The same findings emerge in more structured groups. A study of fifty-one clients
who attended ten sessions of behavioral group therapy demonstrated that
“attraction to the group” correlated significantly with improved self-esteem and
inversely correlated with the group dropout rate.37
• The quality of intermember relationships has also been well documented as an
essential ingredient in T-groups (also called sensitivity-training, process,
encounter, or experiential groups; see chapter 16). A rigorously designed study
found a significant relationship between the quality of intermember relationships
and outcome in a T-group of eleven subjects who met twice a week for a total of
sixty-four hours.38 The members who entered into the most two-person mutually
therapeutic relationships showed the most improvement during the course of the
group.39 Furthermore, the perceived relationship with the group leader was
unrelated to the extent of change.
• My colleagues M. A. Lieberman, M. Miles, and I conducted a study of 210 subjects
in eighteen encounter groups, encompassing ten ideological schools (gestalt,
transactional analysis, T-groups, Synanon, personal growth, Esalen,
psychoanalytic, marathon, psychodrama, encounter tape).40 (See chapter 16 for a
detailed discussion of this project.) Cohesiveness was assessed in several ways and
correlated with outcome.41 The results indicated that attraction to the group is
indeed a powerful determinant of outcome. All methods of determining
cohesiveness demonstrated a positive correlation between cohesiveness and
outcome. A member who experienced little sense of belongingness or attraction to
the group, even measured early in the course of the sessions, was unlikely to
benefit from the group and, in fact, was likely to have a negative outcome.
Furthermore, the groups with the higher overall levels of cohesiveness had a

significantly better total outcome than groups with low cohesiveness.
• Another large study (N = 393) of experiential training groups yielded a strong
relationship between affiliativeness (a construct that overlaps considerably with
cohesion) and outcome.42
• MacKenzie and Tschuschke, studying twenty clients in long-term inpatient groups,
differentiated members’ personal “emotional relatedness to the group” from their
appraisal of “group work” as a whole. The individual’s personal sense of belonging
correlated with future outcome, whereas the total group work scales did not.43
• S. Budman and his colleagues developed a scale to measure cohesiveness via
observations by trained raters of videotaped group sessions. They studied fifteen
therapy groups and found greater reductions in psychiatric symptoms and
improvement in self-esteem in the most cohesively functioning groups. Group
cohesion that was evident early—within the first thirty minutes of each session—
predicted better outcome.44
• A number of other studies have examined the role of the relationship between the
client and the group leader in group therapy. Marziali and colleagues45 examined
group cohesion and the client-group leader relationship in a thirty-session
manualized interpersonal therapy group of clients with borderline personality
disorder. Cohesion and member-leader relationship correlated strongly, supporting
Budman’s findings,46 and both positively correlated with outcome. However, the
member-group leader relationship measure was a more powerful predictor of
outcome. The relationship between client and therapist may be particularly
important for clients who have volatile interpersonal relationships and with whom
the therapist serves an important containing function.
• In a study of a short-term structured cognitive-behavioral therapy group for social
phobia47 the relationship with the therapist deepened over the twelve weeks of
treatment and correlated positively with outcome, but cohesion was static and not
related to outcome. In this study the group was a setting for therapy and not an
agent of therapy. Intermember bonds were not cultivated by the therapists, leading
the authors to conclude that in highly structured groups, what matters most is the
client-therapist collaboration around the therapy tasks.48
• A study of thirty-four clients with depression and social isolation treated in a
twelve-session interactional problem-solving group reported that clients who
described experiencing warmth and positive regard from the group leader had
better therapy outcomes. The opposite also held true. Negative therapy outcomes
were associated with negative client–group leader relationships. This correlative
study does not address cause and effect, however: Are clients better liked by their
therapist because they do well in therapy, or does being well liked promote more
well-being and effort?49
• Outcomes in brief intensive American Group Psychotherapy Association Institute

training groups were influenced by higher levels of engagement. 50 Positive
outcomes may well be mediated by group engagement that fosters more
interpersonal communication and self-disclosure.51
Summary
I have cited evidence that group members value deeply the acceptance and support they
receive from their therapy group. Self-perceived therapy outcome is positively correlated
with attraction to the group. Highly cohesive groups have a better overall outcome than
groups with low esprit de corps. Both emotional connectedness and the experience of
group effectiveness contribute to group cohesiveness. Individuals with positive outcomes
have had more mutually satisfying relationships with other members. Highly cohesive
groups have greater levels of self-disclosure. For some clients and some groups
(especially highly structured groups) the relationship with the leader may be the essential
factor. A strong therapeutic relationship may not guarantee a positive outcome, but a poor
therapeutic relationship will certainly not result in an effective treatment.
The presence of cohesion early in each session as well as in the early sessions of the
group correlates with positive outcomes. It is critical that groups become cohesive and
that leaders be alert to each member’s personal experience of the group and address
problems with cohesion quickly. Positive client outcome is also correlated with group
popularity, a variable closely related to group support and acceptance. Although
therapeutic change is multidimensional, these findings taken together strongly support the
contention that group cohesiveness is an important determinant of positive therapeutic
outcome.
In addition to this direct evidence, there is considerable indirect evidence from research
with other types of groups. A plethora of studies demonstrate that in laboratory task
groups, high levels of group cohesiveness produce many results that may be considered
intervening therapy outcome factors. For example, group cohesiveness results in better
group attendance, greater participation of members, greater influenceability of members,
and many other effects. I will consider these findings in detail shortly, as I discuss the
mechanism by which cohesiveness fosters therapeutic change.
MECHANISM OF ACTION
How do group acceptance, group support, and trust help troubled individuals? Surely there
must be more to it than simple support or acceptance; therapists learn early in their careers
that love is not enough. Although the quality of the therapist-client relationship is crucial,
the therapist must do more than simply relate warmly and honestly to the client.52 The
therapeutic relationship creates favorable conditions for setting other processes in motion.

What other processes? And how are they important?
Carl Rogers’s deep insights into the therapeutic relationship are as relevant today as
they were nearly fifty years ago. Let us start our investigation by examining his views
about the mode of action of the therapeutic relationship in individual therapy. In his most
systematic description of the process of therapy, Rogers states that when the conditions of
an ideal therapist-client relationship exist, the following characteristic process is set into
motion:
1. The client is increasingly free in expressing his feelings.
2. He begins to test reality and to become more discriminatory in his feelings and
perceptions of his environment, his self, other persons, and his experiences.
3. He increasingly becomes aware of the incongruity between his experiences and his
concept of self.
4. He also becomes aware of feelings that have been previously denied or distorted in
awareness.
5. His concept of self, which now includes previously distorted or denied aspects,
becomes more congruent with his experience.
6. He becomes increasingly able to experience, without threat, the therapist’s
unconditional positive regard and to feel an unconditional positive self-regard.
7. He increasingly experiences himself as the focus of evaluation of the nature and
worth of an object or experience.
8. He reacts to experience less in terms of his perception of others’ evaluation of him
and more in terms of its effectiveness in enhancing his own development.53
Central to Rogers’s views is his formulation of an actualizing tendency, an inherent
tendency in all life to expand and to develop itself—a view stretching back to early
philosophic views and clearly enunciated a century ago by Nietzsche.54 It is the therapist’s
task to function as a facilitator and to create conditions favorable for self-expansion. The
first task of the individual is self-exploration: the examination of feelings and experiences
previously denied awareness.
This task is a ubiquitous stage in dynamic psychotherapy. Horney, for example,
emphasized the individual’s need for self-knowledge and self-realization, stating that the
task of the therapist is to remove obstacles in the path of these autonomous processes.55
Contemporary models recognize the same principle. Clients often pursue therapy with a
plan to disconfirm pathogenic beliefs that obstruct growth and development.56 In other
words, there is a built-in inclination to growth and self-fulfillment in all individuals. The
therapist does not have to inspirit clients with these qualities (as if we could!). Instead, our
task is to remove the obstacles that block the process of growth. And one way we do this
is by creating an ideal therapeutic atmosphere in the therapy group. A strong bond
between members not only directly disconfirms one’s unworthiness, it also generates
greater willingness among clients to self-disclose and take interpersonal risks. These

changes help deactivate old, negative beliefs about the self in relation to the world.57
There is experimental evidence that good rapport in individual therapy and its
equivalent (cohesiveness) in group therapy encourage the client to participate in a process
of reflection and personal exploration. For example, Truax,58 studying forty-five
hospitalized patients in three heterogeneous groups, demonstrated that participants in
cohesive groups were significantly more inclined to engage in deep and extensive self-
exploration. 59 Other research demonstrates that high cohesion is closely related to high
degrees of intimacy, risk taking, empathic listening, and feedback. 60 The group members’
recognition that their group is working well at the task of interpersonal learning produces
greater cohesion in a positive and self-reinforcing loop.61 Success with the group task
strengthens the emotional bonds in the group.
Perhaps cohesion is vital because many of our clients have not had the benefit of
ongoing solid peer acceptance in childhood. Therefore they find validation by other group
members a new and vital experience. Furthermore, acceptance and understanding among
members may carry greater power and meaning than acceptance by a therapist. Other
group members, after all, do not have to care, or understand. They’re not paid for it; it’s
not their “job.”62
The intimacy developed in a group may be seen as a counterforce in a technologically
driven culture that, in all ways—socially, professionally, residentially, recreationally—
inexorably dehumanizes relationships.63 In a world in which traditional boundaries that
maintain relationships are increasingly permeable and transient, there is a greater need
than ever for group belonging and group identity.64 The deeply felt human experience in
the group may be of great value to the individual, Rogers believes. Even if it creates no
visible carryover, no external change in behavior, group members may still experience a
more human, richer part of themselves and have this as an internal reference point. This
last point is worth emphasizing, for it is one of those gains of therapy—especially group
therapy—that enrich one’s interior life and yet may not, at least for a long period of time,
have external behavioral manifestations and thus may elude measurement by researchers
and consideration by managed health care administrators, who determine how much and
what type of therapy is indicated.
Group members’ acceptance of self and acceptance of other members are
interdependent; not only is self-acceptance basically dependent on acceptance by others,
but acceptance of others is fully possible only after one can accept oneself. This principle
is supported by both clinical wisdom and research.65 Members of a therapy group may
experience considerable self-contempt and contempt for others. A manifestation of this
feeling may be seen in the client’s initial refusal to join “a group of nuts” or reluctance to
become closely involved with a group of pained individuals for fear of being sucked into a
maelstrom of misery. A particularly evocative response to the prospect of group therapy
was given by a man in his eighties when he was invited to join a group for depressed
elderly men: it was useless, he said, to waste time watering a bunch of dead trees—his
metaphor for the other men in his nursing home.66

In my experience, all individuals seeking assistance from a mental health professional
have in common two paramount difficulties: (1) establishing and maintaining meaningful
interpersonal relationships, and (2) maintaining a sense of personal worth (self-esteem). It
is hard to discuss these two interdependent areas as separate entities, but since in the
preceding chapter I dwelled more heavily on the establishment of interpersonal
relationships, I shall now turn briefly to self-esteem.
Self-esteem and public esteem are highly interdependent.67 Self-esteem refers to an
individual’s evaluation of what he or she is really worth, and is indissolubly linked to that
person’s experiences in prior social relationships. Recall Sullivan’s statement: “The self
may be said to be made up of reflected appraisals.”68 In other words, during early
development, one’s perceptions of the attitudes of others toward oneself come to
determine how one regards and values oneself. The individual internalizes many of these
perceptions and, if they are consistent and congruent, relies on these internalized
evaluations for some stable measure of self-worth.
But, in addition to this internal reservoir of self-worth, people are, to a greater or lesser
degree, always concerned and influenced by the current evaluations of others—especially
the evaluation provided by the groups to which they belong. Social psychology research
supports this clinical understanding: the groups and relationships in which we take part
become incorporated in the self.69 One’s attachment to a group is multidimensional. It is
shaped both by the member’s degree of confidence in his attractiveness to the group—am
I a desirable member?—and the member’s relative aspiration for affiliation—do I want to
belong?
The influence of public esteem—that is, the group’s evaluation—on an individual
depends on several factors: how important the person feels the group to be; the frequency
and specificity of the group’s communications to the person about that public esteem; and
the salience to the person of the traits in question. (Presumably, considering the honest and
intense self-disclosure in therapy groups, the salience is very great indeed, since these
traits are close to a person’s core identity.) In other words, the more the group matters to
the person, and the more that person subscribes to the group values, the more he or she
will be inclined to value and agree with the group judgment.70 This last point has much
clinical relevance. The more attracted an individual is to the group, the more he or she will
respect the judgment of the group and will attend to and take seriously any discrepancy
between public esteem and self-esteem. A discrepancy between the two will create a state
of dissonance, which the individual will attempt to correct.
Let us suppose this discrepancy veers to the negative side—that is, the group’s
evaluation of the individual is less than the individual’s self-evaluation. How to resolve
that discrepancy? One recourse is to deny or distort the group’s evaluation. In a therapy
group, this is not a positive development, for a vicious circle is generated: the group, in the
first place, evaluates the member poorly because he or she fails to participate in the group
task (which in a therapy group consists of active exploration of one’s self and one’s
relationships with others). Any increase in defensiveness and communicational problems
will only further lower the group’s esteem of that particular member. A common method

used by members to resolve such a discrepancy is to devalue the group—emphasizing, for
example, that the group is artificial or composed of disturbed individuals, and then
comparing it unfavorably to some anchor group (for example, a social or occupational
group) whose evaluation of the member is different. Members who follow this sequence
(for example, the group deviants described in chapter 8) usually drop out of the group.
Toward the end of a successful course of group therapy, one group member reviewed
her early recollections of the group as follows: “For the longest time I told myself you
were all nuts and your feedback to me about my defensiveness and inaccessibility was
ridiculous. I wanted to quit—I’ve done that before many times, but I felt enough of a
connection here to decide to stay. Once I made that choice I started to tell myself that you
cannot all be wrong about me. That was the turning point in my therapy.” This is an
example of the therapeutic method of resolving the discrepancy for the individual: that is,
to raise one’s public esteem by changing those behaviors and attitudes that have been
criticized by the group. This method is more likely if the individual is highly attracted to
the group and if the public esteem is not too much lower than the self-esteem.
But is the use of group pressure to change individual behavior or attitudes a form of
social engineering? Is it not mechanical? Does it not neglect deeper levels of integration?
Indeed, group therapy does employ behavioral principles; psychotherapy is, in all its
variants, basically a form of learning. Even the most nondirective therapists use, at an
unconscious level, operant conditioning techniques: they signal desirable conduct or
attitudes to clients, whether explicitly or subtly.71
This process does not suggest that we assume an explicit behavioral, mechanistic view
of the client, however. Aversive or operant conditioning of behavior and attitudes is, in my
opinion, neither feasible nor effective when applied as an isolated technique. Although
clients often report lasting improvement after some disabling complaint is remedied by
behavioral therapy techniques, close inspection of the process invariably reveals that
important interpersonal relationships have been affected. Either the therapist-client
relationship in the behavioral and cognitive therapies has been more meaningful than the
therapist realized (and research evidence substantiates this),72 or some important changes,
initiated by the symptomatic relief, have occurred in the client’s social relationships that
have served to reinforce and maintain the client’s improvement. Again, as I have stressed
before, all the therapeutic factors are intricately interdependent. Behavior and attitudinal
change, regardless of origin, begets other changes. The group changes its evaluation of a
member; the member feels more self-satisfied in the group and with the group itself; and
the adaptive spiral described in the previous chapter is initiated.
A far more common occurrence in a psychotherapy group is a discrepancy in the
opposite direction: the group’s evaluation of a member is higher than the member’s self-
evaluation. Once again, the member is placed in a state of dissonance and once again will
attempt to resolve the discrepancy. What can a member in that position do? Perhaps the
person will lower the public esteem by revealing personal inadequacies. However, in
therapy groups, this behavior has the paradoxical effect of raising public esteem—
disclosure of inadequacies is a valued group norm and enhances acceptance by the group.

Another possible scenario, desirable therapeutically, occurs when group members
reexamine and alter their low level of self-esteem. An illustrative clinical vignette will
flesh out this formulation:
• Marietta, a thirty-four-year-old housewife with an emotionally impoverished
background, sought therapy because of anxiety and guilt stemming from a series of
extramarital affairs. Her self-esteem was exceedingly low; nothing escaped her
self-excoriation: her physical appearance, her intelligence, her speech, her
unimaginativeness, her functioning as a mother and a wife. Although she received
solace from her religious affiliation, it was a mixed blessing because she felt too
unworthy to socialize with the church people in her community. She married a man
she considered repugnant but nonetheless a good man—certainly good enough for
her. Only in her sexual affairs, particularly when she had them with several men at
once, did she seem to come alive—to feel attractive, desirable, and able to give
something of herself that seemed of value to others. However, this behavior
clashed with her religious convictions and resulted in considerable anxiety and
further self-derogation.
Viewing the group as a social microcosm, the therapist soon noted characteristic
trends in Marietta’s group behavior. She spoke often of the guilt issuing from her
sexual behavior, and for many hours the group struggled with all the titillating
ramifications of her predicament. At all other times in the group, however, she
disengaged and offered nothing. She related to the group as she did to her social
environment. She could belong to it, but she could not really relate to the other
people: the only thing of real interest she felt she could offer was her genitals.
Over time in the group she began to respond and to question others and to offer
warmth, support, and feedback. She found other, nonsexual, aspects of herself to
disclose and spoke openly of a broad array of her life concerns. Soon she found
herself increasingly valued by the other members. She gradually reexamined and
eventually disconfirmed her belief that she had little of value to offer. The
discrepancy between her public esteem and her self-esteem widened (that is, the
group valued her more than she regarded herself), and soon she was forced to
entertain a more realistic and positive view of herself. Gradually, an adaptive
spiral ensued: she began to establish meaningful nonsexual relationships both in
and out of the group and these, in turn, further enhanced her self-esteem.
The more therapy disconfirms the client’s negative self-image through new relational
experience, the more effective therapy will be.73
Self-Esteem, Public Esteem, and Therapeutic Change: Evidence
Group therapy research has not specifically investigated the relationship between public
esteem and shifts in self-esteem. However, an interesting finding from a study of
experiential groups (see chapter 16) was that members’ self-esteem decreased when public

esteem decreased.74 (Public esteem is measured by sociometric data, which involves
asking members to rank-order one another on several variables.) Researchers also
discovered that the more a group member underestimated his or her public esteem, the
more acceptable that member was to the other members. In other words, the ability to face
one’s deficiencies, or even to judge oneself a little harshly, increases one’s public esteem.
Humility, within limits, is far more adaptable than arrogance.
It is also interesting to consider data on group popularity, a variable closely related to
public esteem. The group members considered most popular by other members after six
and twelve weeks of therapy had significantly better therapy outcomes than the other
members at the end of one year.75 Thus, it seems that clients who have high public esteem
early in the course of a group are destined to have a better therapy outcome.
What factors seem to be responsible for the attainment of popularity in therapy groups?
Three variables, which did not themselves correlate with outcome, correlated significantly
with popularity:
1. Previous self-disclosure.76
2. Interpersonal compatibility:77 individuals who (perhaps fortuitously) have
interpersonal needs that happen to blend well with those of the other group
members become popular in the group.
3. Other sociometric measures; group members who were often chosen as leisure
companions and worked well with colleagues became popular in the group. A
clinical study of the most popular and least popular members revealed that popular
members tended to be young, well-educated, intelligent, and introspective. They
filled the leadership vacuum that occurs early in the group when the therapist
declines to assume the traditional leader role.78
The most unpopular group members were rigid, moralistic, nonintrospective, and least
involved in the group task. Some were blatantly deviant, attacking the group and isolating
themselves. Some schizoid members were frightened of the group process and remained
peripheral. A study of sixty-six group therapy members concluded that the less popular
members (that is, those viewed less positively by other members) were more inclined to
drop out of the group.79
Social psychology researchers have also investigated the attributes that confer higher
social status in social groups. The personality attribute of extraversion (measured by a
personality questionnaire, the NEO-PI)80 is a very strong predictor of popularity.81
Extraversion connotes the traits of active and energetic social engagement, that is, a
person who is upbeat and emotionally robust. Depue’s neurobiological research82 suggests
that such individuals invite others to approach them. The promise of the extravert’s
welcome response rewards and reinforces engagement.
The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group study corroborated these
conclusions.83 Sociometric data revealed that the members with the more positive
outcomes were influential and engaged in behavior in close harmony with the encounter

group values of risk taking, spontaneity, openness, self-disclosure, expressivity, group
facilitation, and support. Evidence has emerged from both clinical and social-
psychological small-group research demonstrating that the members who adhere most
closely to group norms attain positions of popularity and influence.84 Members who help
the group achieve its tasks are awarded higher status.85
To summarize: Members who are popular and influential in therapy groups have a
higher likelihood of changing. They attain popularity and influence in the group by virtue
of their active participation, self-disclosure, self-exploration, emotional expression,
nondefensiveness, leadership, interest in others, and support of the group.
It is important to note that the individual who adheres to the group norms not only is
rewarded by increased public esteem within the group but also uses those same social
skills to deal more effectively with interpersonal problems outside the group. Thus,
increased popularity in the group acts therapeutically in two ways: by augmenting self-
esteem and by reinforcing adaptive social skills. The rich get richer. The challenge in
group therapy is helping the poor get richer as well.
Group Cohesiveness and Group Attendance
Continuation in the group is obviously a necessary, though not a sufficient, prerequisite for
successful treatment. Several studies indicate that clients who terminate early in the course
of group therapy receive little benefit.86 In one study, over fifty clients who dropped out of
long-term therapy groups within the first twelve meetings reported that they did so
because of some stress encountered in the group. They were not satisfied with their
therapy experience and they did not improve; indeed, many of these clients felt worse.87
Clients who remain in the group for at least several months have a high likelihood (85
percent in one study) of profiting from therapy.88
The greater a member’s attraction to the group, the more inclined that person will be to
stay in therapy groups as well as in encounter groups, laboratory groups (formed for some
research purpose), and task groups (established to perform some designated task).89 The
Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group study discovered a high correlation
between low cohesiveness and eventual dropping out from the group.90 The dropouts had
little sense of belongingness and left the group most often because they felt rejected,
attacked, or unconnected.
The relationship between cohesiveness and maintenance of membership has
implications for the total group as well. Not only do the least cohesive members terminate
membership and fail to benefit from therapy, but noncohesive groups with high member
turnover prove to be less therapeutic for the remaining members as well. Clients who drop
out challenge the group’s sense of worth and effectiveness.
Stability of membership is a necessary condition for effective shortand long-term
interactional group therapy. Although most therapy groups go through an early phase of

instability during which some members drop out and replacements are added, the groups
thereafter settle into a long, stable phase in which much of the solid work of therapy
occurs. Some groups seem to enter this phase of stability early, and other groups never
achieve it. Dropouts at times beget other dropouts, as other clients may terminate soon
after the departure of a key member. In a group therapy follow-up study, clients often
spontaneously underscored the importance of membership stability.91
In chapter 15, I will discuss the issue of cohesiveness in groups led in clinical settings
that preclude a stable long-term membership. For example, drop-in crisis groups or groups
on an acute inpatient ward rarely have consistent membership even for two consecutive
meetings. In these clinical situations, therapists must radically alter their perspectives on
the life development of the group. I believe, for example, that the appropriate life span for
the acute inpatient group is a single session. The therapist must strive to be efficient and to
offer effective help to as many members as possible during each single session.
Brief therapy groups pay a particularly high price for poor attendance, and therapists
must make special efforts to increase cohesiveness early in the life of the group. These
strategies (including strong pregroup preparation, homogeneous composition, and
structured interventions)92 will be discussed in chapter 15.
Group Cohesiveness and the Expression of Hostility
It would be a mistake to equate cohesiveness with comfort. Although cohesive groups
may show greater acceptance, intimacy, and understanding, there is evidence that they
also permit greater development and expression of hostility and conflict. Cohesive groups
have norms (that is, unwritten rules of behavior accepted by group members) that
encourage open expression of disagreement or conflict alongside support. In fact, unless
hostility can be openly expressed, persistent covert hostile attitudes may hamper the
development of cohesiveness and effective interpersonal learning. Unexpressed hostility
simply smolders within, only to seep out in many indirect ways, none of which facilitates
the group therapeutic process. It is not easy to continue communicating honestly with
someone you dislike or even hate. The temptation to avoid the other and to break off
communication is very great; yet when channels of communication are closed, so are any
hopes for conflict resolution and for personal growth.
This is as true on the megagroup—even the national—level as on the dyadic. The
Robbers’ Cave experiment, a famed research project conducted long ago, in the infancy of
group dynamics research,e offers experimental evidence still relevant for contemporary
clinical work.93 A camp of well-adjusted eleven-year-old boys was divided at the outset
into two groups that were placed in competition with each other in a series of contests.
Soon each group developed considerable cohesiveness as well as a deep sense of hostility
toward the other group. Any meaningful communication between the two groups became
impossible. If, for example, they were placed in physical proximity in the dining hall, the
group boundaries remained impermeable. Intergroup communication consisted of taunts,

insults, and spitballs.
How to restore meaningful communication between the members of the two groups?
That was the quest of the researchers. Finally they hit upon a successful strategy.
Intergroup hostility was relieved only when a sense of allegiance to a single large group
could be created. The researchers created some superordinate goals that disrupted the
small group boundaries and forced all the boys to work together in a single large group.
For example, a truck carrying food for an overnight hike stalled in a ditch and could be
rescued only by the cooperative efforts of all the boys; a highly desirable movie could be
rented only by the pooled contributions of the entire camp; the water supply was cut off
and could be restored only by the cooperative efforts of all campers.
The drive to belong can create powerful feelings within groups. Members with a strong
adherence to what is inside the group may experience strong pressure to exclude and
devalue who and what is outside the bounds of the group.94 It is not uncommon for
individuals to develop prejudice against groups to which they cannot belong. It is
therefore not surprising that hostility often emerges against members of ethnic or racial
groups to which entry for outsiders may be impossible. The implication for international
conflict is apparent: intergroup hostility may dissolve in the face of some urgently felt
worldwide crisis that only supranational cooperation can avert: atmospheric pollution or
an international AIDS epidemic, for example. These principles also have implications for
clinical work with small groups.
Intermember conflict during the course of group therapy must be contained. Above all,
communication must not be ruptured, and the adversaries must continue to work together
in a meaningful way, to take responsibility for their statements, and to be willing to go
beyond namecalling. This is, of course, a major difference between therapy groups and
social groups, in which conflicts often result in the permanent rupture of relationships.
Clients’ descriptions of critical incidents in therapy (see chapter 2) often involve an
episode in which they expressed strong negative affect. In each instance, however, the
client was able to weather the storm and to continue relating (often in a more gratifying
manner) to the other member.
Underlying these events is the condition of cohesiveness. The group and the members
must mean enough to each other to be willing to bear the discomfort of working through a
conflict. Cohesive groups are, in a sense, like families with much internecine warfare but a
powerful sense of loyalty.
Several studies demonstrate that cohesiveness is positively correlated with risk taking
and intensive interaction.95 Thus, cohesiveness is not synonymous with love or with a
continuous stream of supportive, positive statements. Cohesive groups are groups that are
able to embrace conflict and to derive constructive benefit from it. Obviously, in times of
conflict, cohesiveness scales that emphasize warmth, comfort, and support will
temporarily gyrate; thus, many researchers have reservations about viewing cohesiveness
as a precise, stable, measurable, unidimensional variable and consider it instead as
multidimensional.96

Once the group is able to deal constructively with conflict in the group, therapy is
enhanced in many ways. I have already mentioned the importance of catharsis, of risk
taking, of gradually exploring previously avoided or unknown parts of oneself and
recognizing that the anticipated dreaded catastrophe is chimerical. Many clients are
desperately afraid of anger—their own and that of others. A highly cohesive group
encourages members to tolerate the pain and hurt that interpersonal learning may produce.
But keep in mind that it is the early engagement that makes such successful working-
through later possible.97 The premature expression of excess hostility before group
cohesion has been established is a leading cause of group fragmentation. It is important for
clients to realize that their anger is not lethal. Both they and others can and do survive an
expression of their impatience, irritability, and even outright rage. For some clients, it is
also important to have the experience of weathering an attack. In the process, they may
become better acquainted with the reasons for their position and learn to withstand
pressure from others.98
Conflict may also enhance self-disclosure, as each opponent tends to reveal more and
more to clarify his or her position. As members are able to go beyond the mere statement
of position, as they begin to understand the other’s experiential world, past and present,
and view the other’s position from their own frame of reference, they may begin to
understand that the other’s point of view may be as appropriate for that person as their
own is for themselves. The working through of extreme dislike or hatred of another person
is an experience of great therapeutic power. A clinical illustration demonstrates many of
these points (another example may be found in my novel The Schopenhauer Cure).99
• Susan, a forty-six-year-old, very proper school principal, and Jean, a twenty-one-
year-old high school dropout, became locked into a vicious struggle. Susan
despised Jean because of her libertine lifestyle, and what she imagined to be her
sloth and promiscuity. Jean was enraged by Susan’s judgmentalism, her
sanctimoniousness, her embittered spinsterhood, her closed posture to the world.
Fortunately, both women were deeply committed members of the group.
(Fortuitous circumstances played a part here. Jean had been a core member of the
group for a year and then married and went abroad for three months. Just at that
time Susan became a member and, during Jean’s absence, became heavily involved
in the group.)
Both had had considerable past difficulty in tolerating and expressing anger.
Over a four-month period, they interacted heavily, at times in pitched battles. For
example, Susan erupted indignantly when she found out that Jean was obtaining
food stamps illegally; and Jean, learning of Susan’s virginity, ventured the opinion
that she was a curiosity, a museum piece, a mid-Victorian relic.
Much good group work was done because Jean and Susan, despite their conflict,
never broke off communication. They learned a great deal about each other and
eventually realized the cruelty of their mutual judgmentalism. Finally, they could
both understand how much each meant for the other on both a personal and a
symbolic level. Jean desperately wanted Susan’s approval; Susan deeply envied

Jean for the freedom she had never permitted herself. In the working-through
process, both fully experienced their rage; they encountered and then accepted
previously unknown parts of themselves. Ultimately, they developed an empathic
understanding and then an acceptance of each other. Neither could possibly have
tolerated the extreme discomfort of the conflict were it not for the strong cohesion
that, despite the pain, bound them to the group.
Not only are cohesive groups more able to express hostility among members but there is
evidence that they are also more able to express hostility toward the leader.100 Regardless
of the personal style or skill of group leaders, the therapy group will nonetheless come,
often within the first dozen meetings, to experience some degree of hostility and
resentment toward them. (See chapter 11 for a full discussion of this issue.) Leaders do not
fulfill members’ fantasized expectations and, in the view of many members, do not care
enough, do not direct enough, and do not offer immediate relief. If the group members
suppress these feelings of disappointment or anger, several harmful consequences may
ensue. They may attack a convenient scapegoat—another member or some institution like
“psychiatry” or “doctors.” They may experience a smoldering irritation within themselves
or within the group as a whole. They may, in short, begin to establish norms discouraging
open expression of feelings. The presence of such scapegoating may be a signal that
aggression is being displaced away from its more rightful source—often the therapist.101
Leaders who challenge rather than collude with group scapegoating not only safeguard
against an unfair attack, they also demonstrate their commitment to authenticity and
responsibility in relationships.
The group that is able to express negative feelings toward the therapist almost
invariably is strengthened by the experience. It is an excellent exercise in direct
communication and provides an important learning experience—namely, that one may
express hostility directly without some ensuing irreparable calamity. It is far preferable
that the therapist, the true object of the anger, be confronted than for the anger to be
displaced onto some other member in the group. Furthermore, the therapist, let us pray, is
far better able than a scapegoated member to withstand confrontation. The entire process
is self-reinforcing; a concerted attack on the leader that is handled in a nondefensive,
nonretaliatory fashion serves to increase cohesiveness still further.
One cautionary note about cohesion: misguided ideas about cohesion may interfere with
the group task.102 Janis coined the term “groupthink” to describe the phenomenon of
“deterioration of mental efficiency, reality testing, and moral judgment that results from
group pressure.”103 Group pressure to conform and maintain consensus may create a
groupthink environment. This is not an alliance-based cohesion that facilitates the growth
of the group members; on the contrary, it is a misalliance based on naive or regressive
assumptions about belonging. Critical and analytic thought by the group members needs to
be endorsed and encouraged by the group leader as an essential group norm.104
Autocratic, closed and authoritarian leaders discourage such thought. Their groups are
more prone to resist uncertainty, to be less reflective, and to close down exploration
prematurely.105

Group Cohesiveness and Other Therapy-Relevant Variables
Research from both therapy and laboratory groups has demonstrated that group
cohesiveness has a plethora of important consequences that have obvious relevance to the
group therapeutic process.106 It has been shown, for example, that the members of a
cohesive group, in contrast to the members of a noncohesive group, will:
1. Try harder to influence other group members 107
2. Be more open to influence by the other members108
3. Be more willing to listen to others109 and more accepting of others110
4. Experience greater security and relief from tension in the group111
5. Participate more readily in meetings112
6. Self-disclose more113
7. Protect the group norms and exert more pressure on individuals deviating from the
norms114
8. Be less susceptible to disruption as a group when a member terminates
membership115
9. Experience greater ownership of the group therapy enterprise116
SUMMARY
By definition, cohesiveness refers to the attraction that members have for their group and
for the other members. It is experienced at interpersonal, intrapersonal, and intragroup
levels. The members of a cohesive group are accepting of one another, supportive, and
inclined to form meaningful relationships in the group. Cohesiveness is a significant factor
in successful group therapy outcome. In conditions of acceptance and understanding,
members will be more inclined to express and explore themselves, to become aware of
and integrate hitherto unacceptable aspects of self, and to relate more deeply to others.
Self-esteem is greatly influenced by the client’s role in a cohesive group. The social
behavior required for members to be esteemed by the group is socially adaptive to the
individual out of the group.
In addition, highly cohesive groups are more stable groups, with better attendance and
less turnover. Evidence was presented to indicate that this stability is vital to successful
therapy: early termination precludes benefit for the involved client and impedes the
progress of the rest of the group as well. Cohesiveness favors self-disclosure, risk taking,
and the constructive expression of conflict in the group—phenomenon that facilitate
successful therapy.

What we have yet to consider are the determinants of cohesiveness. What are the
sources of high and low cohesiveness? What does the therapist do to facilitate the
development of a highly cohesive group? These important issues will be discussed in the
chapters dealing with the group therapist’s tasks and techniques.

Chapter 4
THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: AN INTEGRATION
We began our inquiry into the group therapy therapeutic factors with the rationale that the
delineation of these factors would guide us to a formulation of effective tactics and
strategies for the therapist. The compendium of therapeutic factors presented in chapter 1
is, I believe, comprehensive but is not yet in a form that has great clinical applicability.
For the sake of clarity I have considered the factors as separate entities, whereas in fact
they are intricately interdependent. In other words, I have taken the therapy process apart
to examine it, and now it is time to put it back together again.
In this chapter I first consider how the therapeutic factors operate when they are viewed
not separately but as part of a dynamic process. Next I address the comparative potency of
the therapeutic factors. Obviously, they are not all of equal value. However, an absolute
rank-ordering of therapeutic factors is not possible. Many contingencies must be
considered. The importance of various therapeutic factors depends on the type of group
therapy practiced. Groups differ in their clinical populations, therapeutic goals, and
treatment settings—for example, eating disorders groups, panic disorder groups, substance
abuse groups, medical illness groups, ongoing outpatient groups, brief therapy groups,
inpatient groups, and partial hospitalization groups. They may emphasize different clusters
of therapeutic factors, and some therapeutic factors are important at one stage of a group,
whereas others predominate at another. Even within the same group, different clients
benefit from different therapeutic factors. Like diners at a cafeteria, group members will
choose their personalized menu of therapeutic factors, depending on such factors as their
needs, their social skills, and their character structure.
This chapter underscores the point that some factors are not always independent
mechanisms of change but instead create the conditions for change. For example, as I
mentioned in chapter 1, instillation of hope may serve largely to prevent early
discouragement and to keep members in the group until other, more potent forces for
change come into play. Or consider cohesiveness: for some members, the sheer experience
of being an accepted, valued member of a group may in itself be the major mechanism of
change. Yet for other members, cohesiveness is important because it provides the
conditions, the safety and support, that allow them to express emotion, request feedback,
and experiment with new interpersonal behavior.
Our efforts to evaluate and integrate the therapeutic factors will always remain, to some
extent, conjectural. Over the past twenty-five years there has been a groundswell of
research on the therapeutic factors: recent reviews have cited hundreds of studies.1 Yet
little definitive research has been conducted on the comparative value of the therapeutic
factors and their interrelation; indeed, we may never attain a high degree of certainty as to
these comparative values. We have summaries at the end of sections for those readers less
interested in research detail.
I do not speak from a position of investigative nihilism but instead argue that the nature

of our data on therapeutic factors is so highly subjective that it largely resists the
application of scientific methodology. The precision of our instrumentation and statistical
analysis will always be limited by the imprecision of our primary data—the clients’
assessment of what was most helpful about their group therapy experience. We may
improve our data collection by asking our clients these questions at repeated intervals or
by having independent raters evaluate the therapeutic factors at work,2 but we are still left
trying to quantify and categorize subjective dimensions that do not fit easily into an
objective and categorical system.†3 We must also recognize limits in our ability to infer
objective therapeutic cause and effect accurately from rater observation or client
reflection, both of which are inherently subjective. This point is best appreciated by those
therapists and researchers who themselves have had a personal therapy experience. They
need only pose themselves the task of evaluating and rating the therapeutic factors in their
own therapy to realize that precise judgment can never be attained. Consider the following
not atypical clinical illustration, which demonstrates the difficulty of determining which
factor is most therapeutic within a treatment experience.
• A new member, Barbara, a thirty-six-year-old chronically depressed single
woman, sobbed as she told the group that she had been laid off. Although her job
paid poorly and she disliked the work, she viewed the layoff as evidence that she
was unacceptable and doomed to a miserable, unhappy life. Other group members
offered support and reassurance but with minimal apparent impact. Another
member, Gail, who was fifty years old and herself no stranger to depression, urged
Barbara to avoid a negative cascade of depressive thoughts and self-derogation
and added that it was only after a year of hard work in the group that she was able
to attain a stable mood and to view negative events as disappointments rather than
damning personal indictments.
Barbara nodded and then told the group that she had desperately needed to talk
and arrived early for the meeting, saw no one else and assumed not only that the
group had been canceled but also that the leader had uncaringly failed to notify
her. She was angrily contemplating leaving, when the group members arrived. As
she talked, she smiled knowingly, acknowledging the depressive assumptions she
continually makes and her propensity to act upon them.
After a short reflection, she recalled a memory of her childhood—of her anxious
mother, and her family’s motto, “Disaster is always around the corner.” At age
eight she had a diagnostic workup for tuberculosis because of a positive skin test.
Her mother had said, “Don’t worry—I will visit you at the sanitarium.” The
diagnostic workup was negative, but her mother’s echoing words still filled her
with dread. Barbara then added—“I can’t tell you what it’s like for me today to
receive this kind feedback and reassurance instead.”
We can see in this illustration the presence of the several therapeutic factors—
universality, instillation of hope, self-understanding, imparting information, family
reenactment, interpersonal learning, and catharsis. Which therapeutic factor is primary?
How can we determine that with any certainty?

Some attempts have been made to use subjectively evaluated therapeutic factors as
independent variables in outcome studies. Yet enormous difficulties are encountered in
such research. The methodological problems are formidable: as a general rule, the
accuracy with which variables can be measured is directly proportional to their triviality.
A comprehensive review of such empirical studies produced only a handful of studies that
had an acceptable research design, and these studies have limited clinical relevance. 4 For
example, four studies attempted to quantify and evaluate insight by comparing insight
groups with other approaches, such as assertiveness training groups or interactional here-
and-now groups (as though such interactional groups offered no insight).5 The researchers
measured insight by counting the number of a therapist’s insight-providing comments or
by observers’ ratings of a leader’s insight orientation. Such a design fails to take into
account the crucial aspects of the experience of insight: for example, how accurate was the
insight? How well timed? Was the client in a state of readiness to accept it? What was the
nature of the client’s relationship with the therapist? (If adversarial, the client is apt to
reject any interpretation; if dependent, the client may ingest all interpretations without
discrimination.) Insight is a deeply subjective experience that cannot be rated by objective
measures (one accurate, well-timed interpretation is worth a score of interpretations that
fail to hit home). Perhaps it is for these reasons that no new research on insight in group
therapy and outcome has been reported in the past decade. In virtually every form of
psychotherapy the therapist must appreciate the full context of the therapy to understand
the nature of effective therapeutic interventions.6
As a result, I fear that empirical psychotherapy research will never provide the certainty
we crave, and we must learn to live effectively with uncertainty. We must listen to what
clients tell us and consider the best available evidence from research and intelligent
clinical observation. Ultimately we must evolve a reasoned therapy that offers the great
flexibility needed to cope with the infinite range of human problems.
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC
FACTORS: THE CLIENT’S VIEW
How do group members evaluate the various therapeutic factors? Which factors do they
regard as most salient to their improvement in therapy? In the first two editions of this
book, it was possible to review in a leisurely fashion the small body of research bearing on
this question: I discussed the two existing studies that explicitly explored the client’s
subjective appraisal of the therapeutic factors, and then proceeded to describe in detail the
results of my first therapeutic factor research project.7 For that undertaking, my colleagues
and I administered to twenty successful group therapy participants a therapeutic factor
questionnaire designed to compare the importance of the eleven therapeutic factors I
identified in chapter 1.
Things have changed since then. In the past four decades, a deluge of studies have

researched the client’s view of the therapeutic factors (several of these studies have also
obtained therapists’ ratings of therapeutic factors). Recent research demonstrates that a
focus on therapeutic factors is a very useful way for therapists to shape their group
therapeutic strategies to match their clients’ goals.8 This burst of research provides rich
data and enables us to draw conclusions with far more conviction about therapeutic
factors. For one thing, it is clear that the differential value of the therapeutic factors is
vastly influenced by the type of group, the stage of the therapy, and the intellectual level
of the client. Thus, the overall task of reviewing and synthesizing the literature is far more
difficult.
However, since most of the researchers use some modification of the therapeutic factors
and the research instrument I described in my 1970 research, 9 I will describe that research
in detail and then incorporate into my discussion the findings from more recent research
on therapeutic factors.10
My colleagues and I studied the therapeutic factors in twenty successful long-term
group therapy clients. 11 We asked twenty group therapists to select their most successful
client. These therapists led groups of middle-class outpatients who had neurotic or
characterological problems. The subjects had been in therapy eight to twenty-two months
(the mean duration was sixteen months) and had recently terminated or were about to
terminate group therapy.12 All subjects completed a therapeutic factor Q-sort and were
interviewed by the investigators.
Twelve categories of therapeutic factors were constructed from the sources outlined
throughout this book,13f and five items describing each category were written, making a
total of sixty items (see table 4.1). Each item was typed on a 3 × 5 card; the client was
given the stack of randomly arranged cards and asked to place a specified number of cards
into seven piles labeled as follows:
Most helpful to me in the group (2 cards)
Extremely helpful (6 cards)
Very helpful (12 cards)
Helpful (20 cards)
Barely helpful (12 cards)
Less helpful (6 cards)
Least helpful to me in the group (2 cards)14
TABLE 4.1 Therapeutic Factors: Categories and Rankings of the Sixty Individual Items

After the Q-sort, which took thirty to forty-five minutes, each subject was interviewed
for an hour by the three investigators. Their reasons for their choice of the most and least
helpful items were reviewed, and a series of other areas relevant to therapeutic factors was
discussed (for example, other, nonprofessional therapeutic influences in the clients’ lives,
critical events in therapy, goal changes, timing of improvement, therapeutic factors in their
own words).
Results
A sixty-item, seven-pile Q-sort for twenty subjects makes for complex data. Perhaps the
clearest way to consider the results is a simple rank-ordering of the sixty items (arrived at
by ranking the sum of the twenty pile placements for each item). Turn again to table 4.1.
The number after each item represents its rank order. Thus, on average, item 48
(Discovering and accepting previously unknown or unacceptable parts of myself) was
considered the most important therapeutic factor by the subjects, item 38 (Adopting
mannerisms or the style of another group member) the least important, and so on.
The ten items the subjects deemed most helpful were, in order of importance:

1. Discovering and accepting previously unknown or unacceptable parts of myself.
2. Being able to say what was bothering me instead of holding it in.
3. Other members honestly telling me what they think of me.
4. Learning how to express my feelings.
5. The group’s teaching me about the type of impression I make on others.
6. Expressing negative and/or positive feelings toward another member.
7. Learning that I must take ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no
matter how much guidance and support I get from others.
8. Learning how I come across to others.
9. Seeing that others could reveal embarrassing things and take other risks and
benefit from it helped me to do the same.
10. Feeling more trustful of groups and of other people.
Note that seven of the first eight items represent some form of catharsis or of insight. I
again use insight in the broadest sense; the items, for the most part, reflect the first level of
insight (gaining an objective perspective of one’s interpersonal behavior) described in
chapter 2. This remarkable finding lends considerable weight to the principle, also
described in chapter 2, that therapy is a dual process consisting of emotional experience
and of reflection on that experience. More, much more, about this later.
The administration and scoring of a sixty-item Q-sort is so laborious that most
researchers have since used an abbreviated version—generally, one that asks a subject to
rank the twelve therapeutic factor categories rather than sixty individual items. However,
four studies that replicate the sixty-item Q-sort study report remarkably similar findings.15
If we analyze the twelve general categories,g we find the following rank order of
importance:
1. Interpersonal input
2. Catharsis
3. Cohesiveness
4. Self-understanding
5. Interpersonal output
6. Existential factors
7. Universality
8. Instillation of hope
9. Altruism
10. Family reenactment

11. Guidance
12. Identificationh
A number of other replicating studies describe the therapeutic factors selected by group
therapy outpatients.16 These studies are in considerable agreement: the most commonly
chosen therapeutic factors are catharsis, self-understanding, and interpersonal input,
closely followed by cohesiveness and universality. The same trio of most helpful
therapeutic factors (interpersonal input, self-understanding, and catharsis) has been
reported in studies of personal growth groups.17 One researcher suggests that the
therapeutic factors fall into three main clusters: the remoralization factor (cluster of hope,
universality, and acceptance), the self-revelation factor (self-disclosure and catharsis), and
the specific psychological work factor (interpersonal learning and self-understanding).18
This clustering resembles a factor analysisi of therapeutic factors collected from studies of
American Group Psychotherapy Association Institute experiential groups suggesting that
the group therapeutic factors fall into three main categories: early factors of belonging and
remoralization common to all therapy groups; factors of guidance and instruction; and
specific skill development factors. Despite different terminology, both of these clustering
approaches suggest that the group therapeutic factors consist of universal mechanisms,
mediating mechanisms, and specific change mechanisms.19
Which therapeutic factors are least valued? All of the studies of therapy groups and
personal growth groups report the same results: family reenactment, guidance, and
identification. These results all suggest that the defining core of the therapeutic process in
these therapy groups is an affectively charged, self-reflective interpersonal interaction, in a
supportive and trusting setting.20 Comparisons of individual and group therapy therapeutic
factors consistently underscore this finding21 and support the importance of the basic
concepts I discussed in chapter 2—the importance of the corrective emotional experience
and the concept that the therapeutic here-and-now focus consists of an experiencing and a
cognitive component.

In the following sections, I will incorporate these research findings in a broader discussion
of the questions posed at the beginning of this chapter on the interrelationships and
comparative potency of the therapeutic factors. Keep in mind throughout that these
findings pertain to a specific type of therapy group: an interactionally based group with
the ambitious goals of symptom relief and behavioral and characterological change. Later
in this chapter I will present some evidence that other groups with different goals and
shorter duration may capitalize on different clusters of therapeutic factors.
Catharsis
Catharsis has always assumed an important role in the therapeutic process, though the

rationale behind its use has undergone a metamorphosis. For centuries, sufferers have been
purged to be cleansed of excessive bile, evil spirits, and infectious toxins (the word itself
is derived from the Greek “to clean”). Since Breuer and Freud’s 1895 treatise on the
treatment of hysteria,22 many therapists have attempted to help clients rid themselves of
suppressed, choked affect. What Freud and subsequently all dynamic psychotherapists
have learned is that catharsis is not enough. After all, we have emotional discharges,
sometimes very intense ones, all our lives without their leading to change.
The data support this conclusion. Although studies of clients’ appraisals of the
therapeutic factors reveals the importance of catharsis, the research also suggests
important qualifications. The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles study starkly illustrates the
limitations of catharsis per se.23 The authors asked 210 members of a thirty-hour
encounter group to describe the most significant incident that occurred in the course of the
group. Experiencing and expressing feelings (both positive and negative) was cited
frequently. Yet this critical incident was not related to positive outcome: incidents of
catharsis were as likely to be selected by members with poor outcomes as by those with
good outcomes. Catharsis was not unrelated to outcome; it was necessary but in itself not
sufficient. Indeed, members who cited only catharsis were somewhat more likely to have
had a negative experience in the group. The high learners characteristically showed a
profile of catharsis plus some form of cognitive learning. The ability to reflect on one’s
emotional experience is an essential component of the change process.†
In the Q-sort therapeutic factor studies, the two items that are ranked most highly and
are most characteristic of the catharsis category in factor analytic studies are items 34
(Learning how to express my feelings) and 35 (Being able to say what was bothering me).
Both of these items convey something other than the sheer act of ventilation or abreaction.
They connote a sense of liberation and acquiring skills for the future. The other frequently
chosen catharsis item—item 32 (Expressing negative and/or positive feelings toward
another member)—indicates the role of catharsis in the ongoing interpersonal process.
Item 31, which most conveys the purest sense of sheer ventilation (Getting things off my
chest), was not highly ranked by group members.24
Interviews with the clients to investigate the reasons for their selection of items
confirmed this view. Catharsis was viewed as part of an interpersonal process; no one
ever obtains enduring benefit from ventilating feelings in an empty closet. Furthermore, as
I discussed in chapter 3, catharsis is intricately related to cohesiveness. Catharsis is more
helpful once supportive group bonds have formed; in other words, catharsis is more
valued late rather than early in the course of the group.25 Conversely, strong expression of
emotion enhances the development of cohesiveness: members who express strong feelings
toward one another and work honestly with these feelings will develop close mutual
bonds. In groups of clients dealing with loss, researchers found that expression of positive
affect was associated with positive outcomes. The expression of negative affect, on the
other hand, was therapeutic only when it occurred in the context of genuine attempts to
understand oneself or other group members.26
Emotional expression is directly linked with hope and a sense of personal effectiveness.

Emotional disclosure is also linked to the ability to cope: articulation of one’s needs
permits oneself and the people in one’s environment to respond productively to life’s
challenges. Women with early breast cancer who are emotionally expressive achieve a
much better quality of life than those who avoid and suppress their distress.27 Recently
bereaved HIV-positive men who are able to express emotions, grieve, and find meaning in
their losses, maintain significantly higher immune function and live longer than those who
minimize their distress and avoid the mourning process.28
In summary, then, the open expression of affect is vital to the group therapeutic process;
in its absence, a group would degenerate into a sterile academic exercise. Yet it is only
part of the process and must be complemented by other factors. One last point: the
intensity of emotional expression is highly relative and must be appreciated not from the
leader’s perspective but from that of each member’s experiential world. A seemingly
muted expression of emotion may, for a highly constricted individual, represent an event
of considerable intensity. On many occasions I have heard students view a videotape of a
group meeting and describe the session as muted and boring, whereas the members
themselves experienced the session as intense and highly charged.
Self-Understanding
The therapeutic factor Q-sort also underscores the important role that the intellectual
component plays in the therapeutic process. Of the twelve categories, the two pertaining to
the intellectual task in therapy (interpersonal input and self-understanding) are both ranked
highly. Interpersonal input, discussed at some length in chapter 2, refers to the
individual’s learning how he or she is perceived by other people. It is the crucial first step
in the therapeutic sequence of the therapeutic factor of interpersonal learning.
The category of self-understanding is more problematic. It was constructed to permit
investigation of the importance of derepression and of the intellectual understanding of the
relationship between past and present (genetic insight). Refer back to table 4.1 and
examine the five items of the “self-understanding” category. It is clear that the category is
an inconsistent one, containing several very different elements. There is poor correlation
among items, some being highly valued by group therapy members and some less so. Item
48, Discovering and accepting previously unknown or unacceptable parts of myself, is the
single most valued item of all the sixty. Two items (46 and 47) that refer to understanding
causes of problems and to recognizing the existence of interpersonal distortion are also
highly valued. The item that most explicitly refers to genetic insight, item 50, is
considered of little value by group therapy clients.
This finding has been corroborated by other researchers. One study replicated the
therapeutic factor Q-sort study and, on the basis of a factor analysis, subdivided insight
into two categories: self-understanding and genetic insight. The sample of seventy-two
group therapy members ranked self-understanding fourth of fourteen factors and genetic
insight eighth.29 Another study concluded that genetic interpretations were significantly
less effective than here-and-now feedback in producing positive group therapy outcomes.

In fact, clients not only showed little benefit from genetic interpretations but in particular
considered the leaders’ efforts in this regard unproductive. Comembers were more
effective: their efforts at linking present to past contained less jargon and were linked
more directly to actual experience than were the therapists’ more conceptual, less “real”
explanations.30
When we interviewed the subjects in our study to learn more about the meaning of their
choices, we found that the most popular item—48, Discovering and accepting previously
unknown or unacceptable parts of myself —had a very specific implication to group
members. More often than not, they discovered positive areas of themselves: the ability to
care for another, to relate closely to others, to experience compassion.
There is an important lesson to be learned here. Too often psychotherapy, especially in
naive, popularized, or early conceptualizations, is viewed as a detective search, as a
digging or a stripping away. Rogers, Horney, Maslow, and our clients as well remind us
that therapy is also horizontal and upward exploration; digging or excavation may uncover
our riches and treasures as well as shameful, fearful, or primitive aspects of ourselves.31
Our clients want to be liberated from pathogenic beliefs; they seek personal growth and
control over their lives. As they gain fuller access to themselves, they become emboldened
and increase their sense of ownership of their personhood. Psychotherapy has grown
beyond its emphasis on eradicating the “pathological” and now aims at increasing clients’
breadth of positive emotions and cognitions. A group therapy approach that encourages
members to create and inhabit a powerful and caring environment is a potent approach to
these contemporary goals.†32
Thus, one way that self-understanding promotes change is by encouraging individuals
to recognize, integrate, and give free expression to previously obscured parts of
themselves. When we deny or stifle parts of ourselves, we pay a heavy price: we feel a
deep, amorphous sense of restriction; we are constantly on guard; we are often troubled
and puzzled by internal but seemingly alien impulses that demand expression. When we
are able to reclaim these disavowed parts, we experience a wholeness, and a sense of
liberation.
So far, so good. But what of the other components of the intellectual task? For example,
how does the highly ranked item Learning why I think and feel the way I do (item 47)
result in therapeutic change?
First, we must recognize that there is an urgent need for intellectual understanding in
the psychotherapeutic enterprise, a need that comes from both client and therapist. Our
search for understanding is deeply rooted. Maslow, in a treatise on motivation, suggested
that the human being has cognitive needs that are as basic as the needs for safety, love, and
self-esteem. 33 Most children are exceedingly curious; in fact, we grow concerned if a
child lacks curiosity about the environment. Researchers studying primates also see high
levels of curiosity: monkeys in a solid enclosure will do considerable work for the
privilege of being able to look through a window to see outside; they will also work hard
and persistently to solve puzzles without any reward except the satisfactions inherent in
the puzzle solving.

In an analogous fashion our clients automatically search for understanding, and
therapists who prize the intellectual pursuit join them. Often, it all seems so natural that
we lose sight of the raison d’être of therapy. After all, the object of therapy is change, not
self-understanding. Or is it? Are the two synonymous? Does any and every type of self-
understanding lead automatically to change? Or is the quest for self-understanding simply
an interesting, appealing, reasonable exercise for clients and therapists, serving, like
mortar, to keep the two joined together while something else—“relationship”—develops.
Perhaps it is relationship that is the real mutative force in therapy. In fact, there is
considerable evidence that a supportive psychotherapy relationship in a noninterpretive
therapy can produce substantial change in interpersonal behavior.34 It is far easier to pose
these questions than to answer them. I will present some preliminary points here, and in
chapter 6, after developing some material on the interpretative task and techniques of the
therapist, I will attempt to present a coherent thesis.
If we examine the motives behind our curiosity and our proclivity to explore our
environment, we shed some light on the process of change. These motives include
effectance (our desire for mastery and power), safety (our desire to render the unexplained
harmless through understanding), and pure cognizance (our desire for knowledge and
exploration for its own sake).35 The worried householder who explores a mysterious and
frightening noise in his home; the young student who, for the first time, looks through a
microscope and experiences the exhilaration of understanding the structure of an insect
wing; the medieval alchemist or the New World explorer probing uncharted and
proscribed regions—all receive their respective rewards: safety, a sense of personal
keenness and satisfaction, and mastery in the guise of knowledge or wealth.
Of these motives, the one least relevant for the change process is pure cognizance.
There is little question that knowledge for its own sake has always propelled the human
being. The lure of the forbidden is an extraordinarily popular and ubiquitous motif in folk
literature, from the story of Adam and Eve to the saga of Peeping Tom. It is no surprise,
then, that the desire to know enters the psychotherapeutic arena. Yet there is little evidence
that understanding for its own sake results in change.
But the desires for safety and for mastery play an important and obvious role in
psychotherapy. They are, of course, as White has ably discussed, closely intertwined.36
The unexplained—especially the frightening unexplained—cannot be tolerated for long.
All cultures, through either a scientific or a religious explanation, attempt to make sense of
chaotic and threatening situations in the physical and social environment as well as in the
nature of existence itself. One of our chief methods of control is through language. Giving
a name to chaotic, unruly forces provides us with a sense of mastery or control. In the
psychotherapeutic situation, information decreases anxiety by removing ambiguity. There
is considerable research evidence supporting this observation.37
The converse is, incidentally, also true: anxiety increases ambiguity by distorting
perceptual acuteness. Anxious subjects show disturbed organization of visual perception;
they are less capable of perceiving and organizing rapid visual cues and are distinctly
slower in completing and recognizing incomplete pictures in a controlled experimental

setting.38 Unless one is able to order the world cognitively, one may experience anxiety,
which, if severe, interferes with the perceptual apparatus. Thus, anxiety begets anxiety: the
ensuing perplexity and overt or subliminal awareness of perceptual distortion become a
potent secondary source of anxiety.39
In psychotherapy, clients are enormously reassured by the belief that their chaotic inner
world, their suffering, and their tortuous interpersonal relationships are all explicable and
thereby governable. Maslow, in fact, views the increase of knowledge as having
transformative effects far beyond the realms of safety, anxiety reduction, and mastery. He
views psychiatric illness as a disease caused by knowledge deficiency.40 In this way he
would support the moral philosophic contention that if we know the good, we will always
act for the good. Presumably it follows that if we know what is ultimately good for us we
will act in our own best interests.41j
Therapists, too, are less anxious if, when confronted with great suffering and
voluminous, chaotic material, they can believe in a set of principles that will permit an
ordered explanation. Frequently, therapists will cling tenaciously to a particular system in
the face of considerable contradictory evidence—sometimes, in the case of researcher-
clinicians, even evidence that has issued from their own investigations. Though such
tenacity of belief may carry many disadvantages, it performs one valuable function: it
enables the therapist to preserve equanimity in the face of considerable affect emerging
within the transference or countertransference.
There is little in the above that is controversial. Self-knowledge permits us to integrate
all parts of ourselves, decreases ambiguity, permits a sense of effectance and mastery, and
allows us to act in concert with our own best interests. An explanatory scheme also
permits generalization and transfer of learning from the therapy setting to new situations
in the outside world.
The great controversies arise when we discuss not the process or the purpose or the
effects of explanation but the content of explanation. As I hope to make clear in chapter 6,
I think these controversies are irrelevant. When we focus on change rather than on self-
understanding as our ultimate goal, we can only conclude that an explanation is correct if
it leads to change. The final common result of all our intellectual efforts in therapy is
change. Each clarifying, explanatory, or interpretive act of the therapist is ultimately
designed to exert leverage on the client’s will to change.
Imitative Behavior (Identification)
Group therapy participants rate imitative behavior among the least helpful of the twelve
therapeutic factors. However, we learned from debriefing interviews that the five items in
this category seem to have tapped only a limited sector of this therapeutic mode (see table
4.1). They failed to distinguish between mere mimicry, which apparently has only a
restricted value for clients, and the acquisition of general styles and strategies of behavior,
which may have considerable value. To clients, conscious mimicry is an especially

unpopular concept as a therapeutic mode since it suggests a relinquishing of individuality
—a basic fear of many group participants.
On the other hand, clients may acquire from others a general strategy that may be used
across a variety of personal situations. Members of groups for medically ill patients often
benefit from seeing other members manage a shared problem effectively.42 This process
also works at both overt and more subtle levels. Clients may begin to approach problems
by considering, consciously or unconsciously, what some other member or the therapist
would think or do in the same situation. If the therapist is tolerant and flexible, then clients
may also adopt these traits. If the therapist is self-disclosing and accepts limitations
without becoming insecure or defensive, then clients are more apt to learn to accept their
personal shortcomings.43 Not only do group members adopt the traits and style of the
therapist, but sometimes they may even assimilate the therapist’s complex value system.44
Initially, imitative behavior is in part an attempt to gain approval, but it does not end
there. The more intact clients retain their reality testing and flexibility and soon realize
that changes in their behavior result in greater acceptance by others. This increased
acceptance can then act to change one’s self-concept and self-esteem in the manner
described in chapter 3, and an adaptive spiral is instigated. It is also possible for an
individual to identify with aspects of two or more other people, resulting in an amalgam.
Although parts of others are imitated, the amalgam represents a creative synthesis, a
highly innovative individualistic identity.
What of spectator therapy? Is it possible that clients may learn much from observing the
solutions arrived at by others who have similar problems? I have no doubt that such
learning occurs in the therapy group. Every experienced group therapist has at least one
story of a member who came regularly to the group for months on end, was extremely
inactive, and finally terminated therapy much improved.
I clearly remember Rod, who was so shy, isolated, and socially phobic that in his adult
life he had never shared a meal with another person. When I introduced him into a rather
fast-paced group, I was concerned that he would be in over his head. And in a sense he
was. For months he sat and listened in silent amazement as the other members interacted
intensively with one another. That was a period of high learning for Rod: simply to be
exposed to the possibilities of intimate interaction enriched his life. But then things
changed! The group began to demand more reciprocity and placed great pressure on him
to participate more personally in the meetings. Rod grew more uncomfortable and
ultimately, with my encouragement, decided to leave the group. Since he worked at the
same university, I had occasion to cross paths with him several times in the ensuing years,
and he never failed to inform me how important and personally useful the group had been.
It had shown him what was possible and how individuals could engage one another, and it
offered him an internal reference point to which he could turn for reassurance as he
gradually reached out to touch others in his life.
Clients learn not only from observing the substantive work of others who are like them
but also from watching the process of the work. In that sense, imitative behavior is a
transitional therapeutic factor that permits clients subsequently to engage more fully in

other aspects of therapy. Proof of this is to be found in the fact that one of the five
imitative behavior items (item 37, Seeing that others could reveal embarrassing things
and take other risks and benefit from it helped me to do the same) was rated as the eighth
(of sixty) most important therapeutic factor. A largescale study in the Netherlands found
that clients considered identification to be more important in the early stages of therapy,
when novice members looked for more senior members with whom to identify.45
Family Reenactment
Family reenactment, or the corrective recapitulation of the primary family experience—a
therapeutic factor highly valued by many therapists—is not generally considered helpful
by most group members. The clinical populations that place a high value on this factor are
very specific—groups for incest survivors46 and groups for sex offenders.47 For these
members the early failure of the family to protect and care for them looms as a powerful
issue.
The fact that this factor is not cited often by most group members, though, should not
surprise us, since it operates at a different level of awareness from such explicit factors as
catharsis or universality. Family reenactment becomes more a part of the general horizon
against which the group is experienced. Few therapists will deny that the primary family
of each group member is an omnipresent specter haunting the group therapy room.
Clients’ experience in their family of origin obviously will, to a great degree, influence the
nature of their interpersonal distortions, the role they assume in the group, and their
attitudes toward the group leaders.
There is little doubt in my mind that the therapy group reincarnates the primary family.
It acts as a time machine, flinging the client back several decades and evoking deeply
etched ancient memories and feelings. In fact, this phenomenon is one of the major
sources of power of the therapy group. In my last meeting with a group before departing
for a year’s sabbatical, a client related the following dream: “My father was going away
for a long trip. I was with a group of people. My father left us a thirtyfoot boat, but rather
than giving it to me to steer, he gave it to one of my friends, and I was angry about this.”
This is not the place to discuss this dream fully. Suffice it to say that the client’s father had
deserted the family when the client was young and left him to be tyrannized thereafter by
an older brother. The client said that this was the first time he had thought of his father in
years. The events of the group—my departure, my place being taken by a new therapist,
the client’s attraction to the co-therapist (a woman), his resentment toward another
dominating member in the group—all acted in concert to awaken long-slumbering
memories. Clients reenact early family scripts in the group and, in successful group
therapy, experiment with new behavior and break free from the rigid family roles into
which they had long been locked.
While I believe these are important phenomena in the therapeutic process, it is
altogether a different question whether the group should focus explicitly on them. I think
not, as this process is part of the internal, generally silent, homework of the group

member. Major shifts in our perspective on the past occur because of the vitality of the
work in the present—not through a direct summons and inquiry of the spirits of the past.
There are, as I will discuss in chapter 6, many overriding reasons for the group to maintain
an ahistorical focus. To focus unduly on people who are not present, on parents and
siblings, on Oedipal strivings, on sibling rivalries, or patricidal desires is to avoid and
deny the reality of the group and the other members as a living experience in the here-and-
now.
Existential Factors
The category of existential factors was almost an afterthought. My colleagues and I first
constructed the Q-sort instrument with eleven major factors. It appeared neat and precise,
but something was missing. Important sentiments expressed by both clients and therapists
had not been represented, so we added a factor consisting of these five items:
1. Recognizing that life is at times unfair and unjust
2. Recognizing that ultimately there is no escape from some of life’s pain or from
death
3. Recognizing that no matter how close I get to other people, I must still face life
alone
4. Facing the basic issues of my life and death, and thus living my life more honestly
and being less caught up in trivialities
5. Learning that I must take ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no
matter how much guidance and support I get from others
Several issues are represented in this cluster: responsibility, basic isolation, contingency,
the capriciousness of existence, the recognition of our mortality and the ensuing
consequences for the conduct of our life. What to label this category? I finally settled, with
some hesitation, on existential factors, meaning that all these factors relate to existence—
to our confrontation with the human condition—a confrontation that informs us of the
harsh existential facts of life: our mortality, our freedom and responsibility for
constructing our own life design, our isolation from being thrown alone into existence, and
our search for life meaning despite being unfortunate enough to be thrown into a universe
without intrinsic meaning.
It is clear that the existential items strike responsive chords in clients, and many cite
some of the five items as having been crucially important to them. In fact, the entire
category of existential factors is often ranked highly, ahead of greatly valued modes of
change such as universality, altruism, recapitulation of the primary family experience,
guidance, identification, and instillation of hope. Item 60, Learning that I must take
ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no matter how much guidance and support
I get from others, was ranked fifth overall of the sixty items.
The same findings are reported by other researchers. Every single project that includes

an existential category reports that subjects rank that category at least in the upper 50
percent. In some studies, for example, with therapy groups in prison, in day hospitals, in
psychiatric hospitals, and in alcohol treatment groups, the existential category is ranked
among the top three factors.48 Existential factors are also central to many of the current
group therapy interventions for the seriously medically ill.49 A group of older women
ranked existential factors first,50 as did a sample of sixty-six patients on an alcohol unit.51
What unites these divergent clinical populations is the participants’ awareness of
immutable limits in life—limits of time, power, or health. Even in groups led by therapists
who do not conceptualize existential factors as relevant, the existential factors are highly
valued by the group members.52
It is important to listen to our data. Obviously, the existential factors in therapy deserve
far more consideration than they generally receive. It is more than happenstance that the
category of existential factors was included almost as afterthought yet proved to be so
important to clients. Existential factors play an important but largely unrecognized role in
psychotherapy. There is no discrete school of existential psychotherapy, no single accepted
body of existential theory and techniques. Nonetheless, a considerable proportion of
American therapists (over 16 percent in a 1983 survey—as large a group as the
psychoanalytic contingent) consider themselves to be existentially or “existentially-
humanistically” oriented.53 A similar proportion of senior group therapists surveyed in
1992 endorsed the existential-humanistic approach as the model that best reflects
contemporary group therapy.54
Even therapists who nominally adhere to other orientations are often surprised when
they look deeply at their techniques and at their basic view of the human situation and find
that they are existentially oriented.55 Many psychoanalytically oriented therapists, for
example, inwardly eschew or at best ignore much of the classical analytic theory and
instead consider the authentic client-therapist encounter as the mutative element of
therapy.56
Keep in mind that classical psychoanalytic theory is based explicitly on a highly
materialistic view of human nature. It is not possible to understand Freud fully without
considering his allegiance to the Helmholtz school, an ideological school that dominated
Western European medical and basic research in the latter part of the nineteenth century.57
This doctrine holds that we human beings are precisely the sum of our parts. It is
deterministic, antivitalistic, and materialistic (that is, it attempts to explain the higher by
the lower).
Freud never swerved from his adherence to this postulate and to its implications about
human nature. Many of his more cumbersome formulations (for example, the dual-instinct
theory, the theory of libidinal energy conservation and transformation) were the result of
his unceasing attempts to fit human behavior to Helmholtzian rules. This approach
constitutes a negative definition of the existential approach. If you feel restricted by its
definition of yourself, if you feel that there’s something missing, that we are more than a
sum of parts, that the doctrine omits some of the central features that make us human—

such as purpose, responsibility, sentience, will, values, courage, spirit—then to that degree
you have an existentialist sensibility.
I must be careful not to slip off the surface of these pages and glide into another book.
This is not the place to discuss in any depth the existential frame of reference in therapy. I
refer interested readers to my book, Existential Psychotherapy58 and to my other books
that portray the existential clinical approach in action, Love’s Executioner,59 When
Nietzsche Wept,60 The Gift of Therapy,61 Momma and the Meaning of Life,62 and, The
Schopenhauer Cure.63 For now, it is sufficient to note that modern existential therapy
represents an application of two merged philosophical traditions. The first is substantive:
Lebensphilosophie (the philosophy of life, or philosophical anthropology); and the second
is methodological: phenomenology, a more recent tradition, fathered by Edmund Husserl,
which argues that the proper realm of the study of the human being is consciousness itself.
From a phenomenological approach, understanding takes place from within; hence, we
must bracket the natural world and attend instead to the inner experience that is the author
of that world.
The existential therapeutic approach—with its emphasis on awareness of death,
freedom, isolation, and life purpose—has been, until recently, far more acceptable to the
European therapeutic community than to the American one. The European philosophic
tradition, the geographic and ethnic confinement, and the greater familiarity with limits,
war, death, and uncertain existence all favored the spread of the existential influence. The
American zeitgeist of expansiveness, optimism, limitless horizons, and pragmatism
embraced instead the scientific positivism proffered by a mechanistic Freudian
metaphysics or a hyperrational, empirical behaviorism (strange bedfellows!).
During the past four decades, there has been a major development in American
psychotherapy: the emergence of what has come to be known as the third force in
American psychology (after Freudian psychoanalysis and Watsonian behaviorism). This
force, often labeled “existential” or “humanistic,” has had an enormous influence on
modern therapeutic practice.
Note, however, that we have done more than imported the European existential
tradition; we have Americanized it. Thus, although the syntax of humanistic psychology is
European, the accent is unmistakably New World. The European focus is on the tragic
dimensions of existence, on limits, on facing and taking into oneself the anxiety of
uncertainty and nonbeing. The American humanistic psychologists, on the other hand,
speak less of limits and contingency than of human potentiality, less of acceptance than of
awareness, less of anxiety than of peak experiences and oceanic oneness, less of life
meaning than of self-realization, less of apartness and basic isolation than of I-Thou and
encounter.
Of course, when a basic doctrine has a number of postulates and the accent of each is
systematically altered in a specific direction, there is a significant risk of aberration from
the original doctrine. To some extent this has occurred, and some humanistic
psychologists have lost touch with their existential roots and espouse a monolithic goal of
self-actualization with an associated set of quick actualizing techniques. This is a most

unfortunate development. It is important to keep in mind that the existential approach in
therapy is not a set of technical procedures but basically an attitude, a sensibility toward
the facts of life inherent in the human condition.
Existential therapy is a dynamic approach based on concerns that are rooted in
existence. Earlier I mentioned that a “dynamic” approach refers to a therapy that assumes
that the deep structures of personality encompass forces that are in conflict with one
another, and (this point is very important) these forces exist at different levels of
awareness: indeed, some exist outside of conscious awareness. But what about the content
of the internal struggle?
The existential view of the content differs greatly from the other dynamic systems. A
classical analytic approach, for example, addresses the struggle between the individual’s
fundamental drives (primarily sexual and aggressive) and an environment that frustrates
satisfaction of those drives. Alternatively, a self psychology approach would attend to the
individual’s efforts to preserve a stable sense of self as vital and worthwhile in the context
of resonating or disappointing self-object relationships.
The existential approach holds that the human being’s paramount struggle is with the
“givens” of existence, the ultimate concerns of the human condition: death, isolation,
freedom, and meaninglessness. Anxiety emerges from basic conflicts in each of these
realms: (1) we wish to continue to be and yet are aware of inevitable death; (2) we crave
structure and yet must confront the truth that we are the authors of our own life design and
our beliefs and our neural apparatus is responsible for the form of reality: underneath us
there is Nichts, groundlessness, the abyss; (3) we desire contact, protection, to be part of a
larger whole, yet experience the unbridgeable gap between self and others; and (4) we are
meaning-seeking creatures thrown into a world that has no intrinsic meaning.
The items in the Q-sort that struck meaningful chords in the study subjects reflected
some of these painful truths about existence. Group members realized that there were
limits to the guidance and support they could receive from others and that the ultimate
responsibility for the conduct of their lives was theirs alone. They learned also that though
they could be close to others, there was a point beyond which they could not be
accompanied: there is a basic aloneness to existence that must be faced. Many clients
learned to face their limitations and their mortality with greater candor and courage.
Coming to terms with their own deaths in a deeply authentic fashion permits them to cast
the troublesome concerns of everyday life in a different perspective. It permits them to
trivialize life’s trivia.
We often ignore these existential givens, until life events increase our sensibilities. We
may at first respond to illness, bereavement, and trauma with denial, but ultimately the
impact of these life-altering events may break through to create a therapeutic opportunity
that may catalyze constructive changes in oneself, one’s relationships, and one’s
relationship to life in general.†64
After ten sessions of integrative group therapy, women with early-stage breast cancer
not only experienced more optimism and reduced depression and anxiety but also
concluded that their cancer had contributed positively to their lives by causing them to

realign their life priorities. 65 In addition they showed a significant reduction in levels of
the stress hormone cortisol.66 Members of such support groups may benefit
psychologically, emotionally, and even physically as a result of the group’s support for
meaningful engagement with life challenges (see chapter 15).67
The course of therapy of Sheila, a client who at the end of treatment selected the
existential Q-sort items as having been instrumental in her improvement, illustrates many
of these points.
• A twenty-five-year-old perennial student, Sheila complained of depression,
loneliness, purposelessness, and severe gastric distress for which no organic cause
could be found. In a pregroup individual session she lamented repeatedly, “I don’t
know what’s going on!”
I could not discover what precisely she meant, and since this complaint was
embedded in a litany of self-accusations, I soon forgot it. However, she did not
understand what happened to her in the group, either: she could not understand
why others were so uninterested in her, why she developed a conversion paralysis,
why she entered sexually masochistic relationships, or why she so idealized the
therapist.
In the group Sheila was boring and absolutely predictable. Before every
utterance she scanned the sea of faces in the group searching for clues to what
others wanted and expected. She was willing to be almost anything so as to avoid
offending others and possibly driving them away from her. (Of course, she did
drive others away, not from anger but from boredom.) Sheila was in chronic retreat
from life, and the group tried endless approaches to halt the retreat, to find Sheila
within the cocoon of compliance she had spun around herself.
No progress occurred until the group stopped encouraging Sheila, stopped
attempting to force her to socialize, to study, to write papers, to pay bills, to buy
clothes, to groom herself, but instead urged her to consider the blessings of failure.
What was there in failure that was so seductive and so rewarding? Quite a bit, it
turned out! Failing kept her young, kept her protected, kept her from deciding.
Idealizing the therapist served the same purpose. Help was out there. He knew the
answers. Her job in therapy was to enfeeble herself to the point where the therapist
could not in all good conscience withhold his royal touch.
A critical event occurred when she developed an enlarged axillary lymph node.
She had a biopsy performed and later that day came to the group still fearfully
awaiting the results (which ultimately proved the enlarged node benign). She had
never been so near to her own death before, and we helped Sheila plunge into the
terrifying loneliness she experienced. There are two kinds of loneliness: the
primordial, existential loneliness that Sheila confronted in that meeting, and a
social loneliness, an inability to be with others.
Social loneliness is commonly and easily worked with in a group therapeutic
setting. Basic loneliness is more hidden, more obscured by the distractions of

everyday life, more rarely faced. Sometimes groups confuse the two and make an
effort to resolve or to heal a member’s basic loneliness. But, as Sheila learned that
day, it cannot be taken away; it cannot be resolved; it can only be known and
ultimately embraced as an integral part of existence.
Rather quickly, then, Sheila changed. She reintegrated far-strewn bits of herself.
She began to make decisions and to take over the helm of her life. She commented,
“I think I know what’s going on” (I had long forgotten her initial complaint). More
than anything else, she had been trying to avoid the specter of loneliness. I think
she tried to elude it by staying young, by avoiding choice and decision, by
perpetuating the myth that there would always be someone who would choose for
her, would accompany her, would be there for her. Choice and freedom invariably
imply loneliness, and, as Fromm pointed out long ago in Escape from Freedom,
freedom holds more terror for us than tyranny does.68
Turn back again to table 4.1. Let us consider item 60, which so many clients rated so
highly: Learning that I must take ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no
matter how much guidance and support I get from others. In a sense, this is a double-
edged factor in group therapy. Group members learn a great deal about how to relate
better, how to develop greater intimacy with others, how to give help and to ask for help
from others. At the same time, they discover the limits of intimacy; they learn what they
cannot obtain from others. It is a harsh lesson and leads to both despair and strength. One
cannot stare at the sun very long, and Sheila on many occasions looked away and avoided
her dread. But she was always able to return to it, and by the end of therapy had made
major shifts within herself.
An important concept in existential therapy is that human beings may relate to the
ultimate concerns of existence in one of two possible modes. On the one hand, we may
suppress or ignore our situation in life and live in what Heidegger termed a state of
forgetfulness of being.69 In this everyday mode, we live in the world of things, in everyday
diversions; we are absorbed in chatter, tranquilized, lost in the “they”; we are concerned
only about the way things are. On the other hand, we may exist in a state of mindfulness of
being, a state in which we marvel not at the way things are, but that they are. In this state,
we are aware of being; we live authentically; we embrace our possibilities and limits; we
are aware of our responsibility for our lives. (I prefer Sartre’s definition of responsibility:
“to be responsible is to be the “uncontested author of… ”.)70
Being aware of one’s self-creation in the authentic state of mindfulness of being
provides one with the power to change and the hope that one’s actions will bear fruit.†
Thus, the therapist must pay special attention to the factors that transport a person from
the everyday to the authentic mode of existing. One cannot effect such a shift merely by
bearing down, by gritting one’s teeth. But there are certain jolting experiences (often
referred to in the philosophical literature as “boundary experiences”) that effectively
transport one into the mindfulness-of-being state.71
An extreme experience—such as Sheila’s encounter with a possibly malignant tumor—
is a good example of a boundary experience, an event that brings one sharply back to

reality and helps one prioritize one’s concerns in their proper perspective. Extreme
experience, however, occurs in its natural state only rarely during the course of a therapy
group, and the adept leader finds other ways to introduce these factors. The growing
emphasis on brief therapy offers an excellent opportunity: the looming end of the group
(or, for that matter, individual therapy) may be used by the therapist to urge clients to
consider other terminations, including death, and to reconsider how to improve the quality
and satisfaction of their remaining time. It is in this domain that the existential and
interpersonal intersect as clients begin to ask themselves more fundamental questions:
What choices do I exercise in my relationships and in my behavior? How do I wish to be
experienced by others? Am I truly present and engaged in this relationship or am I
managing the relationship inauthentically to reduce my anxiety? Do I care about what this
person needs from me or am I motivated by my constricted self-interest?
Other group leaders attempt to generate extreme experience by using a form of
existential shock therapy. With a variety of techniques, they try to bring clients to the edge
of the abyss of existence. I have seen leaders begin personal growth groups, for example,
by asking clients to compose their own epitaphs. Other leaders may begin by asking
members to draw their lifeline and mark their present position on it: How far from birth?
How close to death? But our capacity for denial is enormous, and it is the rare group that
perseveres, that does not slip back into less threatening concerns. Natural events in the
course of a group—illness, death, termination, and loss—may jolt the group back, but
always temporarily.
In 1974, I began to lead groups of individuals who lived continuously in the midst of
extreme experience.72 All the members had a terminal illness, generally metastatic
carcinoma, and all were entirely aware of the nature and implications of their illness. I
learned a great deal from these groups, especially about the fundamental but concealed
issues of life that are so frequently neglected in traditional psychotherapy. (See Chapter 15
for a detailed description of this group and current applications of the supportive-
expressive group approach.)
Reflecting back on that initial therapy group for cancer patients, many features stand
out. For one thing, the members were deeply supportive to one another, and it was
extraordinarily helpful for them to be so. Offering help so as to receive it in reciprocal
fashion was only one, and not the most important, benefit of this supportiveness. Being
useful to someone else drew them out of morbid self-absorption and provided them with a
sense of purpose and meaning. Almost every terminally ill person I have spoken to has
expressed deep fear of a helpless immobility—not only of being a burden to others and
being unable to care for themselves but of being useless and without value to others.
Living, then, becomes reduced to pointless survival, and the individual searches within,
ever more deeply, for meaning. The group offered these women the opportunity to find
meaning outside themselves: by extending help to another person, by caring for others,
they found the sense of purpose that so often eludes sheer introspective reflection.k
These approaches, these avenues to self-transcendence, if well traveled, can increase
one’s sense of meaning and purpose as well as one’s ability to bear what cannot be

changed. Finding meaning in the face of adversity can be transformative.73 Long ago,
Nietzsche wrote: “He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how.”74
It was clear to me (and demonstrated by empirical research) that the members of this
group who plunged most deeply into themselves, who confronted their fate most openly
and resolutely, passed into a richer mode of existence.75 Their life perspective was
radically altered; the trivial, inconsequential diversions of life were seen for what they
were. Their neurotic phobias diminished. They appreciated more fully the elemental
features of living: the changing seasons, the previous spring, the falling leaves, the loving
of others. Rather than resignation, powerlessness, and restriction, some members have
experienced a great sense of liberation and autonomy.
Some even spoke of the gift of cancer. What some considered tragic, was not their death
per se, but that they learned how to live life fully only after being threatened by serious
illness. They wondered if it was possible to teach their loved ones this important lesson
earlier in life or if it could be learned only in extremis? It may be that through the act of
death ending life, the idea of death revitalizes life: death becomes a co-therapist pushing
the work of psychotherapy ahead.
What can you as therapist do in the face of the inevitable? I think the answer lies in the
verb to be. You do by being, by being there with the client. Presence is the hidden agent of
help in all forms of therapy. Clients looking back on their therapy rarely remember a
single interpretation you made, but they always remember your presence, that you were
there with them. It is asking a great deal of the therapist to join this group, yet it would be
hypocrisy not to join. The group does not consist of you (the therapist), and they (the
dying); it is we who are dying, we who are banding together in the face of our common
condition. In my book The Gift of Therapy, I propose that the most accurate or felicitous
term for the therapeutic relationship might be “fellow traveler.” Two hundred years ago,
Schopenhauer suggested we should address one another as “fellow sufferers.”76
The group well demonstrates the double meaning of the word apartness: we are
separate, lonely, apart from but also a part of. One of my members put it elegantly when
she described herself as a lonely ship in the dark. Even though no physical mooring could
be made, it was nonetheless enormously comforting to see the lights of other ships sailing
the same water.
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC
FACTORS: DIFFERENCES BETWEEN CLIENTS’ AND
THERAPISTS’ VIEWS
Do clients and therapists agree about what helps in group psychotherapy? Research
comparing therapists’ and clients’ assessments is instructive. First, keep in mind that
therapists’ published views of the range of therapeutic factors are broadly analogous to the

factors I have described.77 But, of course, leaders from different ideological schools differ
in their weighting of the therapeutic factors, even though they resemble one another in
their therapeutic relationships.78
The research data tells us that therapists and clients differ in their valuation of the group
therapeutic factors. A study of 100 acute inpatient group members and their thirty
behaviorally oriented therapists showed that the therapists and clients differed
significantly in their ranking of therapeutic factors. Therapists placed considerably more
weight on client modeling and behavioral experimentation, whereas the group members
valued other factors more: self-responsibility, self-understanding, and universality.79
Another study showed that groups of alcoholics ranked existential factors far higher than
did their therapists.80 It should not be surprising that substance abuse clients value
accountability and personal responsibility highly. These factors are cornerstones of
twelve-step groups.
Fifteen HIV-positive men treated in time-limited cognitive-behavioral therapy groups
for depression cited different therapeutic factors than their therapists. Members selected
social support, cohesion, universality, altruism, and existential factors, whereas the
therapists (in line with their ideological school) considered cognitive restructuring as the
mutative agent.81
A large survey of prison therapy groups notes that inmates agree with their group
leaders about the importance of interpersonal learning but value existential factors far
more highly than their therapists do.82 As noted earlier, incest victims in group therapy
value highly the therapeutic factor of family reenactment.83
Therapists are wise to be alert to these divergences. Client-therapist disagreement about
the goals and tasks of therapy may impair the therapeutic alliance.† This issue is not
restricted to group therapy. Client-therapist discrepancies on therapeutic factors also occur
in individual psychotherapy. A large study of psychoanalytically oriented therapy found
that clients attributed their successful therapy to relationship factors, whereas their
therapists gave precedence to technical skills and techniques.84 In general, analytic
therapists value the coming to consciousness of unconscious factors and the subsequent
linkage between childhood experiences and present symptoms far more than do their
clients, who deny the importance or even the existence of these elements in therapy;
instead they emphasize the personal elements of the relationship and the encounter with a
new, accepting type of authority figure.
A turning point in the treatment of one client starkly illustrates the differences. In the
midst of treatment, the client had an acute anxiety attack and was seen by the therapist in
an emergency session. Both therapist and client regarded the incident as critical, but for
very different reasons. To the therapist, the emergency session unlocked the client’s
previously repressed memories of early incestuous sex play and facilitated a working-
through of important Oedipal material. The client, on the other hand, entirely dismissed
the content of the emergency session and instead valued the relationship implications: the
caring and concern expressed by the therapist’s willingness to see him in the middle of the

night.
A similar discrepancy between the client’s and the therapist’s view of therapy is to be
found in Every Day Gets a Little Closer, a book I coauthored with a client.85 Throughout
the treatment she and I wrote independent, impressionistic summaries of each meeting and
handed them in, sealed, to my secretary. Every few months we read each other’s
summaries and discovered that we valued very different aspects of the therapeutic process.
All my elegant interpretations? She never even heard them! What she remembered and
treasured were the soft, subtle, personal exchanges, which, to her, conveyed my interest
and caring for her.
Reviews of process and outcome research reveal that clients’ ratings of therapist
engagement and empathy are more predictive of therapeutic success than therapists’
ratings of these same variables.86 These findings compel us to pay close attention to the
client’s view of the most salient therapeutic factors. In research as in clinical work, we do
well to heed the adage: Listen to the client.
To summarize: Therapists and their clients differ in their views about important
therapeutic factors: clients consistently emphasize the importance of the relationship and
the personal, human qualities of the therapist, whereas therapists attribute their success to
their techniques. When the therapist-client discrepancy is too great, when therapists
emphasize therapeutic factors that are incompatible with the needs and capacities of the
group members, then the therapeutic enterprise will be derailed: clients will become
bewildered and resistant, and therapists will become discouraged and exasperated. The
therapist’s capacity to respond to client vulnerability with warmth and tenderness is
pivotal and may lie at the heart of the transformative power of therapy.†
THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: MODIFYING FORCES
It is not possible to construct an absolute hierarchy of therapeutic factors. There are many
modifying forces: therapeutic factors are influenced by the type of group therapy, the stage
of therapy, extragroup forces, and individual differences.
Therapeutic Factors in Different Group Therapies
Different types of group therapy favor the operation of different clusters of curative
factors. Consider, for example, the therapy group on an acute inpatient ward. Members of
inpatient therapy groups do not select the same constellation of three factors (interpersonal
learning, catharsis, and self-understanding) as most members of outpatient groups.87
Rather, they select a wide range of therapeutic factors that reflect, I believe, both the
heterogeneous composition of inpatient therapy groups and the cafeteria theory of
improvement in group therapy. Clients who differ greatly from one another in ego
strength, motivation, goals, and type and severity of psychopathology meet in the same
inpatient group and, accordingly, select and value different aspects of the group procedure.

Many more inpatients than outpatients select the therapeutic factors of instillation of
hope and existential factors (especially the assumption of responsibility). Instillation of
hope looms large in inpatient groups because so many individuals enter the hospital in a
state of utter demoralization. Until the individual acquires hope and the motivation to
engage in treatment, no progress will be made. Often the most effective antidote to
demoralization is the presence of others who have recently been in similar straits and
discovered a way out of despair. Existential factors (defined on the research instruments
generally as “assumption of ultimate responsibility for my own life”) are of particular
importance to inpatients, because often hospitalization confronts them with the limits of
other people; external resources have been exhausted; family, friends, therapists have
failed; they have hit bottom and realize that, in the final analysis, they can rely only on
themselves. (On one inpatient Q-sort study, the assumption of responsibility, item 60, was
ranked first of the sixty items.)88
A vast range of homogeneously composed groups meet today. Let us review the
therapeutic factors chosen by the members of several of these groups.
• Alcoholics Anonymous and Recovery, Inc. members emphasize the instillation of
hope, imparting information, universality, altruism, and some aspects of group
cohesiveness.
• Members of discharge planning groups in psychiatric hospitals emphasize imparting
of information and development of socializing techniques.
• Participants of occupational therapy groups most valued the factors of cohesiveness,
instillation of hope, and interpersonal learning.89
• Members of psychodrama groups in Israel, despite differences in culture and
treatment format, selected factors consistent with those selected by group therapy
outpatients: interpersonal learning, catharsis, group cohesiveness, and self-
understanding.90
• Members of self-help groups (women’s consciousness raising, bereaved parents,
widows, heart surgery patients, and mothers) commonly chose factors of
universality, followed by guidance, altruism, and cohesiveness.91
• Members of an eighteen-month-long group of spouses caring for a partner with a
brain tumor chose universality, altruism, instillation of hope, and the provision of
information.92
• Psychotic clients with intrusive, controlling auditory hallucinations successfully
treated in cognitive-behavioral therapy groups valued universality, hope, and
catharsis. For them, finally being able to talk about their voices and feel
understood by peers was of enormous value.93
• Spousal abusers in a psychoeducational group selected the imparting of information
as a chief therapeutic factor.94
• Adolescents in learning disability groups cited the effectiveness of “mutual

recognition”—of seeing oneself in others and feeling valued and less isolated.95
• Geriatric group participants who confront limits, mortality, and the passage of time
select existential factors as critically important.96
When therapists form a new therapy group in some specialized setting or for some
specialized clinical population, the first step, as I will stress in chapter 15, is to determine
the appropriate goals and, after that, the therapeutic factors most likely to be helpful for
that particular group. Everything else, all matters of therapeutic technique, follow from
that framework. Thus, it is vitally important to keep in mind the persuasive research
evidence that different types of group therapy make use of different therapeutic factors.
For example, consider a time-limited psychoeducational group for panic attacks whose
members may receive considerable benefit from group leader instruction on cognitive
strategies for preventing and minimizing the disruptiveness of the attacks (guidance). The
experience of being in a group of people who suffer from the same problem (universality)
is also likely to be very comforting. Although difficulties in relationships may indeed
contribute to their symptoms, an undue focus on the therapeutic factor of interpersonal
learning would not be warranted given the time frame of the group.
Understanding the client’s experience of the therapeutic factors can lead to enlightened
and productive group innovations. For example, an effective multimodal group approach
for bulimia nervosa has been reported that integrates and sequences three independently
effective treatments. This twelve-week group starts with a psychoeducation module about
bulimia and nutrition; next is a cognitive-behavioral module that examines distorted
cognitions about eating and body image; and the group concludes with an interpersonally
oriented group segment that examines here-and-now relationship concerns and their
impact on eating behaviors.97
Therapeutic Factors and Stages of Therapy
Intensive interactional group therapy exerts its chief therapeutic power through
interpersonal learning (encompassing catharsis, self-understanding, and interpersonal
input and output) and group cohesiveness, but the other therapeutic factors play an
indispensable role in the intensive therapy process. To appreciate the interdependence of
the therapeutic factors, we must consider the entire group process from start to finish.
Many clients expressed difficulty in rank-ordering therapeutic factors because they
found different factors helpful at different stages of therapy. Factors of considerable
importance early in therapy may be far less salient late in the course of treatment.
Consider the early stages of development: the group’s chief concerns are with survival,
establishing boundaries, and maintaining membership. In this phase, factors such as the
instillation of hope, guidance, and universality are especially important.†98 A universality
phase early in the group is inevitable as well, as members search out similarities and
compare symptoms and problem constellations.

The first dozen meetings of a group present a high-risk period for potential dropouts,
and it is often necessary to awaken hope in the members in order to keep them attending
through this critical phase. Factors such as altruism and group cohesiveness operate
throughout therapy, but their nature changes with the stage of the group. Early in therapy,
altruism takes the form of offering suggestions or helping one another talk by asking
appropriate questions and giving attention. Later it may take the form of a more profound
caring and presence.
Group cohesiveness operates as a therapeutic factor at first by means of group support,
acceptance, and the facilitation of attendance and later by means of the interrelation of
group esteem and self-esteem and through its role in interpersonal learning. It is only after
the development of group cohesiveness that members may engage deeply and
constructively in the self-disclosure, confrontation, and conflict essential to the process of
interpersonal learning. Therapists must appreciate this necessary developmental sequence
to help prevent early group dropouts. In a study of therapeutic factors in long-term
inpatient treatment in Germany, clinical improvement was related to the experience of
early cohesion and belonging. Cohesion set the stage for greater personal self-disclosure,
which generated the interpersonal feedback that produced behavioral and psychological
change.99 An outpatient study demonstrated that the longer group members participated in
the group, the more they valued cohesiveness, self-understanding, and interpersonal
output.100 Students in eleven-session counseling groups valued universality more in the
first half of the group and interpersonal learning in the second half.101
In a study of twenty-six-session growth groups, universality and hope declined in
importance through the course of the group, whereas catharsis increased.102 In a study of
spouse abusers, universality was the prominent factor in early stages, while the importance
of group cohesion grew over time.103 This emphasis on universality may be characteristic
in the treatment of clients who feel shame or stigma. The cohesion that promotes change,
however, is best built on a respect and acceptance of personal differences that takes time
to mature. In another study, psychiatric inpatients valued universality, hope, and
acceptance most, but later, when they participated in outpatient group psychotherapy, they
valued self-understanding more.104
In summary, the therapeutic factors clients deem most important vary with the stage of
group development. The therapist’s attention to this finding is as important as the
therapist’s congruence with the client on therapeutic factors reviewed in the preceding
section. Clients’ needs and goals change during the course of therapy. In chapter 2, I
described a common sequence in which group members first seek symptomatic relief and
then, during the first months in therapy, formulate new goals, often interpersonal ones of
relating more deeply to others, learning to love, and being honest with others. As
members’ needs and goals shift during therapy, so, too, must the necessary therapeutic
processes. Modern enlightened psychotherapy is often termed dynamic psychotherapy
because it appreciates the dynamics, the motivational aspects of behavior, many of which
are not in awareness. Dynamic therapy may be thought of also as changing, evolving
psychotherapy: clients change, the group goes through a developmental sequence, and the

therapeutic factors shift in primacy and influence during the course of therapy.
Therapeutic Factors Outside the Group
Although I suggest that major behavioral and attitudinal shifts require a degree of
interpersonal learning, occasionally group members make major changes without making
what would appear to be the appropriate investment in the therapeutic process. This brings
up an important principle in therapy: The therapist or the group does not have to do the
entire job. Personality reconstruction as a therapeutic goal is as unrealistic as it is
presumptuous. Our clients have many adaptive coping strengths that may have served
them well in the past, and a boost from some event in therapy may be sufficient to help a
client begin coping in an adaptive manner. Earlier in this text I used the term “adaptive
spiral” to refer to the process in which one change in a client begets changes in his or her
interpersonal environment that beget further personal change. The adaptive spiral is the
reverse of the vicious circle, in which so many clients find themselves ensnared—a
sequence of events in which dysphoria has interpersonal manifestations that weaken or
disrupt interpersonal bonds and consequently create further dysphoria.
These points are documented when we ask clients about other therapeutic influences or
events in their lives that occurred concurrently with their therapy course. In one sample of
twenty clients, eighteen described a variety of extragroup therapeutic factors. Most
commonly cited was a new or an improved interpersonal relationship with one or more of
a variety of figures (member of the opposite sex, parent, spouse, teacher, foster family, or
new set of friends).105 Two clients claimed to have benefited by going through with a
divorce that had long been pending. Many others cited success at work or school, which
raised their self-esteem as they established a reservoir of real accomplishments. Others
became involved in some new social venture (a YMCA group or community action
group).
Perhaps these are fortuitous, independent factors that deserve credit, along with group
therapy, for the successful outcome. In one sense that is true: the external event augments
therapy. Yet it is also true that the potential external event had often always been there: the
therapy group mobilized the members to take advantage of resources that had long been
available to them in their environment.
Consider Bob, a lonely, shy, and insecure man, who attended a time-limited twenty-
five-session group. Though he spent considerable time discussing his fear about
approaching women, and though the group devoted much effort to helping him, there
seemed little change in his outside behavior. But at the final meeting of the group, Bob
arrived with a big smile and a going-away present for the group: a copy of a local
newspaper in which he had placed an ad in the personals!
The newspapers, spouses, online sites, relatives, potential friends, social organizations,
and academic or job opportunities are always out there, available, waiting for the client to
seize them. The group may have given the client only the necessary slight boost to allow

him or her to exploit these previously untapped resources. Frequently the group members
and the therapist are unaware of the importance of these factors and view the client’s
improvement with skepticism or puzzlement. And frequently the group may end with no
evidence of their ultimate impact on the member. Later, when I discuss combined
treatment, I will emphasize the point that therapists who continue to see clients in
individual therapy long after the termination of the group often learn that members make
use of the internalized group months, even years, later.
A study of encounter group members who had very successful outcomes yielded
corroborative results.106 More often than not, successful members did not credit the group
for their change. Instead, they described the beneficial effects of new relationships they
had made, new social circles they had created, new recreational clubs they had joined,
greater work satisfaction they had found. Closer inquiry indicated, of course, that the
relationships, social circles, recreational clubs, and work satisfaction had not suddenly and
miraculously materialized. They had long been available to the individual who was
mobilized by the group experience to take advantage of these resources and exploit them
for satisfaction and personal growth.
I have considered, at several places in this text, how the skills group members acquire
prepare them for new social situations in the future. Not only are extrinsic skills acquired
but intrinsic capacities are released. Psychotherapy removes neurotic obstructions that
have stunted the development of the client’s own resources. The view of therapy as
obstruction removal lightens the burden of therapists and enables them to retain respect
for the rich, never fully knowable, capacities of their clients.
Individual Differences and Therapeutic Factors
The studies cited in this chapter report average values of therapeutic factors as ranked by
groups of clients. However, there is considerable individual variation in the rankings, and
some researchers have attempted to determine the individual characteristics that influence
the selection of therapeutic factors. Although demographic variables such as sex and
education make little difference, there is evidence that level of functioning is significantly
related to the ranking of therapeutic factors, for example, higher-functioning individuals
value interpersonal learning (the cluster of interpersonal input and output, catharsis, and
self-understanding) more than do the lower-functioning members in the same group.107 It
has also been shown that lower-functioning inpatient group members value the instillation
of hope, whereas higher-functioning members in the same groups value universality,
vicarious learning, and interpersonal learning.108
A large number of other studies demonstrate differences between individuals (high
encounter group learners vs. low learners, dominant vs. nondominant clients, overly
responsible vs. nonresponsible clients, high self acceptors vs. low self acceptors, highly
affiliative vs. low affiliative students).109
Not everyone needs the same things or responds in the same way to group therapy.

There are many therapeutic pathways through the group therapy experience. Consider, for
example, catharsis. Some restricted individuals benefit by experiencing and expressing
strong affect, whereas others who have problems of impulse control and great emotional
liability may not benefit from catharsis but instead from reining in emotional expression
and acquiring intellectual structure. Narcissistic individuals need to learn to share and to
give, whereas passive, self-effacing individuals need to learn to express their needs and to
become more selfish. Some clients may need to develop satisfactory, even rudimentary,
social skills; others may need to work with more subtle issues—for example, a male client
who needs to stop sexualizing all women and devaluing or competing with all men.
In summary, it is clear that the comparative potency of the therapeutic factors is a
complex issue. Different factors are valued by different types of therapy groups, by the
same group at different developmental stages, and by different clients within the same
group, depending on individual needs and strengths. Overall, however, the preponderance
of research evidence indicates that the power of the interactional outpatient group
emanates from its interpersonal properties. Interpersonal interaction and exploration
(encompassing catharsis and self-understanding) and group cohesiveness are the sine qua
non of effective group therapy, and effective group therapists must direct their efforts
toward maximal development of these therapeutic resources. The next chapters will
consider the role and the techniques of the group therapist from the viewpoint of these
therapeutic factors.

Chapter 5
THE THERAPIST: BASIC TASKS
Now that I have considered how people change in group therapy, it is time to turn to the
therapist’s role in the therapeutic process. In this chapter, I consider the basic tasks of the
therapist and the techniques by which they may be accomplished.
The four previous chapters contend that therapy is a complex process consisting of
elemental factors that interlace in an intricate fashion. The group therapist’s job is to create
the machinery of therapy, to set it in motion, and to keep it operating with maximum
effectiveness. Sometimes I think of the therapy group as an enormous dynamo: often the
therapist is deep in the interior—working, experiencing, interacting (and being personally
influenced by the energy field); at other times, the therapist dons mechanic’s clothes and
tinkers with the exterior, lubricating, tightening nuts and bolts, replacing parts.
Before turning to specific tasks and techniques, I wish to emphasize something to which
I will return again and again in the following pages. Underlying all considerations of
technique must be a consistent, positive relationship between therapist and client. The
basic posture of the therapist to a client must be one of concern, acceptance, genuineness,
empathy . Nothing, no technical consideration, takes precedence over this attitude. Of
course, there will be times when the therapist challenges the client, shows frustration, even
suggests that if the client is not going to work, he or she should consider leaving the
group. But these efforts (which in the right circumstances may have therapeutic clout) are
never effective unless they are experienced against a horizon of an accepting, concerned
therapist-client relationship.
I will discuss the techniques of the therapist in respect to three fundamental tasks:
1. Creation and maintenance of the group
2. Building a group culture
3. Activation and illumination of the here-and-now
I discuss the first of these only briefly here and will pick it up in greater detail after I
present the essential background material of chapters 8, 9, and 10. In this chapter, I focus
primarily on the second task, building a group culture, and, in the next chapter turn to the
third task, the activation and illumination of the here-and-now.
CREATION AND MAINTENANCE OF THE GROUP
The group leader is solely responsible for creating and convening the group. Your offer of
professional help serves as the group’s initial raison d’être, and you set the time and place
for meetings. A considerable part of the maintenance task is performed before the first

meeting, and, as I will elaborate in later chapters, the leader’s expertise in the selection
and the preparation of members will greatly influence the group’s fate.
Once the group begins, the therapist attends to gatekeeping, especially the prevention of
member attrition. Occasionally an individual will have an unsuccessful group experience
resulting in premature termination of therapy, which may play some useful function in his
or her overall therapy career. For example, failure in or rejection by a group may so
unsettle the client as to prime him or her ideally for another therapist. Generally, however,
a client who drops out early in the course of the group should be considered a therapeutic
failure. Not only does the client fail to receive benefit, but the progress of the remainder of
the group is adversely affected. Stability of membership is a sine qua non of successful
therapy. If dropouts do occur, the therapist must, except in the case of a closed group (see
chapter 10), add new members to maintain the group at its ideal size.
Initially, the clients are strangers to one another and know only the therapist, who is the
group’s primary unifying force. The members relate to one another at first through their
common relationship with the therapist, and these therapist-client alliances set the stage
for the eventual development of group cohesion.
The therapist must recognize and deter any forces that threaten group cohesiveness.
Continued tardiness, absences, subgrouping, disruptive extragroup socialization, and
scapegoating all threaten the functional integrity of the group and require the intervention
of the therapist. Each of these issues will be discussed fully in later chapters. For now, it is
necessary only to emphasize the therapist’s responsibility to supra-individual needs. Your
first task is to help create a physical entity, a cohesive group. There will be times when
you must delay dealing with pressing needs of an individual client, and even times when
you will have to remove a member from the group for the good of the other members.
A clinical vignette illustrates some of these points:
• Once I introduced two new members, both women, into an outpatient group. This
particular group, with a stable core of four male members, had difficulty keeping
women members and two women had dropped out in the previous month. This
meeting began inauspiciously for one of the women, whose perfume triggered a
sneezing fit in one of the men, who moved his chair away from her and then, while
vigorously opening the windows, informed her of his perfume allergy and of the
group’s “no perfume” rule.
At this point another member, Mitch, arrived a couple of minutes late and,
without even a glance at the two new members, announced, “I need some time
today from the group. I was really shook up by the meeting last week. I went home
from the group very disturbed by your comments about my being a time hog. I
didn’t like those insinuations from any of you, or from you either [addressing me].
Later that evening I had an enormous fight with my wife, who took exception to my
reading a medical journal [Mitch was a physician] at the dinner table, and we
haven’t been speaking since.”
Now this particular opening is a good beginning for most group meetings. It had

many things going for it. The client stated that he wanted some time. (The more
members who come to the group asking for time and eager to work, the more
energized a meeting will be.) Also, he wanted to work on issues that had been
raised in the previous week’s meeting. (As a general rule the more group members
work on themes continually from meeting to meeting, the more powerful the group
becomes.) Furthermore, he began the meeting by attacking the therapist—and that
was a good thing. This group had been treating me much too gently. Mitch’s attack,
though uncomfortable, was, I felt certain, going to produce important group work.
Thus I had many different options in the meeting, but there was one task to
which I had to award highest priority: maintaining the functional integrity of the
group. I had introduced two female members into a group that had had some
difficulty retaining women. And how had the members of the group responded? Not
well! They had virtually disenfranchised the new members. After the sneezing
incident, Mitch had not even acknowledged their presence and had launched into
an opening gambit—that, though personally important, systematically excluded the
new women by its reference to the previous meeting.
It was important, then, for me to find a way to address this task and, if possible,
also to address the issues Mitch had raised. In chapter 2, I offered the basic
principle that therapy should strive to turn all issues into here-and-now issues. It
would have been folly to deal explicitly with Mitch’s fight with his wife. The data
that Mitch would have given about his wife would have been biased and he might
well have “yes, but” the group to death.
Fortunately, however, there was a way to tackle both issues at once. Mitch’s
treatment of the two women in the group bore many similarities to his treatment of
his wife at the dinner table. He had been as insensitive to their presence and their
particular needs as to his wife’s. In fact, it was precisely about his insensitivity that
the group had confronted him the previous meeting.
Therefore, about a half hour into the meeting, I pried Mitch’s attention away
from his wife and last week’s session by saying, “Mitch, I wonder what hunches
you have about how our two new members are feeling in the group today?”
This inquiry led Mitch into the general issue of empathy and his inability or
unwillingness in many situations to enter the experiential world of the other.
Fortunately, this tactic not only turned the other group members’ attention to the
way they all had ignored the two new women, but also helped Mitch work
effectively on his core problem: his failure to recognize and appreciate the needs
and wishes of others. Even if it were not possible to address some of Mitch’s
central issues, I still would have opted to attend to the integration of the new
members. Physical survival of the group must take precedence over other tasks.
CULTURE BUILDING

Once the group is a physical reality, the therapist’s energy must be directed toward
shaping it into a therapeutic social system. An unwritten code of behavioral rules or norms
must be established that will guide the interaction of the group. And what are the desirable
norms for a therapeutic group? They follow logically from the discussion of the
therapeutic factors.
Consider for a moment the therapeutic factors outlined in the first four chapters:
acceptance and support, universality, advice, interpersonal learning, altruism, and hope—
who provides these? Obviously, the other members of the group! Thus, to a large extent, it
is the group that is the agent of change.
Herein lies a crucial difference in the basic roles of the individual therapist and the
group therapist. In the individual format, the therapist functions as the solely designated
direct agent of change. The group therapist functions far more indirectly. In other words, if
it is the group members who, in their interaction, set into motion the many therapeutic
factors, then it is the group therapist’s task to create a group culture maximally conducive
to effective group interaction.
The game of chess provides a useful analogy. Expert players do not, at the beginning of
the game, strive for checkmate or outright capture of a piece, but instead aim at obtaining
strategic squares on the board, thereby increasing the power of each of their pieces. In so
doing, players are indirectly moving toward success since, as the game proceeds, this
superior strategic position will favor an effective attack and ultimate material gain. So,
too, the group therapist methodically builds a culture that will ultimately exert great
therapeutic strength.
A jazz pianist, a member of one of my groups, once commented on the role of the leader
by reflecting that very early in his musical career, he deeply admired the great
instrumental virtuosos. It was only much later that he grew to understand that the truly
great jazz musicians were those who knew how to augment the sound of others, how to be
quiet, how to enhance the functioning of the entire ensemble.
It is obvious that the therapy group has norms that radically depart from the rules, or
etiquette, of typical social intercourse. Unlike almost any other kind of group, the
members must feel free to comment on the immediate feelings they experience toward the
group, the other members, and the therapist. Honesty and spontaneity of expression must
be encouraged in the group. If the group is to develop into a true social microcosm,
members must interact freely. In schematic form, the pathways of interaction should
appear like the first rather than the second diagram, in which communications are
primarily to or through the therapist.

Other desirable norms include active involvement in the group, nonjudgmental
acceptance of others, extensive self-disclosure, desire for self-understanding, and an
eagerness to change current modes of behavior. Norms may be a prescription for as well
as a proscription against certain types of behavior. Norms may be implicit as well as
explicit. In fact, the members of a group cannot generally consciously elaborate the norms
of the group. Thus, to learn the norms of a group, the researcher is ill advised to ask the
members for a list of these unwritten rules. A far better approach is to present the members
with a list of behaviors and ask them to indicate which are appropriate and which
inappropriate in the group.
Norms invariably evolve in every type of group—social, professional, and therapeutic.1
By no means is it inevitable that a therapeutic group will evolve norms that facilitate the
therapeutic process. Systematic observation of therapy groups reveals that many are
encumbered with crippling norms. A group may, for example, so value hostile catharsis
that positive sentiments are eschewed; a group may develop a “take turns” format in
which the members sequentially describe their problems to the group; or a group may
have norms that do not permit members to question or challenge the therapist. Shortly I
will discuss some specific norms that hamper or facilitate therapy, but first I will consider
how norms come into being.
The Construction of Norms
Norms of a group are constructed both from expectations of the members for their group
and from the explicit and implicit directions of the leader and more influential members. If
the members’ expectations are not firm, then the leader has even more opportunity to
design a group culture that, in his or her view, will be optimally therapeutic. The group
leader’s statements to the group play a powerful, though usually implicit, role in
determining the norms established in the group.† In one study, researchers observed that

when the leader made a comment following closely after a particular member’s actions,
that member became a center of attention in the group and often assumed a major role in
future meetings. Furthermore, the relative infrequency of the leader’s comments
augmented the strength of his or her interventions.2 Researchers studying intensive
experiential training groups for group therapists also concluded that leaders who modeled
warmth and technical expertise more often had positive outcomes: members of their
groups achieved greater self-confidence and greater awareness of both group dynamics
and the role of the leader.3 In general, leaders who set norms of increased engagement and
decreased conflict have better clinical outcomes.4
By discussing the leader as norm-shaper, I am not proposing a new or contrived role for
the therapist. Wittingly or unwittingly, the leader always shapes the norms of the group
and must be aware of this function. Just as one cannot not communicate, the leader cannot
not influence norms; virtually all of his or her early group behavior is influential.
Moreover, what one does not do is often as important as what one does do.
Once I observed a group led by a British group analyst in which a member who had
been absent the six previous meetings entered the meeting a few minutes late. The
therapist in no way acknowledged the arrival of the member; after the session, he
explained to the student observers that he chose not to influence the group since he
preferred that they make their own rules about welcoming tardy or prodigal members. It
appeared clear to me, however, that the therapist’s non-welcome was an influential act and
very much of a norm-setting message. His group had evolved, no doubt as a result of
many similar previous actions, into a uncaring, insecure one, whose members sought
methods of currying the leader’s favor.
Norms are created relatively early in the life of a group and, once established, are
difficult to change. Consider, for example, the small group in an industrial setting that
forms norms regulating individual member output, or a delinquent gang that establishes
codes of behavior, or a psychiatric ward that forms norms of expected staff and patient
role behavior. To change entrenched standards is notoriously difficult and requires
considerable time and often large group membership turnover.
To summarize: every group evolves a set of unwritten rules or norms that determine the
procedure of the group. The ideal therapy group has norms that permit the therapeutic
factors to operate with maximum effectiveness. Norms are shaped both by the expectations
of the group members and by the behavior of the therapist. The therapist is enormously
influential in norm setting—in fact, it is a function that the leader cannot avoid. Norms
constructed early in the group have considerable perseverance. The therapist is thus well
advised to go about this important function in an informed, deliberate manner.
HOW DOES THE LEADER SHAPE NORMS?
There are two basic roles the therapist may assume in a group: technical expert and model-

setting participant. In each of these roles, the therapist helps to shape the norms of the
group.
The Technical Expert
When assuming the role of technical expert, therapists deliberately slip into the traditional
garb of expert and employ a variety of techniques to move the group in a direction they
consider desirable. They explicitly attempt to shape norms during their early preparation
of clients for group therapy. In this procedure, described fully in chapter 10, therapists
carefully instruct clients about the rules of the group, and they reinforce the instruction in
two ways: first, by backing it with the weight of authority and experience and, second, by
presenting the rationale behind the suggested mode of procedure in order to enlist the
clients’ support.
At the beginning of a group, therapists have at their disposal a wide choice of
techniques to shape the group culture. These range from explicit instructions and
suggestions to subtle reinforcing techniques. For example, as I described earlier, the leader
must attempt to create an interactional network in which the members freely interact rather
than direct all their comments to or through the therapist. To this end, therapists may
implicitly instruct members in their pregroup interviews or in the first group sessions; they
may, repeatedly during the meetings, ask for all members’ reactions to another member or
toward a group issue; they may ask why conversation is invariably directed toward the
therapist; they may refuse to answer questions when addressed; they may ask the group to
engage in exercises that teach clients to interact—for example, asking each member of the
group in turn to give his or her first impressions of every other member; or therapists may,
in a much less obtrusive manner, shape behavior by rewarding members who address one
another—therapists may nod or smile at them, address them warmly, or shift their posture
into a more receptive position. Exactly the same approaches may be applied to the myriad
of other norms the therapist wishes to inculcate: self-disclosure, open expression of
emotions, promptness, self-exploration, and so on.
Therapists vary considerably in style. Although many prefer to shape norms explicitly,
all therapists, to a degree often greater than they suppose, perform their tasks through the
subtle technique of social reinforcement. Human behavior is continuously influenced by a
series of environmental events (reinforcers), which may have a positive or negative
valence and which exert their influence on a conscious or a subliminal level.
Advertising and political propaganda techniques are but two examples of a systematic
harnessing of reinforcing agents. Psychotherapy, no less, relies on the use of subtle, often
nondeliberate social reinforcers. Although few self-respecting therapists like to consider
themselves social reinforcing agents, nevertheless therapists continuously exert influence
in this manner, unconsciously or deliberately. They may positively reinforce behavior by
numerous verbal and nonverbal acts, including nodding, smiling, leaning forward, or
offering an interested “mmm” or a direct inquiry for more information. On the other hand,
therapists attempt to extinguish behavior not deemed salubrious by not commenting, not

nodding, ignoring the behavior, turning their attention to another client, looking skeptical,
raising their eyebrows, and so on. In fact research suggests that therapists who reinforce
members’ pro-group behavior indirectly are often more effective than those who prompt
such behavior explicitly.5 Any obvious verbal directive from therapists then becomes
especially effective because of the paucity of such interventions.
Every form of psychotherapy is a learning process, relying in part on operant
conditioning. Therapy, even psychoanalysis, without some form of therapist reinforcement
or manipulation is a mirage that disappears on close scrutiny.6
Considerable research demonstrates the efficacy of operant techniques in the shaping of
group behavior.7 Using these techniques deliberately, one can reduce silences8 or increase
personal and group comments, expressions of hostility to the leader, or intermember
acceptance.9 Though there is evidence that they owe much of their effectiveness to these
learning principles, psychotherapists often eschew this evidence because of their
unfounded fear that such a mechanistic view will undermine the essential human
component of the therapy experience. The facts are compelling, however, and an
understanding of their own behavior does not strip therapists of their spontaneity. After all,
the objective of using operant techniques is to foster authentic and meaningful
engagement. Therapists who recognize that they exert great influence through social
reinforcement and who have formulated a central organizing principle of therapy will be
more effective and consistent in making therapeutic interventions.
The Model-Setting Participant
Leaders shape group norms not only through explicit or implicit social engineering but
also through the example they set in their own group behavior. 10 The therapy group
culture represents a radical departure from the social rules to which clients are
accustomed. Clients are asked to discard familiar social conventions, to try out new
behavior, and to take many risks. How can therapists best demonstrate to their clients that
new behavior will not have the anticipated adverse consequences?
One method, which has considerable research backing, is modeling: Clients are
encouraged to alter their behavior by observing their therapists engaging freely and
without adverse effects in the desired behavior. Bandura has demonstrated in many well-
controlled studies that individuals may be influenced to engage in more adaptive behavior
(for example, the overcoming of specific phobias)11 or less adaptive behavior (for
example, unrestrained aggressivity)12 through observing and assuming other’s behavior.
The leader may, by offering a model of nonjudgmental acceptance and appreciation of
others’ strengths as well as their problem areas, help shape a group that is health oriented.
If, on the other hand, leaders conceptualize their role as that of a detective of
psychopathology, the group members will follow suit. For example, one group member
had actively worked on the problems of other members for months but had steadfastly
declined to disclose her own problems. Finally in one meeting she confessed that one year

earlier she had had a two-month stay in a state psychiatric hospital. The therapist
responded reflexively, “Why haven’t you told us this before?”
This comment, perceived as punitive by the client, served only to reinforce her fear and
discourage further self-disclosure. Obviously, there are questions and comments that will
close people down and others that will help them open up. The therapist had “opening-up”
options: for example, “I think it’s great that you now trust the group sufficiently to share
these facts about yourself,” or, “How difficult it must have been for you in the group
previously, wanting to share this disclosure and yet being afraid to do so.”
The leader sets a model of interpersonal honesty and spontaneity but must also keep in
mind the current needs of the members and demonstrate behavior that is congruent with
those needs. Do not conclude that group therapists should freely express all feelings. Total
disinhibition is no more salubrious in therapy groups than in other forms of human
encounter and may lead to ugly, destructive interaction. The therapist must model
responsibility and appropriate restraint as well as honesty. We want to engage our clients
and allow ourselves to be affected by them. In fact, “disciplined personal involvement” is
an invaluable part of the group leader’s armamentarium.13 Not only is it therapeutic to our
clients that we let them matter to us, we can also use our own reactions as valuable data
about our clients—provided we know ourselves well enough.†
Consider the following therapeutically effective intervention:
• In the first session of a group of business executives meeting for a five-day human
relations laboratory, a twenty-five-year-old, aggressive, swaggering member who
had obviously been drinking heavily proceeded to dominate the meeting and make
a fool of himself. He boasted of his accomplishments, belittled the group,
monopolized the meeting, and interrupted, outshsituation—feedback about how
angry or hurt he had made others feel, or interpretations about the meaning and
cause of his behavior—failed. Then my co-leader commented sincerely, “You know
what I like about you? Your fear and lack of confidence. You’re scared here, just
like me. We’re all scared about what will happen to us this week.” That statement
permitted the client to discard his facade and, eventually, to become a valuable
group member. Furthermore, the leader, by modeling an empathic, nonjudgmental
style, helped establish a gentle, accepting group culture.
This effective intervention required that the co-leader first recognize the negative
impact of this member’s behavior and then supportively articulate the vulnerability that
lay beneath the offensive behavior.14
Interacting as a group member requires, among other things, that group therapists
accept and admit their personal fallibility. Therapists who need to appear infallible offer a
perplexing and obstructing example for their clients. At times they may be so reluctant to
admit error that they become withholding or devious in their relationship with the group.
For example, in one group, the therapist, who needed to appear omniscient, was to be out
of town for the next meeting. He suggested to the group members that they meet without
him and tape-record the meeting, and he promised to listen to the tape before the next

session. He forgot to listen to the tape but did not admit this to the group. Consequently,
the subsequent meeting, in which the therapist bluffed by avoiding mention of the
previous leaderless session, turned out to be diffuse, confusing, and discouraging.
Another example involves a neophyte therapist with similar needs. A group member
accused him of making long-winded, confusing statements. Since this was the first
confrontation of the therapist in this young group, the members were tense and perched on
the edge of their chairs. The therapist responded by wondering whether he didn’t remind
the client of someone from the past. The attacking member clutched at the suggestion and
volunteered his father as a candidate; the crisis passed, and the group members settled
back in their chairs. However, it so happened that previously this therapist had himself
been a member of a group (of psychotherapy students) and his colleagues had repeatedly
focused on his tendency to make long-winded, confusing comments. In fact, then, what
had transpired was that the client had seen the therapist quite correctly but was persuaded
to relinquish his perceptions. If one of the goals of therapy is to help clients test reality and
clarify their interpersonal relationships, then this transaction was antitherapeutic. This is
an instance in which the therapist’s needs were given precedence over the client’s needs in
psychotherapy.†
Another consequence of the need to be perfect occurs when therapists become overly
cautious. Fearing error, they weigh their words so carefully, interacting so deliberately that
they sacrifice spontaneity and mold a stilted, lifeless group. Often a therapist who
maintains an omnipotent, distant role is saying, in effect, “Do what you will; you can’t
hurt or touch me.” This pose may have the counterproductive effect of aggravating a sense
of interpersonal impotence in clients that impedes the development of an autonomous
group.
• In one group a young man named Les had made little movement for months
despite vigorous efforts by the leader. In virtually every meeting the leader
attempted to bring Les into the discussion, but to no avail. Instead, Les became
more defiant and withholding, and the therapist became more active and insistent.
Finally Joan, another member, commented to the therapist that he was like a
stubborn father treating Les like a stubborn son and was bound and determined to
make Les change. Les, she added, was relishing the role of the rebellious son who
was determined to defeat his father. Joan’s comment rang true for the therapist; it
clicked with his internal experience, and he acknowledged this to the group and
thanked Joan for her comments.
The therapist’s behavior in this example was extremely important for the group. In
effect, he said, I value you the members, this group, and this mode of learning.
Furthermore, he reinforced norms of self-exploration and honest interaction with the
therapist. The transaction was helpful to the therapist (unfortunate are the therapists who
cannot learn more about themselves in their therapeutic work) and to Les, who proceeded
to explore the payoff in his defiant stance toward the therapist.
Occasionally, less modeling is required of the therapist because of the presence of some
ideal group members who fulfill this function. In fact, there have been studies in which

selected model-setting members were deliberately introduced into a group.15 In one study,
researchers introduced trained confederates (not clients but psychology graduate students)
into two outpatient groups.16 The plants pretended to be clients but met regularly in group
discussions with the therapists and supervisors. Their role and behavior were planned to
facilitate, by their personal example, self-disclosure, free expression of affect,
confrontation with the therapists, silencing of monopolists, clique busting, and so on. The
two groups were studied (through participant-administered cohesiveness questionnaires
and sociometrics) for twenty sessions. The results indicated that the plants, though not the
most popular members, were regarded by the other participants as facilitating therapy;
moreover, the authors concluded (though there were no control groups) that the plants
served to increase group cohesiveness.
Although a trained plant would contribute a form of deceit incompatible with the
process of group therapy, the use of such individuals has intriguing clinical implications.
For example, a new therapy group could be seeded with an ideal group therapy member
from another group, who then continued therapy in two groups. Or an individual who had
recently completed group therapy satisfactorily might serve as a model-setting auxiliary
therapist during the formative period of a new group. Perhaps an ongoing group might
choose to add new members in advance of the graduation of senior members, rather than
afterward, to capitalize on the modeling provided by the experienced and successful senior
members.
These possibilities aside, it is the therapist who, wittingly or unwittingly, will continue
to serve as the chief model-setting figure for the group members. Consequently, it is of the
utmost importance that the therapist have sufficient self-confidence to fulfill this function.
If therapists feel uncomfortable, they will be more likely to encounter difficulties in this
aspect of their role and will often veer to one extreme or the other in their personal
engagement in the group: either they will fall back into a comfortable, concealed
professional role, or they will escape from the anxiety and responsibility inherent in the
leader’s role by abdicating and becoming simply one of the gang.†17
Neophyte therapists are particularly prone to these positions of exaggerated activity or
inactivity in the face of the emotional demands of leading therapy groups. Either extreme
has unfortunate consequences for the development of group norms. An overly concealed
leader will create norms of caution and guardedness. A therapist who retreats from
authority will be unable to use the wide range of methods available for the shaping of
norms; furthermore, such a therapist creates a group that is unlikely to work fruitfully on
important transference issues.
The issue of the transparency of the therapist has implications far beyond the task of
norm setting.† When therapists are self-disclosing in the group, not only do they model
behavior, but they perform an act that has considerable significance in many other ways
for the therapeutic process. Many clients develop conflicted and distorted feelings toward
the therapist; the transparency of the therapist facilitates members working through their
transference. I shall discuss the ramifications of therapist transparency in great detail in
chapter 7. Let us turn now from this general discussion of norms to the specific norms that

enhance the power of group therapy.
EXAMPLES OF THERAPEUTIC GROUP NORMS
The Self-Monitoring Group
It is important that the group begin to assume responsibility for its own functioning. If this
norm fails to develop, a passive group ensues, whose members are dependent on the
leader to supply movement and direction. The leader of such a group, who feels fatigued
and irritated by the burden of making everything work, is aware that something has gone
awry in the early development of the group. When I lead groups like this, I often
experience the members of the group as moviegoers. It’s as though they visit the group
each week to see what’s playing; if it happens to interest them, they become engaged in
the meeting. If not, “Too bad, Irv! Hope there’ll be a better show next week!” My task in
the group then is to help members understand that they are the movie. If they do not
perform, there is no performance: the screen is blank.
From the very beginning, I attempt to transfer the responsibility of the group to the
members. I keep in mind that in the beginning of a group, I am the only one in the room
who has a good definition of what constitutes a good work meeting. It is my job to teach
the members, to share that definition with them. Thus, if the group has a particularly good
meeting, I like to label it so. For example, I might comment at the end, “It’s time to stop.
It’s too bad, I hate to bring a meeting like this to an end.” In future meetings, I often make
a point of referring back to that meeting. In a young group, a particularly hard working
meeting is often followed by a meeting in which the members step back a bit from the
intensive interaction. In such a meeting, I might comment after a half hour, “I wonder how
everyone feels about the meeting today? How would you compare it with last week’s
meeting? What did we do differently last week?”
It is also possible to help members develop a definition of a good meeting by asking
them to examine and evaluate parts of a single meeting. For example, in the very early
meetings of a group, I may interrupt and remark, “I see that an hour has gone by and I’d
like to ask, ‘How has the group gone today? Are you satisfied with it? What’s been the
most involving part of the meeting so far today? The least involving part?’” The general
point is clear: I endeavor to shift the evaluative function from myself to the group
members. I say to them, in effect, “You have the ability—and responsibility—to determine
when this group is working effectively and when it is wasting its time.”
If a member laments, for example, that “the only involving part of this meeting was the
first ten minutes—after that we just chatted for forty-five minutes,” my response is: “Then
why did you let it go on? How could you have stopped it?” Or, “All of you seemed to have
known this. What prevented you from acting? Why is it always my job to do what you are
all able to do?” Soon there will be excellent consensus about what is productive and

unproductive group work. (And it will almost invariably be the case that productive work
occurs when the group maintains a here-and-now focus—to be discussed in the next
chapter.)
Self-Disclosure
Group therapists may disagree about many aspects of the group therapeutic procedure, but
there is great consensus about one issue: self-disclosure is absolutely essential in the group
therapeutic process. Participants will not benefit from group therapy unless they self-
disclose and do so fully. I prefer to lead a group with norms that indicate that self-
disclosure must occur—but at each member’s own pace. I prefer that members not
experience the group as a forced confessional, where deep revelations are wrung from
members one by one.18
During pregroup individual meetings, I make these points explicit to clients so that they
enter the group fully informed that if they are to benefit from therapy, sooner or later they
must share very intimate parts of themselves with the other group members.
Keep in mind that it is the subjective aspect of self-disclosure that is truly important.
There may be times when therapists or group observers will mistakenly conclude that the
group is not truly disclosing or that the disclosure is superficial or trivial. Often there is an
enormous discrepancy between subjective and objective self-disclosure—a discrepancy
that, incidentally, confounds research that measures self-disclosure on some standardized
scale. Many group therapy members have had few intimate confidantes, and what appears
in the group to be minor self-disclosure may be the very first time they have shared this
material with anyone. The context of each individual’s disclosure is essential in
understanding its significance. Being aware of that context is a crucial part of developing
empathy, as the following example illustrates.
• One group member, Mark, spoke slowly and methodically about his intense social
anxiety and avoidance. Marie, a young, bitter, and chronically depressed woman
bristled at the long and labored elaboration of his difficulties. At one point she
wondered aloud why others seemed to be so encouraging of Mark and excited
about his speaking, whereas she felt so impatient with the slow pace of the group.
She was concerned that she could not get to her personal agenda: to get advice
about how to make herself more likable. The feedback she received surprised her:
the members felt alienated from her because of her inability to empathize with
others. What was happening in the meeting with Mark was a case in point, they
told her. They felt that Mark’s self-disclosure in the meeting was a great step
forward for him. What interfered with her seeing what others saw? That was the
critical question. And exploring that difficulty was the “advice” the group offered.
What about the big secret? A member may come to therapy with an important secret
about some central aspect of his or her life—for example, compulsive shoplifting, secret
substance abuse, a jail sentence earlier in life, bulimia, transvestism, incest. They feel

trapped. Though they wish to work in the therapy group, they are too frightened to share
their secret with a large group of people.
In my pregroup individual sessions, I make it clear to such clients that sooner or later
they will have to share the secret with the other group members. I emphasize that they
may do this at their own pace, that they may choose to wait until they feel greater trust in
the group, but that, ultimately, the sharing must come if therapy is to proceed. Group
members who decide not to share a big secret are destined merely to re-create in the group
the same duplicitous modes of relating to others that exist outside the group. To keep the
secret hidden, they must guard every possible avenue that might lead to it. Vigilance and
guardedness are increased, spontaneity is decreased, and those bearing the secret spin an
ever-expanding web of inhibition around themselves.
Sometimes it is adaptive to delay the telling of the secret. Consider the following two
group members, John and Charles. John had been a transvestite since the age of twelve
and cross-dressed frequently but secretly. Charles entered the group with cancer. He stated
that he had done a lot of work learning to cope with his cancer. He knew his prognosis: he
would live for two or three more years. He sought group therapy in order to live his
remaining life more fully. He especially wanted to relate more intimately with the
important people in his life. This seemed like a legitimate goal for group therapy, and I
introduced him into a regular outpatient therapy group. (I have fully described this
individual’s course of treatment elsewhere.19)
Both of these clients chose not to disclose their secrets for many sessions. By that time I
was getting edgy and impatient. I gave them knowing glances or subtle invitations.
Eventually each became fully integrated into the group, developed a deep trust in the other
members, and, after about a dozen meetings, chose to reveal himself very fully. In
retrospect, their decision to delay was a wise one. The group members had grown to know
each of these two members as people, as John and Charles, who were faced with major
life problems, not as a transvestite and a cancer patient. John and Charles were justifiably
concerned that if they revealed themselves too early, they would be stereotyped and that
the stereotype would block other members from knowing them fully.
How can the group leader determine whether the client’s delay in disclosure is
appropriate or countertherapeutic? Context matters. Even though there has been no full
disclosure, is there, nonetheless, movement, albeit slow, toward increasing openness and
trust? Will the passage of time make it easier to disclose, as happened with John and
Charles, or will tension and avoidance mount?
Often hanging on to the big secret for too long may be counterproductive. Consider the
following example:
• Lisa, a client in a six-month, time-limited group, who had practiced for a few
years as a psychologist (after having trained with the group leader!) but fifteen
years earlier had given up her practice to enter the business world, where she soon
became extraordinarily successful. She entered the group because of
dissatisfaction with her social life. Lisa felt lonely and alienated. She knew that
she, as she put it, played her cards “too close to the vest”—she was cordial to

others and a good listener but tended to remain distant. She attributed this to her
enormous wealth, which she felt she must keep concealed so as not to elicit envy
and resentment from others.
By the fifth month, Lisa had yet to reveal much of herself. She retained her
psychotherapeutic skills and thus proved helpful to many members, who admired
her greatly for her unusual perceptiveness and sensitivity. But she had replicated
her outside social relationships in the here-and-now of the group, since she felt
hidden and distant from the other members. She requested an individual session
with the group leader to discuss her participation in the group. During that session
the therapist exhorted Lisa to reveal her concerns about her wealth and,
especially, her psychotherapy training, warning her that if she waited too much
longer, someone would throw a chair at her when she finally told the group she
had once been a therapist. Finally, Lisa took the plunge and ultimately, in the very
few remaining meetings, did more therapeutic work than in all the earlier meetings
combined.
What stance should the therapist take when someone reveals the big secret? To answer
that question, I must first make an important distinction. I believe that when an individual
reveals the big secret, the therapist must help him or her disclose even more about the
secret but in a horizontal rather than a vertical mode. By vertical disclosure I refer to
content, to greater in-depth disclosure about the secret itself. For example, when John
disclosed his transvestism to the group, the members’ natural inclination was to explore
the secret vertically. They asked about details of his crossdressing: “How old were you
when you started?” “Whose underclothes did you begin to wear?” “What sexual fantasies
do you have when you cross-dress?” “How do you publicly pass as a woman with that
mustache?” But John had already disclosed a great deal vertically about his secret, and it
was more important for him now to reveal horizontally: that is, disclosure about the
disclosure (metadisclosure)—especially about the interactional aspects of disclosure.20
Accordingly, when John first divulged his transvestism in the group I asked such
questions as: “John, you’ve been coming to the group for approximately twelve meetings
and not been able to share this with us. I wonder what it’s been like for you to come each
week and remain silent about your secret?” “How uncomfortable have you been about the
prospect of sharing this with us?” “It hasn’t felt safe for you to share this before now.
Today you chose to do so. What’s happened in the group or in your feelings toward the
group today that’s allowed you to do this?” “What were your fears in the past about
revealing this to us? What did you think would happen? Whom did you feel would
respond in which ways?”
John responded that he feared he would be ridiculed or laughed at or thought weird. In
keeping with the here-and-now inquiry, I guided him deeper into the interpersonal process
by inquiring, “Who in the group would ridicule you?” “Who would think you were
weird?” And then, after John selected certain members, I invited him to check out those
assumptions with them. By welcoming the belated disclosure, rather than criticizing the
delay, the therapist supports the client and strengthens the therapeutic collaboration. As a

general rule, it is always helpful to move from general statements about the “group” to
more personal statements: in other words, ask members to differentiate between the
members of the group.
Self-disclosure is always an interpersonal act. What is important is not that one
discloses oneself but that one discloses something important in the context of a
relationship to others. The act of self-disclosure takes on real importance because of its
implications for the nature of ongoing relationships; even more important than the actual
unburdening of oneself is the fact that disclosure results in a deeper, richer, and more
complex relationship with others. (This is the reason why I do not, in contrast to other
researchers,† consider self-disclosure as a separate therapeutic factor but instead subsume
it under interpersonal learning.)
The disclosure of sexual abuse or incest is particularly charged in this way. Often
victims of such abuse have been traumatized not only by the abuse itself but also by the
way others have responded in the past to their disclosure of the abuse. Not uncommonly
the initial disclosure within the victim’s family is met with denial, blame, and rejection. As
a result, the thought of disclosing oneself in the therapy group evokes fear of further
mistreatment and even retraumatization rather than hope of working through the abuse.21
If undue pressure is placed on a member to disclose, I will, depending on the problems
of the particular client and his or her stage of therapy, respond in one of several ways. For
example, I may relieve the pressure by commenting: “There are obviously some things
that John doesn’t yet feel like sharing. The group seems eager, even impatient, to bring
John aboard, while John doesn’t yet feel safe or comfortable enough.” (The word “yet” is
important, since it conveys the appropriate expectational set.) I might proceed by
suggesting that we examine the unsafe aspects of the group, not only from John’s
perspective but from other members’ perspectives as well. Thus I shift the emphasis of the
group from wringing out disclosures to exploring the obstacles to disclosure. What
generates the fear? What are the anticipated dreaded consequences? From whom in the
group do members anticipate disapprobation?
No one should ever be punished for self-disclosure. One of the most destructive events
that can occur in a group is for members to use personal, sensitive material, which has
been trustingly disclosed in the group, against one another in times of conflict. The
therapist should intervene vigorously if this occurs; not only is it dirty fighting, but it
undermines important group norms. This vigorous intervention can take many forms. In
one way or another, the therapist must call attention to the violation of trust. Often I will
simply stop the action, interrupt the conflict, and point out that something very important
has just happened in the group. I ask the offended member for his or her feelings about the
incident, ask others for theirs, wonder whether others have had similar experiences, point
out how this will make it difficult for others to reveal themselves, and so on. Any other
work in the group is temporarily postponed. The important point is that the incident be
underscored to reinforce the norm that self-disclosure is not only important but safe. Only
after the norm has been established should we turn to examine other aspects of the
incident.

Procedural Norms
The optimal procedural format in therapy is that the group be unstructured, spontaneous,
and freely interacting. But such a format never evolves naturally: much active culture
shaping is required on the part of the therapist. There are many trends the therapist must
counter. The natural tendency of a new group is to devote an entire meeting to each of the
members in rotation. Often the first person to speak or the one who presents the most
pressing life crisis that week obtains the group floor for the meeting. Some groups have
enormous difficulty changing the focus from one member to another, because a procedural
norm has somehow evolved whereby a change of topic is considered bad form, rude, or
rejecting. Members may lapse into silence: they feel they dare not interrupt and ask for
time for themselves, yet they refuse to keep the other member supplied with questions
because they hope, silently, that he or she will soon stop talking.
These patterns hamper the development of a potent group and ultimately result in group
frustration and discouragement. I prefer to deal with these antitherapeutic norms by calling
attention to them and indicating that since the group has constructed them, it has the
power to change them.
For example, I might say, “I’ve been noticing that over the past few sessions the entire
meeting has been devoted to only one person, often the first one who speaks that day, and
also that others seem unwilling to interrupt and are, I believe, sitting silently on many
important feelings. I wonder how this practice ever got started and whether or not we want
to change it.” A comment of this nature may be liberating to the group. The therapist has
not only given voice to something that everyone knows to be true but has also raised the
possibility of other procedural options.
Some groups evolve a formal “check-in” format in which each member in turn gets the
floor to discuss important events of the previous week or certain moments of great
distress. Sometimes, especially with groups of highly dysfunctional, anxious members,
such an initial structure is necessary and facilitating but, in my experience, such a formal
structure in most groups generally encourages an inefficient, taking-turns, noninteractive,
“then-and-there” meeting. I prefer a format in which troubled members may simply
announce at the beginning, “I want some time today,” and the members and the therapist
attempt, during the natural evolution of the session, to turn to each of those members.
Specialized groups, especially those with brief life spans and more deeply troubled
members, often require different procedural norms. Compromises must be made for the
sake of efficient time management, and the leader must build in an explicit structure. I will
discuss such modifications of technique in chapter 15 but for now wish only to emphasize
the general principle that the leader must attempt to structure a group in such a way as to
build in the therapeutic norms I discuss in this chapter: support and confrontation, self-
disclosure, self-monitoring, interaction, spontaneity, the importance of the group members
as the agents of help.
The Importance of the Group to Its Members

The more important the members consider the group, the more effective it becomes. I
believe that the ideal therapeutic condition is present when clients consider their therapy
group meeting to be the most important event in their lives each week. The therapist is
well advised to reinforce this belief in any available manner. If I am forced to miss a
meeting, I inform the members well in advance and convey to them my concern about my
absence. I arrive punctually for meetings. If I have been thinking about the group between
sessions, I may share some of these thoughts with the members. Any self-disclosures I
make are made in the service of the group. Though some therapists eschew such personal
disclosure, I believe that it is important to articulate how much the group matters to you.
I reinforce members when they give testimony of the group’s usefulness or when they
indicate that they have been thinking about other members during the week. If a member
expresses regret that the group will not meet for two weeks over the Christmas holidays, I
urge them to express their feelings about their connection to the group. What does it mean
to them to cherish the group? To protest its disruption? To have a place in which to
describe their concerns openly rather than submerge their longings?
The more continuity between meetings, the better. A well-functioning group continues
to work through issues from one meeting to the next. The therapist does well to encourage
continuity. More than anyone else, the therapist is the group historian, connecting events
and fitting experiences into the temporal matrix of the group. “That sounds very much like
what John was working on two weeks ago,” or, “Ruthellen, I’ve noticed that ever since
you and Debbie had that run-in three weeks ago, you have become more depressed and
withdrawn. What are your feelings now toward Debbie?”
I rarely start a group meeting, but when I do, it is invariably in the service of providing
continuity between meetings. Thus, when it seems appropriate, I might begin a meeting:
“The last meeting was very intense! I wonder what types of feelings you took home from
the group and what those feelings are now?”
In chapter 14, I will describe the group summary, a technique that serves to increase the
sense of continuity between meetings. I write a detailed summary of the group meeting
each week (an editorialized narrative description of content and process) and mail it to the
members between sessions. One of the many important functions of the summary is that it
offers the client another weekly contact with the group and increases the likelihood that
the themes of a particular meeting will be continued in the following one.
The group increases in importance when members come to recognize it as a rich
reservoir of information and support. When members express curiosity about themselves,
I, in one way or another, attempt to convey the belief that any information members might
desire about themselves is available in the group room, provided they learn how to tap it.
Thus, when Ken wonders whether he is too dominant and threatening to others, my reflex
is to reply, in effect, “Ken, there are many people who know you very well in this room.
Why not ask them?”
Events that strengthen bonds between members enhance the potency of the group. It
bodes well when group members go out for coffee after a meeting, hold long discussions
in the parking lot, or phone one another during the week in times of crisis. (Such

extragroup contact is not without potential adverse effects, as I shall discuss in detail in
chapter 11.)
Members as Agents of Help
The group functions best if its members appreciate the valuable help they can provide one
another. If the group continues to regard the therapist as the sole source of aid, then it is
most unlikely that the group will achieve an optimal level of autonomy and self-respect.
To reinforce this norm, the therapist may call attention to incidents demonstrating the
mutual helpfulness of members. The therapist may also teach members more effective
methods of assisting one another. For example, after a client has been working with the
group on some issue for a long portion of a meeting, the therapist may comment, “Reid,
could you think back over the last forty-five minutes? Which comments have been the
most helpful to you and which the least?” Or, “Victor, I can see you’ve been wanting to
talk about that for a long time in the group and until today you’ve been unable to.
Somehow Eve helped you to open up. What did she do? And what did Ben do today that
seemed to close you down rather than open you up?” Behavior undermining the norm of
mutual helpfulness should not be permitted to go unnoticed. If, for example, one member
challenges another concerning his treatment of a third member, stating, “Fred, what right
do you have to talk to Peter about that? You’re a hell of a lot worse off than he is in that
regard,” I might intervene by commenting, “Phil, I think you’ve got some negative
feelings about Fred today, perhaps coming from another source. Maybe we should get into
them. I can’t, however, agree with you when you say that because Fred is similar to Peter,
he can’t be helpful. In fact, quite the contrary has been true here in the group.”
Support and Confrontation
As I emphasized in my discussion of cohesiveness, it is essential that the members
perceive their therapy group as safe and supportive. Ultimately, in the course of therapy,
many uncomfortable issues must be broached and explored. Many clients have problems
with rage or are arrogant or condescending or insensitive or just plain cantankerous. The
therapy group cannot offer help without such traits emerging during the members’
interactions. In fact, their emergence is to be welcomed as a therapeutic opportunity.
Ultimately, conflict must occur in the therapy group, and, as I will discuss in chapter 12, it
is essential for the work of therapy. At the same time, however, too much conflict early in
the course of a group can cripple its development. Before members feel free enough to
express disagreement, they must feel safe enough and must value the group highly enough
to be willing to tolerate uncomfortable meetings.
Thus, the therapist must build a group with norms that permit conflict but only after
firm foundations of safety and support have been established. It is often necessary to
intervene to prevent the proliferation of too much conflict too early in the group, as the
following incident illustrates.

• In a new therapy group, there were two particularly hostile members, and by the
third meeting there was considerable open carping, sarcasm, and conflict. The
fourth meeting was opened by Estelle (one of these two members), emphasizing
how unhelpful the group had been to her thus far. Estelle had a way of turning
every positive comment made to her into a negative, combative one. She
complained, for example, that she could not express herself well and that there
were many things she wanted to say but she was so inarticulate she couldn’t get
them across.
When another member of the group disagreed and stated that she found Estelle to
be extremely articulate, Estelle challenged the other member for doubting her
judgment about herself. Later in the group, she complimented another member by
stating, “Ilene, you’re the only one here who’s ever asked me an intelligent
question.” Obviously, Ilene was made quite uncomfortable by this hexed
compliment.
At this point I felt it was imperative to challenge the norms of hostility and
criticism that had developed in the group, and intervened forcefully. I asked
Estelle: “What are your guesses about how your statement to Ilene makes others in
the group feel?”
Estelle hemmed and hawed but finally offered that they might possibly feel
insulted. I suggested that she check that out with the other members of the group.
She did so and learned that her assumption was correct. Not only did every
member of the group feel insulted, but Ilene also felt irritated and put off by the
statement. I then inquired, “Estelle, it looks as though you’re correct. You did
insult the group. Also it seems that you knew that this was likely to occur. But
what’s puzzling is the payoff for you. What do you get out of it?”
Estelle suggested two possibilities. First she said, “I’d rather be rejected for
insulting people than for being nice to them.” That seemed a piece of twisted logic
but nonetheless comprehensible. Her second statement was: “At least this way I
get to be the center of attention.” “Like now?” I asked. She nodded. “How does it
feel right now?” I wondered. Estelle said, “It feels good.” “How about the rest of
your life?” I asked. She responded ingenuously, “It’s lonely. In fact, this is it. This
hour and a half is the people in my life.” I ventured, “Then this group is a really
important place for you?” Estelle nodded. I commented, “Estelle, you’ve always
stated that one of the reasons you’re critical of others in the group is that there’s
nothing more important than total honesty. If you want to be absolutely honest with
us, however, I think you’ve got to tell us also how important we are to you and how
much you like being here. That you never do, and I wonder if you can begin to
investigate why it is so painful or dangerous for you to show others here how
important they are to you.”
By this time Estelle had become much more conciliatory and I was able to
obtain more leverage by enlisting her agreement that her hostility and insults did
constitute a problem for her and that it would help her if we called her on it—that

is, if we instantaneously labeled any insulting behavior on her part. It is always
helpful to obtain this type of contract from a member: in future meetings, the
therapist can confront members with some particular aspect of their behavior that
they have asked to be called to their attention. Since they experience themselves as
allies in this spotting and confrontative process, they are far less likely to feel
defensive about the intervention.
Many of these examples of therapist behavior may seem deliberate, pedantic, even
pontifical. They are not the nonjudgmental, nondirective, mirroring, or clarifying
comments typical of a therapist’s behavior in other aspects of the therapeutic process. It is
vital, however, that the therapist attend deliberately to the tasks of group creation and
culture building. These tasks underlie and, to a great extent, precede much of the other
work of the therapist.
It is time now to turn to the third basic task of the therapist: the activation and
illumination of the here-and-now.

Chapter 6
THE THERAPIST: WORKING IN THE HERE – AND – NOW
The major difference between a psychotherapy group that hopes to effect extensive and
enduring behavioral and characterological change and such groups as AA,
psychoeducational groups, cognitive-behavioral groups, and cancer support groups is that
the psychotherapy group strongly emphasizes the importance of the here-and-now
experience. Yet all group therapies, including highly structured groups, benefit from the
group therapist’s capacity to recognize and understand the here-and-now. Therapists who
are aware of the nuances of the relationships between all the members of the group are
more adept at working on the group task even when deeper group and interpersonal
exploration or interpretation is not the therapy focus.1
In chapter 2, I presented some of the theoretical underpinnings of the use of the here-
and-now. Now it is time to focus on the clinical application of the here-and-now in group
therapy. First, keep in mind this important principle—perhaps the single most important
point I make in this entire book: the here-and-now focus, to be effective, consists of two
symbiotic tiers, neither of which has therapeutic power without the other.
The first tier is an experiencing one: the members live in the here-and-now; they
develop strong feelings toward the other group members, the therapist, and the group.
These here-and-now feelings become the major discourse of the group. The thrust is
ahistorical: the immediate events of the meeting take precedence over events both in the
current outside life and in the distant past of the members. This focus greatly facilitates
the development and emergence of each member’s social microcosm. It facilitates
feedback, catharsis, meaningful self-disclosure, and acquisition of socializing techniques.
The group becomes more vital, and all of the members (not only the ones directly working
in that session) become intensely involved in the meeting.
But the here-and-now focus rapidly reaches the limits of its usefulness without the
second tier, which is the illumination of process. If the powerful therapeutic factor of
interpersonal learning is to be set in motion, the group must recognize, examine, and
understand process. It must examine itself; it must study its own transactions; it must
transcend pure experience and apply itself to the integration of that experience.
Thus, the effective use of the here-and-now requires two steps: the group lives in the
here-and-now, and it also doubles back on itself; it performs a self-reflective loop and
examines the here-and-now behavior that has just occurred.
If the group is to be effective, both aspects of the here-and-now are essential. If only the
first—the experiencing of the here-and-now—is present, the group experience will still be
intense, members will feel deeply involved, emotional expression may be high, and
members will finish the group agreeing, “Wow, that was a powerful experience!” Yet it
will also prove to be an evanescent experience: members will have no cognitive
framework that will permit them to retain the group experience, to generalize from it, to

identify and alter their interpersonal behavior, and to transfer their learning from the group
to situations back home. This is precisely the error made by many encounter group leaders
of earlier decades.
If, on the other hand, only the second part of the here-and-now—the examination of
process—is present, then the group loses its liveliness and meaningfulness. It degenerates
into a sterile intellectual exercise. This is the error made by overly formal, aloof, rigid
therapists.
Accordingly, the therapist has two discrete functions in the here-and-now: to steer the
group into the here-and-now and to facilitate the self-reflective loop (or process
commentary). Much of the here-and-now steering function can be shared by the group
members, but for reasons I will discuss later, process commentary remains to a large
extent the task of the therapist.
The majority of group therapists understand that their emphasis must be on the here-
and-now. A large survey of seasoned group therapists underscored activation of the here-
and-now as a core skill of the contemporary group therapist.2 A smaller but careful study
codified group therapists’ interpretations and found that over 60 percent of interpretations
focused on the here-and-now (either behavioral patterns or impact of behavior), while
approximately 20 percent focused on historical causes and 20 percent on motivation.3
DEFINITION OF PROCESS
The term process, used liberally throughout this text, has a highly specialized meaning in
many fields, including law, anatomy, sociology, anthropology, psychoanalysis, and
descriptive psychiatry. In interactional psychotherapy, too, process has a specific technical
meaning: it refers to the nature of the relationship between interacting individuals—
members and therapists. Moreover, as we shall see, a full understanding of process must
take into account a large number of factors, including the internal psychological worlds of
each member, interpersonal interactions, group-as-a-whole forces, and the clinical
environment of the group.†4
It is useful to contrast process with content. Imagine two individuals in a discussion.
The content of that discussion consists of the explicit words spoken, the substantive issues,
the arguments advanced. The process is an altogether different matter. When we ask about
process, we ask, “What do these explicit words, the style of the participants, the nature of
the discussion, tell about the interpersonal relationship of the participants?”
Therapists who are process-oriented are concerned not primarily with the verbal content
of a client’s utterance, but with the “how” and the “why” of that utterance, especially
insofar as the how and the why illuminate aspects of the client’s relationship to other
people. Thus, therapists focus on the metacommunicationall aspects of the message and
wonder why, from the relationship aspect, an individual makes a statement at a certain

time in a certain manner to a certain person. Some of the message’s impact is conveyed
verbally and directly; some of the message is expressed paraverbally (by nuance,
inflection, pitch, and tone); and some of the message is expressed behaviorally.†
Identifying the connection between the communication’s actual impact and the
communicator’s intent is at the heart of the therapy process.
Consider, for example, this transaction: During a lecture, a student raised her hand and
asked what year did Freud die? The lecturer replied, “1938,” only to have the student
inquire, “But, sir, wasn’t it 1939?” Since the student asked a question whose answer she
already knew, her motivation was obviously not a quest for information. (A question isn’t
a question if you know the answer.) The process of this transaction? Most likely that the
student wished to demonstrate her knowledge or wished to humiliate or defeat the
lecturer!
Frequently, the understanding of process in a group is more complex than in a two-
person interaction; we must search for the process not only behind a simple statement but
behind a sequence of statements made by several members. The group therapist must
endeavor to understand what a particular sequence reveals about the relationship between
one client and the other group members, or between clusters or cliques of members, or
between the members and the leader, or, finally, between the group as a whole and its
primary task.†
Some clinical vignettes may further clarify the concept.
• Early in the course of a group therapy meeting, Burt, a tenacious, intense,
bulldog-faced graduate student, exclaimed to the group in general and to Rose (an
unsophisticated, astrologically inclined cosmetologist and mother of four) in
particular, “Parenthood is degrading!” This provocative statement elicited
considerable response from the group members, all of whom had parents and many
of whom were parents. The free-for-all that followed consumed the remainder of
the group session.
Burt’s statement can be viewed strictly in terms of content. In fact, this is precisely what
occurred in the group; the members engaged Burt in a debate over the virtues versus the
dehumanizing aspects of parenthood—a discussion that was affect-laden but
intellectualized and brought none of the members closer to their goals in therapy.
Subsequently, the group felt discouraged about the meeting and angry with themselves and
with Burt for having dissipated a meeting.
On the other hand, the therapist might have considered the process of Burt’s statement
from any one of a number of perspectives:
1. Why did Burt attack Rose? What was the interpersonal process between them? In
fact, the two had had a smoldering conflict for many weeks, and in the previous
meeting Rose had wondered why, if Burt was so brilliant, he was still, at the age of
thirty-two, a student. Burt had viewed Rose as an inferior being who functioned
primarily as a mammary gland; once when she was absent, he referred to her as a
brood mare.

2. Why was Burt so judgmental and intolerant of nonintellectuals? Why did he
always have to maintain his self-esteem by standing on the carcass of a vanquished
or humiliated adversary?
3. Assuming that Burt’s chief intent was to attack Rose, why did he proceed so
indirectly? Is this characteristic of Burt’s expression of aggression? Or is it
characteristic of Rose that no one dares, for some unclear reason, to attack her
directly?
4. Why did Burt, through an obviously provocative and indefensible statement, set
himself up for a universal attack by the group? Although the lyrics were different,
this was a familiar melody for the group and for Burt, who had on many previous
occasions placed himself in this position. Why? Was it possible that Burt was most
comfortable when relating to others in this fashion? He once stated that he had
always loved a fight; indeed, he glowed with anticipation at the appearance of a
quarrel in the group. His early family environment was distinctively a fighting one.
Was fighting, then, a form (perhaps the only available form) of involvement for
Burt?
5. The process may be considered from the even broader perspective of the entire
group. Other relevant events in the life of the group must be considered. For the
past two months, the session had been dominated by Kate, a deviant, disruptive,
and partially deaf member who had, two weeks earlier, dropped out of the group
with the face-saving proviso that she would return when she obtained a hearing
aid. Was it possible that the group needed a Kate, and that Burt was merely filling
the required role of scapegoat?
Through its continual climate of conflict, through its willingness to spend an entire
session discussing in nonpersonal terms a single theme, was the group avoiding something
—possibly an honest discussion of members’ feelings about Kate’s rejection by the group
or their guilt or fear of a similar fate? Or were they perhaps avoiding the anticipated perils
of self-disclosure and intimacy? Was the group saying something to the therapist through
Burt (and through Kate)? For example, Burt may have been bearing the brunt of an attack
really aimed at the co-therapists but displaced from them. The therapists—aloof figures
with a proclivity for rabbinical pronouncements—had never been attacked or confronted
by the group. Their cotherapy relationship had also escaped any comment to date. Surely
there were strong, avoided feelings toward the therapists, which may have been further
fanned by their failure to support Kate and by their complicity through inactivity in her
departure from the group.
Which one of these many process observations is correct? Which one could the
therapists have employed as an effective intervention? The answer is, of course, that any
and all may be correct. They are not mutually exclusive; each views the transaction from a
slightly different vantage point. What is critical, however, is that the focus on process
begins with the therapist’s reflection on the host of factors that may underlie an
interaction. By clarifying each of these in turn, the therapist could have focused the group
on many different aspects of its life. Which one, then, should the therapist have chosen?

The therapist’s choice should be based on one primary consideration: the immediate
needs of the group. Where was the group at that particular time? The therapist had many
options. If he felt there had been too much focus on Burt of late, leaving the other
members feeling bored, uninvolved, and excluded, then he might have wondered aloud
what the group was avoiding. The therapist might have then reminded the group of
previous sessions spent in similar discussions that left them dissatisfied, or might have
helped one of the members verbalize this point by inquiring about the members’ inactivity
or apparent uninvolvement in the discussion. If he felt that the indirectness of the group
communication was a major issue he might have commented on the indirectness of Burt’s
attacks or asked the group to help clarify, via feedback, what was happening between Burt
and Rose. If he felt that an exceptionally important group event (Kate’s departure) was
being strongly avoided, then he might have focused on that event and the conspiracy of
silence around it.
In short, the therapist must determine what he or she thinks the group and its members
need most at a particular time and help it move in that direction.
• In another group, Saul sought therapy because of his deep sense of isolation. He
was particularly interested in a group therapeutic experience because he had
never before been a part of a primary group. Even in his primary family, he had
felt himself an outsider. He had been a spectator all his life, pressing his nose
against cold windowpanes, gazing longingly at warm, convivial groups within.
At Saul’s fourth therapy meeting, another member, Barbara, began the meeting
by announcing that she had just broken up with a man who had been very
important to her. Barbara’s major reason for being in therapy had been her
inability to sustain a relationship with a man, and she was profoundly distressed in
the meeting. Barbara had an extremely poignant way of describing her pain, and
the group was swept along with her feelings. Everyone in the group was very
moved; I noted silently that Saul, too, had tears in his eyes.
The group members (with the exception of Saul) did everything in their power to
offer Barbara support. They passed Kleenex; they reminded her of all her good
qualities and assets; they reassured her that she had made a wrong choice, that the
man was not good enough for her, that she was “lucky to be rid of that jerk.”
Suddenly Saul interjected, “I don’t like what’s going on here in the group today,
and I don’t like the way it’s being led” (a thinly veiled allusion to me, I thought).
He went on to explain that the group members had no justification for their
criticism of Barbara’s ex-boyfriend. They didn’t really know what he was like. They
could see him only through Barbara’s eyes, and probably she was presenting him
in a distorted way. (Saul had a personal ax to grind on this matter, having gone
through a divorce a couple of years earlier. His wife had attended a women’s
support group, and he had been the “jerk” of that group.)
Saul’s comments, of course, changed the entire tone of the meeting. The softness
and support disappeared. The room felt cold; the warm bond among the members
was broken. Everyone was on edge. I felt justifiably reprimanded. Saul’s position

was technically correct: the group was wrong to condemn Barbara’s ex-boyfriend
in such a sweeping and uncritical manner.
So much for the content. Now let’s examine the process of this interaction. First,
note that Saul’s comment had the effect of putting him outside the group. The rest
of the group was caught up in a warm, supportive atmosphere from which he
excluded himself. Recall his chief complaint that he was never a member of a
group, but always the outsider. The meeting provided an in vivo demonstration of
how that came to pass. In his fourth group meeting, Saul had, kamikaze-style,
attacked and voluntarily ejected himself from a group he wished to join.
A second issue had to do not with what Saul said but what he did not say. In the
early part of the meeting, everyone except Saul had made warm, supportive
statements to Barbara. I had no doubt that Saul felt supportive of her; the tears in
his eyes indicated that. Why had he chosen to be silent? Why did he always choose
to respond from his critical self and not from his warmer, more supportive self?
The examination of this aspect of the process led to some very important issues
for Saul. Obviously it was difficult for him to express the softer, affectionate part of
himself. He feared being vulnerable and exposing his dependent cravings. He
feared losing himself and his own uniqueness by getting too close to another and
by becoming a member of a group. Behind the aggressive, ever-vigilant, hard-
nosed defender of honesty (but a selective honesty: honesty of expression of
negative but not positive sentiments), there is often the softer, submissive child
thirsting for acceptance and love.

• In a T-group (an experiential training group) of clinical psychology interns, one
of the members, Robert, commented that he genuinely missed the contributions of
some of the members who had been generally very silent. He turned to two of these
members and asked if there was anything he or others could do that would help
them participate more. The two members and the rest of the group responded by
launching a withering attack on Robert. He was reminded that his own
contributions had not been substantial, that he was often silent for entire meetings
himself, that he had never really expressed his emotions in the group, and so forth.
Viewed at the content level, this transaction is bewildering: Robert expressed
genuine concern for the silent members and, for his solicitude, was soundly
buffeted. Viewed at the process—that is, relationship—level, however, it makes
perfectly good sense: the group members were much involved in a struggle for
dominance, and their inner response to Robert’s statement was, “Who are you to
issue an invitation to speak? Are you the host or leader here? If we allow you to
comment on our silence and suggest solutions, then we acknowledge your
dominion over us.”

• In another group, Kevin, an overbearing business executive, opened the meeting

by asking the other members—housewives, teachers, clerical workers, and
shopkeepers—for help with a problem: he had received “downsizing” orders. He
had to cut his staff immediately by 50 percent—to fire twenty of his staff of forty.
The content of the problem was intriguing, and the group spent forty-five
minutes discussing such aspects as justice versus mercy: that is, whether one
retains the most competent workers or workers with the largest families or those
who would have the greatest difficulty in finding other jobs. Despite the fact that
most of the members engaged animatedly in the discussion, which involved
important problems in human relations, the co-therapists regarded the session as
unproductive: it was impersonal, the members remained in safe territory, and the
discussion could have appropriately occurred at a dinner party or any other social
gathering. Furthermore, as time passed, it became abundantly clear that Kevin
had already spent considerable time thinking through all aspects of this problem,
and no one was able to provide him with novel approaches or suggestions. The
session was not truly a work session: instead it was a flight-from-work session.
Such a dedicated focus on content is inevitably frustrating for the group, and the
therapists began to wonder about process—that is, what this content revealed
about the nature of Kevin’s relationship to the other members. As the meeting
progressed, Kevin, on two occasions, let slip the amount of his salary (which was
more than double that of any other member). In fact, the overall interpersonal
effect of Kevin’s presentation was to make others aware of his affluence and power.
The process became even more clear when the therapists recalled the previous
meetings in which Kevin had attempted, in vain, to establish a special kind of
relationship with one of the therapists (he had sought some technical information
on psychological testing for personnel). Furthermore, in the preceding meeting,
Kevin had been soundly attacked by the group for his fundamentalist religious
convictions, which he used to criticize others’ behavior but not his own propensity
for extramarital affairs and compulsive lying. At that meeting, he had also been
termed “thick-skinned” because of his apparent insensitivity to others. However,
despite the criticism he had received, Kevin was a dominant member: he was the
most active and central figure in almost every meeting.
With this information about process, let’s examine the alternatives available to
consider. The therapists might have focused on Kevin’s bid for prestige, especially
after the attack on him and his loss of face in the previous meeting. Phrased in a
nonaccusatory manner, a clarification of this sequence might have helped Kevin
become aware of his desperate need for the group members to respect and admire
him. At the same time, the self-defeating aspects of his behavior could have been
pointed out. Despite his yearning for respect, the group had come to resent and at
times even to scorn him. Perhaps, too, Kevin was attempting to repudiate the
charge of being thick-skinned by sharing with the group in melodramatic fashion
the personal agony he experienced in deciding how to cut his staff.
The style of the therapists’ intervention would depend on Kevin’s degree of

defensiveness: if he had seemed particularly brittle or prickly, then the therapists
might have underscored how hurt he must have been at the previous meeting. If he
had been more open, they might have asked him directly what type of response he
would have liked from the others.
Other therapists might have preferred to interrupt the content discussion and
simply ask the group what Kevin’s question had to do with last week’s session. Still
another alternative would be to call attention to an entirely different type of
process by reflecting on the group’s apparent willingness to permit Kevin to occupy
center stage in the group week after week. By encouraging the members to discuss
their response to his monopolization, the therapist could have helped the group
initiate an exploration of their relationship with Kevin.
Keep in mind that therapists need not wait until they have all the answers before asking
a process question. Therapists may begin the process inquiry by simply asking the
members: “How are each of you experiencing the meeting so far?” Or they may use
slightly more inference: “You look like you are having some reaction to this.” At other
times, the therapist’s level of inference may be raised and interventions may be more
precise and interpretive: “Kevin, I have a sense that you yearn for respect here in the
group, and I wonder if the comment last week about you being ‘thick-skinned’ isn’t in
some way related to your bringing in this work dilemma.”
PROCESS FOCUS: THE POWER SOURCE OF THE
GROUP
The focus on process—on the here-and-now—is not just one of many possible procedural
orientations; on the contrary, it is indispensable and a common denominator of all
effective interactional groups. One so often hears words to this effect: “No matter what
else may be said about experiential groups (therapy groups, encounter groups, and so on),
one cannot deny that they are potent—that they offer a compelling experience for
participants.” Why are these groups potent? Precisely because they encourage process
exploration. The process focus is the power cell of the group.
A process focus is the one truly unique feature of the experiential group; after all, there
are many socially sanctioned activities in which one can express emotions, help others,
give and receive advice, confess and discover similarities between oneself and others. But
where else is it permissible, in fact encouraged, to comment, in depth, on here-and-now
behavior, on the nature of the immediately current relationship between people? Possibly
only in the parent–young child relationship, and even then the flow is unidirectional. The
parent, but not the child, is permitted process comments: “Don’t look away when I talk to
you!” “Be quiet when someone else is speaking.” “Stop saying, ‘I dunno.’”
Consider the cocktail party. Imagine confronting the narcissistic self-absorbed
individual who looks through or over you while talking to you, searching for someone

more attractive or appealing. In place of an authentic encounter, we are most likely to
comment, “Good talking with you …” or “I need to refill my drink …” The cocktail party
is not the place for process. Responding authentically and in a process-oriented fashion
would very likely thin out one’s party invitations.
Process commentary among adults is taboo social behavior; it is considered rude or
impertinent. Positive comments about another’s immediate behavior often denote a
seductive or flirtatious relationship. When an individual comments negatively about
another’s manners, gestures, speech, or physical appearance, we can be certain that the
battle is bitter and the possibility of conciliation chancy.
Why should this be so? What are the sources of this taboo? Miles, in a thoughtful
essay,5 suggests the following reasons that process commentary is eschewed in social
intercourse: socialization anxiety, social norms, fear of retaliation, and power
maintenance.
Socialization Anxiety
Process commentary evokes early memories and anxieties associated with parental
criticism of the child’s behavior. Parents comment on the behavior of children. Although
some of this process focus is positive, much more is critical and serves to control and alter
the child’s behavior. Adult process commentary often awakens old socialization-based
anxiety and is experienced as critical and controlling.
Social Norms
If individuals felt free to comment at all times on the behavior of others, social life would
become intolerably self-conscious, complex, and conflicted. Underlying adult interaction
is an implicit contract that a great deal of immediate behavior will be invisible to the
parties involved. Each party acts in the safety of the knowledge that one’s behavior is not
being noticed (or controlled) by the others; this safety provides an autonomy and a
freedom that would be impossible if each continuously dwelled on the fact that others
observe one’s behavior and are free to comment on it.
Fear of Retaliation
We cannot monitor or stare at another person too closely, because (unless the relationship
is exceedingly intimate) such intrusiveness is almost always dangerous and anxiety-
provoking and evokes retribution. There exist no forums, aside from such intentional
systems as therapy groups, for interacting individuals to test and to correct their
observations of one another.

Power Maintenance
Process commentary undermines arbitrary authority structure. Industrial organizational
development consultants have long known that an organization’s open investigation of its
own structure and process leads to power equalization—that is, a flattening of the
hierarchical pyramid. Generally, individuals high on the pyramid not only are more
technically informed but also possess organizational information that permits them to
influence and manipulate: that is, they not only have skills that have allowed them to
obtain a position of power but, once there, have such a central place in the flow of
information that they are able to reinforce their position. The more rigid the authority
structure of an organization, the more stringent are the precautions against open
commentary about process (as in, for example, the military or the church). The individual
who wishes to maintain a position of arbitrary authority is wise to inhibit the development
of any rules permitting reciprocal process observation and commentary.
In psychotherapy, process commentary involves a great degree of therapist
transparency, exposure, and even intimacy; hence many therapists resist this approach
because of their own uneasiness or anxiety. Moving into process means moving into
recognition that relationships are jointly created by both participants and has a mutual
impact.
THE THERAPIST’S TASKS IN THE HERE-AND-NOW
In the first stage of the here-and-now focus—the activating phase—the therapist’s task is
to move the group into the here-and-now. By a variety of techniques, many of which I will
discuss shortly, group leaders steer the group members away from outside material to
focus instead on their relationship with one another. Group therapists expend more time
and effort on this task early than late in the course of the group, because as the group
progresses, the members begin to share much of this task, and the here-and-now focus
often becomes an effortless and natural part of the group flow. In fact, many of the norms
described in the last chapter, which the therapist must establish in the group, foster a here-
and-now focus. For example, the leader who sets norms of interpersonal confrontation, of
emotional expressivity, of self-monitoring, of valuing the group as an important source of
information, is, in effect, reinforcing the importance of the here-and-now. Gradually
members, too, come to value the here-and-now and will themselves focus on it and, by a
variety of means, encourage their fellow members to do likewise.
It is altogether another matter with the second phase of the here-and-now orientation,
process illumination. Forces prevent members from fully sharing that task with the
therapist. Recall the T-group vignette presented earlier in which Robert commented on
process and thereby set himself apart from the other members and was viewed with
suspicion, as “not one of us.” When a group member makes observations about what is
happening in the group, the others often respond resentfully about the presumptuousness

of elevating himself or herself above the others.
If a member comments, for example, that “nothing is happening today,” or that “the
group is stuck,” or that “no one is self-revealing,” or that “there seem to be strong feelings
toward the therapist,” then that member is courting danger. The response of the other
members is predictable. They will challenge the challenging member: “You make
something happen today,” or “You reveal yourself,” or “You talk about your feelings
toward the therapist.” Only the therapist is relatively exempt from that charge. Only the
therapist has the right to suggest that others work or that others reveal themselves without
having to engage personally in the act he or she suggests.
Throughout the life of the group, the members are involved in a struggle for position in
the hierarchy of dominance. At times, the conflict around control and dominance is
flagrant; at other times, quiescent. But it never vanishes and should be explored in therapy
both because it is a rich source of material and also to prevent it from hardening into a
source of continuing, fractious conflict.
Some members strive nakedly for power; others strive subtly; others desire it but are
fearful of assertion; others always assume an obsequious, submissive posture. Statements
by members that suggest that they place themselves above or outside the group generally
evoke responses that emerge from the dominance struggle rather than from consideration
of the content of the statement. Even therapists are not entirely immune from evoking this
response; some clients are inordinately sensitive to being controlled or manipulated by the
therapist. They find themselves in the paradoxical position of applying to the therapist for
help and yet are unable to accept help because all statements by the therapist are viewed
through spectacles of distrust. This is a function of the specific pathology of some clients
(and it is, of course, good grist for the therapeutic mill). It is not a universal response of
the entire group.
The therapist is an observer-participant in the group. The observer status affords the
objectivity necessary to store information, to make observations about sequences or
cyclical patterns of behavior, to connect events that have occurred over long periods of
time. Therapists act as group historians. Only they are permitted to maintain a temporal
perspective; only they remain immune from the charge of not being one of the group, of
elevating themselves above the others. It is also only the therapists who keep in mind the
original goals of the group members and the relationship between these goals and the
events that gradually unfold in the group. The group therapist is the principal standard
bearer of the group culture, supporting and sustaining the group and pushing it forward in
its work.†6
• Two group members, Tim and Marjorie, had a sexual affair that eventually came
to light in the group. The other members reacted in various ways but none so
condemnatory nor so vehemently as Diana, a forty-five-year-old nouveau-moralist,
who criticized them both for breaking group rules: Tim, for “being too intelligent
to act like such a fool,” Marjorie for her “irresponsible disregard for her husband
and child,” and the Lucifer therapist (me) who “just sat there and let it happen.” I
eventually pointed out that, in her formidable moralistic broadside, some

individuals had been obliterated, that the Marjorie and Tim, with all their
struggles and doubts and fears, whom Diana had known for so long had suddenly
been replaced by faceless one-dimensional stereotypes. Furthermore, I was the
only one to recall, and to remind the group, of the reasons (expressed at the first
group meeting) why Diana had sought therapy: namely, that she needed help in
dealing with her rage toward a nineteen-year-old, rebellious, sexually awakening
daughter who was in the midst of a search for her identity and autonomy! From
there it was but a short step for the group, and then for Diana herself, to
understand that her conflict with her daughter was being played out in the here-
and-now of the group.
There are many occasions when the process is obvious to all the members in the group
but cannot be commented upon simply because the situation is too hot: the members are
too much a part of the interaction to separate themselves from it. In fact, often, even at a
distance, the therapist, too, feels the heat and is wary about naming the beast. Sometimes
an inexperienced therapist may naively determine it best that some group member address
an issue in the group that the leader himself feels too anxious to address. That is usually an
error: the therapist has a greater ability to speak the unspeakable and to find palatable
ways to say unpalatable things. Language is to the therapist what the scalpel is to the
surgeon.
• One neophyte therapist leading an experiential group of pediatric oncology
nurses (a support group intended to help members decrease the stress experienced
in their work) learned through collusive glances between members in the first
meeting that there was considerable unspoken tension between the young,
progressive nurses and the older, conservative nursing supervisors in the group.
The therapist felt that the issue, reaching deep into taboo regions of authority and
tradition, was too sensitive and potentially explosive to touch. His supervisor
assured him that it was too important an issue to leave unexplored and that he
should broach it, since it was highly unlikely that anyone else in the group could
do what he dared not.
In the next meeting, the therapist broached the issue in a manner that is almost
invariably effective in minimizing defensiveness: he described his own dilemma
about the issue. He told the group that he sensed a hierarchical struggle between
the junior nurses and the powerful senior nurses but that he was hesitant to bring
it up lest the younger nurses either deny it or attack the supervisors, who might be
so wounded that they would decide to scuttle the group. His comment was
enormously helpful and plunged the group into an open and constructive
exploration of a vital issue.
Articulating the dilemma in a balanced, nonblaming fashion is often the most effective
way to reduce the tension that obstructs the group’s work. Group leaders need not have a
complete answer to the dilemma—but they do need to be able to identify and speak to it.†
I do not mean that only the leader should make process comments. As I shall discuss
later, other members are entirely capable of performing this function; in fact, there are

times when their process observations will be more readily accepted than those of the
therapists.
A greater ability to recognize process in interactions, perhaps a form of emotional
intelligence, is an important outcome of group therapy that will serve members well in
life.† (Often, students observing a mature group at work are amazed by group members’
high level of psychological-mindedness.) Hence, it is a good thing for members to learn to
identify and comment on process. But it is important that they not assume this function for
defensive reasons—for example, to avoid the client role or in any other way to remove
themselves from the group work.
Thus far in this discussion I have, for pedagogical reasons, overstated two fundamental
points that I must now qualify. Those points are: (1) the here-and-now approach is an
ahistorical one, and (2) there is a sharp distinction between here-and-now experience and
here-and-now process illumination.
Strictly speaking, an ahistorical approach is an impossibility: every process comment
refers to an act that already belongs to the past. (Sartre once said, “Introspection is
retrospection.”) Not only does process commentary involve behavior that has just
transpired, but it frequently refers to cycles of behavior or repetitive acts that have
occurred in the group over weeks or months. Thus, the past events of the therapy group
are a part of the here-and-now and an integral part of the data on which process
commentary is based.
Often it is helpful to ask clients to review their past experiences in the group. If a
member feels that she is exploited every time she trusts someone or reveals herself, I often
inquire about her history of experiencing that feeling in this group. Other clients,
depending upon the relevant issues, may be encouraged to discuss such experiences as the
times they have felt most close to others, most angry, most accepted, or most ignored.
My qualification of the ahistorical approach goes even further. As I will discuss later in
a separate section, no group can maintain a total here-and-now approach. There will be
frequent excursions into the “then-and-there”—that is, into personal history and into
current life situations. In fact, such excursions are so inevitable that one becomes curious
when they do not occur. It is not that the group doesn’t deal with the past; it is what is
done with the past: the crucial task is not to uncover, to piece together, to fully understand
the past, but to use the past for the help it offers in understanding (and changing) the
individual’s mode of relating to the others in the present.
The distinction between here-and-now experience and here-and-now process
commentary is not sharp: there is much overlap. For example, low-inference commentary
(feedback) is both experience and commentary. When one member remarks that another
refuses to look at her or that she is furious at another for continually deprecating her, she is
at the same time commenting on process and involving herself in the affective here-and-
now experience of the group. Process commentary, like nascent oxygen, exists for only a
short time; it rapidly becomes incorporated into the experiential flow of the group and
becomes part of the data from which future process comments will flow.

For example, in a experiential group of mental health trainees (a group experience that
was part of their group therapy training curriculum—see chapter 17), one member, John,
began the session with an account of some extreme feelings of depression and
depersonalization. Instead of exploring the member’s dysphoria, the group immediately
began offering him practical advice about his life situation. The leader commented on the
process—on the fact that the group veered away from inquiring more about John’s
experience. The leader’s intervention seemed useful: the group members became more
emotionally engaged, and several discussed their admiration of John’s risk-taking and
their own fear of self-revelation.
Soon afterward, however, a couple of counterdependent members objected to the
leader’s intervention. They felt that the leader was dissatisfied with their performance in
the group, that he was criticizing them, and, in his usual subtle manner, was manipulating
the group to fit in with his preconceived notions of the proper conduct of a meeting. Other
members took issue with the tendency of some members to challenge every move of the
therapist. Thus, the leader’s process comments became part of the experiential ebb and
flow of the group. Even the members’ criticism of the leader (which was at first process
commentary) soon also became part of the group experience and, itself, subject to process
commentary.
Summary
The effective use of the here-and-now focus requires two steps: experience in here-and-
now and process illumination. The combination of these two steps imbues an experiential
group with compelling potency.
The therapist has different tasks in each step. First the group must be plunged into the
here-and-now experience; second, the group must be helped to understand the process of
the here-and-now experience: that is, what the interaction conveys about the nature of the
members’ relationships with one another.
The first step, here-and-now activation, becomes part of the group norm structure;
ultimately the group members will assist the therapist in this task. The second step,
process illumination, is more difficult. There are powerful injunctions against process
commentary in everyday social intercourse that the therapist must overcome. The task of
process commentary, to a large extent (but not exclusively), remains the responsibility of
the therapist and consists, as I will discuss shortly, of a wide and complex range of
behavior—from labeling single behavioral acts, to juxtaposing several acts, to combining
acts over time into a pattern of behavior, to pointing out the undesirable consequences of
a client’s behavioral patterns, to identifying here-and-now behaviors that are analogues to
the members’ behavior in the world at large, to more complex inferential explanations or
interpretations about the meaning and motivation of such behavior.

TECHNIQUES OF HERE-AND-NOW ACTIVATION
In this section I wish to describe (but not prescribe) some techniques: each therapist must
develop techniques consonant with his or her personal style. Indeed, therapists have a
more important task than mastering a technique: they must fully comprehend the strategy
and theoretical foundations upon which all effective technique must rest.
First step: I suggest that you think here-and-now. When you grow accustomed to
thinking of the here-and-now, you automatically steer the group into the here-and-now.
Sometimes I feel like a shepherd herding a flock into an ever-tightening circle. I head off
errant strays—forays into personal historical material, discussions of current life
situations, intellectualisms—and guide them back into the circle. Whenever an issue is
raised in the group, I think, “How can I relate this to the group’s primary task? How can I
make it come to life in the here-and-now?” I am relentless in this effort, and I begin it in
the very first meeting of the group.
Consider a typical first meeting of a group. After a short, awkward pause, the members
generally introduce themselves and proceed, often with help from the therapist, to tell
something about their life problems, why they have sought therapy, and, perhaps, the type
of distress they suffer. I generally intervene at some convenient point well into the meeting
and remark something like, “We’ve done a great deal here today so far. Each of you has
shared a great deal about yourself, your pain, your reasons for seeking help. But I have a
hunch that something else is also going on, and that is that you’re sizing one another up,
each arriving at some impressions of the others, each wondering how you’ll fit in with the
others. I wonder now if we could spend some time discussing what each of us has come
up with thus far.” Now this is no subtle, artful, shaping statement: it is a heavy-handed,
explicit directive. Yet I find that most groups respond favorably to such clear guidelines
and readily appreciate the therapeutic facilitation.
The therapist moves the focus from outside to inside, from the abstract to the specific,
from the generic to the personal, from the personal into the interpersonal. If a member
describes a hostile confrontation with a spouse or roommate, the therapist may, at some
point, inquire, “If you were to be angry like that with anyone in the group, with whom
would it be?” or, “With whom in the group can you foresee getting into the same type of
struggle?” If a member comments that one of his problems is that he lies, or that he
stereotypes people, or that he manipulates groups, the therapist may inquire, “What is the
main lie you’ve told in the group thus far?” or, “Can you describe the way you’ve
stereotyped some of us?” or, “To what extent have you manipulated the group thus far?”
If a client complains of mysterious flashes of anger or suicidal compulsions, the
therapist may urge the client to signal to the group the very moment such feelings occur
during the session, so that the group can track down and relate these experiences to events
in the session.
If a member describes her problem as being too passive, too easily influenced by others,
the therapist may move her directly into the issue by asking, “Who in the group could

influence you the most? The least?”
If a member comments that the group is too polite and too tactful, the therapist may ask,
“Who are the leaders of the peace-and-tact movement in the group?” If a member is
terrified of revealing himself and fears humiliation, the therapist may bring it into the
here-and-now by asking him to identify those in the group he imagines might be most
likely to ridicule him. Don’t be satisfied by answers of “the whole group.” Press the
member further. Often it helps to rephrase the question in a gentler manner, for example,
“Who in the group is least likely to ridicule you?”
In each of these instances, the therapist can deepen interaction by encouraging further
responses from the others. For example, “How do you feel about his fear or prediction that
you would ridicule him? Can you imagine doing that? Do you, at times, feel judgmental in
the group? Even simple techniques of asking group members to speak directly to one
another, to use second-person (“you”) rather than third-person pronouns, and to look at
one another are very useful.
Easier said than done! Such suggestions are not always heeded. To some group
members, they are threatening indeed, and the therapist must here, as always, employ
good timing and attempt to experience what the client is experiencing. Search for methods
that lessen the threat. Begin by focusing on positive interaction: “Toward whom in the
group do you feel most warm?” “Who in the group is most like you?” or, “Obviously,
there are some strong vibes, both positive and negative, going on between you and John. I
wonder what you most envy or admire about him? And what parts of him do you find
most difficult to accept?”
• A group meeting of elderly clients attending a psychiatric day hospital for
treatment of depression groaned with feelings of disconnection and despair. The
initial focus of the meeting was Sara—an eighty-two-year-old Holocaust survivor.
Sara lamented the persistent prejudice, hatred, and racism so prominent in the
news headlines. Feeling scared and helpless, she discussed her wartime memories
of being dehumanized by those who hated her without knowing anything about her
as a real person. Group members, including other Holocaust survivors, also
shared their tortured memories.
The group leader attempted to break into the group’s intense preoccupation with
the past by shifting into the here-and-now. What did Sara experience talking to the
group today? Did she feel that the group members were engaging her as a real
person? Why had she chosen to be different today—to speak out rather than
silence herself as she has done so often before? Could she take credit for that?
How did others feel about Sara speaking out in this meeting?
Gradually the meeting’s focus shifted from the recounting of despairing
memories to lively interaction, support for Sara, and strong feelings of member
connectivity.
Sometimes, it is easier for group members to work in tandem or in small subgroups. For
example, if they learn that there is another member with similar fears or concerns, then a

subgroup of two (or more) members can, with less threat, discuss their here-and-now
concerns.7 This may occur spontaneously or by the therapist directly creating a bridge
between specific members—for example, by pointing out that the concerns just disclosed
by one member have also been expressed by another.†
Using the conditional verb form provides safety and distance and often is miraculously
facilitative. I use it frequently when I encounter initial resistance. If, for example, a client
says, “I don’t have any response or feelings at all about Mary today. I’m just feeling too
numb and withdrawn,” I often say something like, “If you were not numb or withdrawn
today, what might you feel about Mary?” The client generally answers readily; the once-
removed position affords a refuge and encourages the client to answer honestly and
directly. Similarly, the therapist might inquire, “If you were to be angry at someone in the
group, whom would it be?” or, “If you were to go on a date with Albert (another group
member), what kind of experience might it be?”
The therapist must teach members the art of requesting and offering feedback by
explicit instruction, by modeling, or by reinforcing effective feedback.8 One important
principle to teach clients is the avoidance of global questions and observations. Questions
such as “Am I boring?” or “Do you like me?” are not usually productive. A client learns a
great deal more by asking, “What do I do that causes you to tune out?” “When are you
most and least attentive to me?” or, “What parts of me or aspects of my behavior do you
like least and most?” In the same vein, feedback such as “You’re OK” or “You’re a nice
guy” is far less useful than “I feel closer to you when you’re willing to be honest with
your feelings, like in last week’s meeting when you said you were attracted to Mary but
feared she would scorn you. I feel most distant from you when you’re impersonal and start
analyzing the meaning of every word said to you, like you did early in the meeting today.”
(These comments, like most of the therapist comments in this text, have equal applicability
in individual therapy.)
Resistance occurs in many forms. Often it appears in the cunning guise of total equality.
Clients, especially in early meetings, often respond to the therapist’s here-and-now urgings
by claiming that they feel exactly the same toward all the group members: that is, they say
that they feel equally warm toward all the members, or no anger toward any, or equally
influenced or threatened by all. Do not be misled. Such claims are never true. Guided by
your sense of timing, push the inquiry farther and help members differentiate one another.
Eventually they will disclose that they do have slight differences of feeling toward some
of the members. These slight differences are important and are often the vestibule to full
interactional participation. I explore the slight differences (no one ever said they had to be
enormous); sometimes I suggest that the client hold up a magnifying glass to these
differences and describe what he or she then sees and feels. Often resistance is deeply
ingrained and the client is heavily invested in maintaining a position that is known and
familiar even though it is undermining or personally destructive.
Resistance is not usually conscious obstinacy but more often stems from sources
outside of awareness. Sometimes the here-and-now task is so unfamiliar and
uncomfortable to the client that it is not unlike learning a new language; one has to attend

with maximal concentration in order not to slip back into one’s habitual remoteness.
Considerable ingenuity on the part of the therapist may be needed, as the following case
study shows.
• Claudia resisted participation on a here-and-now level for many sessions.
Typically she brought to the group some pressing current life problem, often one of
such crisis proportions that the group members felt trapped. First, they felt
compelled to deal immediately with the precise problem Claudia presented;
second, they had to tread cautiously because she explicitly informed them that she
needed all her resources to cope with the crisis and could not afford to be shaken
up by interpersonal confrontation. “Don’t push me right now,” she might say, “I’m
just barely hanging on.” Efforts to alter this pattern were unsuccessful, and the
group members felt discouraged in dealing with Claudia. They cringed when she
brought in problems to the meeting.
One day she opened the group with a typical gambit. After weeks of searching
she had obtained a new job but was convinced that she was going to fail and be
dismissed. The group dutifully but warily investigated the situation. The
investigation met with many of the familiar, treacherous obstacles that generally
block the path of work on outside problems. There seemed to be no objective
evidence that Claudia was failing at work. She seemed, if anything, to be trying too
hard, working eighty hours a week. The evidence, Claudia insisted, simply could
not be appreciated by anyone not there at work with her: the glances of her
supervisor, the subtle innuendos, the air of dissatisfaction toward her, the general
ambiance in the office, the failure to live up to her (selfimposed and unrealistic)
sales goals. It was difficult to evaluate what she said because she was not a highly
unreliable observer and typically downgraded herself and minimized her
accomplishments.
The therapist moved the entire transaction into the here-and-now by asking,
“Claudia, it’s hard for us to determine whether you are, in fact, failing at your job.
But let me ask you another question: What grade do you think you deserve for your
work in the group, and what do each of the others get?”
Claudia, not unexpectedly, awarded herself a “D–” and staked her claim for at
least eight more years in the group. She awarded all the other members
substantially higher grades. The therapist replied by awarding Claudia a “B” for
her work in the group and then went on to point out the reasons: her commitment
to the group, perfect attendance, willingness to help others, great efforts to work
despite anxiety and often disabling depression.
Claudia laughed it off, trying to brush off this exchange as a gag or a
therapeutic ploy. But the therapist held firm and insisted that he was entirely
serious. Claudia then insisted that the therapist was wrong, and pointed out her
many failings in the group (one of which was the avoidance of the here-and-now).
However, Claudia’s disagreement with the therapist created dissonance for her,
since it was incompatible with her long-held, frequently voiced, total confidence in

the therapist. (Claudia had often invalidated the feedback of other members in the
group by claiming that she trusted no one’s judgment except the therapist’s.)
The intervention was enormously useful and transferred the process of Claudia’s
evaluation of herself from a secret chamber lined with the distorting mirrors of her self-
perception to the open, vital arena of the group. No longer was it necessary for the
members to accept Claudia’s perception of her boss’s glares and subtle innuendoes. The
boss (the therapist) was there in the group. The whole transaction was visible to the group.
Finding the here-and-now experiential analogue of the untrustworthy “then-and-there”
reported difficulties unlocked the therapeutic process for Claudia.
I never cease to be awed by the rich, subterranean lode of data that exists in every group
and in every meeting. Beneath each sentiment expressed there are layers of invisible,
unvoiced ones. But how to tap these riches? Sometimes after a long silence in a meeting, I
express this very thought: “There is so much information that could be valuable to us all
today if only we could excavate it. I wonder if we could, each of us, tell the group about
some thoughts that occurred to us in this silence, which we thought of saying but didn’t.”
The exercise is more effective, incidentally, if you participate personally, even start it
going. Substantial empirical evidence supports the principle that therapists who employ
judicious and disciplined self-disclosure, centered in the here-and-now of the therapeutic
relationship, increase their therapeutic effectiveness and facilitate clients’ exploration and
openness.9 For example, you might say, “I’ve been feeling on edge in this silence, wanting
to break it, not wanting to waste time, but on the other hand feeling irritated that it always
has to be me doing this work for the group.” Or, “I’ve been feeling uneasy about the
struggle going on in the group between you and me, Mike. I’m uncomfortable with this
much tension and anger, but I don’t know yet how to help understand and resolve it.”
When I feel there has been a particularly great deal unsaid in a meeting, I have often
found the following technique useful: “It’s now six o’clock and we still have half an hour
left, but I wonder if you each would imagine that the meeting has ended and that you’re on
your way home. What disappointments would you have about the meeting today?”
Many of the inferences the therapist makes may be off-target. But objective accuracy is
not the issue: as long as you persistently direct the group from the nonrelevant, from the
then-and-there, to the here-and-now, you are operationally correct. For example, if a
group spends time in an unproductive meeting discussing dull, boring parties, and the
therapist wonders aloud if the members are indirectly referring to the present group
session, there is no way of determining with any certainty whether that is an accurate
statement. Correctness in this instance must be defined relativistically and pragmatically.
By shifting the group’s attention from then-and-there to here-and-now material, the
therapist performs a service to the group—a service that, consistently reinforced, will
ultimately result in a cohesive, interactional atmosphere maximally conducive to therapy.
Following this model, the effectiveness of an intervention should be gauged by its success
in focusing the group on itself.
According to this principle, the therapist might ask a group that dwells at length on the
subject of poor health or on a member’s sense of guilt over remaining in bed during times

of sickness, “Is the group really wondering about my [the therapist’s] recent illness?” Or a
group suddenly preoccupied with death and the losses each member has incurred might be
asked whether they are also concerned with the group’s impending fourweek summer
vacation. In these instances the leader attempts to make connections between the overt
content and underlying unexpressed covert group-related issues.
Obviously, these interventions would be pointless if the group had already thoroughly
worked through all the implications of the therapist’s recent absence or the impending
summer break. The technical procedure is not unlike the sifting process in any traditional
psychotherapy. Presented with voluminous data in considerable disarray, the therapist
selects, reinforces, and interprets those aspects he deems most helpful to the client at that
particular time. Not all dreams and not all parts of a dream are attended to by the therapist;
however, a dream theme that elucidates a particular issue on which the client is currently
working is vigorously pursued.
Implicit here is the assumption that the therapist knows the most propitious direction for
the group at a specific moment. Again, this is not a precise matter. What is most important
is that the therapist has formulated broad principles of ultimately helpful directions for the
group and its members—this is precisely where a grasp of the therapeutic factors is
essential.
Often, when activating the group, the therapist performs two simultaneous acts: steering
the group into the here-and-now and, at the same time, interrupting the content flow in the
group. Not infrequently, some members will resent the interruption, and the therapist must
attend to these feelings, for they, too, are part of the here-and-now. Often it is difficult for
the therapist to intervene. Early in our socialization process we learn not to interrupt, not
to change the subject abruptly. Furthermore, there are often times in the group when
everyone seems keenly interested in the topic under discussion. Even though the therapist
is certain that the group is not working, it is not easy to buck the group current. As noted
in chapter 3, social-psychological small-group research demonstrates the compelling
power of group pressure. To take a stand opposite to the perceived consensus of the group
requires considerable courage and conviction.
My experience is that the therapist faced with this as well as many other types of
dilemmas can increase the clients’ receptivity by expressing both sets of feelings to the
group. For example, “Lily, I feel very uncomfortable as you talk. I’m having a couple of
strong feelings. One is that you’re into something that is very important and painful for
you, and the other is that Jason [a new member] has been trying hard to get into the group
for the last few meetings and the group seems unwelcoming. This didn’t happen when
other new members entered the group. Why do you think it’s happening now?” Or,
“Lenore, I’ve had two reactions as you started talking. The first is that I’m delighted you
feel comfortable enough now in the group to participate, but the other is that it’s going to
be hard for the group to respond to what you’re saying because it’s very abstract and far
removed from you personally. I’d be much more interested in how you’ve been feeling
about the group the last couple of meetings. Are there some incidents or interactions
you’ve been especially tuned in to? What reactions have you had to other members here?”

There are, of course, many more such activating procedures. (In chapter 14, I describe
some basic modifications in the group structure and procedure that facilitate here-and-now
interaction in short-term specialty groups.) But my goal here is not to offer a compendium
of techniques. Rather, I describe techniques only to illuminate the underlying principle of
here-and-now activation. These group techniques, or gimmicks, are servants, not masters.
To use them injudiciously, to fill voids, to jazz up the group, to acquiesce to the members’
demands that the leader lead, is seductive but not constructive for the group.10
Overall, group leader activity correlates with outcome in a curvilinear fashion (too
much or too little activity leads to unsuccessful outcomes). Too little leader activity results
in a floundering group. Too much activation by a leader results in a dependent group that
persists in looking to the leader to supply too much.
Remember that sheer acceleration of interaction is not the purpose of these techniques.
The therapist who moves too quickly—using gimmicks to make interactions, emotional
expression, and self-disclosure too easy—misses the whole point. Resistance, fear,
guardedness, distrust—in short, everything that impedes the development of satisfying
interpersonal relations—must be permitted expression. The goal is to create not a slick-
functioning, streamlined social organization but one that functions well enough and
engenders sufficient trust for the unfolding of each member’s social microcosm. Working
through the resistances to change is the key to the production of change.
Thus, the therapist wants to go not around obstacles but through them. Ormont puts it
nicely when he points out that though we urge clients to engage deeply in the here-and-
now, we expect them to fail, to default on their contract. In fact, we want them to default
because we hope, through the nature of their failure, to identify and ultimately dispel each
member’s particular resistances to intimacy—including each member’s resistance style
(for example, detachment, fighting, diverting, self-absorption, distrust) and each member’s
underlying fears of intimacy (for example, impulsivity, abandonment, merger,
vulnerability).11
TECHNIQUES OF PROCESS ILLUMINATION
As soon as clients have been successfully steered into a here-and-now interactional
pattern, the group therapist must attend to turning this interaction to therapeutic advantage.
This task is complex and consists of several stages:
• Clients must first recognize what they are doing with other people (ranging from
simple acts to complex patterns unfolding over a long time).
• They must then appreciate the impact of this behavior on others and how it
influences others’ opinion of them and consequently its impact on their own self-
regard.
• They must decide whether they are satisfied with their habitual interpersonal style.

• They must exercise the will to change.
• They must transform intent into decision and decision into action.
• Lastly, they must solidify the change and transfer it from the group setting into their
larger life.
Each of these stages may be facilitated by some specific cognitive input by the
therapist, and I will describe each step in turn. First, however, I must discuss several prior
considerations: How does the therapist recognize process? How can the therapist help the
members assume a process orientation? How can therapists increase the client receptivity
of their process commentary?
Recognition of Process
Before therapists can help clients understand process, they must themselves learn to
recognize it: in other words, they must be able to reflect in the midst of the group
interaction and wonder, “Why is this unfolding in this group in this particular way and at
this particular time?Ӡ The experienced therapist does this naturally and effortlessly,
observing the group proceedings from several different perspectives, including the specific
individual interactions and the developmental issues in the group (see chapter 11). This
difference in perspective is the major difference in role between the client and the
therapist. Consider some clinical illustrations:
• At one meeting, Alana discloses much deep personal material. The group is
moved by her account and devotes much time to listening, to helping her elaborate
more fully, and to offering support. The therapist shares in these activities but
entertains many other thoughts as well. For example, the therapist may wonder
why, of all the members, it is invariably Alana who reveals first and most. Why
does Alana so often put herself in the role of the group member whom all the
members must nurse? Why must she always display herself as vulnerable? And
why today? And that last meeting! So much conflict! After such a meeting, one
might have expected Alana to be angry. Instead, she shows her throat. Is she
avoiding giving expression to her rage?
• At the end of a session in another group, Jay, a young, rather fragile young man
who had been inactive in the group, revealed that he was gay—his first step out of
the closet. At the next meeting the group urged him to continue. He attempted to do
so but, overcome with emotion, blocked and hesitated. Just then, with indecent
alacrity, Vicky filled the gap, saying, “Well, if no one else is going to talk, I have a
problem.”
Vicky, an aggressive forty-year-old cabdriver, who sought therapy because of
social loneliness and bitterness, proceeded to discuss in endless detail a complex
situation involving an unwelcome visiting aunt. For the experienced, process-
oriented therapist, the phrase “I have a problem” is a double entendre. Far more
trenchantly than her words, Vicky’s behavior declares, “I have a problem,” and

her problem is manifest in her insensitivity to Jay, who, after months of silence,
had finally mustered the courage to speak.
It is not easy to tell the beginning therapist how to recognize process; the acquisition of
this perspective is one of the major tasks in your education. And it is an interminable task:
throughout your career, you learn to penetrate ever more deeply into the substratum of
group discourse. This deeper vision increases the keenness of a therapist’s interest in the
meeting. Generally, beginning students who observe meetings find them far less
meaningful, complex, and interesting than do experienced therapists.
Certain guidelines, though, may facilitate the neophyte therapist’s recognition of
process. Note the simple nonverbal sense data available.† Who chooses to sit where?
Which members sit together? Who chooses to sit close to the therapist? Far away? Who
sits near the door? Who comes to the meeting on time? Who is habitually late? Who looks
at whom when speaking? Do some members, while speaking to another member, look at
the therapist? If so, then they are relating not to one another but instead to the therapist
through their speech to the others. Who looks at his watch? Who slouches in her seat?
Who yawns? Do the members pull their chairs away from the center at the same time as
they are verbally professing great interest in the group? How quickly do the group
members enter the room? How do they leave it? Are coats kept on? When in a single
meeting or in the sequence of meetings are they removed? A change in dress or grooming
not uncommonly indicates change in a client or in the atmosphere of the entire group. An
unctuous, dependent man may express his first flicker of rebellion against the leader by
wearing jeans and sneakers to a group session rather than his usual formal garb.
A large variety of postural shifts may betoken discomfort; foot flexion, for example, is a
particularly common sign of anxiety. Indeed, it is common knowledge that nonverbal
behavior frequently expresses feelings of which a person is yet unaware. The therapist,
through observing and teaching the group to observe nonverbal behavior, may hasten the
process of self-exploration.
Assume that every communication has meaning and salience within the individual’s
interpersonal schema until proven otherwise. Make use of your own reactions to each
client as a source of process data.12 Keep attending to the reactions that group members
elicit in one another. Which seem consensual reactions shared by most, and which are
unique or idiosyncratic reactions?13
Sometimes the process is clarified by attending not only to what is said but also to what
is omitted: the female member who offers suggestions, advice, or feedback to the male
members but never to the other women in the group; the group that never confronts or
questions the therapist; the topics (for example, the taboo trio: sex, money, death) that are
never broached; the individual who is never attacked; the one who is never supported; the
one who never supports or inquires—all these omissions are part of the transactional
process of the group.
• In one group, for example, Sonia stated that she felt others disliked her. When
asked who, she selected Eric, a detached, aloof man who habitually related only to

those who could be of use to him. Eric bristled, “Why me? Tell me one thing I’ve
said to you that makes you pick me.” Sonia stated, “That’s exactly the point.
You’ve never said anything to me. Not a question, not a greeting. Nothing. I just
don’t exist for you. You have no use for me.” Eric, later, at a debriefing session
after completing therapy, cited this incident as a particularly powerful and
illuminating instruction.
Physiologists commonly study the function of a hormone by removing the endocrine
gland that manufactures it and observing the changes in the hormone-deficient organism.
Similarly, in group therapy, we may learn a great deal about the role of a particular
member by observing the here-and-now process of the group when that member is absent.
For example, if the absent member is aggressive and competitive, the group may feel
liberated. Other members, who had felt threatened or restricted in the missing member’s
presence, may suddenly blossom into activity. If, on the other hand, the group has
depended on the missing member to carry the burden of self-disclosure or to coax other
members into speaking, then it will feel helpless and threatened when that member is
absent. Often this absence elucidates interpersonal feelings that previously were entirely
out of the group members’ awareness. The therapist may then encourage the group to
discuss these feelings toward the absent member both at that time and later in his or her
presence. A common myth that may need to be dispelled is that talking about a group
member when he is not present at a meeting is politically or socially incorrect. It is not
“talking behind someone’s back” and it should not lead to scapegoating, provided that the
group adopts the practice of sharing the discussion with that member at the following
meeting.
Similarly, a rich supply of data about feelings toward the therapist often emerges in a
meeting in which the therapist or a co-therapist is absent. One leader led an experiential
training group of mental health professionals composed of one woman and twelve men.
The woman, though she habitually took the chair closest to the door, felt reasonably
comfortable in the group until a leaderless meeting was scheduled when the therapist was
out of town. At that meeting the group discussed sexual feelings and experiences far more
blatantly than ever before, and the woman had terrifying fantasies of the group locking the
door and raping her. She realized how the therapist’s presence had offered her safety
against fears of unrestrained sexual behavior by the other members and against the
emergence of her own sexual fantasies. (She realized, too, the meaning of her occupying
the seat nearest the door!)
Search in every possible way to understand the relationship messages in any
communication. Look for incongruence between verbal and nonverbal behavior. Be
especially curious when there is something arrhythmic about a transaction: when, for
example, the intensity of a response seems disproportionate to the stimulus statement, or
when a response seems to be off target or to make no sense. At these times look for
several possibilities: for example, parataxic distortion (the responder is experiencing the
sender unrealistically), or metacommunication (the responder is responding, accurately,
not to the manifest content but to another level of communication), or displacement (the
responder is reacting not to the current transaction but to feelings stemming from previous

transactions). A disproportionately strong emotional reaction—what one group member
called “A Big Feeling”—may be the tip of an iceberg of deeper, historical concerns that
get reactivated in the present.
Common Group Tensions
Remember that, to some degree, certain tensions are always present in every therapy
group. Consider, for example, tensions such as the struggle for dominance, the antagonism
between mutually supportive feelings and sibling rivalrous ones, between greed and
selfless efforts to help the other, between the desire to immerse oneself in the comforting
waters of the group and the fear of losing one’s precious individuality, between the wish to
get better and the wish to stay in the group, between the wish that others improve and the
fear of being left behind. Sometimes these tensions are quiescent for months until some
event wakens them and they erupt into plain view.
Do not forget these tensions. They are omnipresent, always fueling the hidden motors of
group interaction. The knowledge of these tensions often informs the therapist’s
recognition of process. Consider, for example, one of the most powerful covert sources of
group tension: the struggle for dominance. Earlier in this chapter, I described an
intervention where the therapist, in an effort to steer a client into the here-and-now, gave
her a grade for her work in the group. The intervention was effective for that particular
person. Yet that was not the end of the story: there were later repercussions on the rest of
the group. In the next meeting, two group members asked the therapist to clarify some
remark he had made to them at a previous meeting. The remarks had been so supportive in
nature and so straightforwardly phrased that the therapist was puzzled at the request for
clarification. Deeper investigation revealed that the two members and later others, too,
were requesting grades from the therapist.
• In another experiential group of mental health professionals at several levels of
training, the leader was much impressed by the group skills of Stewart, one of the
youngest, most inexperienced members. The leader expressed his fantasy that
Stewart was a plant, that he could not possibly be just beginning his training, since
he conducted himself like a veteran with ten years’ group experience. The comment
evoked a flood of tensions. It was not easily forgotten by the group and, for
sessions to come, was periodically revived and angrily discussed. With his
comment, the therapist placed the kiss of death on Stewart’s brow, since thereafter
the group systematically challenged and deskilled him. It is to be expected that the
therapist’s positive evaluation of one member will evoke feelings of sibling rivalry
among the others.
The struggle for dominance, as I will discuss in chapter 11, fluctuates in intensity
throughout the group. It is much in evidence at the beginning of the group as members
jockey for position in the pecking order. Once the hierarchy is established, the issue may
become quiescent, with periodic flare-ups, for example, when some member, as part of his
or her therapeutic work, begins to grow in assertiveness and to challenge the established

order.
When new members enter the group, especially aggressive members who do not know
their place, who do not respectfully search out and honor the rules of the group, you may
be certain that the struggle for dominance will rise to the surface.
• In one group a veteran member, Betty, was much threatened by the entrance of a
new, aggressive woman, Rena. A few meetings later, when Betty discussed some
important material concerning her inability to assert herself, Rena attempted to
help by commenting that she, herself, used to be like that, and then she presented
various methods she had used to overcome it. Rena reassured Betty that if she
continued to talk about it openly in the group she, too, would gain considerable
confidence. Betty’s response was silent fury of such magnitude that several
meetings passed before she could discuss and work through her feelings. To the
uninformed observer, Betty’s response would appear puzzling; but in the light of
Betty’s seniority in the group and Rena’s vigorous challenge to that seniority, her
response was entirely predictable. She responded not to Rena’s manifest offer of
help but instead to Rena’s implicit communication: “I’m more advanced than you,
more mature, more knowledgeable about the process of psychotherapy, and more
powerful in this group despite your longer presence here.”
• In another group, Bea, an assertive, articulate woman, had for months been the
most active and influential member. A new member, Bob, a psychiatric social
worker (who did not reveal that fact to the group), was introduced. He was
exceedingly assertive and articulate and in his first meeting, described his life
situation with such candor and clarity that the other members were impressed and
touched. Bea’s response, however, was: “Where did you get your group therapy
training?” (Not “Did you ever have therapy training?” or, “You sound like you’ve
had some experience in examining yourself.”) The wording of Bea’s comment
clearly revealed the struggle for dominance, for she was implicitly saying: “I’ve
found you out. Don’t think you can fool me with that jargon. You’ve got a long way
to go to catch up with me!”
Primary Task and Secondary Gratification
The concepts of primary task and secondary gratification, and the dynamic tension
between the two, provide the therapist with a useful guide to the recognition of process
(and, as I will discuss later, a guide to the factors underlying a client’s resistance to
process commentary).
First some definitions. The primary task of the client is, quite simply, to achieve his or
her original goals: relief of suffering, better relationships with others, or living more
productively and fully. Yet, as we examine it more closely, the task often becomes much
more complicated. Generally one’s view of the primary task changes considerably as one
progresses in therapy. Sometimes the client and the therapist have widely different views
of the primary task. I have, for example, known clients who stated that their goal is relief

from pain (for example, from anxiety, depression, or insomnia) but who have a deeper and
more problematic goal. One woman wished that through therapy she would become so
well that she would be even more superior to her adversaries by “out mental-healthing”
them; another client wished to learn how to manipulate others even more effectively;
another wished to become a more effective seducer. These goals may be unconscious or,
even if conscious, well hidden from others; they are not part of the initial contract the
individual makes with the therapist, and yet they exert a pervasive influence in the
therapeutic work. In fact, much therapy may have to occur before some clients can
formulate an appropriate primary task.14 m
Even though their goals may evolve through the course of therapy, clients initially have
some clear conception of a primary task—generally, relief of some type of discomfort. By
methods discussed in chapter 10, therapists, in pregroup preparations of clients and in the
first group meetings, make clients aware of what they must do in the group to accomplish
their primary tasks. And yet once the group begins, very peculiar things begin to happen:
clients conscious wish for change there is a deeper commitment to avoid change—a
clinging to old familiar modes of behavior. It is often through the recognition of this
clinging (that is, resistance) that the first real opportunity for repair emerges.†
Some clinical vignettes illustrate this paradox:
• Cal, a young man, was interested in seducing the women of the group and shaped
his behavior in an effort to appear suave and charming. He concealed his feelings
of awkwardness, his desperate wish to be cool, his fear of women, and his envy of
some of the men in the group. He could never discuss his compulsive masturbation
and occasional voyeurism. When another male member discussed his disdain for
the women in the group, Cal (purring with pleasure at the withdrawal of
competition) praised him for his honesty. When another member discussed, with
much anxiety, his homosexual fantasies, Cal deliberately withheld the solace he
might have offered by sharing his own, similar fantasies. He never dared to discuss
the issues for which he entered therapy; nothing took precedence over being cool.
Another member devoted all her energies to achieving an image of mental
agility and profundity. She, often in subtle ways, continually took issue with me.
She scorned any help I offered her, and took great offense at my attempts to
interpret her behavior. Finally, I reflected that working with her made me feel I had
nothing of value to offer. That was her finest hour! She flashed a sunny smile as
she said, “Perhaps you ought to join a therapy group to work on your problem.”
Another member enjoyed an enviable position in the group because of his
girlfriend, a beautiful actress, whose picture he delighted in passing around in the
group. She was his showpiece, living proof of his natural superiority. When one
day she suddenly and peremptorily left him, he was too mortified to face the group
and dropped out of therapy.
What do these examples have in common? In each, the client gave priority not to the
declared primary task but to some secondary gratification arising in the group: a
relationship with another member, an image a client wished to project, or a group role in

which a client was the most sexually desirable, the most influential, the most wise, the
most superior. In each instance, the client’s pathology obstructed his or her pursuit of the
primary goal. Clients diverted their energies from the real work of therapy to the pursuit of
some gratification in the group. If this here-and-now behavior were available for study—if
the members could, as it were, be pulled out of the group matrix to observe their actions in
a more dispassionate manner—then the entire sequence would become part of good
therapeutic work. But that did not happen! In all these instances, the gratification took
precedence over the work to be done. Group members concealed information,
misrepresented themselves, rejected the therapist’s help, and refused to give help to one
another.
This is a familiar phenomenon in individual therapy. Long ago, Freud spoke of the
patient whose desire to remain in therapy outweighed the desire to be cured. The
individual therapist satisfies a client’s wish to be succored, to be heard, to be cradled. Yet
there is a vast, quantitative difference in this respect between individual and group
therapy. The individual therapy format is relatively insular; the group situation offers a far
greater range of secondary gratifications, of satisfying many social needs in an
individual’s life. Moreover, the gratification offered is often compelling; our social needs
to be dominant, to be admired, to be loved, to be revered are powerful indeed. For some,
the psychotherapy group provides satisfying relationships rather than being a bridge to
forming better relationships in their world at large. This presents a clinical challenge with
certain populations, such as the elderly, who have reduced opportunities for human
connection outside of the therapy group. In such instances, offering ongoing, less frequent
booster sessions, perhaps monthly, after a shorter intensive phase may be the best way to
respond to this reluctance to end therapy.15
Is the tension that exists between primary task and secondary gratification nothing more
than a slightly different way of referring to the familiar concept of resistance and acting
out? In the sense that the pursuit of secondary gratification obstructs the therapeutic work,
it may generically be labeled resistance. Yet there is an important shade of difference:
Resistance ordinarily refers to pain avoidance. Obviously, resistance in this sense is much
in evidence in group therapy, on both an individual and a group level. But what I wish to
emphasize is that the therapy group offers an abundance of secondary gratifications.
Often the therapeutic work in a group is derailed not because members are too defensively
anxious to work but because they find themselves unwilling to relinquish gratification.
Often, when the therapist is bewildered by the course of events in the therapy group, the
distinction between primary task and secondary gratification is extremely useful. It is
often clarifying for therapists to ask themselves whether the client is working on his or her
primary task. And when the substitution of secondary gratification for primary task is well
entrenched and resists intervention, therapists have no more powerful technique than
reminding the group members of the primary task—the reasons for which they seek
therapy.
The same principle applies to the entire group. It can be said that the entire group has a
primary task that consists of the development and exploration of all aspects of the

relationship of each member to each of the others, to the therapist, and to the group as an
aggregate. The therapist and, later, the group members can easily enough sense when the
group is working, when it is involved in its primary task, and when it is avoiding that task.
At times the therapist may be unclear about what a group is doing but knows that it is
not focused on either developing or exploring relationships between members. If
therapists have attended to providing the group a clear statement of its primary task, then
they must conclude that the group is actively evading the task—either because of some
dysphoria associated with the task itself or because of some secondary gratification that is
sufficiently satisfying to supplant the therapy work.
The Therapist’s Feelings
All of these guides to the therapist’s recognition and understanding of process have their
usefulness. But there is an even more important clue: the therapist’s own feelings in the
meeting, feelings that he or she has come to trust after living through many previous
similar incidents in group therapy. Experienced therapists learn to trust their feelings; they
are as useful to a therapist as a microscope or DNA mapping to a microbiologist. If
therapists feel impatient, frustrated, bored, confused, discouraged—any of the panoply of
feelings available to a human being—they should consider this valuable data and learn to
put it to work.
Remember, this does not mean that therapists have to understand their feelings and
arrange and deliver a neat interpretive corsage. The simple expression of feelings is often
sufficient to help a client proceed further.
• One therapist experienced a forty-five-year-old woman in an unreal, puzzling
manner because of her rapidly fluctuating method of presenting herself. He finally
commented, “Sharon, I have several feelings about you that I’d like to share. As
you talk, I often experience you as a competent mature woman, but sometimes I see
you as a very young, almost preadolescent child, unaware of your sexuality, trying
to cuddle, trying to be pleasing to everyone. I don’t think I can go any farther with
this now, but I wonder whether this has meaning for you.” The observation struck
deep chords in the client and helped her explore her conflicted sexual identity and
her need to be loved by everyone.
It is often very helpful to the group if you share feelings of being shut out by a member.
Such a comment rarely evokes defensiveness, because it always implies that you wish to
get closer to that person. It models important group therapy norms: risk taking,
collaboration, and taking relationships seriously.
To express feelings in the therapeutic process, the therapist must have a reasonable
degree of confidence in their appropriateness. The more you respond unrealistically to the
client (on the basis of countertransference or possibly because of pressing personal
emotional problems), the less helpful—in fact, the more antitherapeutic—will you be in
presenting these feelings as if they were the client’s problem rather than your own. You

need to use the delicate instrument of your own feelings, and to do so frequently and
spontaneously. But it is of the utmost importance that this instrument be as reliable and
accurate as possible.
Countertransference refers broadly to the reactions therapists have to their clients. It is
critically important to distinguish between your objective countertransference, reflecting
on the client’s characteristic interpersonal impact on you and others, and your subjective
countertransference—those idiosyncratic reactions that reflect more specifically on what
you, personally, carry into your relationships or interactions.16 The former is an excellent
source of interpersonal data about the client. The latter, however, says a good deal more
about the therapist. To discriminate between the two requires not only experience and
training but also deep self-knowledge. It is for this reason that I believe every therapist
should obtain personal psychotherapy . (More about this in chapter 17.)
HELPING CLIENTS ASSUME A PROCESS
ORIENTATION
It has long been known that observations, viewpoints, and insights arrived at through one’s
own efforts are valued more highly than those that are thrust upon one by another person.
The mature leader resists the temptation to make brilliant virtuoso interpretations, but
searches instead for methods that will permit clients to achieve self-knowledge through
their own efforts. As Foulkes and Anthony put it, “There are times when the therapist
must sit on his wisdom, must tolerate defective knowledge and wait for the group to arrive
at solutions.”17
The task, then, is to influence members to assume and to value the process perspective.
Many of the norm-setting activities of the leader described in chapter 5 serve this end. For
example, the therapist emphasizes process by periodically tugging the members out of the
here-and-now and inviting them to consider more dispassionately the meaning of recent
transactions. Though techniques vary depending on a therapist’s style, the intention of
these interventions is to switch on a self-reflective beacon. The therapist may, for
example, interrupt the group at an appropriate point to comment, in effect, “We are about
halfway through our time for today, and I wonder how everyone feels about the meeting
thus far?” Again, by no means do you have to understand the process to ask for members’
analyses. You might simply say, “I’m not sure what’s happening in the meeting, but I do
see some unusual things. For example, Bill has been unusually silent, Jack’s moved his
chair back three feet, Mary’s been shooting glances at me for the past several minutes.
What ideas do you all have about what’s going on today?”
A process review of a highly charged meeting is often necessary. It is important for the
therapist to demonstrate that intense emotional expression provides material for significant
learning. Sometimes you can divide such a meeting into two parts: the experiential
segment and the analysis of that experience. At other times you may analyze the process at

the following meeting; you can ask about the feelings that members took home with them
after the previous meeting, or simply solicit further thoughts they have since had about
what occurred there.
Obviously, you teach through modeling your own process orientation. There is nothing
to lose and much to gain by your sharing your perspective on the group whenever
possible. Sometimes you may do this in an effort to clarify the meeting: “Here are some of
the things I’ve seen going on today.” Sometimes you may wish to use a convenient device
such as summarizing the meeting to a late arrival, whether co-therapist or member. One
technique I use that systematically shares my process observations with members is to
write a detailed summary of the meeting afterward, including a full description of my
spoken and unspoken process observations, and mail it to the members before the next
meeting (see chapter 14). With this approach the therapist uses considerable personal and
professional disclosure in a way that facilitates the therapy work, particularly by
increasing the members’ perceptivity to the process of the group.
It is useful to encourage members to describe their views on the process of group
meetings. Many group therapy instructors who teach by leading an experiential group of
their students often begin each meeting with a report, prepared by some designated
student, of the process of the previous meeting. Some therapists learn to call upon certain
members who display unusual intuitive ability to recognize process. For example, Ormont
describes a marginal member in his group who had unusual sensitivity to the body
language of others. The therapist made a point of harnessing that talent for the service of
therapy. A question such as: “Michael, what was Pam saying to Abner with that wave of
her hand?” served a double purpose: illumination of process and helping Michael gain
centrality and respect.18
HELPING CLIENTS ACCEPT PROCESS-
ILLUMINATING COMMENTS
F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote, “I was impelled to think. God, was it difficult! The moving
about of great secret trunks.” Throughout therapy, we ask our clients to think, to shift
internal arrangements, to examine the consequences of their behavior. It is hard work, and
it is often unpleasant, frightening work. It is not enough simply to provide clients with
information or explanations; you must also facilitate the assimilation of the new
information. There are strategies to help clients in this work.
Be concerned with the framing of interpretive remarks and feedback. No comments, not
even the most brilliant ones, can be of value if their delivery is not accepted, if the client
rejects the package unopened and uninspected. The relationship, the style of delivery, and
the timing are thus as essential as the content of the message.
Clients are always more receptive to observations that are framed in a supportive

fashion. Rarely do individuals reject an observation that they distance or shut out others,
or that they are too unselfish and never ask for anything for themselves, or that they are
stingy with their feelings, or that they conceal much of what they have to offer. All of
these observations contain a supportive message: that the member has much to give and
that the observer wishes to be closer, wishes to help, wishes to know the other more
intimately.
Beware of appellations that are categorizing or limiting: they are counterproductive;
they threaten; they raise defenses. Clients reject global accusations—for example,
dependency, narcissism, exploitation, arrogance—and with good reason, since a person is
always more than any one or any combination of labels. It is far more acceptable (and
true) to speak of traits or parts of an individual—for example, “I often can sense you very
much wanting to be close to others, offering help as you did last week to Debbie. But there
are other times, like today, when I see you as aloof, almost scornful of the others. What do
you know about this part of you?”
Often in the midst of intense group conflict, members hurl important truths at one
another. Under these conditions, one cannot acknowledge the truth: it would be aiding the
aggressor, committing treason against oneself. To make the conflict-spawned truths
available for consumption, the therapist must appreciate and neutralize the defensiveness
of the combatants.
You may, for example, appeal to a higher power (the member’s desire for self-
knowledge) or increase receptivity by limiting the scope of the accusation. For example,
“Farrell, I see you now closed up, threatened, and fending off everything that Jamie is
saying. You’ve been very adroit in pointing out the weaknesses of her arguments, but what
happens is that you (and Jamie, too) end up getting nothing for yourself. I wonder if you
could take a different tack for a while and ask yourself this (and, later: Jamie, I’d like to
ask you to do the same): Is there anything in what Jamie is saying that is true for you?
What parts seem to strike an inner chord? Could you forget for a moment the things that
are not true and stay with those that are true?”
Sometimes group members, in an unusually open moment, make a statement that may
at some future time provide the therapist with great leverage. The thrifty therapist
underscores these comments in the group and stores them for later use. For example, one
man who was both proud of and troubled by his ability to manipulate the group with his
social charm, pleaded at one meeting, “Listen, when you see me smile like this, I’m really
hurting inside. Don’t let me keep getting away with it.” Another member, who tyrannized
the group with her tears, announced one day, “When I cry like this, I’m angry. I’m not
going to fall apart, so stop comforting me, stop treating me like a child.” Store these
moments of truth; they can be of great value if recalled later, in a constructive, supportive
manner, when the client is closed and defensive. In the previous example, you could
simply remind the member of her comment a few meetings ago and ask whether this (the
smiling to cover the pain or the self protective crying) is happening now.
Often it is useful to enlist the client more actively in establishing contracts. For
example, if a client has worked hard in a session on some important trait, I might say

something like: “Jane, you worked hard today and were very open to our feedback about
the way you mother others and the way you use that mothering to avoid facing your own
needs and pain. How did it feel? Did we push you too hard?” If the client agrees that the
work was helpful (as the client almost always does), then it is possible to nail down a
future contract by asking, “Then is it all right for us to keep pressing you, to give you
feedback whenever we note you doing this in future meetings?” This form of
“contracting” consolidates the therapeutic alliance and the mutual, collaborative nature of
the psychotherapy.19
PROCESS COMMENTARY: A THEORETICAL
OVERVIEW
It is not easy to discuss, in a systematic way, the actual practice of process illumination.
How can one propose crisp, basic guidelines for a procedure of such complexity and
range, such delicate timing, so many linguistic nuances? I am tempted to beg the question
by claiming that herein lies the art of psychotherapy: it will come as you gain experience;
you cannot, in a systematic way, come to it. To a degree, I believe this to be so. Yet I also
believe that it is possible to blaze crude trails, to provide the clinician with general
principles that will accelerate education without limiting the scope of artistry.
The approach I take in this section closely parallels the approach I used in the beginning
of this book to clarify the basic therapeutic factors in group therapy. At that time I asked
the questions: “How does group therapy help clients? In the group therapeutic process,
what is core and what is front?” This approach leads to the delineation of several basic
therapeutic factors and does not, I believe, constrain the therapist in any way in the choice
of methods to implement them.
In this section I proceed in a similar fashion. Here the issue is not how group therapy
helps but how process illumination leads to change. The issue is complex and requires
considerable attention, but the length of this discussion should not suggest that the
interpretive function of the therapist take precedence over other tasks.
First, let me proceed to view in a dispassionate manner the entire range of therapist
interventions. I ask of each intervention the simplistic but basic question, “How does this
intervention, this process-illuminating comment, help a client to change?” Underlying this
approach, is a set of basic operational patterns shared by all contemporary interpersonal
models of therapy.20
I begin by considering a series of process comments that a therapist made to a male
client over several sessions of group therapy:
1. You are interrupting me.
2. Your voice is tight, and your fists are clenched.

3. Whenever you talk to me, you take issue with me.
4. When you do that, I feel threatened and sometimes frightened.
5. I wonder if you don’t feel competitive with me and are trying to devalue me.
6. I’ve noticed that you’ve done the same thing with all the men in the group. Even
when they try to approach you helpfully, you strike out at them. Consequently,
they see you as hostile and threatening.
7. In the three meetings when there were no women present in the group, you were
more approachable.
8. I think you’re so concerned about your sexual attractiveness to women that you
view men only as competitors and deprive yourself of the opportunity of ever
getting close to a man.
9. Even though you always seem to spar with me, there seems to be another side to it.
You often stay after the group to have a word with me; you frequently look at me
in the group. And there’s that dream you described three weeks ago about the two
of us fighting and then falling to the ground in an embrace. I think you very much
want to be close to me, but somehow you’ve got closeness and eroticism entangled
and you keep pushing me away.
10. You are lonely here and feel unwanted and uncared for. That rekindles so many of
your feelings of unworthiness.
11. What’s happened in the group now is that you’ve distanced yourself, estranged
yourself, from all the men here. Are you satisfied with that? (Remember that one
of your major goals when you started the group was to find out why you haven’t
had any close men friends and to do something about that.)
Note, first of all, that the comments form a progression: they start with simple
observations of single acts and proceed to a description of feelings evoked by an act, to
observations about several acts over a period of time, to the juxtaposition of different acts,
to speculations about the client’s intentions and motivations, to comments about the
unfortunate repercussions of his behavior, to the inclusion of more inferential data
(dreams, subtle gestures), to calling attention to the similarity between the client’s
behavioral patterns in the here-and-now and in his outside social world. Inexperienced
group therapists sometimes feel lost because they have not yet developed an awareness of
this progressive sequence of interventions.21
In this progression, the comments become more inferential. They begin with sense-data
observations and gradually shift to complex generalizations based on sequences of
behavior, interpersonal patterns, fantasy, and dream material. As the comments become
more complex and more inferential, their author becomes more removed from the other
person—in short, more a therapist process-commentator. Members often make some of the
earlier statements to one another but, for reasons I have already presented, rarely make the
ones at the end of the sequence.

There is, incidentally, an exceptionally sharp barrier between comments 4 and 5. The
first four statements issue from the experience of the commentator. They are the
commentator’s observations and feelings; the client can devalue or ignore them but cannot
deny them, disagree with them, or take them away from the commentator. The fifth
statement (“I wonder if you don’t feel competitive with me and are trying to devalue me”)
is much more likely to evoke defensiveness and to close down constructive interactional
flow. This genre of comment is intrusive; it is a guess about the other’s intention and
motivation and is often rejected unless an important trusting, supportive relationship has
been previously established. If members in a young group make many comments of this
type to one another, they are not likely to develop a constructive therapeutic climate.22
Using the phrase “I wonder” of course softens it a bit. Where would we therapists be
without the use of “I wonder?”
But back to our basic question: how does this series (or any series of process comments)
help the client change? The answer is that the group therapist initiates change by escorting
the client through the following sequence:
1. Here is what your behavior is like. Through feedback and later through self-
observation, members learn to see themselves as seen by others.
2. Here is how your behavior makes others feel. Members learn about the impact of
their behavior on the feelings of other members.
3. Here is how your behavior influences the opinions others have of you. Members
learn that, as a result of their behavior, others value them, dislike them, find them
unpleasant, respect them, avoid them, and so on.
4. Here is how your behavior influences your opinion of yourself. Building on the
information gathered in the first three steps, clients formulate self-evaluations; they
make judgments about their self-worth and their lovability. (Recall Sullivan’s
aphorism that the self-concept is largely constructed from reflected self-
appraisals.)
Once this sequence has been developed and is fully understood by the individual, once
clients have a deep understanding that their behavior is not in their own best interests, that
the texture of relationships to others and to themselves is fashioned by their own actions,
then they have come to a crucial point in therapy: they have entered the antechamber of
change.
The therapist is now in a position to pose a question that initiates the real crunch of
therapy. The question, presented in a number of ways by the therapist but rarely in direct
form, is: Are you satisfied with the world you have created? This is what you do to others,
to others’ opinion of you, and to your opinion of yourself—are you satisfied with your
actions?n23
When the inevitable negative answer arrives (“No I am not satisfied with my actions”)
the therapist embarks on a many-layered effort to transform a sense of personal
dissatisfaction into a decision to change and then into the act of change. In one way or
another, the therapist’s interpretive remarks are designed to encourage the act of change.

Only a few psychotherapy theoreticians (for example, Otto Rank, Rollo May, Silvano
Arieti, Leslie Farber, Allen Wheelis, and Irvin Yalom24) include the concept of will in
their formulations, yet it is, I believe, implicit in most interpretive systems. I offer a
detailed discussion of the role of will in psychotherapy in my text Existential
Psychotherapy.25 For now, broad brush strokes are sufficient.
The intrapsychic agency that initiates an act, that transforms intention and decision into
action, is will. Will is the primary responsible mover within the individual. Although
analytic metapsychology has chosen to emphasize the irresponsible movers of our
behavior (that is, unconscious motivations and drives), it is difficult to do without the idea
of will in our understanding of change.26 We cannot bypass it under the assumption that it
is too nebulous and too elusive and, consequently, consign it to the black box of the
mental apparatus, to which the therapist has no access.
Knowingly or unknowingly, every therapist assumes that each client possesses the
capacity to change through willful choice. Using a variety of strategies and tactics, the
therapist attempts to escort the client to a crossroads where he or she can choose, willfully,
in the best interests of his or her own integrity. The therapist’s task is not to create will or
to infuse it into the client. That, of course, you cannot do. What you can do is to help
remove encumbrances from the bound or stifled will of the client.27
The concept of will provides a useful construct for understanding the procedure of
process illumination. The interpretive remarks of the therapist can all be viewed in terms
of how they bear on the client’s will. The most common and simplistic therapeutic
approach is exhortative: “Your behavior is, as you yourself now know, counter to your
best interests. You are not satisfied. This is not what you want for yourself. Damn it,
change!”
The expectation that the client will change is simply an extension of the moral
philosophical belief that if one knows the good (that is, what is, in the deepest sense, in
one’s best interest), one will act accordingly. In the words of St. Thomas Aquinas: “Man,
insofar as he acts willfully, acts according to some imagined good.”28 And, indeed, for
some individuals this knowledge and this exhortation are sufficient to produce therapeutic
change.
However, clients with significant and well-entrenched psychopathology will need much
more than sheer exhortation. The therapist, through interpretative comments, then
proceeds to exercise one of several other options that help clients disencumber their will.
The therapist’s goal is to guide clients to a point where they accept one, several, or all of
the following basic premises:
1. Only I can change the world I have created for myself.
2. There is no danger in change.
3. To attain what I really want, I must change.
4. I can change; I am potent.

Each of these premises, if fully accepted by a client, can be a powerful stimulant to
willful action. Each exerts its influence in a different way. Though I will discuss each in
turn, I do not wish to imply a sequential pattern. Each, depending on the need of the client
and the style of the therapist, may be effective independently of the others.
“Only I can change the world I have created for myself.”
Behind the simple group therapy sequence I have described (seeing one’s own behavior
and appreciating its impact on others and on oneself), there is a mighty overarching
concept, one whose shadow touches every part of the therapeutic process. That concept is
responsibility. Although it is rarely discussed explicitly, it is woven into the fabric of most
psychotherapeutic systems. Responsibility has many meanings—legal, religious, ethical. I
use it in the sense that a person is “responsible for” by being the “basis of,” the “cause of,”
the “author of” something.
One of the most fascinating aspects of group therapy is that everyone is born again,
born together in the group. In other words, each member starts off on an equal footing. In
the view of the others (and, if the therapist does a good job, in the view of oneself), each
gradually scoops out and shapes a life space in the group. Each member, in the deepest
sense of the concept, is responsible for this space and for the sequence of events that will
occur to him or her in the group.
The client, having truly come to appreciate this responsibility, must then accept, too,
that there is no hope for change unless he or she changes. Others cannot bring change, nor
can change bring itself. One is responsible for one’s past and present life in the group (as
well as in the outside world) and totally responsible for one’s future.
Thus, the therapist helps the client understand that the interpersonal world is arranged in
a generally predictable and orderly fashion, that it is not that the client cannot change but
that he or she will not change, that the client bears the responsibility for the creation of his
or her world and therefore the responsibility for its transmutation. The client must regain
or develop anew a sense of his or her own interpersonal agency in the world.
“There is no danger in change.”
These well-intentioned efforts may not be enough. The therapist may tug and tug at the
therapeutic cord and learn that individuals, even after being thus enlightened, still make no
significant therapeutic movement. In this case, therapists apply additional therapeutic
leverage by helping clients face the paradox of continuing to act contrary to their basic
interests. In a number of ways therapists must pose the question, “How come? Why do
you continue to defeat yourself?”
A common method of explaining “How come?” is to assume that there are formidable
obstacles to the client’s exercising willful choice, obstacles that prevent clients from
seriously considering altering their behavior. The presence of the obstacle is generally

inferred; the therapist makes an “as if” assumption: “You behave as if you feel some
considerable danger would befall you if you were to change. You fear to act otherwise for
fear that some calamity will befall you.” The therapist helps the client clarify the nature of
the imagined danger and then proceeds, in several ways, to detoxify, to disconfirm the
reality of this danger.
The client’s reason may be enlisted as an ally. The process of identifying and naming
the fantasized danger may, in itself, enable one to understand how far removed one’s fears
are from reality. Another approach is to encourage the client, in carefully calibrated doses,
to commit the dreaded act in the group. The fantasized calamity does not, of course,
ensue, and the dread is gradually extinguished. This is often the pivotal piece of effective
therapy. Change is probably not possible, let alone enduring, without the client’s having a
lived experience of direct disconfirmation of pathogenic beliefs. Insight alone is unlikely
to be effective. This principle cuts powerfully across different schools of therapy.†
For example, suppose a client avoids any aggressive behavior because at a deep level he
fears that he has a dammed-up reservoir of homicidal fury and must be constantly vigilant
lest he unleash it and eventually face retribution from others. An appropriate therapeutic
strategy is to help the client express aggression in small doses in the group: pique at being
interrupted, irritation at members who are habitually late, anger at the therapist for
charging him money, and so on. Gradually, the client is helped to relate openly to the other
members and to demythologize himself as a homicidal being. Although the language and
the view of human nature are different, this is precisely the same approach to change used
in systematic desensitization—a major technique of behavior therapy.
“To attain what I really want, I must change.”
Another explanatory approach used by many therapists to deal with a client who
persists in behaving counter to his or her best interests is to consider the payoffs of that
individual’s behavior. Although the person’s behavior sabotages many of his or her mature
needs and goals, at the same time it satisfies another set of needs and goals. In other
words, the client has conflicting motivations that cannot be simultaneously satisfied. For
example, a male client may wish to establish mature heterosexual relationships; but at
another, often unconscious, level, he may wish to be nurtured, to be cradled endlessly, to
avoid the abandonment that he anticipates as the punishment for his adult strivings or, to
use an existential vocabulary, to be sheltered from the terrifying freedom of adulthood.
Obviously, the client cannot satisfy both sets of wishes: he cannot establish an adult
heterosexual relationship with a woman if he also says (and much more loudly), “Take
care of me, protect me, nurse me, let me be a part of you.”
It is important to clarify this paradox for the client. We might, for example, point out:
“Your behavior makes sense if we assume that you wish to satisfy the deeper, earlier, more
primitive need.” We try to help the client understand the nature of his conflicting desires,
to choose between them, to relinquish those that cannot be fulfilled except at enormous
cost to his integrity and autonomy. Once the client realizes what he really wants (as an

adult) and that his behavior is designed to fulfill opposing growth-retarding needs, he
gradually concludes: To attain what I really want, I must change.
“I can change; I am potent.”
Perhaps the major therapeutic approach to the question “How come you act in ways
counter to your best interests?” is to offer explanation. The therapist says, in effect, “You
behave in certain fashions because … ,” and the “because” clause generally involves
motivational factors outside the client’s awareness. It is true that the previous two options
I have discussed also proffer explanation but—and I will clarify this shortly—the purpose
of the explanation (the nature of the leverage exerted on will) is quite different in the two
approaches.
What type of explanation does the therapist offer the client? And which explanations are
correct, and which incorrect? Which “deep”? Which “superficial”? It is at this juncture
that the great metapsychological controversies of the field arise, since the nature of
therapists’ explanations are a function of the ideological school to which they belong.
I think we can sidestep the ideological struggle by keeping a fixed gaze on the function
of the interpretation, on the relationship between explanation and the final product:
change. After all, our goal is change. Self-knowledge, derepression, analysis of
transference, and self-actualization—all are worthwhile, enlightened pursuits, all are
related to change, preludes to change, cousins and companions to change; and yet they are
not synonymous with change.
Explanation provides a system by which we can order the events in our lives into some
coherent and predictable pattern. To name something and to place it into a causal sequence
is to experience it as being under our control. No longer is our behavior or our internal
experience frightening, inchoate, out of control; instead, we behave (or have a particular
inner experience) because … . The “because” offers us mastery (or a sense of mastery that,
phenomenologically, is tantamount to mastery). It offers us freedom and self-efficacy.† As
we move from a position of being motivated by unknown forces to a position of
identifying and controlling those forces, we move from a passive, reactive posture to an
active, acting, changing posture.
If we accept this basic premise—that a major function of explanation in psychotherapy
is to provide the client with a sense of personal mastery—it follows that the value of an
explanation should be measured by this criterion. To the extent that it offers a sense of
potency, a causal explanation is valid, correct, or “true.” Such a definition of truth is
completely relativistic and pragmatic. It argues that no explanatory system has hegemony
or exclusive rights, that no system is the correct, fundamental one or the “deeper” (and
therefore better) one.
Therapists may offer the client any of several interpretations to clarify the same issue;
each may be made from a different frame of reference, and each may be “true.” Freudian,
interpersonal, object relations, self psychology, attachment theory, existential,

transactional analytic, Jungian, gestalt, transpersonal, cognitive, behavioral explanations—
all of these may be true simultaneously. None, despite vehement claims to the contrary,
have sole rights to the truth. After all, they are all based on imaginary, as if structures.
They all say, “You are behaving (or feeling) as if such and such a thing were true.” The
superego, the id, the ego; the archetypes; the masculine protest; the internalized objects;
the selfobject; the grandiose self and the omnipotent object; the parent, child, and adult
ego state—none of these really exists. They are all fictions, all psychological constructs
created for semantic convenience. They justify their existence only by virtue of their
explanatory powers.29
Do we therefore abandon our attempts to make precise, thoughtful interpretations? Not
at all. We only recognize the purpose and function of the interpretation. Some may be
superior to others, not because they are deeper but because they have more explanatory
power, are more credible, provide more mastery, and are therefore more useful. Obviously,
interpretations must be tailored to the recipient. In general, therapeutic interventions are
more effective if they make sense, if they are logically consistent with sound supporting
arguments, if they are bolstered by empirical observation, if they “feel” right or are
congruent and “click” with a client’s frame of reference and internal world, and if they can
be generalized and applied to many analogous situations in the client’s life.
Higher-order interpretations generally offer a novel explanation to the client for some
large pattern of behavior (as opposed to a single trait or act). The novelty of the therapist’s
explanation stems from his or her objective vantage point and unusual frame of reference,
which permits an original synthesis of data. Indeed, often the data is material that the
client has generally overlooked or that is outside his or her awareness.
If pushed, to what extent am I willing to defend this relativistic thesis? When I present
this position to students, they respond with such questions as: Does that mean that an
astrological explanation is also valid in psychotherapy? Such questions make me uneasy,
but I have to respond affirmatively. If an astrological or shamanistic or magical
explanation enhances a sense of mastery and leads to inner, personal change, then it is a
valid explanation. There is much evidence from cross-cultural psychiatric research to
support this position; the explanation must be consistent with the values and with the
frame of reference of the human community in which the client dwells. In most primitive
cultures, it is often only the magical or the religious explanation that is acceptable, and
hence valid and effective.30
Psychoanalytic revisionists make an analogous point and argue that reconstructive
attempts to capture historical “truth” are futile; it is far more important to the process of
change to construct plausible, meaningful, personal narratives.31 The past is not static:
every experienced therapist knows that the process of exploration and understanding alters
the recollection of the past. In fact, current neurobiological research tells us that every
time we access an old memory we automatically alter it according to our current context,
and the revised memory is then returned to long-term storage in place of the original
memory.32
An interpretation, even the most elegant one, has no benefit if the client does not hear it.

Therapists should take pains to review their evidence with the client and present the
explanation clearly. (Be clear: if you cannot be crystal-clear, it is likely that the
explanation is rickety or that you yourself do not understand it. The reason is not, as often
has been claimed, that you are speaking directly to the client’s unconscious.)
Do not always expect the client to accept an interpretation. Sometimes the client hears
the same interpretation many times until one day it seems to “click.” Why does it click
that one day? Perhaps the client just came across some corroborating data from new
events in the environment or from the surfacing in fantasy or dreams of some previously
unconscious material. Note also that the interpretation will not click until the client’s
relationship with the therapist is just right. For example, a group member who feels
threatened and competitive with the therapist is unlikely to be helped by any interpretation
(except one that clarifies the transference). Even the most thoughtful interpretation will
fail because the client may feel defeated or humiliated by the proof of the therapist’s
superior perceptivity. An interpretation becomes maximally effective only when it is
delivered in a context of acceptance and trust.
Sometimes a client will accept from another member an interpretation that he or she
would not accept from the therapist. (Remember, group members are entirely capable of
making interpretations as useful as those of the therapists, and members will be receptive
to these interpretations provided the other member has accepted the client role and does
not offer interpretations to acquire prestige, power, or a favored position with the leader.)
A comprehensive discussion of the types of effective interpretations would require
describing the vast number of explanatory schools and group therapy models—a task well
beyond the scope of this book.33 However, three venerable concepts are so deeply
associated with interpretation that they deserve coverage here:
1. The use of the past
2. Group-as-a-whole process commentary
3. Transference
I will discuss the first two in the remainder of this chapter. So many interpretative
systems involve transference (indeed, traditional analytic theory decrees that only the
transference interpretation can be effective) that I have devoted the next chapter entirely to
the issue of transference and transparency.
THE USE OF THE PAST
Too often, explanation is confused with “originology” (the study of origins). Although, as
I have discussed, an explanatory system may effectively postulate a “cause” of behavior
from any of a large number of perspectives, many therapists continue to believe that the
“real,” the “deepest,” causes of behavior are only to be found in the past. This position
was staunchly defended by Freud, a committed psychosocial archaeologist. To the very

end of his life, he relinquished neither his search for the primordial (that is, the earliest)
explanation nor his tenacious insistence that successful therapy hinges on the excavation
of the earliest layers of life’s memories. The idea that the present is only a small fraction
of the individual’s life and that contemporary life is shaped by the overwhelmingly large
contributions made by the past is powerfully embedded in the Western world’s view of
time.34 This view understandably results in an emphasis on the past in traditional
psychodynamic textbooks35 of group therapy.
However, the powerful and unconscious factors that influence human behavior are by
no means limited to the past. Current analytic theory makes a distinction between the past
unconscious (the child within the adult) and the present unconscious (the currently
existing unconscious thoughts, fantasies, and impulses that influence our feelings and
actions). 36 Furthermore, as I shall discuss, the future, as well as the past and the present,
is also a significant determinant of behavior.
The past may affect our behavior through pathways fully described by traditional
psychoanalytic theorists and by learning theorists (strange bedfellows). However, the “not
yet,” the future, is a no less powerful determinant of behavior, and the concept of future
determinism is fully defensible. We have at all times within us a sense of purpose, an
idealized self, a series of goals for which we strive, a death toward which we veer. These
factors, both conscious and unconscious, all arch into the future and profoundly influence
our behavior. Certainly the knowledge of our isolation, our destiny, and our ultimate death
deeply influences our conduct and our inner experience. Though we generally keep them
out of awareness, the terrifying contingencies of our existence play upon us without end.
We either strive to dismiss them by enveloping ourselves in life’s many diversions, or we
attempt to vanquish death by faith in an afterlife or by striving for symbolic immortality in
the form of children, material monuments, and creative expression. In addition to the
explanatory potency of the past and the future, there is a third temporal concept that
attempts to explain behavior: the Galilean concept of causality, which focuses on the
present—on the impact of current forces.
In summary, explanations ensue from the exploration of the concentric rings of
conscious and unconscious current motivations that envelop our clients. Take one
example: clients may have a need to attack, which covers a layer of dependency wishes
that they do not express for fear of rejection. Note that we need not ask how they got to be
so dependent. In fact, the future (a person’s anticipation of rejection) plays a more central
role in the interpretation. Thus, as we hurtle through space, our behavioral trajectory may
be thought of as triply influenced: by the past—the nature and direction of the original
push; by the future—the goal that beckons us; and by the present—the current field forces
operating upon it. Consider this clinical example:
• Two clients, Ellen and Carol, expressed strong sexual feelings toward the male
therapist of the group. (Both women, incidentally, had histories—indeed, chief
complaints—of masochistic sexual gratification.) At one meeting, they discussed
the explicit content of their sexual fantasies about the therapist. Ellen fantasized
her husband being killed; herself having a psychotic breakdown; the therapist

hospitalizing her and personally nurturing her, rocking her, and caring for all her
bodily needs. Carol had a different set of fantasies. She wondered whether the
therapist was well cared for at home. She frequently fantasized that something
happened to his wife and that she would care for him by cleaning his house and
cooking his meals.
The shared sexual attraction (which, as the fantasies indicate, was not genital-
sexual) had for Ellen and Carol very different explanations. The therapist pointed
out to Ellen that throughout the course of the group, she had suffered frequent
physical illness or severe psychological relapses. He wondered whether, at a deep
level, she felt as though she could get his love and that of the other members only
by a form of selfimmolation. If this was the case, however, it never worked. More
often than not, she discouraged and frustrated others. Even more important was
the fact that as long as she behaved in ways that caused her so much shame, she
could not love herself. He emphasized that it was crucial for her to change the
pattern, because it defeated her in her therapy: she was afraid to get better, since
she felt that to do so would entail an inevitable loss of love and nurturance.
In his comments to Carol, the therapist juxtaposed several aspects of her
behavior: her self-derogation, her refusal to assume her rights, her inability to get
men interested in her. Her fantasy of taking care of the therapist was illustrative of
her motivations: she believed that if she could be self-sacrificing enough, if she
could put the therapist deeply into her debt, then she should, in reciprocal fashion,
receive the love she sought. However, Carol’s search for love, like Ellen’s, always
failed. Her eternal ingratiation, her dread of self-assertion, her continued self-
devaluation succeeded only in making her appear dull and spiritless to those
whose regard she most desired. Carol, like Ellen, whirled about in a vicious circle
of her own creation: the more she failed to obtain love, the more frantically she
repeated the same self-destructive pattern—the only course of behavior she knew
or dared to enact. It was a neatly contained, self-reinforcing, and self-defeating
cycle.
So here we have two clients with a similar behavioral pattern: “sexual” infatuation with
the therapist. Yet the therapist offered two different interpretations reflecting two different
dynamic pathways to psychological masochism. In each, the therapist assembled several
aspects of the client’s behavior in the group as well as fantasy material and suggested that,
if certain “as if” assumptions were made (for example, that Ellen acted as if she could
obtain the therapist’s love only by offering herself as severely damaged, and that Carol
acted as if she could obtain his love only by so serving him and thus place him in her
debt), then the rest of the behavior “made sense.”
Both interpretations were potent and had a significant impact on future behavior. Yet
neither broached the question “How did you get to be that way? What happened in your
earlier life to create such a pattern?” Both dealt instead with currently existing patterns:
the desire for love, the conviction that it could be obtained only in certain ways, the
sacrifice of autonomy, the resulting shame, the ensuing increased need for a sign of love,

and so on.
One formidable problem with explanations based on the distant past is that they contain
within them the seeds of therapeutic despair. Thus the paradox: if we are fully determined
by the past, whence comes the ability to change? As is evident in such later works as
Analysis Terminable and Interminable, Freud’s uncompromising deterministic view led
him to, but never through, this Gordian knot.
The past, moreover, no more determines the present and the future than it is determined
by them. The past exists for each of us only as we constitute it in the present against the
horizon of the future. Jerome Frank remind us that clients, even in prolonged therapy,
recall only a minute fraction of their past experience and may selectively recall and
synthesize the past so as to achieve consistency with their present view of themselves.37 In
the same way that a client (as a result of therapy) alters her self-image, she may
reconstitute the past. She may, for example, recall long-forgotten positive experiences with
parents; she may humanize them and, rather than experiencing them solipsistically (as
figures who existed by virtue of their service to herself), begin to understand them as
harried, well-intentioned individuals struggling with the same overwhelming facts of the
human condition that she faces herself. Once she reconstitutes the past, a new past can
further influence her self-appraisal; however, it is the reconstitution, not simply the
excavation, of the past that is crucial. Note an allied research finding: effective therapy
generates further recollection of past memories, which in turn further modify the
reconstitution of the past.38
If explanations are not to be sought from an originological perspective, and if the most
potent focus of the group is the ahistorical here-and-now, does the past therefore play no
role at all in the group therapeutic process? By no means! The past is an incessant visitor
to the group and an even more incessant visitor to the inner world of each of the members
during the course of therapy. Not infrequently, for example, a discussion of the past plays
an important role in the development of group cohesiveness by increasing intermember
understanding and acceptance.
The past is often invaluable in conflict resolution. Consider, for example, two members
locked in a seemingly irreconcilable struggle, each of whom finds many aspects of the
other repugnant. Often a full understanding of the developmental route whereby each
arrived at his or her particular viewpoint can rehumanize the struggle. A man with a regal
air of hauteur and condescension may suddenly seem understandable, even winsome,
when we learn of his immigrant parents and his desperate struggle to transcend the
degradation of a slum childhood. Individuals benefit through being fully known by others
in the group and being fully accepted; knowing another’s process of becoming is a rich
and often indispensable adjunct to knowing the person.
An ahistorical here-and-now interactional focus is never fully attainable. Discussions of
future anticipations, both feared and desired, and of past and current experiences, are an
inextricable part of human discourse. What is important in group therapy is the accent; the
past is the servant, not the master. It is important in that it explicates the current reality of
the client, who is in the process of unfolding in relation to the other group members. As

Rycroft states, “It makes better sense to say that the analyst makes excursions into
historical research in order to understand something which is interfering with his present
communication with the patient (in the same way that a translator might turn to history to
elucidate an obscure text) than to say that he makes contact with the patient in order to
gain access to biographical data.”39
To employ the past in this manner involves an anamnestic technique differing from that
often employed in individual therapy. Rather than a careful global historical survey, group
therapists periodically attempt a sector analysis in which they explore the development of
some particular interpersonal stance. Consequently, many other aspects of a client’s past
remain undiscussed in group therapy. It is not uncommon, for example, for group
therapists to conclude a course of successful therapy with a client and yet be unfamiliar
with many significant aspects of the individual’s early life.
The lack of explicit discussion of the past in the ongoing therapy group does not
accurately reflect the consideration of the past occurring within each client during therapy.
The intensive focus on the here-and-now does not, of course, have as its final goal the
formation of enduring relationships among group members. That is a way station, it is a
dress rehearsal for the work that must be done with family and friends—the truly
important individuals in a client’s life.
At the end of therapy, clients commonly report significant attitudinal improvements in
relationships that have rarely been explicitly discussed in the group. Many of these
involve family members with whom one has had a relationship stretching far back into the
past. Many clients, in fact, change their feelings about family members who are long dead.
So the past plays a role in the working-through process, and the therapist should be aware
of this silent, important homework. Yet it is an implicit role. To make repetitive use of the
group meeting for explicit discussion of the past would sacrifice the therapeutic potency of
the here-and-now interactional focus.
GROUP – AS – A – WHOLE PROCESS COMMENTARY
Some group leaders choose to focus heavily on group-as-a-whole phenomena. In their
comments, these leaders frequently refer to the “group” or “we” or “all of us.” They
attempt to clarify the relationship between the group and its primary task, or between the
group and the leader or one of its members, a subgroup, or some shared concern. Recall,
for a moment, the “parenthood is degrading” incident described earlier in this chapter. In
that incident the therapist had many process commentary options, some of which were
group-as-a-whole explanations. He might, for example, have raised the issue of whether
the “group” needed a scapegoat and whether, with Kate gone, Burt filled the scapegoat
role; or whether the “group” was actively avoiding an important issue—that is, their guilty
pleasure and fears about Kate’s departure.
Throughout this text I weave in comments related to group-as-a-whole phenomena: for

example, norm setting, the role of the deviant, scapegoating, emotional contagion, role
suction, subgroup formation, group cohesiveness, group pressure, the regressive
dependency fostered by group membership, the group’s response to termination, to the
addition of new members, to the absence of the leader, and so on. In addition to these
common group phenomena, earlier editions of this book described some comprehensive
group-as-a-whole approaches, particularly the work of Wilfred Bion, which offers an
elaborate description of the psychology of groups and the unconscious forces that obstruct
effective group functioning. 40 His approach, also known as the Tavistock approach,
persists as a useful model for understanding group-as-a-whole dynamics. Its emphasis,
however, on an inscrutable, detached, leader who serves as “conductor” of the group and
limits his participation solely to group-as-a-whole interpretations has resulted in the
abandonment of the Tavistock approach for group psychotherapy. Tavistock conferences,
however, are still used as an educational vehicle to inform participants about the nature of
group forces, leadership, and authority. (See www.yalom.com for fourth edition discussion
of Bion’s contributions.)
There is little question of the importance of group-as-a-whole phenomena. All group
leaders would agree that inherent forces in a group significantly influence behavior;
individuals behave differently in a group than they do in dyads (a factor that, as I will
discuss in chapter 9, confounds the selection of group therapy members). There is wide
agreement that an individual’s behavior cannot be fully understood without an
appreciation of his or her social and environmental context. But there remains the question
of how best to apply this knowledge in the course of the therapy group. Examining the
rationale of group-as-a-whole commentary provides some guidelines.
Rationale of Group-as-a-Whole Process Commentary
Group-as-a-whole phenomena influence the clinical course of the group in two significant
ways: they can act in the service of the group, and they can impede effective group
therapy.
Group-as-a-whole forces acting in the service of therapy. I have, throughout this text,
already considered many therapeutic uses of group-as-a-whole phenomena: for example,
many of the major therapeutic factors, such as cohesiveness—the esprit de corps of the
entire group—obviously relate to group-as-a-whole properties, and therapists are, in fact,
harnessing group-as-a-whole forces when they facilitate the development of cohesiveness.
However, it does not follow that the leader must make explicit group-as-a-whole
comments.
Group-as-a-whole forces impeding therapy. There are times when group-as-a-whole
processes significantly impede therapy, and then commentary is necessary. In other words,
the purpose of a group-as-a-whole interpretation is to remove some obstacle that has
arisen to obstruct the progress of the entire group.41 The two common types of obstacle
are anxiety-laden issues and antitherapeutic group norms.

http://www.yalom.com

Anxiety-Laden Issues
Often some issue arises in the group that is so threatening that the members refuse to
confront the problem and take some evasive action. This evasion takes many forms, all of
which are commonly referred to as group flight—a regression from the group’s normal
functions. Here is a clinical example of flight from an anxiety-laden issue:
• Six members were present at the twenty-fifth group meeting; one member, John,
was absent. For the first time, and without previous mention, one of the members,
Mary, brought her dog to the meeting. The group members, usually animated and
active, were unusually subdued and nonproductive. Their speech was barely
audible, and throughout the meeting they discussed safe topics on a level of
impersonality appropriate to a large social gathering or cocktail party. Much of
the content centered on study habits (three of the members were graduate
students), examinations, and teachers (especially their untrustworthiness and
defects). Moreover, the senior member of the group discussed former members who
had long since departed from the group—the “good old days” phenomenon.
Mary’s dog (a wretched, restless creature who spent most of the group session
noisily licking its genitals) was never mentioned.
Finally, the therapist, thinking he was speaking for all the group members,
brought up the issue of Mary’s having brought her dog to the meeting. Much to the
therapist’s surprise, Mary—a highly unpopular, narcissistic member—was
unanimously de fended. Everyone denied that the dog was in any way distracting,
leaving the protesting therapist dangling in the wind.
The therapist considered the entire meeting as a “flight” meeting and, accordingly,
made appropriate group-as-a-whole interpretations, which I will discuss shortly. But first,
what is the evidence that such a meeting is in flight? And flight from what? First, consider
the age of the group. In a young group, meeting, say, for the third time—such a session
may be a manifestation not of resistance but of the group members’ uncertainty about their
primary task and of their groping to establish procedural norms. However, this group had
already met for many months and had consistently operated at a more mature level.
It becomes very evident that the group was in a flight mode when we examine the
preceding group meeting. At that meeting, John, the member absent from the meeting
under consideration, had been twenty minutes late and happened to walk down the
corridor at the precise moment when a student opened the door of the adjoining
observation room in order to enter it. For the few seconds while the door was open, John
heard the voices of the other group members and saw a room full of observers viewing the
group; moreover, the observers at that moment happened to be giggling at some private
joke. John, like all the group members, had of course been told that the group was being
observed by students. Nevertheless, this shocking and irreverent confirmation stunned
him. When John, in the last moments of the meeting, was finally able to discuss it with the
other members, they were equally stunned. John, as I mentioned, did not show up for the
next session.

This event was a catastrophe of major proportions for the entire group—as it would be
for any group. It raised serious questions in the minds of the members. Was the therapist to
be trusted? Was he, like his colleagues in the observation room, inwardly giggling at
them? Was anything he said genuine? Was the group, once perceived as a deeply human
encounter, in fact a sterile, contrived, laboratory specimen being studied dispassionately
by a therapist who probably felt closer allegiance to “them” (the others, the observers)
than to the group members?
Despite—or, rather, because of—the magnitude of these painful group issues, the group
declined to confront the matter. Instead, it engaged in flight behavior, which now begins to
be understandable. Exposed to an outside threat, the group members banded tightly
together for protection. They spoke softly about safe topics so as to avoid sharing anything
with the outside menace (the observers and, through association, the therapist). The
therapist was unsupported when he asked about the obviously distracting behavior of
Mary’s dog. The “good old days” was a reference to and yearning for those bygone times
when the group was pure and verdant and the therapist could be trusted. The discussion of
examinations and untrustworthy teachers was also a thinly veiled expression of attitudes
toward the therapist.
The precise nature and timing of the intervention is largely a matter of individual style.
Some therapists, myself included, tend to intervene when they sense the presence of group
flight even though they do not clearly understand its source. I may, for example, comment
that I feel puzzled or uneasy about the meeting and inquire, “Is there something the group
is not talking about today?” or “Is the group avoiding something?” or “I have a sense
there’s a ‘hidden agenda’ today; could we talk about this?”
I may increase the power of my inquiry by citing the evidence for such a conclusion—
for example, the whispering, the shift toward neutral topics and a noninteractive,
impersonal mode of communication, my experience of being left out or of being deserted
by the others when I mentioned the obvious distraction of the dog. Furthermore, I might
add that the group is strangely avoiding all discussion both of the previous meeting and of
John’s absence today. In one way or another, however, the problems of the group as a
whole must be addressed before any meaningful interpersonal work can resume.
In this clinical example, would we be satisfied merely with getting the group back on
the track of discussing more meaningful personal material? No! More is needed: the issues
being avoided were too crucial to the group’s existence to be left submerged. This
consideration was particularly relevant in this group, whose members had insufficiently
explored their relationship to me. Therefore, I repeatedly turned the group’s attention back
to the main issue (their trust and confidence in me) and tried not to be misled by substitute
behavior—for example, the group’s offering another theme for discussion, perhaps even a
somewhat charged one. My task was not simply to circumvent the resistance, to redirect
the group to work areas, but to plunge the members into the source of the resistance—in
other words, not around anxiety, but through it.
Another clue to the presence and strength of resistance is the group’s response to
therapists’ resistance-piercing commentary. If therapists’ comments, even when repeated,

fall on deaf ears, if therapists feel ignored by the group, if they find it extraordinarily
difficult to influence the meeting, then it is clear that the resistance is powerful and that
the group needs to be addressed as well as the individual members. It is not an easy
undertaking. It is anxiety-provoking to buck the entire group, and therapists may feel
deskilled in such meetings.
The group may also avoid work by more literal flight—absence or tardiness. Whatever
the form, however, the result is the same: in the language of the group dynamicist,
locomotion toward the attainment of group goals is impeded, and the group is no longer
engaged in its primary task.
Not uncommonly, the issue precipitating the resistance is discussed symbolically. I have
seen groups deal with their uneasiness about observers metaphorically by long discussions
about other types of confidentiality violation: for example, public posting of grades for a
school course, family members opening one another’s mail, and invasive credit company
computers. Discomfort about the therapist’s absence may prompt discussions of parental
inaccessibility or death or illness. Generally, the therapist may learn something of what is
being resisted by pondering the question “Why is this particular topic being discussed, and
why now?”
An experience in a therapy group at the height of the 2003 SARS (Severe Acute
Respiratory Syndrome) epidemic may be illustrative.
• A group in a partial hospitalization program for depressed seniors was canceled
for several weeks and finally reconvened, but with the proviso that all participants
were required to wear uncomfortable and oppressive face masks (heeding the
recommendation of infection control) that obscured nonverbal communication. The
meeting was characterized by unusually hostile comments about deprivations:
uncaring adult children, incompetent public health officials, unavailable,
neglectful therapists. Soon the members began to attack one another and the group
seemed on the brink of total disintegration.
The therapist, also struggling with the restrictive mask, asked for a “process
check”—that is, he asked the group to stop for a moment and reflect on what was
happening so far in the meeting. The members all agreed that they hated what the
SARS crisis had done to their group. The masks not only were physically irritating,
but they also blocked them from feeling close to others in the group. They realized,
too, that the generalized anger in the group was misplaced, but they did not know
what to do with their strong feelings.
The therapist made a group-as-a-whole interpretation: “There’s a sort of
paradox here today: it’s evident that you cherish this group and are angry at being
deprived of it, yet, on the other hand, the anger you experience and express
threatens the warm supportive group atmosphere you so value.” A lot of head
nodding followed the therapist’s interpretation, and the anger and divisiveness
soon dissipated.

Antitherapeutic Group Norms
Another type of group obstacle warranting a group-as-a-whole interpretation occurs when
antitherapeutic group norms are elaborated by the group. For example, a group may
establish a “take turns” format in which an entire meeting is devoted, sequentially, to each
member of the group. “Taking turns” is a comfortable or convenient procedure, but it is an
undesirable norm, because it discourages free interaction in the here-and-now.
Furthermore, members are often forced into premature self-disclosure and, as their turn
approaches, may experience extreme anxiety or even decide to terminate therapy. Or a
group may establish a pattern of devoting the entire session to the first issue raised in that
session, with strong invisible sanctions against changing the subject. Or there may be a
“Can you top this?” format in which the members engage in a spiraling orgy of self-
disclosure. Or the group may develop a tightly knit, closed pattern that excludes outlying
members and does not welcome new ones.
To intervene effectively in such instances, therapists may need to make a group-as-a-
whole interpretation that clearly describes the process and the deleterious effects the
taking-turns format has on the members or on the group and emphasizes that there are
alternatives to this mode of opening each meeting.
Frequently a group, during its development, bypasses certain important phases or never
incorporates certain norms into its culture. For example, a group may develop without
ever going through a period of challenging or confronting the therapist. Or a group may
develop without a whisper of intermember dissension, without status bids or struggles for
control. Or a group may meet at length with no hint of real intimacy or closeness arising
among the members. Such avoidance is a collaborative result of the group members
implicitly constructing norms dictating this avoidance.
Therapists who sense that the group is providing a one-sided or incomplete experience
for the members often facilitate the progress of the group work by commenting on the
missing aspect of the group’s life. (Such an intervention assumes, of course, that there are
regularly recurring, predictable phases of small group development with which the
therapist is familiar—a topic I will discuss in chapter 11.)
The Timing of Group Interventions
For pedagogical reasons, I have discussed interpersonal phenomena and group-as-a-whole
phenomena as though they were quite distinct. In practice, of course, the two often
overlap, and the therapist is faced with the question of when to emphasize the
interpersonal aspects of the transaction and when to emphasize the group-as-a-whole
aspects. This matter of clinical judgment cannot be neatly prescribed. As in any
therapeutic endeavor, judgment develops from experience (particular supervised
experience) and from intuition. As Melanie Klein stated, “It is a most precious quality in
an analyst to be able at any moment to pick out the point of urgency.”42

The point of urgency is far more elusive in group therapy than in individual treatment.
As a general rule, however, an issue critical to the existence or functioning of the entire
group always takes precedence over narrower interpersonal issues. As an illustration, let
me return to the group that engaged in whispering, discussion of neutral topics, and other
forms of group flight during the meeting after a member had inadvertently discovered the
indiscreet group observers. In that meeting, Mary, who had been absent at the previous
meeting, brought her dog. Under normal circumstances, this act would clearly have
become an important group issue: Mary had consulted neither with the therapist nor with
other members about bringing her dog to the group; she was, because of her narcissism, an
unpopular member, and her act was representative of her insensitivity to others. However,
in this meeting there was a far more urgent issue—one threatening the entire group—and
the dog was discussed not from the aspect of facilitating Mary’s interpersonal learning but
as he was used by the group in its flight. Only later, after the obstacle to the group’s
progress had been worked through and removed, did the members return to a meaningful
consideration of their annoyance about Mary bringing the dog.
To summarize, group-as-a-whole forces are continuously at play in the therapy group.
The therapist needs to be aware of them in order to harness group forces in the service of
therapy and to counter them when they obstruct therapy.†

Chapter 7
THE THERAPIST: TRANSFERENCE AND
TRANSPARENCY
Having discussed the mechanisms of therapeutic change in group therapy, the tasks of the
therapist, and the techniques by which the therapist accomplishes these tasks, I turn in this
chapter from what the therapist must do in the group to how the therapist must be. Do you,
as therapist, play a role? To what degree are you free to be yourself? How “honest” can
you be? How much transparency can you permit yourself?
Any discussion of therapist freedom should begin with transference, which can be either
an effective therapeutic tool or a set of shackles that encumbers your every movement. In
his first and extraordinarily prescient essay on psychotherapy (the final chapter of Studies
on Hysteria [1895]), Freud noted several possible impediments to the formation of a good
working relationship between client and therapist.1 Most of them could be resolved easily,
but one stemmed from deeper sources and resisted efforts to banish it from the therapeutic
work. Freud labeled this impediment transference, since it consisted of attitudes toward
the therapist that had been “transferred” from earlier attitudes toward important figures in
the client’s life. These feelings toward the therapist were “false connections”—new
editions of old impulses.
Freud soon realized, however, that transference was far from being an impediment to
therapy; on the contrary, if used properly, it could be the therapist’s most effective tool.2
What better way to help the clients recapture the past than to allow them to reexperience
and reenact ancient feelings toward parents through the current relationship to the
therapist? Furthermore, the intense and conflicted relationship that often develops with the
therapist, which he termed the transference neurosis, was amenable to reality testing; the
therapist could treat it and, in so doing, simultaneously treat the infantile conflict.
Although some of these terms may seem dated, many of today’s psychotherapeutic
approaches, including cognitive therapy, acknowledge a concept similar to transference
but refer to it as the client’s “schema.”3
Although considerable evolution in theory and technique has occurred in
psychoanalysis over the past half century, until recently some basic principles regarding
the role of transference in psychoanalytic therapy have endured with relatively little
change:4
1. Analysis of transference is the major therapeutic task of the therapist.
2. Because the development (and then the resolution) of transference is crucial, it is
important that therapists facilitate its development by remaining opaque, so that
the client can encloak them in transferred feelings and attitudes, much as one
might dress a mannequin after one’s own fancy. (This is the rationale behind the
“blank screen” role of the analyst, a role that enjoys little currency these days even
among traditional analysts.)

3. The most important type of interpretation the therapist can make is one that
clarifies some aspect of transference. (In the early days of analysis the transference
interpretation was referred to as the “mutative interpretation.”)
In recent decades, however, many analysts have shifted their assumptions as they have
recognized the importance of other factors in the therapeutic process. Judd Marmor, a
prominent American analyst, anticipated this evolution in a 1973 article in which he
wrote, “Psychoanalysts have begun, in general, to feel more free to enter into active
communicative exchanges with patients instead of remaining bound to the incognito
‘neutral mirror’ model of relative silence and impassivity.”5 More recently, Stephen
Mitchell, a leader in relational approaches to mainstream psychoanalysis commented:
Many patients are now understood to be suffering not from conflictual infantile
passions that can be tamed and transformed through reason and understanding but
from stunted personal development. Deficiencies in caregiving in the earliest years
are understood to have contributed to interfering with the emergence of a fully
centered, integrated sense of self, of the patient’s own subjectivity. What the
patient needs is not clarification or insight so much as a sustained experience of
being seen, personally engaged, and, basically valued and cared about.6
Mitchell and many others argue that the “curative” factor in both individual and group
therapy is the relationship, which requires the therapist’s authentic engagement and
empathic attunement to the client’s internal emotional and subjective experience.†7 Note
that this new emphasis on the nature of the relationship means that psychotherapy is
changing its focus from a one-person psychology (emphasizing the client’s pathology) to a
two-person psychology (emphasizing mutual impact and shared responsibility for the
relationship).†8 In this model, the therapist’s emotional experience in the therapy is a
relevant and powerful source of data about the client. How to make wise use of this data
will be elaborated shortly. Few would quarrel with the importance of the development,
recognition, and resolution of transference in individual, dynamically oriented therapy.o
Psychoanalysts disagree about the degree of permissible therapist disclosure—ranging
from extensive disclosure9 to complete opaqueness.10 But they do agree that transference
is “inappropriate, intense, ambivalent, capricious, and tenacious”11 and agree also about
the centrality of the transference and the key role of the interpretation of transference in
analytic treatment. The difference between analytic schools centers mainly on whether
“transference is everything or almost everything.”12
In group therapy the problem is not the importance of transference work; it is the
priority of this work relative to other therapeutic factors in the treatment process. The
therapist cannot focus solely on transference and at the same time perform the variety of
tasks necessary to build a group that can make use of the important group therapeutic
factors.
The difference between group therapists who consider the resolution of therapist-client
transference as the paramount therapeutic factor13 and those who attach equal importance
to the interpersonal learning that ensues from relationships between members and from

other therapeutic factors is more than theoretical: in practice, they use markedly different
techniques. The following vignettes from a group led by a formal British analyst who
made only transference interpretations illustrate this point:
• At the twentieth meeting, the members discussed at great length the fact that they
did not know one another’s first names. They then dealt with the general problem
of intimacy, discussing, for example, how difficult it was to meet and really know
people today. How does one make a really close friend? Now, on two occasions
during this discussion, a member had erred or forgotten the surname of another
member. From this data the group leader made the transference interpretation that
by forgetting the others’ names, the members were expressing a wish that all the
other members would vanish so that each could have the therapist’s sole attention.
• In another session, two male members were absent, and four women members
bitterly criticized the one male client present, who was gay, for his detachment and
narcissism, which precluded any interest in the lives or problems of others. The
therapist suggested that the women were attacking the male client because he did
not desire them sexually. Moreover, he was an indirect target; the women really
wanted to attack the therapist for his refusal to engage them sexually.
In each instance, the therapist selectively attended to the data and, from the vantage
point of his particular conception of the paramount therapeutic factor—that is,
transference resolution—made an interpretation that was pragmatically correct, since it
focused the members’ attention on their relationship with the leader. However, in my view,
these therapist-centered interpretations are incomplete, for they deny important
intermember relationships. In fact, in the first vignette, the members, in addition to their
wish for the therapist’s sole attention, were considerably conflicted about intimacy and
about their desires and fears of engaging with one another. In the second vignette, the male
client had in fact been self-absorbed and detached from the other members of the group,
and it was exceedingly important for him to recognize and understand his behavior.
Any mandate that limits group therapists’ flexibility renders them less effective. I have
seen some therapists hobbled by a conviction that they must at all times remain totally
anonymous and neutral, others by their crusade to be at all times totally “honest” and
transparent, and still others by the dictum that they must make interpretations only of
transference or only of mass group phenomena, or, even more stringently, only of mass
group transference.
The therapist’s approach to the group can amplify or moderate the expression of
members’ transferences. If the therapist emphasizes his centrality, the group will become
more regressive and dependent. In contrast, if the therapist values the peer interactions and
peer transferences as primary expressions and not merely as displacements from the
therapist, then the intensity of the transference experience in the group will be better
modulated.14
In this chapter I make the following points about transference:
1. Transference does occur in therapy groups; indeed, it is omnipresent and radically

influences the nature of the group discourse.
2. Without an appreciation of transference and its manifestations, the therapist will
often not be able to understand fully the process of the group.
3. Therapists who ignore transference considerations may seriously misunderstand
some transactions and confuse rather than guide the group members; therapists
who attend only to the transference aspects of their relationships with members
may fail to relate authentically to them.
4. There are clients whose therapy hinges on the resolution of transference distortion;
there are others whose improvement will depend on interpersonal learning
stemming from work not with the therapist but with another member, around such
issues as competition, exploitation, or sexual and intimacy conflicts; and there are
many clients who choose alternative therapeutic pathways in the group and derive
their primary benefit from other therapeutic factors entirely.
5. Transference distortions between group members can be worked with as
effectively, and perhaps even more effectively, than transference reactions to the
therapist.15
6. Attitudes toward the therapist are not all transference based: many are reality
based, and others are irrational but flow from other sources of irrationality inherent
in the dynamics of the group. (As Freud recognized, not all group phenomena can
be explained on the basis of individual psychology.)16
7. By maintaining flexibility, you may make good therapeutic use of these irrational
attitudes toward you, without at the same time neglecting your many other
functions in the group.
TRANSFERENCE IN THE THERAPY GROUP
Every client, to a greater or lesser degree, perceives the therapist incorrectly because of
transference distortions, sometimes even before beginning therapy. One psychiatrist tells
the story of going out to meet a new client in the waiting room and having the client
dispute that the therapist was who he said he was because he was so physically different
from the client’s imaginings of him.17 Few clients are entirely conflict free in their
attitudes toward such issues as parental authority, dependency, God, autonomy, and
rebellion—all of which are often personified in the person of the therapist. These
distortions are continually at play under the surface of the group discourse. Indeed, hardly
a meeting passes without some clear token of the powerful feelings evoked by the
therapist.
Witness the difference in the group when the therapist enters. Often the group may have
been engaged in animated conversation only to lapse into heavy silence at the sight of the

therapist. (Someone once said that the group therapy meeting officially begins when
suddenly nothing happens!) The therapist’s arrival not only reminds the group of its task
but also evokes early constellations of feelings in each member about the adult, the
teacher, the evaluator. Without the therapist, the group feels free to frolic; the therapist’s
presence is experienced as a stern reminder of the responsibilities of adulthood.
Seating patterns often reveal some of the complex and powerful feelings toward the
leader. Frequently, the members attempt to sit as far away from you as possible. As
members filter into the meeting they usually occupy distant seats, leaving the seats on
either side of the therapist as the penalty for late arrivals; a paranoid client often takes the
seat directly opposite you, perhaps in order to watch you more closely; a dependent client
generally sits close to you, often on your right. If co-therapists sit close to each other with
only one vacant chair between them, you can bet it will be the last chair occupied. One
member, after months of group therapy, still described a feeling of great oppression when
seated between the therapists.
Over several years, for research purposes, I asked group members to fill out a
questionnaire after each meeting. One of their tasks was to rank-order every member for
activity (according to the total number of words each spoke). There was excellent
intermember reliability in their ratings of the other group members but exceedingly poor
reliability in their ratings of the group therapist. In the same meetings some clients rated
the therapist as the most active member, whereas others considered him the least active.
The powerful and unrealistic feelings of the members toward the therapist prevented an
accurate appraisal, even on this relatively objective dimension.
One client, when asked to discuss his feelings toward me, stated that he disliked me
greatly because I was cold and aloof. He reacted immediately to his disclosure with
intense discomfort. He imagined possible repercussions: I might be too upset by his attack
to be of any more help to the group; I might retaliate by kicking him out of the group; I
might humiliate him by mocking him for some of the lurid sexual fantasies he had shared
with the group; or I might use my psychiatric wizardry to harm him in the future.
On another occasion many years ago, a group noted that I was wearing a copper
bracelet. When they learned it was for tennis elbow, their reaction was extreme. They felt
angry that I should be superstitious or ascribe to any quack cures. (They had berated me
for months for being too scientific and not human enough!) Some suggested that if I
would spend more time with my clients and less time on the tennis court, everyone would
be better off. One woman, who idealized me, said that she had seen copper bracelets
advertised in a local magazine, but guessed that mine was more special—perhaps
something I had bought in Switzerland.
Some members characteristically address all their remarks to the therapist, or speak to
other members only to glance furtively at the therapist at the end of their statement. It is as
though they speak to others in an attempt to reach the therapist, seeking the stamp of
approval for all their thoughts and actions. They forget, as it were, their reasons for being
in therapy: they continuously seek to gain conspiratorial eye contact; to be the last to leave
the session; to be, in a multitude of ways, the therapist’s favorite child.

One middle-aged woman dreamed that the group therapy room was transformed into
my living room, which was bare and unfurnished. The other group members were not
there; instead, the room was crowded with my family, which consisted of several sons. I
introduced her to them, and she felt intense warmth and pleasure. Her association to the
dream was that she was overjoyed at the thought that there was a place for her in my
home. Not only could she furnish and decorate my house (she was a professional interior
designer) but, since I had only sons (in her dream), there was room for a daughter.
Transference is so powerful and so ubiquitous that the dictum “the leader shall have no
favorites” seems to be essential for the stability of every working group. Freud suggested
that group cohesiveness, curiously, derives from the universal wish to be the favorite of
the leader and the mutual identifications the group members make with the idealized
leader.18 Consider the prototypic human group: the sibling group. It is rife with intense
rivalrous feelings: each child wishes to be the favorite and resents all rivals for their
claims to parental love. The older child wishes to rob the younger of privileges or to
eliminate the child altogether. And yet each realizes that the rival children are equally
loved by their parents and that therefore one cannot destroy one’s siblings without
incurring parental wrath and thus destroying oneself.
There is only possible solution: equality. If one cannot be the favorite, then there must
be no favorite at all. Everyone is granted an equal investment in the leader, and out of this
demand for equality is born what we have come to know as group spirit. Freud is careful
to remind us that the demand for equality applies only to the other members. They do not
wish to be equal to the leader. Quite the contrary: they have a thirst for obedience—a “lust
for submission,” as Erich Fromm put it.19 I shall return to this shortly. We have regrettably
often witnessed the marriage of weak, devitalized, and demoralized followers to
charismatic, often malignantly narcissistic group leaders.20
Freud was very sensitive to the powerful and irrational manner in which group members
view their leader, and he systematically analyzed this phenomenon and applied it to
psychotherapy.21 Obviously, however, the psychology of member and leader has existed
since the earliest human groupings, and Freud was not the first to note it.† To cite only one
example, Tolstoy in the nineteenth century was keenly aware of the subtle intricacies of
the member-leader relationship in the two most important groups of his day: the church
and the military. His insight into the overvaluation of the leader gives War and Peace
much of its pathos and richness. Consider Rostov’s regard for the Tsar:
He was entirely absorbed in the feeling of happiness at the Tsar’s being near. His
nearness alone made up to him by itself, he felt, for the loss of the whole day. He
was happy, as a lover is happy when the moment of the longed-for meeting has
come. Not daring to look around from the front line, by an ecstatic instance
without looking around, he felt his approach. And he felt it not only from the
sound of the tramping hoofs of the approaching cavalcade, he felt it because as the
Tsar came nearer everything grew brighter, more joyful and significant, and more
festive. Nearer and nearer moved this sun, as he seemed to Rostov, shedding
around him rays of mild and majestic light, and now he felt himself enfolded in

that radiance, he heard his voice—that voice caressing, calm, majestic, and yet so
simple. And Rostov got up and went out to wander about among the campfires,
dreaming of what happiness it would be to die—not saving the Emperor’s life (of
that he did not dare to dream), but simply to die before the Emperor’s eyes. He
really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms and the hope of
coming victory. And he was not the only man who felt thus in those memorable
days that preceded the battle of Austerlitz: nine-tenths of the men in the Russian
army were at that moment in love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the
glory of the Russian arms.22
Indeed, it would seem that submersion in the love of a leader is a prerequisite for war.
How ironic that more killing has probably been done under the aegis of love than of
hatred!
Napoleon, that consummate leader of men, was, according to Tolstoy, not ignorant of
transference, nor did he hesitate to utilize it in the service of victory. In War and Peace,
Tolstoy had him deliver this dispatch to his troops on the eve of battle:
Soldiers! I will myself lead your battalions. I will keep out of fire, if you, with your
habitual bravery, carry defeat and disorder into the ranks of the enemy. But if
victory is for one moment doubtful, you will see your Emperor exposed to the
enemy’s hottest attack, for there can be no uncertainty of victory, especially on this
day, when it is a question of the honor of the French infantry, on which rests the
honor of our nation.23
As a result of transference, the therapy group may impute superhuman powers to the
leaders. Therapists’ words are given more weight and wisdom than they carry. Equally
astute contributions made by other members are ignored or distorted. All progress in the
group is attributed to you, the therapist. Your errors, faux pas, and absences are seen as
deliberate techniques that you employ to stimulate or provoke the group for its own good.
Groups, including groups of professional therapists, overestimate your power and
knowledge. They believe that there are great calculated depths to each of your
interventions, that you predict and control all the events of the group. Even when you
confess puzzlement or ignorance, this, too, is regarded as part of your clever technique,
intended to have a particular effect on the group.
Ah, to be the favorite child—of the parent, of the leader! For many group members, this
longing serves as an internal horizon against which all other group events are silhouetted.
However much each member cares for the other members of the group, however much
each is pleased to see others work and receive help, there is a background of envy, of
disappointment, that one is not basking alone in the light of the leader. The leader’s
inquiries into these domains—who gets the most attention? Who gets the least? Who
seems most favored by the leader?—almost invariably plunge the members into a
profitable examination of the group’s innards.
This desire for sole possession of the leader and the ensuing envy and greed lie deeply
embedded in the substructure of every group. An old colloquialism for the genital organs

is “privates.” However, today many therapy groups discuss sexuality with ease, even
relish. The “privates” of a group are more likely to be the fee structure: money often acts
as the electrodes upon which condense much of the feeling toward the leader. The fee
structure is an especially charged issue in many mental health clinics, which bill members
according to a sliding fee scale based on income. How much one pays is often one of the
group’s most tightly clutched secrets, since differing fees (and the silent, insidious
corollary: different rights, different degrees of ownership) threaten the very cement of the
group: equality for all members. Therapists often feel awkward talking about money:
Group discussion of money and fees may open difficult issues for the therapist such as
income, perceived greed, or entitlement.†
Members often expect the leader to sense their needs. One member wrote a list of major
issues that troubled him and brought it to meeting after meeting, waiting for the therapist
to divine its existence and ask him to read it. Obviously, the content of the list meant little
—if he had really wanted to work on the problems enumerated there, he could have
presented the list to the group himself. No, what was important was the belief in the
therapist’s prescience and presence. This member’s transference was such that he had
incompletely differentiated himself from the therapist. Their ego boundaries were blurred;
to know or feel something was, for him, tantamount to the therapist’s knowing and feeling
it. Many clients carry their therapist around with them. The therapist is in them, observes
their actions from over their shoulder, participates in imaginary conversations with them.
When several members of a group share this desire for an all-knowing, all-caring
leader, the meetings take on a characteristic flavor. The group seems helpless and
dependent. The members deskill themselves and seem unable to help themselves or others.
Deskilling is particularly dramatic in a group composed of professional therapists who
suddenly seem unable to ask even the simplest questions of one another. For example, in
one meeting a group may talk about loss. One member mentions, for the first time, the
recent death of her mother. Then silence. There is sudden group aphasia. No one is even
able to say, “Tell us more about it.” They are all waiting—waiting for the touch of the
therapist. No one wants to encourage anyone else to talk for fear of lessening his or her
chance of obtaining the leader’s ministrations.
Then, at other times or in other groups, the opposite occurs. Members challenge the
leader continuously. The therapist is distrusted, misunderstood, treated like an enemy.
Examples of such negative transference are common. One client, just beginning the group,
expended considerable energy in an effort to dominate the other members. Whenever the
therapist attempted to point this out, the client regarded his intentions as malicious: the
therapist was interfering with his growth; the therapist was threatened by him and was
attempting to keep him subservient; or, finally, the therapist was deliberately blocking his
progress lest he improve too quickly and thus diminish the therapist’s income. Both of
these polarized positions—slavish idealization and unrelenting devaluation, reflect
destructive group norms and represent an antigroup position that demands the therapist’s
attention.24
In a group of adult female incest survivors, I, the only male in the group, was

continually challenged. Unlike my female co-therapist, I could do no right. My appearance
was attacked—my choice of neckties, my wearing socks that were not perfectly matched.
Virtually every one of my interventions was met with criticism. My silence was labeled
disinterest, and my support was viewed with suspicion. When I did not inquire deeply
enough into the nature of their abuse, I was accused of lacking interest and empathy.
When I did inquire, I was accused of being a “closet pervert” who got sexual kicks from
listening to stories of sexual violation. Though I had known that transferential anger from
a group of female abuse victims would be inevitable and useful to the therapy process, and
that the attacks were against my role rather than against my person—still, the attacks were
difficult to tolerate. I began to dread each meeting and felt anxious, deskilled, and
incompetent. The transference was not just being felt or spoken, it was being enacted
powerfully.25 Not only was I attacked as a representative of the prototypical male in these
group members’ lives, but I was also being “abused” in a form of role inversion. This
offered a useful window into the experience of the group members who all too often felt
dread, bullied, and lacking in skill. Understanding the nature of transference and not
retaliating with countertransference rage was essential in retaining a therapeutic posture.
In another group a paranoid client, who had a long history of broken leases and lawsuits
brought against her by landlords, re-created her litigiousness in the group. She refused to
pay her small clinic bill, claiming that there was an error in the account, but she could not
find the time to come to talk to the clinic administrator. When the therapist reminded her
on a number of occasions of the account, she compared him to a Jewish slumlord or a
greedy capitalist who would have liked her to damage her health permanently by slaving
in an environmentally toxic factory.
Another member habitually became physically ill with flu symptoms whenever she
grew depressed. The therapist could find no way to work with her without her feeling he
was accusing her of malingering—a replay of the accusatory process in her relationships
in her family. When one therapist, on a couple of occasions, accepted a Life Saver from a
female member, another member responded strongly and accused him both of mooching
and of exploiting the women in the group.
Many irrational reasons exist for these attacks on the therapist, but some stem from the
same feelings of helpless dependency that result in the worshipful obedience I have
described. Some clients (“counterdependents”) respond counterphobically to their
dependency by incessantly defying the leader. Others validate their integrity or potency by
attempting to triumph over the big adversary, feeling a sense of exhilaration and power
from twisting the tail of the tiger and emerging unscathed.
The most common charge members level against the leader is that of being too cold, too
aloof, too inhuman. This charge has some basis in reality. For both professional and
personal reasons, as I shall discuss shortly, many therapists do keep themselves hidden
from the group. Also, their role of process commentator requires a certain distance from
the group. But there is more to it. Although the members insist that they wish therapists to
be more human, they have the simultaneous counterwish that they be more than human.
(See my novel The Schopenhauer Cure [pp. 221–253] for a fictional portrayal of this

phenomenon.)
Freud often made this observation. In The Future of an Illusion, he based his
explanation for religious belief on the human being’s thirst for a superbeing.26 It seemed
to Freud that the integrity of the group depended on the existence of some superordinate
figure who, as I discussed earlier, fosters the illusion of loving each member equally. Solid
group bonds become chains of sand if the leader is lost. If the general perishes in battle, it
is imperative that the news be kept secret, or panic might break out. So, too, for the leader
of the church. Freud was fascinated by a 1903 novel called When It Was Dark, in which
Christ’s divinity was questioned and ultimately disproved.27 The novel depicted
catastrophic effects on Western European civilization; previously stable social institutions
deconstituted one by one, leaving only social chaos and ideological rubble.
Hence, there is great ambivalence in the members’ directive to the leader to be “more
human.” They complain that you tell them nothing of yourself, yet they rarely inquire
explicitly. They demand that you be more human yet excoriate you if you wear a copper
bracelet, accept a Life Saver, or forget to tell the group that you have conversed with a
member over the phone. They prefer not to believe you if you profess puzzlement or
ignorance. The illness or infirmity of a therapist always arouses considerable discomfort
among the members, as though somehow the therapist should be beyond biological
limitation. The followers of a leader who abandons his or her role are greatly distressed.
(When Shakespeare’s Richard II laments his hollow crown and gives vent to his
discouragement and need for friends, his court bids him to be silent.)
A group of psychiatry residents I once led put the dilemma very clearly. They often
discussed the “big people” out in the world: their therapists, group leaders, supervisors,
and the adult community of senior practicing psychiatrists. The closer these residents
came to completing their training, the more important and problematic the big people
became. I wondered aloud whether they, too, might soon become “big people.” Could it be
that even I had my “big people”?
There were two opposing sets of concerns about the “big people,” and they were
equally troubling: first, that the “big people” were real, that they possessed superior
wisdom and knowledge and would dispense an honest but terrible justice to the young,
presumptuous frauds who tried to join their ranks; or, second, that the “big people”
themselves were frauds, and the members were all Dorothys facing the Oz wizard. The
second possibility had more frightening implications than the first: it brought them face-
to-face with their intrinsic loneliness and apartness. It was as if, for a brief time, life’s
illusions were stripped away, exposing the naked scaffolding of existence—a terrifying
sight, one that we conceal from ourselves with the heaviest of curtains. The “big people”
are one of our most effective curtains. As frightening as their judgment may be, it is far
less terrible than that other alternative—that there are no “big people” and that one is
finally and utterly alone.
The leader is thus seen unrealistically by members for many reasons. True transference
or displacement of affect from some prior object is one reason; conflicted attitudes toward
authority (dependency, distrust, rebellion, counterdependency) that become personified in

the therapist is another; and still another reason is the tendency to imbue therapists with
superhuman features so as to use them as a shield against existential anxiety.
An additional but entirely rational source of members’ strong feelings toward the group
therapist lies in the members’ explicit or intuitive appreciation of the therapist’s great and
real power. Group leaders’ presence and impartiality are, as I have already discussed,
essential for group survival and stability; they have the power to expel members, add new
members, and mobilize group pressure against anyone they wish.
In fact, the sources of intense, irrational feelings toward the therapist are so varied and
so powerful that transference will always occur. The therapist need not make any effort—
for example, striking a pose of unflinching neutrality and anonymity—to generate or
facilitate the development of transference. An illustrative example of transference
developing in the presence of therapist transparency occurred with a client who often
attacked me for aloofness, deviousness, and hiddenness. He accused me of manipulation,
of pulling strings to guide each member’s behavior, of not being clear and open, of never
really coming out and telling the group exactly what I was trying to do in therapy. Yet this
man was a member of a group in which I had been writing very clear, honest, transparent
group summaries and mailing them to the members before the next meeting (see chapter
14). A more earnest attempt to demystify the therapeutic process would be difficult to
imagine. When asked by some of the members about my self-disclosure in the summaries,
he acknowledged that he had not read them—they remained unopened on his desk.
As long as a group therapist assumes the responsibility of leadership, transference will
occur. I have never seen a group develop without a deep, complex underpinning of
transference. The problem is thus not evocation but resolution of transference. The
therapist who is to make therapeutic use of transference must help clients recognize,
understand, and change their distorted attitudinal set toward the leader.
How does the group resolve transference distortions? Two major approaches are seen in
therapy groups: consensual validation and increased therapist transparency.
Consensual Validation
The therapist may encourage a client to validate his or her impressions of the therapist
against those of the other members. If many or all of the group members concur in the
client’s view of and feelings toward the therapist, then it is clear that either the members’
reaction stems from global group forces related to the therapist’s role in the group or that
the reaction is not unrealistic at all—the group members are perceiving the therapist
accurately. If, on the other hand, there is no consensus, if one member alone has a
particular view of the therapist, then this member may be helped to examine the possibility
that he or she sees the therapist, and perhaps other people too, through an internal
distorting prism. In this process the therapist must take care to operate with a spirit of open
inquiry, lest it turn into a process of majority rule. There can be some truth even in the
idiosyncratic reaction of a single member.

Increased Therapist Transparency
The other major approach relies on the therapeutic use of the self. Therapists help clients
confirm or disconfirm their impressions of the therapists by gradually revealing more of
themselves. The client is pressed to deal with the therapist as a real person in the here-and-
now. Thus you respond to the client, you share your feelings, you acknowledge or refute
motives or feelings attributed to you, you look at your own blind spots, you demonstrate
respect for the feedback the members offer you. In the face of this mounting real-life data,
clients are impelled to examine the nature and the basis of their powerful fictitious beliefs
about the therapist.
We use our transparency and self-disclosure to maintain a therapeutic position with our
clients that balances us in a position midway between the client’s transference and its
therapeutic disconfirmation.† Your disclosure about the client’s impact on you is a
particularly effective intervention because it deepens understanding for the mutual impact
between therapist and group member.28
The group therapist undergoes a gradual metamorphosis during the life of the group. In
the beginning you busy yourself with the many functions necessary in the creation of the
group, with the development of a social system in which the many therapeutic factors may
operate, and with the activation and illumination of the here-and-now. Gradually, as the
group progresses, you begin to interact more personally with each of the members, and as
you become more of a fleshed-out person, the members find it more difficult to maintain
the early stereotypes they had projected onto you.
This process between you and each of the members is not qualitatively different from
the interpersonal learning taking place among the members. After all, you have no
monopoly on authority, dominance, sagacity, or aloofness, and many of the members work
out their conflicts in these areas not with the therapist (or not only with the therapist) but
with other members who happen to have these attributes.
This change in the degree of transparency of the therapist is by no means limited to
group therapy. Someone once said that when the analyst tells the analysand a joke, you
can be sure the analysis is approaching its end. However, the pace, the degree, the nature
of the therapist transparency and the relationship between this activity of the therapist and
the therapist’s other tasks in the group are problematic and deserve careful consideration.
More than any other single characteristic, the nature and the degree of therapist self-
disclosure differentiate the various schools of group therapy. Judicious therapist self-
disclosure is a defining characteristic of the interpersonal model of group psychotherapy.29
THE PSYCHOTHERAPIST AND TRANSPARENCY
Psychotherapeutic innovations appear and vanish with bewildering rapidity. Only a truly

intrepid observer would attempt to differentiate evanescent from potentially important and
durable trends in the diffuse, heterodox American psychotherapeutic scene. Nevertheless,
there is evidence, in widely varying settings, of a shift in the therapist’s basic self-
presentation. Consider the following vignettes.
• Therapists leading therapy groups that are observed through a one-way mirror
reverse roles at the end of the meeting. The clients are permitted to observe while
the therapist and the students discuss or rehash the meeting. Or, in inpatient
groups, the observers enter the room twenty minutes before the end of the session
to discuss their observations of the meeting. In the final ten minutes, the group
members react to the observers’ comments.30
• At a university training center, a tutorial technique has been employed in which
four psychiatric residents meet regularly with an experienced clinician who
conducts an interview in front of a one-way mirror. The client is often invited to
observe the postinterview discussion.
• Tom, one of two group co-therapists, began a meeting by asking a client who had
been extremely distressed at the previous meeting how he was feeling and whether
that session had been helpful to him. The co-therapist then said to him, “Tom, I
think you’re doing just what I was doing a couple of weeks ago—pressing the
clients to tell me how effective our therapy is. We both seem on a constant lookout
for reassurance. I think we are reflecting some of the general discouragement in
the group. I wonder whether the members may be feeling pressure that they have to
improve to keep up our spirits.”
• In several groups at an outpatient clinic, the therapists write a thorough
summary (see chapter 14) after each meeting and mail it to the members before the
next session. The summary contains not only a narrative account of the meeting, a
running commentary on process, and each member’s contribution to the session
but also much therapist disclosure: the therapist’s ideas about what was happening
to everyone in the group that meeting; a relevant exposition of the theory of group
therapy; exactly what the therapist was attempting to do in the meeting; the
therapist’s feelings of puzzlement or ignorance about events in the group; and the
therapist’s personal feelings during the session, including both those said and
those unsaid at the time. These summaries are virtually indistinguishable from
summaries the therapists had previously written for their own private records.
Without discussing the merits or the disadvantages of the approaches demonstrated in
these vignettes, it can be said for now that there is no evidence that these approaches
corroded the therapeutic relationship or situation. On the psychiatric ward, in the tutorial,
and in therapy groups, the group members did not lose faith in their all-too-human
therapists but developed more faith in a process in which the therapists were willing to
immerse themselves. The clients who observed their therapists in disagreement learned
that although no one true way exists, the therapists are nonetheless dedicated and
committed to finding ways of helping their clients.
In each of the vignettes, the therapists abandon their traditional role and share some of

their many uncertainties with their clients. Gradually the therapeutic process is
demystified and the therapist in a sense defrocked. The past four decades have witnessed
the demise of the concept of psychotherapy as an exclusive domain of psychiatry.
Formerly, therapy was indeed a closed-shop affair: psychologists were under surveillance
of psychiatrists lest they be tempted to practice psychotherapy rather than counseling;
social workers could do casework but not psychotherapy. Eventually these three
professions—psychiatry, psychology, and social work—joined in their resistance to the
emergence of new psychotherapy professions: the master’s-level psychologists, the
marriage and family counselors, psychiatric nurse practitioners, pastoral counselors, body
workers, movement and dance therapists, art therapists. The “eggshell” era of therapy—in
which the client was considered so fragile and the mysteries of technique so deep that only
the individual with the ultimate diploma dared treat one—is gone forever.†
Nor is this reevaluation of the therapist’s role and authority solely a modern
phenomenon. There were adumbrations of such experimentation among the earliest
dynamic therapists. For example, Sandor Ferenczi, a close associate of Freud who was
dissatisfied with the therapeutic results of psychoanalysis, continually challenged the
aloof, omniscient role of the classical psychoanalyst. Ferenczi and Freud in fact parted
ways because of Ferenczi’s conviction that it was the mutual, honest, and transparent
relationship that therapist and client created together, not the rational interpretation, that
was the mutative force of therapy.31
In his pioneering emphasis on the interpersonal relationship, Ferenczi influenced
American psychotherapy through his impact on future leaders in the field such as William
Alanson White, Harry Stack Sullivan, and Frieda Fromm-Reichman. Ferenczi also had a
significant but overlooked role in the development of group therapy, underscoring the
relational base of virtually all the group therapeutic factors.32 During his last several years,
he openly acknowledged his fallibility to clients and, in response to a just criticism, felt
free to say, “I think you may have touched upon an area in which I am not entirely free
myself. Perhaps you can help me see what’s wrong with me.”33 Foulkes, a British pioneer
group therapist, stated sixty years ago that the mature group therapist was truly modest—
one who could sincerely say to a group, “Here we are together facing reality and the basic
problems of human existence. I am one of you, not more and not less.”34
I explore therapist transparency more fully in other literary forms: two books of stories
based on my psychotherapy cases—Love’s Executioner and Momma and the Meaning of
Life—and in novels—When Nietzsche Wept (in which the client and therapist alternate
roles), and Lying on the Couch in which the therapist protagonist reruns Ferenczi’s mutual
analysis experiment by revealing himself fully to a client.35 After the publication of each
of these books, I received a deluge of letters, from both clients and therapists, attesting to
the widespread interest and craving for a more human relationship in the therapy venture.
My most recent novel, (The Schopenhauer Cure)36 is set in a therapy group in which the
therapist engages in heroic transparency.
Those therapist who attempt greater transparency argue that therapy is a rational,
explicable process. They espouse a humanistic attitude to therapy, in which the client is

considered a full collaborator in the therapeutic venture. No mystery need surround the
therapist or the therapeutic procedure; aside from the ameliorative effects stemming from
expectations of help from a magical being, there is little to be lost and probably much to
be gained through the demystification of therapy. A therapy based on a true alliance
between therapist and enlightened client reflects a greater respect for the capacities of the
client and, with it, a greater reliance on self-awareness rather than on the easier but
precarious comfort of self-deception.
Greater therapist transparency is, in part, a reaction to the old authoritarian medical
healer, who, for many centuries, has colluded with the distressed human being’s wish for
succor from a superior being. Healers have harnessed and indeed cultivated this need as a
powerful agent of treatment. In countless ways, they have encouraged and fostered a belief
in their omniscience: Latin prescriptions, specialized language, secret institutes with
lengthy and severe apprenticeships, imposing offices, and power displays of diplomas—
all have contributed to the image of the healer as a powerful, mysterious, and prescient
figure.
In unlocking the shackles of this ancestral role, the overly disclosing therapist of today
has at times sacrificed effectiveness on the altar of self-disclosure. However, the dangers
of indiscriminate therapist transparency (which I shall consider shortly) should not deter
us from exploring the judicious use of therapist self-disclosure.
The Effect of Therapist Transparency on the Therapy Group
The primary sweeping objection to therapist transparency emanates from the traditional
analytic belief that the paramount therapeutic factor is the resolution of client-therapist
transference. This view holds that the therapist must remain relatively anonymous or
opaque to foster the development of unrealistic feelings toward him or her. It is my
position, however, that other therapeutic factors are of equal or greater importance, and
that the therapist who judiciously uses his or her own person increases the therapeutic
power of the group by encouraging the development of these factors. In doing so, you gain
considerable role flexibility and maneuverability and may, without concerning yourself
about spoiling your role, directly attend to group maintenance, to the shaping of the group
norms (there is considerable research evidence that therapist self-disclosure facilitates
greater openness between group members37 as well as between family members in family
therapy38), and to here-and-now activation and process illumination. By decentralizing
your position in the group, you hasten the development of group autonomy and
cohesiveness. We see corroborating evidence from individual therapy: therapist self-
disclosure is often experienced by clients as supportive and normalizing. It fosters deeper
exploration on the client’s part.† Therapist self-disclosure is particularly effective when it
serves to engage the client authentically and does not serve to control or direct the
therapeutic relationship.†39
A leader’s personal disclosure may have a powerful and indelible effect. In a recent
publication, a member of a group led by Hugh Mullan, a well-known group therapist,

recounts a group episode that occurred forty-five years earlier. The leader was sitting with
his eyes closed in a meeting, and a member addressed him: “You look very comfortable,
Hugh, why’s that?” Hugh responded immediately, “Because I’m sitting next to a woman.”
The member never forgot that odd response. It was enormously liberating and freed him to
experience and express intensely personal material. As he put it, he no longer felt alone in
his “weirdness.”40
One objection to self-disclosure, a groundless objection, I believe, is the fear of
escalation—the fear that once you as therapist reveal yourself, the group will insatiably
demand even more. Recall that powerful forces in the group oppose this trend. The
members are extraordinarily curious about you, yet at the same time wish you to remain
unknown and powerful. Some of these points were apparent in a meeting many years ago
when I had just begun to lead therapy groups. I had just returned from leading a weeklong
residential human relations laboratory (intensive T-group; see chapter 16). Since greater
leader transparency is the rule in such groups, I returned to my therapy group primed for
greater self-revelation.
• Four members, Don, Russell, Janice, and Martha, were present at the twenty-
ninth meeting of the group. One member and my co-therapist were absent; one
other member, Peter, had dropped out of the group at the previous meeting. The
first theme that emerged was the group’s response to Peter’s termination. The
group discussed this gingerly, from a great distance, and I commented that we had,
it seemed to me, never honestly discussed our feelings about Peter when he was
present, and that we were avoiding them now, even after his departure. Among the
responses was Martha’s comment that she was glad he had left, that she had felt
they couldn’t reach him, and that she didn’t feel it was worth it to try. She then
commented on his lack of education and noted her surprise that he had even been
included in the group—an oblique swipe at the therapists.
I felt the group had not only avoided discussing Peter but had also declined to
confront Martha’s judgmentalism and incessant criticism of others. I thought I
might help Martha and the group explore this issue by asking her to go around the
group and describe those aspects of each person she found herself unable to
accept. This task proved very difficult for her, and she generally avoided it by
phrasing her objections in the past tense, as in, “I once disliked some trait in you
but now it’s different.” When she had finished with each of the members, I pointed
out that she had left me out; indeed, she had never expressed her feelings toward
me except through indirect attacks. She proceeded to compare me unfavorably with
the co-therapist, stating that she found me too retiring and ineffectual; she then
immediately attempted to undo the remarks by commenting that “Still waters run
deep” and recalling examples of my sensitivity to her.
The other members suddenly volunteered to tackle the same task and, in the
process, revealed many long-term group secrets: Don’s effeminacy, Janice’s
slovenliness and desexualized grooming, and Russell’s lack of empathy with the
women in the group. Martha was compared to a golf ball: “tightly wound up with

an enamel cover.” I was attacked by Don for my deviousness and lack of interest in
him.
The members then asked me to go around the group in the same manner as they
had done. Being fresh from a seven-day T-group and no admirer of generals who
led their army from the rear, I took a deep breath and agreed. I told Martha that
her quickness to judge and condemn others made me reluctant to show myself to
her, lest I, too, be judged and found wanting. I agreed with the golf ball metaphor
and added that her judgmentalism made it difficult for me to approach her, save as
an expert technician. I told Don that I felt his gaze on me constantly; I knew he
desperately wanted something from me, and that the intensity of his need and my
inability to satisfy that need often made me very uncomfortable. I told Janice that I
missed a spirit of opposition in her; she tended to accept and exalt everything that
I said so uncritically that it became difficult at times to relate to her as an
autonomous adult.
The meeting continued at an intense, involved level, and at its end the observers
expressed grave concerns about my behavior. They felt that I had irrevocably
relinquished my leadership role and become a group member, that the group would
never be the same, and that, furthermore, I was placing my co-therapist, who
would return the following week, in an untenable position.
In fact, none of these predictions materialized. In subsequent meetings, the
group plunged more deeply into work; several weeks were required to assimilate
the material generated in that single meeting. In addition, the group members,
following the model of the therapist, related to one another far more forthrightly
than before and made no demands on me or my co-therapist for escalated self-
disclosure.
There are many different types of therapist transparency, depending on the therapist’s
personal style and the goals in the group at a particular time. Therapists may self-disclose
to facilitate transference resolution; or to model therapeutic norms; or to assist the
interpersonal learning of the members who wanted to work on their relationship with the
group leader; or to support and accept members by saying, in effect, “I value and respect
you and demonstrate this by giving of myself”?
• An illustrative example of therapist disclosure that facilitated therapy occurred in
a meeting when all three women members discussed their strong sexual attraction
to me. Much work was done on the transference aspects of the situation, on the
women being attracted to a man who was obviously professionally off-limits and
unattainable, older, in a position of authority, and so on. I then pointed out that
there was another side to it. None of the women had expressed similar feelings
toward my co-therapist (also male); furthermore, other female clients who had
been in the group previously had had the same feelings. I could not deny that it
gave me pleasure to hear these sentiments expressed, and I asked them to help me
look at my blind spots: What was I doing unwittingly to encourage their positive
response?

My request opened up a long and fruitful discussion of the group members’
feelings about both therapists. There was much agreement that the two of us were
very different: I was more vain, took much more care about my physical
appearance and clothes, and had an exactitude and preciseness about my
statements that created about me an attractive aura of suaveness and confidence.
The other therapist was sloppier in appearance and behavior: he spoke more often
when he was unsure of what he was going to say; he took more risks, was willing
to be wrong, and, in so doing, was more often helpful to the clients. The feedback
sounded right to me. I had heard it before and told the group so. I thought about
their comments during the week and, at the following meeting, thanked the group
and told them that they had been helpful to me.
Making errors is commonplace: it is what is done with the error that is often critical in
therapy. Therapists are not omniscient, and it is best to acknowledge that.
• After an angry exchange between two members, Barbara and Susan, the group
found it difficult to repair the damage experienced by Barbara. Although Barbara
was eventually able to work through her differences with Susan, she continued to
struggle with how she had been left so unprotected by the group therapist.
Numerous attempts at explanation and understanding failed to break the impasse,
until I stated: “I regret what happened very much. I have to acknowledge that
Susan’s criticism of you took me by surprise—it hit like a tropical storm, and I was
at a loss for words. It took me some time to regroup, but by then the damage had
been done. If I knew then what I know now, I would have responded differently. I
am sorry for that.”
Rather than feeling that I was not competent because I had missed something of
great importance, Barbara felt relieved and said that was exactly what she needed
to hear. Barbara did not need me to be omnipotent—she wanted me to be human,
to be able to acknowledge my error, and to learn from what happened so that it
would be less likely to occur in the future.

• Another illustrative clinical example occurred in the group of women incest
survivors that I mentioned earlier in this chapter. The withering anger toward me
(and, to a slightly lesser degree, toward my female co-therapist) had gotten to us,
and toward the end of one meeting, we both openly discussed our experience in the
group. I revealed that I felt demoralized and deskilled, that everything I tried in the
group had failed to be helpful, and furthermore that I felt anxious and confused in
the group. My co-leader discussed similar feelings: her discomfort about the
competitive way the women related to her and about the continual pressure placed
on her to reveal any abuse that she may have experienced. We told them that their
relentless anger and distrust of us was fully understandable in the light of their
past abuse but, nonetheless, we both wanted to shriek, “These were terrible things
that happened to you, but we didn’t do them.”
This episode proved to be a turning point for the group. There was still one

member (who reported having undergone savage ritual abuse as a child) who
continued in the same vein (“Oh, you’re uncomfortable and confused! What a
shame! What a shame! But at least now you know how it feels”). But the others
were deeply affected by our admission. They were astounded to learn of our
discomfort and of their power over us, and gratified that we were willing to
relinquish authority and to relate to them in an open, egalitarian fashion. From
that point on, the group moved into a far more profitable work phase.
In addition, the “now you know how it feels” comment illuminated one of the
hidden reasons for the attacks on the therapist. It was an instance of the group
member both demonstrating and mastering her experience of mistreatment by
being the aggressor rather than the mistreated.
It was constructive for the therapists to acknowledge and work with these feelings
openly rather than simply continue experiencing them.41 Being so intensely devalued is
unsettling to almost all therapists, especially in the public domain of the group. Yet it also
creates a remarkable therapeutic opportunity if therapists can maintain their dignity and
honestly address their experience in the group.†

These clinical episodes illustrate some general principles that prove useful to the
therapist when receiving feedback, especially negative feedback:
1. Take it seriously. Listen to it, consider it, and respond to it. Respect the clients and
let their feedback matter to you; if you don’t, you merely increase their sense of
impotence.
2. Obtain consensual validation: Find out how other members feel. Determine
whether the feedback is primarily a transference reaction or is in fact a piece of
reality about you. If it is reality, you must confirm it; otherwise, you impair rather
than facilitate your clients’ reality testing.
3. Check your internal experience: Does the feedback fit? Does it click with your
internal experience?
With these principles as guidelines, the therapist may offer such responses as: “You’re
right. There are times when I feel irritated with you, but at no time do I feel I want to
impede your growth, seduce you, get a voyeuristic pleasure from listening to your account
of your abuse, or slow your therapy so as to earn more money from you. That simply isn’t
part of my experience of you.” Or: “It’s true that I dodge some of your questions. But
often I find them unanswerable. You imbue me with too much wisdom. I feel
uncomfortable by your deference to me. I always feel that you’ve put yourself down very
low, and that you’re always looking up at me.” Or: “I’ve never heard you challenge me so
directly before. Even though it’s a bit scary for me, it’s also very refreshing.” Or: “I feel
restrained, very unfree with you, because you give me so much power over you. I feel I
have to check every word I say because you give so much weight to all of my statements.”
Note that these therapist disclosures are all part of the here-and-now of the group. I am

advocating that therapists relate authentically to clients in the here-and-now of the therapy
hour, not that they reveal their past and present in a detailed manner—although I have
never seen harm in therapists’ answering such broad personal questions as whether they
are married or have children, where they are going on vacation, where they were brought
up, and so on. Some therapists carry it much further and may wish to describe some
similar personal problems they encountered and overcame. I personally have rarely found
this useful or necessary.42p
A study of the effects of therapist disclosure on a group over a sevenmonth period noted
many beneficial effects from therapist transparency.43 First, therapist disclosure was more
likely to occur when therapeutic communication among members was not taking place.
Second, the effect of therapist disclosure was to shift the pattern of group interaction into a
more constructive, sensitive direction. Finally, therapist self-disclosure resulted in an
immediate increase in cohesiveness. Yet many therapists shrink from self-disclosure
without being clear about their reasons for doing so. Too often, perhaps, they rationalize
by cloaking their personal inclinations in professional garb. There is little doubt, I believe,
that the personal qualities of a therapist influence professional style, choice of ideological
school, and preferred clinical models.†
In debriefing sessions after termination I have often discussed therapist disclosure with
clients. The great majority have expressed the wish that the therapist had been more open,
more personally engaged in the group. Very few would have wanted therapists to have
discussed more of their private life or personal problems with them. A study of individual
therapy had the same findings—clients prefer and in fact thrive on therapist engagement
and prefer therapists who are “not too quiet.”44 No one expressed a preference for full
therapist disclosure.
Furthermore, there is evidence that leaders are more transparent than they know. The
issue is not that we reveal ourselves—that is unavoidable45—rather, it is what use we
make of our transparency and our clinical honesty. Some self-revelation is inadvertent or
unavoidable—for example, pregnancy, bereavement, and professional accomplishments.46
In some groups, particularly homogeneous groups with a focus such as substance abuse,
sexual orientation, or specific medical illness (see chapter 15), leaders will likely be asked
about their personal relationship to the common group focus: Have they had personal
experience with substance abuse? Are they gay? Have they personally had the medical
disease that is the focus of the group? Therapists need to reveal the relevant material about
themselves that helps group members realize that the therapist can understand and
empathize with the clients’ experiences. That does not mean, however, that the therapist
must provide extensive personal historical details. Such revelations are usually unhelpful
to the therapy because they blur the difference in role and function between the therapist
and the group members.
Though members rarely press a therapist for inappropriate disclosure, occasionally one
particular personal question arises that group therapists dread. It is illustrated in a dream of
a group member (the same member who likened the therapist to a Jewish slumlord): “The
whole group is sitting around a long table with you (the therapist) at the head. You had in

your hand a slip of paper with something written on it. I tried to snatch it away from you
but you were too far away.” Months later, after this woman had made some significant
personal changes, she recalled the dream and added that she knew all along what I had
written on the paper but hadn’t wanted to say it in front of the group. It was my answer to
the question, “Do you love me?” This is a threatening question for the group therapist.
And there is a related and even more alarming follow-up question: “How much do you
love each of us?” or, “Whom do you love best?”
These questions threaten the very essence of the psychotherapeutic contract. They
challenge tenets that both parties have agreed to keep invisible. They are but a step away
from a commentary on the “purchase of friendship” model: “If you really care for us,
would you see us if we had no money?” They come perilously close to the ultimate,
terrible secret of the psychotherapist, which is that the intense drama in the group room
plays a smaller, compartmentalized role in his or her life. As in Tom Stoppard’s play
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, key figures in one drama rapidly become
shadows in the wings as the therapist moves immediately onto the stage of another drama.
Only once have I been blasphemous enough to lay this bare before a group. A therapy
group of psychiatry residents was dealing with my departure (for a year’s sabbatical
leave). My personal experience during that time was one of saying good-bye to a number
of clients and to several groups, some of which were more emotionally involving for me
than the resident group. Termination work was difficult, and the group members attributed
much of the difficulty to the fact that I had been so involved in the group that I was
finding it hard to say good-bye. I acknowledged my involvement in the group but
presented to them the fact that they knew but refused to know: I was vastly more
important to them than they were to me. After all, I had many clients; they had only one
therapist. They were clearly aware of this imbalance in their psychotherapeutic work with
their own clients, and yet had never applied it to themselves. There was a gasp in the
group as this truth, this denial of specialness, this inherent cruelty of psychotherapy, hit
home.

The issue of therapist transparency is vastly complicated by widely publicized instances
of therapist-client sexual abuse. Unfortunately, the irresponsible or impulse-ridden
therapists who, to satisfy their own needs, betray their professional and moral covenant
have not only damaged their own clients but caused a backlash that has damaged the trust
in the client-therapist relationship everywhere.
Many professional associations have taken a highly reactionary stance toward the
professional relationship. Feeling threatened by legal action, they advise therapists to
practice defensively and always keep potential litigation in mind. The lawyers and juries,
they say, will reason that “where there is smoke, there is fire” and that since every
therapist-client encounter started down the slippery slope of slight boundary crossings,
human interactions between client and therapist are in themselves evidence of
wrongdoing. Consequently, professional organizations warn therapists to veer away from

the very humanness that is the core of the therapeutic relationship. An article with a high
Victorian tone in a 1993 issue of the American Journal of Psychiatry,47 for example,
advocated a stifling formality and warned psychiatrists not to offer their clients coffee or
tea, not to address them by their first names, not to use their own first names, never to run
over the fifty-minute time period, never to see any client during the last working hour of
the day (since that is when transgressions most often occur), never to touch a client—even
an act such as squeezing the arm or patting the back of an AIDS patient who needs
therapeutic touch should be scrutinized and documented.q Obviously, these instructions
and the sentiment behind them are deeply corrosive to the therapeutic relationship. To
their credit, the authors of the 1993 article recognized the antitherapeutic impact of their
first article and wrote a second paper five years later aimed at correcting the overreaction
generated by the first article. The second article makes a plea for common sense and for
recognition of the importance of the clinical context in understanding or judging boundary
issues in therapy. They encourage therapists to obtain consultation or supervision
whenever they are uncertain about their therapeutic posture or interventions.48
But moderation in all things. There is a proper place for therapist concealment, and the
most helpful therapist is by no means the one who is most fully and most consistently self-
disclosing. Let us turn our attention to the perils of transparency.
Pitfalls of Therapist Transparency
Some time ago I observed a group led by two neophyte therapists who were at that time
much dedicated to the ideal of therapist transparency. They formed an outpatient group
and conducted themselves in an unflinchingly honest fashion, expressing openly in the
first meetings their uncertainty about group therapy, their inexperience, their self-doubts,
and their personal anxiety. One might admire their courage, but not their results. In their
overzealous obeisance to transparency, they neglected their function of group
maintenance, and the majority of the members dropped out of the group within the first six
sessions.
Untrained leaders who undertake to lead groups with the monolithic credo “Be
yourself” as a central organizing principle for all other technique and strategy generally
achieve not freedom but restriction. The paradox is that freedom and spontaneity in
extreme form can result in a leadership role as narrow and restrictive as the traditional
blank-screen leader. Under the banner of “Anything goes if it’s genuine,” the leader
sacrifices flexibility.49
Consider the issue of timing. The fully open neophyte therapists I just mentioned
overlooked the fact that leadership behavior that may be appropriate at one stage of
therapy may be quite inappropriate at another. If clients need initial support and structure
to remain in the group, then it is the therapist’s task to provide it.
The leader who strives only to create an atmosphere of egalitarianism between member
and leader may in the long run provide no leadership at all. Effective leader role behavior

is by no means unchanging; as the group develops and matures, different forms of
leadership are required.50 “The honest therapist” as Parloff states, “is one who attempts to
provide that which the client can assimilate, verify and utilize.”51 Ferenczi years ago
underscored the necessity for proper timing. The analyst, he said, must not admit his flaws
and uncertainty too early.52 First, the client must feel sufficiently secure in his own
abilities before being called upon to face defects in the one on whom he leans.r
Research on group members’ attitudes toward therapist self-disclosure shows that
members are sensitive to the timing and the content of disclosure. 53 Therapists’
disclosures that are judged as harmful in early phases of the group are considered
facilitative as a group matures. Furthermore, members who have had much group therapy
experience are far more desirous of therapist self-disclosure than are inexperienced group
members. Content analysis demonstrates that members prefer leaders who disclose
positive ambitions (for example, personal and professional goals) and personal emotions
(loneliness, sadness, anger, worries, and anxieties); they disapprove of a group leader’s
expressing negative feelings about any individual member or about the group experience
(for example, boredom or frustration).54 Not all emotions can be expressed by the
therapist. Expressing hostility is almost invariably damaging and often irreparable,
contributing to premature termination and negative therapy outcomes.†
Is full disclosure even possible in the therapy group or in the outside world? Or
desirable? Some degree of personal and interpersonal concealment are an integral
ingredient of any functioning social order. Eugene O’Neill illustrated this in dramatic form
in the play The Iceman Cometh.55 A group of derelicts live, as they have for twenty years,
in the back room of a bar. The group is exceedingly stable, with many well-entrenched
group norms. Each man maintains himself by a set of illusions (“pipe dreams,” O’Neill
calls them). One of the most deeply entrenched group norms is that no members challenge
another’s pipe dreams. Then enters Hickey, the iceman, a traveling salesman, a totally
enlightened therapist, a false prophet who believes he brings fulfillment and lasting peace
to each man by forcing him to shed his self-deceptions and stare with unblinking honesty
at the sun of his life. Hickey’s surgery is deft. He forces Jimmy Tomorrow (whose pipe
dream is to get his suit out of hock, sober up, and get a job “tomorrow”) to act now. He
gives him clothes and sends him, and then the other men, out of the bar to face today.
The effects on each man and on the group are calamitous. One commits suicide, others
grow severely depressed, “the life goes out of the booze,” the men attack one another’s
illusions, the group bonds disintegrate, and the group veers toward dissolution. In a
sudden, last-minute convulsive act, the group labels Hickey psychotic, banishes him, and
gradually reestablishes its old norms and cohesion. These “pipe dreams”—or “vital lies,”
as Henrik Ibsen called them in The Wild Duck56—are often essential to personal and social
integrity. They should not be taken lightly or impulsively stripped away in the service of
honesty.
Commenting on the social problems of the United States, Victor Frankl once suggested
that the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast be counterbalanced by a Statue of

Responsibility on the West Coast.57 In the therapy group, freedom becomes possible and
constructive only when it is coupled with responsibility. None of us is free from impulses
or feelings that, if expressed, could be destructive to others. I suggest that we encourage
clients and therapists to speak freely, to shed all internal censors and filters save one—the
filter of responsibility to others.
I do not mean that no unpleasant sentiments are to be expressed; indeed, growth cannot
occur in the absence of conflict. I do mean, however, that responsibility, not total
disclosure, is the superordinate principle.† The therapist has a particular type of
responsibility—responsibility to clients and to the task of therapy. Group members have a
human responsibility toward one another. As therapy progresses, as solipsism diminishes,
as empathy increases, they come to exercise that responsibility in their interactions among
themselves.
Thus, your raison d’être as group therapist is not primarily to be honest or fully
disclosing. You must be clear about why you reveal yourself. Do you have a clear
therapeutic intent or is countertransference influencing your approach? What impact can
you anticipate from your self-disclosure? In times of confusion about your behavior, you
may profit from stepping back momentarily to reconsider your primary tasks in the group.
Therapist self-disclosure is an aid to the group because it sets a model for the clients and
permits some members to reality-test their feelings toward you. When considering a self-
disclosure, ask yourself where the group is now. Is it a concealed, overly cautious group
that may profit from a leader who models personal self-disclosure? Or has it already
established vigorous self-disclosure norms and is in need of other kinds of assistance?
Again, you must consider whether your behavior will interfere with your group-
maintenance function. You must know when to recede into the background. Unlike the
individual therapist, the group therapist does not have to be the axle of therapy. In part,
you are midwife to the group: you must set a therapeutic process in motion and take care
not to interfere with that process by insisting on your centrality.
An overly restricted definition of the role of group therapist—whether based on
transparency or any other criterion—may cause the leader to lose sight of the individuality
of each client’s needs. Despite your group orientation, you must retain some individual
focus; not all clients need the same thing. Some, perhaps most, clients need to relax
controls; they need to learn how to express their affect—anger, love, tenderness, hatred.
Others, however, need the opposite: they need to gain impulse control because their
lifestyles are already characterized by labile, immediately acted-upon affect.
One final consequence of more or less unlimited therapist transparency is that the
cognitive aspects of therapy may be completely neglected. As I noted earlier, mere
catharsis is not in itself a corrective experience. Cognitive learning or restructuring (much
of which is provided by the therapist) seems necessary for the client to be able to
generalize group experiences to outside life; without this transfer or carryover, we have
succeeded only in creating better, more gracious therapy group members. Without the
acquisition of some knowledge about general patterns in interpersonal relationships, the
client may, in effect, have to rediscover the wheel in each subsequent interpersonal

transaction.

Chapter 8
THE SELECTION OF CLIENTS
Good group therapy begins with good client selection. Clients improperly assigned to a
therapy group are unlikely to benefit from their therapy experience. Furthermore, an
improperly composed group may end up stillborn, never having developed into a viable
treatment mode for any of its members. It is therefore understandable that contemporary
psychotherapy researchers are actively examining the effects of matching clients to
psychotherapies according to specific characteristics and attributes.1
In this chapter I consider both the research evidence bearing on selection and the
clinical method of determining whether a given individual is a suitable candidate for group
therapy. In chapter 9, on group composition, I will examine a different question: once it
has been decided that a client is a suitable group therapy candidate, into which specific
group should he or she go? These two chapters focus particularly on a specific type of
group therapy: the heterogeneous outpatient group with the ambitious goals of
symptomatic relief and characterological change. However, as I shall discuss shortly,
many of these general principles have relevance to other types of groups, including the
shorter-term problem-oriented group. Here, as elsewhere in this book, I employ the
pedagogic strategy of providing the reader with fundamental group therapy principles plus
strategies for adapting these principles to a variety of clinical situations. † There is no
other reasonable educative strategy. Such a vast number of problem-specific groups exist
(see also chapter 15) that one cannot focus separately on selection strategy for each
specific one—nor would a teacher wish to. That would result in too narrow and too rigid
an education. The graduate of such a curriculum would be unable to adapt to the forms
that group therapy may take in future years. Once students are grounded in the
prototypical psychotherapy group they will have the base which will permit them to
modify technique to fit diverse clinical populations and settings.
Effectiveness of group therapy. Let us begin with the most fundamental question in
client selection: Should the client—indeed, any client—be sent to group therapy? In other
words, how effective is group therapy? This question, often asked by individual therapists
and always asked by third-party payers, must be addressed before considering more subtle
questions of client selection. The answer is unequivocal. Group therapy is a potent
modality producing significant benefit to its participants.2
A great deal of research has also attempted to determine the relative efficacy of group
versus individual therapy, and the results are clear: there is considerable evidence that
group therapy is at least as efficacious as individual therapy. An excellent, early review of
the thirty-two existing well-controlled experimental studies that compared individual and
group therapys indicates that group therapy was more effective than individual therapy in
25 percent of the studies. In the other 75 percent, there were no significant differences
between group and individual therapy.3 In no study was individual therapy more effective.
A more recent review using a rigorous meta-analysist demonstrated similar findings.4

Other reviews, some including a greater number of studies (but less rigorously controlled),
have reached similar conclusions and underscore that group therapy is also more efficient
than individual therapy (from the standpoint of therapist resources) by a factor of two to
one and perhaps as much as four to one.5
Research indicates further that group therapy has specific benefits: It is for example
superior to individual therapy in the provision of social learning, developing social
support, and improving social networks, factors of great importance in reducing relapse
for clients with substance use disorders.6 It is more effective than individual approaches
for obesity7 (an effect achieved in part through reducing stigma), and for clients with
medical illness—clients learn to enhance self-efficacy better from peers than from
individual therapy.8 Adding group therapy to the treatment of women who are survivors of
childhood sexual abuse provides benefits beyond individual therapy: it results in greater
empowerment and psychological well-being.9
The evidence for the effectiveness of group therapy is so persuasive that some experts
advocate that group therapy be utilized as the primary model of contemporary
psychotherapy.10 Individual therapy, however, may be preferable for clients who require
active clinical management, or when relationship issues are less important and personal
insight and understanding are particularly important.11
So far, so good! We can be confident (and each of us should convey this confidence to
sources of referral and to third-party payers) that group therapy is an effective treatment
modality.
One might reasonably expect the research literature to yield useful answers to the
question of which clients do best in group therapy and which are better referred to another
form of therapy. After all, here’s all that needs to be done: Describe and measure a
panoply of clinical and demographic characteristics before clients are randomly assigned
to group therapy or to other modalities and then correlate these characteristics with
appropriate dependent variables, such as therapy outcome, or perhaps some intervening
variable, such as attendance, mode of interaction, or cohesiveness.
But the matter turns out to be far more complex. The methodological problems are
severe, not least because a true measure of psychotherapy outcome is elusive. The client
variables used to predict therapy outcome are affected by a host of other group, leader, and
comember variables that confound the research enterprise.†12 Clients drop out of therapy;
many obtain ancillary individual therapy; group therapists vary in competence and
technique; and initial diagnostic technique is unreliable and often idiosyncratic. An
enormous number of clients are needed to obtain enough therapy groups for the results to
be statistically significant. Although standardized therapies are required to ensure that
each of the treatment modalities is delivering proper therapy, still each person and each
group is exquisitely complex and cannot simplify itself in order to be precisely measured.
Hence in this chapter I draw on relevant research but also rely heavily on clinical
experience—my own and that of others.

CRITERIA FOR EXCLUSION
Question: How do group clinicians select clients for group psychotherapy? Answer: The
great majority of clinicians do not select for group therapy. Instead, they deselect. Given a
pool of clients, experienced group therapists determine that certain ones cannot possibly
work in a therapy group and should be excluded. And then they proceed to accept all the
other clients.
That approach seems crude. We would all prefer the selection process to be more
elegant, more finely tuned. But, in practice, it is far easier to specify exclusion than
inclusion criteria; one characteristic is sufficient to exclude an individual, whereas a more
complex profile must be delineated to justify inclusion.
Keep in mind that there are many group therapies, and exclusion criteria apply only for
the type of group under consideration. Almost all clients (there are exceptions) will fit into
some group. A characteristic that excludes someone from one group may be the exact
feature that secures entry into another group. A secretive, non–psychologically minded
client with anorexia nervosa, for example, is generally a poor candidate for a long-term
interactional group, but may be ideal for a homogeneous, cognitive-behavioral eating-
disorders group.†
There is considerable clinical consensus that clients are poor candidates for a
heterogeneous outpatient therapy group if they are brain-damaged,13 paranoid,14
hypochondriacal,15 addicted to drugs or alcohol,16 acutely psychotic, 17 or sociopathic.†
But such dry lists are of less value than identifying underlying principles. Here is the
major guideline: clients will fail in group therapy if they are unable to participate in the
primary task of the group, be it for logistical, intellectual, psychological, or interpersonal
reasons . This consideration is even more compelling for brief, time-limited groups, which
are particularly unforgiving of poor client selection.†
What traits must a client possess to participate in the primary task of the dynamic,
interactional therapy group? They must have a capacity and willingness to examine their
interpersonal behaviors, to self-disclose, and to give and receive feedback. Unsuitable
clients tend to construct an interpersonal role that proves detrimental to themselves as well
as to the group. In such instances the group becomes a venue for re-creating and
reconfirming maladaptive patterns without the possibility of learning or change.
Consider sociopathic clients, for example, who are exceptionally poor candidates for
outpatient interactional group therapy. Characteristically, these individuals are destructive
in the group. Although early in therapy they may become important and active members,
they will eventually manifest their basic inability to relate, often with considerable
dramatic and destructive impact, as the following clinical example illustrates.
• Felix, a highly intelligent thirty-five-year-old man with a history of alcoholism,
transiency, and impoverished interpersonal relationships, was added with two
other new clients to an ongoing group, which had been reduced to three by the

recent graduation of members. The group had shrunk so much that it seemed in
danger of collapsing, and the therapists were anxious to reestablish its size. They
realized that Felix was not an ideal candidate, but they had few applicants and
decided to take the risk. In addition, they were somewhat intrigued by his stated
determination to change his lifestyle. (Many sociopathic individuals are forever
“reaching a turning point in life.”)
By the third meeting, Felix had become the social and emotional leader of the
group, seemingly able to feel more acutely and suffer more deeply than the other
members. He presented the group, as he had the therapists, with a largely
fabricated account of his background and current life situation. By the fourth
meeting, as the therapists learned later, he had seduced one of the female members
and, in the fifth meeting, he spearheaded a discussion of the group’s dissatisfaction
with the brevity of the meetings. He proposed that the group, with or without the
permission of the therapist, meet more often, perhaps at one of the members’
homes, without the therapist. By the sixth meeting, Felix had vanished, without
notifying the group. The therapists learned later that he had suddenly decided to
take a 2,000-mile bicycle trip, hoping to sell an article about it to a magazine.
This extreme example illustrates many of the reasons why the inclusion of a sociopathic
individual in a heterogeneous ambulatory group is ill advised: his social front is deceptive;
he often consumes such an inordinate amount of group energy that his departure leaves the
group bereft, puzzled, and discouraged; he rarely assimilates the group therapeutic norms
and instead often exploits other members and the group as a whole for his immediate
gratification. Let me emphasize that I do not mean that group therapy per se is
contraindicated for sociopathic clients. In fact, a specialized form of group therapy with a
more homogeneous population and a wise use of strong group and institutional pressure
may well be the treatment of choice.18
Most clinicians agree that clients in the midst of some acute situational crisis are not
good candidates for group therapy; they are far better treated in crisis-intervention therapy
in an individual, family, or social network format.19 Deeply depressed suicidal clients are
best not admitted to an interactionally focused heterogeneous therapy group either. It is
difficult for the group to give them the specialized attention they require (except at
enormous expense of time and energy to the other members); furthermore, the threat of
suicide is too taxing, too anxiety provoking, for the other group members to manage.20
Again, that does not mean that group therapy per se (or group therapy in combination with
individual therapy) should be ruled out. A structured homogeneous group for chronic
suicidality has been reported to be effective.21
Good attendance is so necessary for the development of a cohesive group that it is wise
to exclude clients who, for any reason, may not attend regularly. Poor attendance may be
due to unpredictable and hard-to-control work demands, or it may be an expression of
initial resistance to therapy. I do not select individuals whose work requires extensive
travel that would cause them to miss even one out of every four or five meetings.
Similarly, I am hesitant to select clients who must depend on others for transportation to

the group or who would have a very long commute to the group. Too often, especially
early in the course of a group, a client may feel neglected or dissatisfied with a meeting,
perhaps because another member may have received the bulk of the group time and
attention, or the group may have been busy building its own infrastructure—work that
may not offer obvious immediate gratification. Deep feelings of frustration may, if
coupled with a long, strenuous commute, dampen motivation and result in sporadic
attendance.
Obviously, there are many exceptions: some therapists tell of clients who faithfully fly
to meetings from remote regions month after month. As a general rule, however, the
therapist does well to heed this factor. For clients who live at considerable distance and
have equivalent groups elsewhere, it is in everyone’s interests to refer them to a group
closer to home.
These clinical criteria for exclusion are broad and crude. Some therapists have
attempted to arrive at more refined criteria through systematic study of clients who have
failed to derive benefit from group therapy. Let me examine the research on one category
of unsuccessful clients: the group therapy dropouts.
Dropouts
There is evidence that premature termination from group therapy is bad for the client and
bad for the group. In a study of thirty-five clients who dropped out of long-term
heterogeneous interactional outpatient groups in twelve or fewer meetings, I found that
only three reported themselves as improved.22 Moreover, those three individuals had only
marginal symptomatic improvement. None of the thirty-five clients left therapy because
they had satisfactorily concluded their work; they had all been dissatisfied with the
therapy group experience. Their premature terminations had, in addition, an adverse effect
on the remaining members of the group, who were threatened and demoralized by the
early dropouts. In fact, many group leaders report a “wave effect,” with dropouts begetting
other dropouts. The proper development of a group requires membership stability; a rash
of dropouts may delay the maturation of a group for months.
Early group termination is thus a failure for the individual and a detriment to the
therapy of the remainder of the group. Unfortunately, it is common across the
psychotherapies. A recent empirical analysis concluded that 47 percent of all clients leave
psychotherapy (group and individual therapy as well) prematurely.23 Even in expert hands
some dropouts are unavoidable, no doubt because of the complex interplay of client,
group, and therapist variables.24 Consider the dropout rates displayed in table 8.1: group
therapy attrition ranges from 17 percent to 57 percent. Although this rate is no higher than
the dropout rate from individual therapy, the dropout phenomenon is of more concern to
group therapists because of the deleterious effects of dropouts on the rest of the group.
A study of early dropouts may help establish sound exclusion criteria and, furthermore,
may provide an important goal for the selection process. If, in the selection process, we

learn merely to screen out members destined to drop out of therapy, that in itself would
constitute a major achievement. Although the early terminators are not the only failures in
group therapy, they are unequivocal failures.† We may, I think, dismiss as unlikely the
possibility that early dropouts will have gained something positive that will manifest itself
later. A relevant outcome study of encounter group participants noted that individuals who
had a negative experience in the group did not, when studied six months later, “put it all
together” and enjoy a delayed benefit from the group experience. 25 If they left the group
shaken or discouraged, they were very likely to remain that way. (One exception to the
rule may be individuals who enter in some urgent life crisis and terminate therapy as soon
as the crisis is resolved.)
Keep in mind that the study of group dropouts tells us little about the group continuers;
group continuation is a necessary but insufficient factor in successful therapy, although
evidence exists that clients who continue in treatment and avoid premature or forced
ending achieve the best therapy outcomes.26
Reasons for Premature Termination
A number of rigorous studies of group therapy in various settings (ambulatory, day
hospital, Veterans Administration clinics, and private practice, including both
heterogeneous groups and homogeneous groups for problems such as grief or depression,
and conducted in an interactional manner or along cognitive-behavioral lines) have
convergent findings.27,28 These studies demonstrate that clients who drop out prematurely
from group therapy are likely, at the initial screening or in the first few meetings, to have
one or more of the following characteristics:
• Lower psychological-mindedness
• Reduced capacity to think about emotions without action
• Lower motivation
• More reactive than reflective
• Less positive emotion
• Greater denial
• Higher somatization
• Abuse of substances
• Greater anger and hostility
• Lower socioeconomic class and social effectiveness
• Lower intelligence
• Lack of understanding of how group therapy works
• The experience or expectation of cultural insensitivity

• Less likable (at least according to therapists)
TABLE 8.1 Group Therapy Dropout Rates
These conclusions suggest that, unfortunately, the rich get richer and the poor get
poorer. What a paradox! The clients who have the least skills and attributes needed for
working in a group—the very ones who most need what the group has to offer—are those
most likely to fail! It is this paradox (along with economic issues) that has stimulated
attempts to modify the therapy group experience sufficiently with different structures and
outreach to accommodate more of these at-risk clients.†
Keep in mind that these characteristics should therefore be seen as cautions rather than
absolute contraindications. The person who fails in one group or in one type of group may
do well in a different one. We should aim to reduce, not eliminate dropouts. If we create
groups that never experience a dropout, then it may be that we are setting our bar for entry
too high, thus eliminating clients in need who we may in fact be able to help.
I will discuss one final study here in great detail, since it has considerable relevance for
the selection process.29 I studied the first six months of nine therapy groups in a university
outpatient clinic and investigated all clients who terminated in twelve or fewer meetings.
A total of ninety-seven clients were involved in these groups (seventy-one original

members and twenty-six later additions); of these, thirty-five were early dropouts.
Considerable data were generated from interviews and questionnaire studies of the
dropouts and their therapists as well as from the records and observations of the group
sessions and historical and demographic data from the case records.
An analysis of the data suggested nine major reasons for the clients’ dropping out of
therapy:
1. External factors
2. Group deviancy
3. Problems of intimacy
4. Fear of emotional contagion
5. Inability to share the therapist
6. Complications of concurrent individual and group therapy
7. Early provocateurs
8. Inadequate orientation to therapy
9. Complications arising from subgrouping
Usually more than one factor is involved in the decision to terminate. Some factors are
more closely related to external circumstances or to enduring character traits that the client
brings to the group, and thus are relevant to the selection process, whereas others are
related to the therapist or to problems arising within the group (for example, the therapist’s
skill and competence, client-therapist interaction variables, and the group culture itself)†
and thus are more relevant to therapist technique (I will discuss these issues in chapters 10
and 11). Most relevant to the establishment of selection criteria are the clients who
dropped out because of external factors, group deviancy, and problems of intimacy.

External Factors. Logistical reasons for terminating therapy (for example, irreconcilable
scheduling conflicts, moving out of the geographic area) played a negligible role in
decisions to terminate. When this reason was offered by the client, closer study usually
revealed group-related stress that was more pertinent to the client’s departure.
Nevertheless, in the initial screening session, the therapist should always inquire about any
pending major life changes, such as a move. There is considerable evidence that therapy
aimed at both symptom relief and making major changes in the clients’ underlying
character structure is not a brief form of therapy—a minimum of six months is necessary†
—and that clients should not be accepted into such therapy if there is a considerable
likelihood of forced termination within the next few months. Such individuals are better
candidates for shorter-term, problem-oriented groups.
External stress was considered a factor in the premature dropout of several clients who
were so disturbed by external events in their lives that it was difficult for them to expend
the energy for involvement in the group. They could not explore their relationships with

other group members while they were consumed with the threat of disruption of
relationships with the most significant people in their lives. It seemed especially pointless
and frustrating to them to hear other group members discuss their problems when their
own problems seemed so compelling. Among the external stresses were severe marital
discord with impending divorce, impending career or academic failure, disruptive
relationship with family members, bereavement, and severe physical illness. In such
instances referrals should be made to groups explicitly designed to deal with such
situations: acute grief, for example, is generally a time-limited condition, and the acutely
bereaved client is best referred to a short-term bereavement group.30
Note an important difference! If the goal is specifically (and nothing more than) to get
rid of the pain of a break up, then a brief, problem-oriented therapy is indicated. But if the
client wishes to change something in himself that causes him to thrust himself repetitively
into such painful situations (for example, he continues to become involved with women
who invariably leave him), then longer-term group work is indicated.
The importance of external stress as a factor in premature group termination was
difficult to gauge, since often it appeared secondary to internal forces. A client’s psychic
turmoil may cause disruption of his or her life situation so that secondary external stress
occurs; or a client may focus on an external problem, magnifying it as a means of escaping
anxiety originating from the group therapy. Several clients considered external stress the
chief reason for termination; but in each instance, careful study suggested that external
stress was at best a contributory but not sufficient cause for the dropout. Undue focusing
on external events often seemed to be one manifestation of a denial mechanism that was
helping the client avoid something perceived as dangerous in the group.
In the selection process, therefore, consider an unwarranted focusing on external stress
an unfavorable sign for intensive group therapy, whether it represents an extraordinary
amount of stress or a manifestation of denial.

Group Deviancy. The study of clients who drop out of therapy because they are group
deviants offers a rich supply of information relevant to the selection process. But first the
term deviant must be carefully defined. Almost every group member is deviant in the
sense of representing an extreme in at least one dimension—for example, the youngest
member, the only unmarried member, the sickest, the only Asian-American, the only
student, the angriest, the quietest.
However, one-third of the dropouts in my study deviated significantly from the rest of
the group in areas crucial to their group participation, and this deviancy and its
repercussions were considered the primary reason for their premature termination. The
clients’ behavior in the group varied from those who were silent to those who were loud,
angry group disrupters, but all were isolates and were perceived by the therapists and by
the other members as retarding the progress of the group.
The group and the therapists said of all these members that they “just didn’t fit in.”

Indeed, often the deviants said that of themselves. This distinction is difficult to translate
into objectively measurable factors. The most commonly described characteristics are lack
of psychological-mindedness and lack of interpersonal sensitivity. These clients were
often of lower socioeconomic status and educational level than the rest of the group. The
therapists, when describing the deviants’ group behavior, emphasized that they slowed the
group down. They functioned on a different level of communication from that of the rest
of the group. They remained at the symptom-describing, advice-giving and -seeking, or
judgmental level and avoided discussion of immediate feelings and here-and-now
interaction. Similar results are reported by others.31
An important subcategory of dropouts had chronic mental illness and were making a
marginal adjustment. They had sealed over and utilized much denial and suppression and
were obviously different from other group members in their dress, mannerisms, and
comments. Given the negative psychological impact of high expressed emotionality on
clients with chronic mental illness such as schizophrenia, an intensive interactional group
therapy would be contraindicated in their treatment. Structured, supportive, and
psychoeducational groups are more effective.†
Two clients in the study who did not drop out differed vastly from the other members in
their life experience. One had a history of prostitution, the other had prior problems with
drug addiction and dealing. However, these clients did not differ from the others in ways
that impeded the group’s progress (psychological insight, interpersonal sensitivity, and
effective communication) and never became group deviants.

Group Deviancy: Empirical Research. Considerable social-psychological data from
laboratory group researchu32 helps us understand the fate of the deviant in the therapy
group. Group members who are unable to participate in the group task and who impede
group progress toward the completion of the task are much less attracted to the group and
are motivated to terminate membership.33 Individuals whose contributions fail to match
high group standards for interaction have a high dropout rate, and the tendency to drop out
is particularly marked among individuals who have a lower level of self-esteem.34
The task of group therapy is to engage in meaningful communication with the other
group members, to reveal oneself, to give valid feedback, and to examine the hidden and
unconscious aspects of one’s feelings, behavior, and motivation. Individuals who fail at
this task often lack the required amount of psychological-mindedness, are less
introspective, less inquisitive, and more likely to use self-deceptive defense mechanisms.
They also may be reluctant to accept the role of client and the accompanying implication
that some personal change is necessary.
Research has shown that the individuals who are most satisfied with themselves and
who are inclined to overestimate others’ opinions of them tend to profit less from the
group experience.35 One study demonstrated that group members who did not highly
value or desire personal changes were likely to terminate the group prematurely.36

Questionnaire studies demonstrate that therapy group members who cannot accurately
perceive how others view them are more likely to remain peripheral members.37
What happens to individuals who are unable to engage in the basic group task and are
perceived by the group and, at some level of awareness, by themselves as impeding the
group? Schachter has demonstrated that communication toward a deviant is high initially
and then drops off sharply as the group rejects the deviant member.38
Much research has demonstrated that a member’s satisfaction with the group depends
on his or her position in the group communication network 39 and the degree to which that
member is considered valuable by the other members of the group.40 It also has been
demonstrated that the ability of the group to influence an individual depends partly on the
attractiveness of the group for that member and partly on the degree to which the member
communicates with the others in the group.41 An individual’s status in a group is conferred
by the group, not seized by the individual. Lower status diminishes personal well-being
and has a negative impact on one’s emotional experience in social groups.42 This is an
important finding, and we will return to it: Lower group status diminishes personal well-
being; in other words, it is antitherapeutic.
It is also well known from the work of Sherif43 and Asch44 that an individual will often
be made exceedingly uncomfortable by a deviant group role, and there is evidence that
such individuals will manifest progressively more anxiety and unease if unable to speak
about their position.45 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles demonstrated that deviant group
members (members considered “out of the group” by the other members or who grossly
misperceived the group norms) had virtually no chance of benefiting from the group and
an increased likelihood of suffering negative consequences.46
To summarize, experimental evidence suggests that the group deviant, compared with
other group members, derives less satisfaction from the group, experiences anxiety, is less
valued by the group, is less likely to be influenced by or to benefit from the group, is more
likely to be harmed by the group, and is far more likely to terminate membership.
These experimental findings coincide with the experience of deviants in the therapy
groups I studied. Of the eleven deviants, one did not terminate prematurely—a middle-
aged, isolated, rigidly defended man. This man managed to continue in the group because
of the massive support he received in concurrent individual therapy. However, he not only
remained an isolate in the group but, in the opinion of the therapists and the other
members, he impeded the progress of the group. What happened in that group was
remarkably similar to the phenomena in Schachter’s laboratory groups described above.47
At first, considerable group energy was expended on the deviant; eventually the group
gave up, and the deviant was, to a great extent, excluded from the communicational
network. But the group could never entirely forget the deviant, who slowed the pace of the
work. If there is something important going on in the group that cannot be talked about,
there will always be a degree of generalized communicative inhibition. With a
disenfranchised member, the group is never really free; in a sense, it cannot move much
faster than its slowest member.

Now, let’s apply these research findings and clinical observations to the selection
process. The clients who will assume a deviant role in therapy groups are not difficult to
identify in screening interviews. Their denial, their de-emphasis of intrapsychic and
interpersonal factors, their unwillingness to be influenced by interpersonal interaction, and
their tendency to attribute dysphoria to somatic and external environmental factors will be
evident in a carefully conducted interview. Some of these individuals stand out by virtue
of significantly greater impairment in function. They are often referred to group therapy
by their individual therapists, who feel discouraged or frustrated by the lack of progress.
Occasionally, postponing entry into group therapy to provide more time for some clients
to benefit from pharmacotherapy and to consolidate some stability make may group
therapy possible at a later time, but in conjunction with individual treatment and
management, not in place of it.
Thus, it is not difficult to identify these clients. Clinicians often err in assuming that
even if certain clients will not click with the rest of the group, they will nevertheless
benefit from the overall group support and the opportunity to improve their socializing
techniques. In my experience, this expectation is not realized. The referral is a poor one,
with neither the client nor the group profiting. Eventually the group will extrude the
deviant. Therapists also tend to divest overtly and covertly from such clients, putting their
therapautic energies into those clients who reward the effort.48
Rigid attitudes coupled with proselytizing desires may rapidly propel an individual into
a deviant position. A very difficult client to work with in long-term groups is the
individual who employs fundamentalist religious views in the service of denial. The
defenses of this client are often impervious to ordinarily potent group pressures because
they are bolstered by the norms of another anchor group—the particular religious sect. To
tell the client that he or she is applying certain basic tenets with unrealistic literalness is
often ineffective, and a frontal assault on these defenses merely rigidifies them.
To summarize, it is important that the therapist screen out clients who are likely to
become marked deviants in the group for which they are being considered. Clients become
deviants because of their interpersonal behavior in the group sessions, not because of a
deviant lifestyle or history. There is no type of past behavior too deviant for a group to
accept once therapeutic group norms have been established. I have seen individuals who
have been involved with prostitution, exhibitionism, incest, voyeurism, kleptomania,
infanticide, robbery, and drug dealing accepted by middle-class straight groups.

Problems of Intimacy. Several clients dropped out of group therapy because of conflicts
associated with intimacy, manifested in various ways: (1) schizoid withdrawal, (2)
maladaptive self-disclosure (promiscuous self-disclosures or pervasive dread of self-
disclosure), and (3) unrealistic demands for instant intimacy.v
Several clients who were diagnosed as having schizoid personality disorder (reflecting
their social withdrawal, interpersonal coldness, aloofness, introversion, and tendency
toward autistic preoccupation) experienced considerable difficulty relating and

communicating in the group. Each had begun the group with a resolution to express
feelings and to correct previous maladaptive patterns of relating. They failed to
accomplish this aim and experienced frustration and anxiety, which in turn further blocked
their efforts to speak. Their therapists described their group role as “isolate,” “silent
member,” “peripheral,” and “nonrevealer.”
Most of these group members terminated treatment thoroughly discouraged about the
possibility of ever obtaining help from group therapy. Early in the course of a new group, I
have occasionally seen such clients leave the group having benefited much from
therapeutic factors such as universality, identification, altruism, and development of
socializing techniques. If they remain in the group, however, the group members, in time,
often grow impatient with the schizoid member’s silence and weary of drawing them out
(“playing twenty questions,” as one group put it) and turn against them.
Another intimacy-conflicted client dropped out for different reasons: his fears of his
own aggression against other group members. He originally applied for treatment because
of a feeling of wanting to explode: “a fear of killing someone when I explode … which
results in my staying far away from people.” He participated intellectually in the first four
meetings he attended, but was frightened by the other members’ expression of emotion.
When a group member monopolized the entire fifth meeting with a repetitive, tangential
discourse, he was enraged with the monopolizer and with the rest of the group members
for their complacency in allowing this to happen and, with no warning, abruptly
terminated therapy.
Other clients experienced a constant, pervasive dread of self-disclosure, which
precluded participation in the group and ultimately resulted in their dropping out. Still
others engaged in premature, promiscuous self-disclosure and abruptly terminated. Some
clients made such inordinate demands on their fellow group members for immediate,
prefabricated intimacy that they created a nonviable group role for themselves. One early
dropout unsettled the group in her first meeting by announcing to the group that she
gossiped compulsively and doubted that she would be able to maintain people’s
confidentiality.
Clients with severe problems in the area of intimacy present a particular challenge to
the group therapist both in selection and in therapeutic management (to be considered in
chapter 13). The irony is that these individuals are the very ones for whom a successful
group experience could be particularly rewarding. A study of experiential groups found
that individuals with constricted emotionality, who are threatened by the expression of
feelings by others, and have difficulty experiencing and expressing their own emotional
reactions learn more and change more than others as a result of their group experience,
even though they are significantly more uncomfortable in the group.49 Therefore, these
clients, whose life histories are characterized by ungratifying interpersonal relationships,
stand to profit much from successfully negotiating an intimate group experience. Yet, if
their interpersonal history has been too deprived, they will find the group too threatening
and will drop out of therapy more demoralized than before.50 Clients who crave social
connectedness but are hampered by poor interpersonal skills are particularly prone to

psychological distress.51 These individuals are frustrated and distressed being in a group
bursting with opportunities for connectedness that they cannot access for themselves.52
Thus, clients with problems in intimacy represent at the same time a specific indication
and contraindication for group therapy. The problem, of course, is how to identify and
screen out those who will be overwhelmed in the group. If only we could accurately
quantify this critical cutoff point! The prediction of group behavior from pretherapy
screening sessions is a complex task that I will discuss in detail in the next chapter.
Individuals with severe character and narcissistic pathology and a pervasive dread of
self-disclosure may be unfavorable candidates for interactional group therapy. But if such
individuals are dissatisfied with their interpersonal styles, express a strong motivation for
change, and manifest curiosity about their inner lives, then they stand a better chance of
benefiting from a therapy group. The group interaction may cause these individuals
intense anxiety about losing their sense of self and autonomy. They crave connectedness
yet fear losing themselves in that very process. Interpersonal defenses against these
vulnerabilities, such as withdrawal, devaluation, or self-aggrandizement, may push the
group member into a deviant group role.53 Mildly or moderately schizoid clients and
individuals with avoidant personality disorder, on the other hand, are excellent candidates
for group therapy and rarely fail to benefit from it.
Greater caution should be exercised when the therapist is seeking a replacement
member for an already established, fast-moving group. Often, combining individual and
group therapy may be necessary to launch or sustain vulnerable clients in the group. The
added support and containment provided by the individual therapist may diminish the
sense of risk for the client.54

Fear of Emotional Contagion. Several clients who dropped out of group therapy reported
being adversely affected by hearing the problems of the other group members. One man
stated that during his three weeks in the group, he was very upset by the others’ problems,
dreamed about them every night, and relived their problems during the day. Other clients
reported being upset by one particularly disturbed client in each of their groups. They
were all frightened by seeing aspects of the other client in themselves and feared that they
might become as mentally ill as the severely disturbed client or that continued exposure to
that member would evoke a personal regression. Another client in this category who
bolted from the first group meeting thirty minutes early and never returned described a
severe revulsion toward the other group members: “I couldn’t stand the people in the
group. They were repulsive. I got upset seeing them trying to heap their problems on top
of mine. I didn’t want to hear their problems. I felt no sympathy for them and couldn’t
bear to look at them. They were all ugly, fat, and unattractive.” This client had a lifelong
history of being upset by other people’s illnesses and avoiding sick people. Once when her
mother fainted, she “stepped over her” to get away rather than trying to help. Other
clinicians have noted that clients in this category have a long-term proclivity to avoid sick
people, and, if they had been present at an accident were the first to leave or tended to

look the other way.55
Such concern about contagion has many possible dynamics. Many clients with
borderline personality disorder report such fears (it is a common phenomenon in inpatient
group therapy), and it is often regarded as a sign of permeable ego boundaries and an
inability to differentiate oneself from significant others in one’s environment.
A fear of emotional contagion, unless it is extremely marked and clearly manifest in the
pretherapy screening procedure, is not a particularly useful index for selection or
exclusion for a group. Generally, it is difficult to predict this behavior from screening
interviews. Furthermore, fear of emotional contagion is not in itself sufficient cause for
failure. Therapists who are sensitive to the problem can deal with it effectively in the
therapeutic process. Occasionally, clients must gradually desensitize themselves: I have
known individuals who dropped out of several therapy groups but who persevered until
they were finally able to remain in one. These attitudes by no means rule out group
therapy. The therapist may help by clarifying for the client the crippling effects of his or
her attitudes toward others’ distress. How can one develop friendships if one cannot bear
to hear of another’s difficulties? If the discomfort can be contained, the group may well
offer the ideal therapeutic format for such a client.

Other Reasons. The other reasons for group therapy dropouts—inability to share the
therapist, complications of concurrent individual and group therapy, early provocateurs,
problems in orientation to therapy, and complications arising from subgrouping—were
generally a result less of faulty selection than of faulty therapeutic technique; they will be
discussed in later chapters. None of these categories, though, belongs solely under the
rubric of selection or therapy technique. For example, some clients terminated because of
an inability to share the therapist. They never relinquished the notion that progress in
therapy was dependent solely on the amount of goods (time, attention, and so on) they
received from the group therapist.
Although it may have been true that these clients tended to be excessively dependent
and authority oriented, it was also true that they had been incorrectly referred to group
therapy. They had all been in individual therapy, and the group was considered a method
of therapy weaning. Obviously, group therapy is not a modality to be used to facilitate the
termination phase of individual therapy, and the therapist, in pretherapy screening, should
be alert to inappropriate client referrals. Sometimes clients’ strong reluctance to relinquish
individual therapy will prevent them engaging in group therapy.†
As we saw in earlier chapters, there is compelling evidence that the strength of the
therapeutic alliance predicts therapy outcome. Conversely, problems with the alliance,
such as client-therapist disagreement about the goals, tasks, or therapy relationship, are
associated with premature terminations and failure. A study of ten dropouts noted that
several clients had been inadequately prepared for the group.56 The therapist had been
unclear about the reasons for placing them in a group. No clear set of goals had been
formulated, and some clients were suspicious of the therapists’ motives—questioning

whether they had been placed in the group simply because the group needed a warm body.
Some were wounded by being placed in a group with significantly dysfunctional
members. They took this as a statement of the therapist’s judgment of their condition.
Some were wounded simply by being referred to a group, as though they were being
reduced from a state of specialness to a state of ordinariness. Still others left the group
because of a perceived imbalance in the giving-receiving process. They felt that they gave
far more than they received in the group.
CRITERIA FOR INCLUSION
The most important clinical criterion for inclusion is the most obvious one: motivation.57
The client must be highly motivated for therapy in general and for group therapy in
particular. It will not do to start group therapy because one has been sent—whether by
spouse, probation officer, individual therapist, or any individual or agency outside oneself.
Many erroneous prejudgments of the group may be corrected in the preparation procedure
(see chapter 10), but if you discern a deeply rooted unwillingness to accept responsibility
for treatment or deeply entrenched unwillingness to enter the group, you should not accept
that person as a group therapy member.
Most clinicians agree that an important criterion for inclusion is whether a client has
obvious problems in the interpersonal domain: for example, loneliness, shyness and social
withdrawal, inability to be intimate or to love, excessive competitiveness, aggressivity,
abrasiveness, argumentativeness, suspiciousness, problems with authority, narcissism, an
inability to share, to empathize, to accept criticism, a continuous need for admiration,
feelings of unlovability, fears of assertiveness, obsequiousness, and dependency. In
addition, of course, clients must be willing to take some responsibility for these problems
or, at the very least, acknowledge them and entertain a desire for change.
Some clinicians suggest group therapy for clients who do not work well in individual
therapy as a result of their limited ability to report on events in their life (because of blind
spots or because of ego syntonic character pathology.)58
Impulsive individuals who find it difficult to control the need to act immediately on
their feelings usually work better in groups than in individual therapy.59 The therapist
working with these clients in individual therapy often finds it difficult to remain both
participant and observer, whereas in the group these two roles are divided among the
members: some members may, for example, rush to battle with the impulsive client, while
others egg them on (“Let’s you and him fight”), and others act as disinterested, reliable
witnesses whose testimony the impulsive client is often far more willing to trust than the
therapist’s.
In cases where interpersonal problems are not paramount (or not obvious to the client),
group therapy may still be the treatment of choice. For example, clients who are extremely
intellectualized may do better with the affective stimuli available in a group. Other clients

fare poorly in individual therapy because of severe problems in the transference: they may
not be able to tolerate the intimacy of the dyadic situation, either so distorting the
therapeutic relationship or becoming so deeply involved with (or oppositional to) the
therapist that they need the reality testing offered by other group members to make therapy
possible. Others are best treated in a group because they characteristically elicit strong
negative counter-transference from an individual therapist.60
• Grant, a thirty-eight-year-old man referred to group therapy by his female
individual therapist, struggled with anger and a near-phobic avoidance of
tenderness or dependence that he believed was related to physical abuse he
suffered at the hands of his brutal father. When his young son’s physical
playfulness became frightening to him, he sought individual therapy because of his
concern that he would be an inadequate or abusive father.
At first the individual therapy progressed well, but soon the therapist became
uneasy with Grant’s aggressive and crude sexual feelings toward her. She became
particularly concerned when Grant suggested that he could best express his
gratitude to her through sexual means. Stymied in working this through, yet
reluctant to end the therapy because of Grant’s gains, the therapist referred him to
a therapy group, hoping that the concurrent group and individual format would
dilute the intensity of the transference and countertransference. The group offered
so many alternatives for both relatedness and confrontation that Grant’s treatment
was able to proceed effectively in both venues.
Many clients seek therapy without an explicit interpersonal complaint. They may cite
the common problems that propel the contemporary client into therapy: a sense of
something missing in life, feelings of meaninglessness, diffuse anxiety, anhedonia, identity
confusion, mild depression, self-derogation or self-destructive behavior, compulsive
workaholism, fears of success, alexithymia.61 But if one looks closely, each of these
complaints has its interpersonal underpinnings, and each generally may be treated as
successfully in group therapy as in individual therapy.62
Research on Inclusion Criteria
Any systematic approach to defining criteria for inclusion must issue from the study of
successful group therapy participants. Unfortunately, as I discussed at the beginning of
this chapter, such research is extraordinarily difficult to control. I should note that
prediction of outcome in individual therapy research is equally difficult, and recent
reviews stress the paucity of successful, clinically relevant research.63
In a study of forty clients in five outpatient therapy groups through one year of group
therapy, my colleagues and I attempted to identify factors that were evident before group
therapy that might predict successful outcome.64 Outcome was evaluated and correlated
with many variables measured before the start of therapy. Our results indicated that none
of the pretherapy factors measured were predictive of success in group therapy, including

level of psychological sophistication, therapists’ prediction of outcome, previous self-
disclosure, and demographic data. However, two factors measured early in therapy (at the
sixth and the twelfth meetings) predicted success one year later: the clients’ attraction to
the group and the clients’ general popularity in the group.65 The finding that popularity
correlated highly with successful outcome has some implications for selection, because
researchers have found that high self-disclosure, activity in the group, and the ability to
introspect were some of the prerequisites for group popularity.66 Recall that popularity and
status in a group accrues to individuals who model the behaviors that advance the group’s
achievement of its goals.67
The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles study (see chapter 16) demonstrated that, in pregroup
testing, those who were to profit most from the group were those who highly valued and
desired personal change; who viewed themselves as deficient both in understanding their
own feelings and in their sensitivity to the feelings of others; who had high expectations
for the group, anticipating that it would provide relevant opportunities for communication
and help them correct their deficiencies.68
Melnick and Rose, in a project involving forty-five encounter group members,
determined at the start of the group each member’s risk-taking propensity and expectations
about the quality of interpersonal behavior to be experienced in the group. They then
measured each member’s actual behavior in the group (including self-disclosure, feedback
given, risk taking, verbal activity, depth of involvement, attraction to the group).69 They
found that both high-risk propensity and more favorable expectations correlated with
therapeutically favorable behavior in the group.
The finding that a positive expectational set is predictive of favorable outcome has
substantial research support: the more a client expects therapy—either group or individual
—to be useful, the more useful will it be.†70 The role of prior therapy is important in this
regard: experienced clients have more positive and more realistic expectations of therapy.
Agreement between therapist and client about therapy expectations strengthens the
therapeutic alliance, which also predicts better therapy outcome.71 This relationship
between positive expectational set and positive outcome has important implications not
only for the selection process but also for the preparation of clients for therapy. As I will
discuss in chapter 10, it is possible, through proper preparation, to create a favorable
expectational set.
The Client’s Effect on Other Group Members
Other inclusion criteria become evident when we consider the other members of a group
into which the client may be placed. Thus far, for pedagogical clarity, I have
oversimplified the problem by attempting to identify only absolute criteria for inclusion or
exclusion. Unlike individual therapy recruitment, where we need consider only whether
the client will profit from therapy and whether he or she and a specific therapist can
establish a working relationship, recruitment for group therapy cannot, in practice, ignore

the other group members.
It is conceivable, for example, that a depressed suicidal client or a compulsive talker
might derive some benefit from a group, but also that such a client’s presence would
render the group less effective for several other members. Group therapists not only
commit themselves to the treatment of everyone they bring into the group, they also
commit all of their other members to that individual. For example, Grant, the client
described earlier in this chapter, elicited very powerful reactions from the women in the
early phases of his group therapy. At one point a female member of the group responded
to one of a series of Grant’s angry attacks with, “I am trying to understand where Grant is
coming from, but how much longer must I sacrifice myself and my progress for his
therapy?”
Conversely, there may be clients who would do well in a variety of treatment modalities
but are placed in a group to meet some specific group needs. For example, some groups at
times seem to need an aggressive member, or a strong male, or a soft feminine member.
While clients with borderline personality disorder often have a stormy course of therapy,
some group therapists intentionally introduce them into a group because of their beneficial
influence on the group therapy process. Generally, such individuals are more aware of
their unconscious, less inhibited, and less dedicated to social formality, and they may lead
the group into a more candid and intimate culture. Considerable caution must be
exercised, however, in including a member whose ego strength is significantly less than
that of the other members. If these clients have socially desirable behavioral traits and are
valued by the other members because of their openness and deep perceptivity, they will
generally do very well. If, however, their behavior alienates others, and if the group is so
fast moving or threatening that they retard the group rather than lead it, then they will be
driven into a deviant role and their experience is likely to be countertherapeutic.
The Therapist’s Feeling Toward the Client
One final, and important, criterion for inclusion is the therapist’s personal feeling toward
the client. Regardless of the source, the therapist who strongly dislikes or is disinterested
in a client (and cannot understand or alter that reaction) should refer that person
elsewhere. This caveat is obviously relative, and you must establish for yourself which
feelings would preclude effective therapy.
It is my impression that this issue is somewhat more manageable for group therapists
than for individual therapists. With the consensual validation available in the group from
other members and from the co-therapist, many therapists find that they are more often
able to work through initial negative feelings toward clients in group therapy than in
individual therapy. Nonetheless there is evidence that therapist hostility often results in
premature termination in group therapy.72 As therapists gain experience and self-
knowledge, they usually develop greater generosity and tolerance and find themselves
actively disliking fewer and fewer clients. Often the antipathy the therapist experiences
reflects the client’s characteristic impact on others and thus constitutes useful data for

therapy.†
AN OVERVIEW OF THE SELECTION PROCEDURE
The material I have presented thus far about selection of clients may seem disjunctive. I
can introduce some order by applying to this material a central organizing principle—a
simple punishment-reward system. Clients are likely to terminate membership in a therapy
group prematurely—and hence are poor candidates—when the punishments or
disadvantages of group membership outweigh the rewards or the anticipated rewards. By
“punishments” and “disadvantages,” I mean the price the client must pay for group
membership, including an investment of time, money, and energy as well as a variety of
uncomfortable feelings arising from the group experience, including anxiety, frustration,
discouragement, and rejection.
The client should play an important role in the selection process. It is preferable that
one deselect oneself before entering the group rather than undergo the discomfort of
dropping out of the group. However, the client can make a judicious decision only if
provided with sufficient information: for example, the nature of the group experience, the
anticipated duration of therapy, and what is expected of him or her in the group (see
chapter 10).
The rewards of membership in a therapy group consist of the various satisfactions
members obtain from the group. Let us consider those rewards, or determinants of group
cohesiveness, that are relevant to the selection of clients for group therapy.73
Members are satisfied with their groups (attracted to their groups and likely to continue
membership in them) if:
1. They view the group as meeting their personal needs—that is, their goals in
therapy.
2. They derive satisfaction from their relationships with the other members.
3. They derive satisfaction from their participation in the group task.
4. They derive satisfaction from group membership vis-à-vis the outside world.
These are important factors. Each, if absent or of negative value, may outweigh the
positive value of the others and result in premature termination. Let us consider each in
turn.
Does the Group Satisfy Personal Needs?
The explicit personal needs of group members are at first expressed in their chief
complaint, their purpose for seeking therapy. These personal needs are usually couched in

terms of relief from suffering or, less frequently, in terms of self-understanding or personal
growth. Several factors are important here: there must be significant personal need; the
group must be viewed as an agent with the potential of meeting that need; and the group
must be seen, in time, as making progress toward meeting that need.
Clients must, of course, have some discomfort in their lives to provide the required
motivation for change. The relationship between discomfort and suitability for group
therapy is not linear but curvilinear. Clients with too little discomfort (coupled with only a
modest amount of curiosity about groups or themselves) are usually unwilling to pay the
price for group membership.
Clients with moderately high discomfort may, on the other hand, be willing to pay a
high price, provided they have faith or evidence that the group can and will help. From
where does this faith arise? There are several possible sources:
• Endorsement of group therapy by the mass media, by friends who have had a
successful group therapy experience, or by a previous individual therapist,
referring agency, or physician
• Explicit preparation by the group therapist (see chapter 10)
• Belief in the omniscience of authority figures
• Observing or being told about improvement of other group members
• Observing changes in oneself occurring early in group therapy
Clients with exceedingly high discomfort stemming from extraordinary environmental
stress, internal conflicts, inadequate ego strength, or some combination of these may be so
overwhelmed with anxiety that many of the activities of the long-term dynamic group
seem utterly irrelevant. Initially groups are unable to meet highly pressing personal needs.
Dynamic, interactional group therapy is not effective or efficient in management of
intense crisis and acute psychological distress.
Greatly disturbed clients may be unable to tolerate the frustration that occurs as the
group gradually evolves into an effective therapeutic instrument. They may demand
instant relief, which the group cannot supply—it is not designed to do so. Or they may
develop anxiety-binding defenses that are so interpersonally maladaptive (for example,
extreme projection or somatization) as to make the group socially nonviable for them.
Again, it is not group therapy per se that is contraindicated for clients with exceedingly
high discomfort, but longer-term dynamic group therapy. These acutely disturbed clients
may be excellent candidates for a crisis group or for a specialized problem-oriented group
—for example, a cognitive-behavioral group for clients with depression or panic
disorder.† There too, however, they will need to participate in the group work; the
difference is in the nature and focus of the work.74
Some clients facing an urgent major decision like divorce, abortion, or relinquishing
custody of a child may not be good candidates for a dynamic group. But later, after the
decision has been made, they may benefit from group therapy in dealing with the
psychological and social ramifications of their choice.

Individuals variously described as non–psychologically minded, nonintrospective, high
deniers, psychological illiterates, psychologically insensitive, and alexithymic may be
unable to perceive the group as meeting their personal needs. In fact, they may perceive an
incompatibility between their personal needs and the group goals. Psychological-
mindedness is a particularly important variable, because it helps individuals engage in the
“work” of therapy75 that produces positive outcomes. Without it, clients may reason,
“How can looking at my relations with the group members help me with my bad nerves?”
Satisfaction from Relationships with Other Members
Group members derive satisfaction from their relationships with other group members,
and often this source of attraction to the group may dwarf the others. The importance of
relationships among members both as a source of cohesiveness and as a therapeutic factor
was fully discussed in chapter 3, and I need pause here only to reflect that it is rare for a
client to continue membership in the prolonged absence of interpersonal satisfaction.
The development of interpersonal satisfaction may be a slow process. Psychotherapy
clients are often contemptuous of themselves and are therefore likely to be initially
contemptuous of their fellow group members. They have had, for the most part, few
gratifying interpersonal relationships in the past and have little trust or expectation of
gaining anything from close relationships with the other group members. Often they may
use the therapist transitionally: by relating positively to the therapist at first, they may
more easily grow closer to one another.76
Satisfaction from Participation in Group Activities
The satisfaction that clients derive from participation in the group task is largely
inseparable from the satisfaction they derive from relationships with the other members.
The group task—to achieve a group culture of intimacy, acceptance, introspection,
understanding, and interpersonal honesty—is fundamentally interpersonal, and research
with a wide variety of groups has demonstrated that participation in the group task is an
important source of satisfaction for the group members.77 Clients who cannot introspect,
reveal themselves, care for others, or manifest their feelings will derive little gratification
from participation in group activities. Such clients include many of the types discussed
earlier: for example, the schizoid personality, clients with other types of overriding
intimacy problems, the deniers, the somatizers, the organically impaired, and the mentally
retarded. These individuals are better treated in a homogeneous, problem-specific group
that has a group task consonant with their abilities.
Satisfaction from Pride in Group Membership
Members of many kinds of groups derive satisfaction from membership because the

outside world regards their group as highly valued or prestigious. Not so for therapy
groups because of members’ share. Therapy group members will, however, usually
develop some pride in their group: for example, they will defend it if it is attacked by new
members. They may feel superior to outsiders—to those “in denial,” to individuals who
are as troubled as they but lack the good sense to join a therapy group. If clients manifest
extraordinary shame at membership and are reluctant to reveal their membership to
intimate friends or even to spouses, then their membership will appear to them dissonant
with the values of other important anchor groups. It is not likely that such clients will
become deeply attracted to the group. Occasionally, outside groups (family, military, or,
more recently, industry) will exert pressure on the individual to join a therapy group.78
Groups held together only by such coercion are tenuous at first, but the evolving group
process may generate other sources of cohesiveness.
SUMMARY
Selection of clients for group therapy is, in practice, a process of deselection: group
therapists exclude certain clients from consideration and accept all others. Although
empirical outcome studies and clinical observation have generated few inclusion criteria,
the study of failures in group therapy, especially of clients who drop out early in the
course of the group, provides important exclusion criteria.
Clients should not be placed in a group if they are likely to become groups deviants.
Deviants stand little chance of benefiting from the group experience and a fair chance of
being harmed by it. A group deviant is one who is unable to participate in the group task.
Thus, in a heterogeneous, interactional group, a deviant is one who cannot or will not
examine himself and his relationship with others, especially with the other members of the
group. Nor can he accept his responsibility for his life difficulties. Low psychological-
mindedness is a key criterion for exclusion from a dynamic therapy group.
Clients should be excluded from long-term groups if they are in the midst of a life crisis
that can be more efficiently addressed in brief, problem-specific groups or in other therapy
formats.
Conflicts in the sphere of intimacy represent both indication and contraindication for
group therapy. Group therapy can offer considerable help in this domain—yet if the
conflicts are too extreme, the client will choose to leave (or be extruded) by the group.
The therapist’s task is to select those clients who are as close as possible to the border
between need and impossibility. If no markers for exclusion are present, the vast majority
of clients seeking therapy can be treated in group therapy.

Chapter 9
THE COMPOSITION OF THERAPY GROUPS
A chapter on group composition might at first glance seem anachronistic in the
contemporary practice of group psychotherapy. Economic and managed care pressures on
today’s group therapist may make the idea of mindfully composing a psychotherapy group
seem an impractical luxury. How can one think about the ideal method of composing
therapy groups when pressures for target symptom relief, homogeneous groups, structured
meetings, and brevity of therapy are the order of the day? Moreover, empirical research
indicates that the briefer and more structured the group, the less important are
compositional issues.1 To make matters worse, research in group composition is doubtless
one of the most complex and confusing areas in the group therapy literature. So what is
the point of including a chapter on group composition in this text?
In this chapter my aim is to show that the principles of group composition are relevant
in all forms of therapy groups, even the most structured and seemingly homogeneous.
Group composition principles help group leaders understand the process within each
group and tailor their work to meet the requirements of each client. If therapists fail to
attend to issues of diversity in interpersonal, cognitive, personality, and cultural
dimensions, they will fall prey to a simplistic and ineffective “one-size-fits-all” approach
to group therapy. The research on group composition is voluminous and complex. Readers
who are less interested in research detail may prefer in this chapter to focus on the section
summaries and the final overview.
Let us begin with a thought experiment. Imagine the following situation: An ambulatory
mental health clinic or counseling center with ten group therapists ready to form groups
and seventy clients who, on the basis of the selection criteria outlined thus far, are suitable
group therapy candidates. Is there an ideal way to compose these ten groups?
Or imagine this more common, analogous situation: An intake coordinator deems a
client a suitable candidate for group therapy, and there are several groups operating in the
clinic, each with one vacancy. Into which group should the client go? Which group would
offer the best fit?† Both situations raise a similar question: Is there a superior method of
composing or blending a group? Will the proper blend of individuals form an ideal group?
Will the wrong blend remain inharmonious and never coalesce into a working group?
I believe that it is important to establish valid compositional principles to help us
determine which clients should go into which groups. We grope in the dark if we try to
build a group or fill a vacancy without any knowledge of the organization of the total
system. The stakes are high: first, a number of comembers will be affected by the decision
to introduce a particular client into a group, and second, the brief frame of contemporary
group treatment leaves little time for correction of errors.
As in preceding chapters, I will devote particular attention to groups with ambitious
goals that focus on here-and-now member interaction. But principles of composition also

apply to homogeneous, problem-specific, cognitive-behavioral, or psychoeducational
groups. Keep in mind that even in such groups, homogeneity in one dimension, such as
diagnosis, can initially mask important heterogenity (for example, stage and severity of
illness) that may powerfully interfere with the group’s ability to work well together.
First, let me clarify what I mean by right and wrong “blends.” Blends of what? What
are the ingredients of our blend? Which of the infinite number of human characteristics
are germane to the composition of an interactional therapy group? Since each member
must continually communicate and interact with the other members, it is the interaction of
members that will dictate the fate of a group. Therefore, if we are to deal intelligently with
group composition, we must aim for a mix that will allow the members to interact in some
desired manner. The entire procedure of group composition and selection of group
members is thus based on the important assumption that we can, with some degree of
accuracy, predict the interpersonal or group behavior of an individual from pretherapy
screening. Are we able to make that prediction?
THE PREDICTION OF GROUP BEHAVIOR
In the previous chapter, I advised against including individuals whose group behavior
would render their own therapy unproductive and impede the therapy of the rest of the
group. Generally, predictions of the group behavior of individuals with extreme, fixed,
maladaptive interpersonal behavior (for example, the sociopathic or the floridly manic
client) are reasonably accurate: in general, the grosser the pathology, the greater the
predictive accuracy.
In everyday clinical practice, however, the problem is far more subtle. Most clients who
apply for treatment have a wider repertoire of behavior, and their ultimate group behavior
is far less predictable. Let us examine the most common procedures used to predict
behavior in the group.
The Standard Diagnostic Interview
The most common method of screening clients for groups is the standard individual
interview. The interviewer, on the basis of data on environmental stresses, personal
history, and inferences about motivation for treatment and ego strength, attempts to predict
how the individual will behave in the group. These predictions, based on observations of a
client’s behavior in the dyadic situation, are often hazy and inaccurate. Later in the chapter
I will present some strategies to increase the validity of these preliminary inferences.
One of the traditional end products of the mental health interview is a diagnosis that, in
capsule form, is meant to summarize the client’s condition and convey useful information
from practitioner to practitioner. But does it succeed in offering practical information?

Group therapists will attest it does not! Psychiatric diagnoses based on standard
classificatory systems (for example, DSM-IV-TR) are, at best, of limited value as an
indicator of interpersonal behavior. Diagnostic nomenclature was never meant for this
purpose; it stemmed from a disease-oriented medical discipline. It is based primarily on
the determination of syndromes according to aggregates of certain signs and symptoms.
Personality is generally classified in a similar fashion, emphasizing discrete categories of
interpersonal behavior rather than describing interpersonal behavior as it is actually
manifested.2
The 2000 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV-TR) is an
improvement over earlier psychiatric diagnostic systems, and it pays far more attention to
personality. It codes personality on a specific axis (Axis II) and recognizes that an
individual may demonstrate clustering of personality pathology in more than one area,
apart from (or in addition to) Axis I psychiatric disorders. The DSM-IV-TR provides a
sharper demarcation between severe and less severe personality disorders and in general
has a more empirical foundation than previous DSM systems.3
Nonetheless, the DSM-IV-TR, along with the most recent International Classification
of Disease (ICD-10), has marked limitations for practitioners working with clients whose
interpersonal distress and disturbance do not fit neatly into syndrome definitions.
Contemporary diagnosis also emphasizes discrete and observable behavior, with little
attention paid to the inner life of the individual.4
Overall, the standard intake interview has been shown to have little value in predicting
subsequent group behavior.5 For example, one study of thirty clients referred to group
therapy demonstrated that the intake interviewers’ ratings of five important factors—
motivation for group therapy, verbal skills, chronicity of problems, history of object
relations, and capacity for insight—had no predictive value for the client’s subsequent
group behavior (for example, verbal activity and responsivity to other members and to the
leader).6
That a diagnostic label fails to predict much about human behavior should neither
surprise nor chagrin us. No label or phrase can adequately encompass an individual’s
essence or entire range of behavior.7 Any limiting categorization is not only erroneous but
offensive, and stands in opposition to the basic human foundations of the therapeutic
relationship. In my opinion, the less we think (during the process of psychotherapy) in
terms of diagnostic labels, the better. (Albert Camus once described hell as a place where
one’s identity was eternally fixed and displayed on personal signs: Adulterous Humanist,
Christian Landowner, Jittery Philosopher, Charming Janus, and so on.8 To Camus, hell is
where one has no way of explaining oneself, where one is fixed, classified—once and for
all time.)
Standard Psychological Testing
The standard psychological diagnostic tests—among them the Rorschach test, the

Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), the Thematic Apperception Test
(TAT), the Sentence Completion test, and the Draw-a-Person test—have failed to yield
predictions of value to the group therapist.9
Specialized Diagnostic Procedures
The limited value of standard diagnostic procedures suggests that we need to develop new
methods of assessing interpersonal behavior. Slowly, the field is beginning to assess
personality traits and tendencies more accurately to improve our methods of matching
clients to therapy.10 Recent clinical observations and research suggest several promising
directions in two general categories:
1. A formulation of an interpersonal nosological system. If the critical variable in
group therapy selection is interpersonal in nature, why not develop an
interpersonally based diagnostic scheme?
2. New diagnostic procedures that directly sample group-relevant behavior
An Interpersonal Nosological System. The first known attempt to classify mental illness
dates back to 1700 B.C.,11 and the intervening centuries have seen a bewildering number
of systems advanced, each beset with its own internal inconsistency. The majority of
systems have classified mental illness according to either symptoms or presumed etiology.
The advent of the object-relations and interpersonal systems of conceptualizing
psychopathology, together with the increase in the number of people seeking treatment for
less severe problems in living,12 stimulated more sophisticated attempts to classify
individuals according to interpersonal styles of relating.† In previous generations
psychotherapy researchers interested in the impact of personality variables on the
individual’s participation in groups measured such variables as externalization and
resistance,13 perceived mastery and learned resourcefulness, 14 dogmatism,15 preference
for high or low structure,16 social avoidance,17 locus of control,18 interpersonal trust,19
and social risk-taking propensity.20
It is of interest to note that some of the contemporary empirical schema of interpersonal
relationships draw heavily from earlier clinical conceptualizations. Karen Horney’s
midcentury model has been particularly relevant in new formulations. Horney viewed
troubled individuals as moving exaggeratedly and maladaptively toward, against, or away
from other people and described interpersonal profiles of these types and various
subtypes.21
Bowlby’s work on attachment22 has also spawned new work that categorizes
individuals on the basis of four fundamental styles of relationship attachment: 1) secure;
2) anxious; 3) detached or dismissive and avoidant; and 4) fearful and avoidant.23 Some
therapists feel that these attachment styles are so important that the therapist’s recognition
and appropriate therapeutic responsiveness to them may make or break treatment.24

Contemporary interpersonal theorists† have attempted to develop a classification of
diverse interpersonal styles and behavior based on data gathered through interpersonal
inventories (often the Inventory of Interpersonal Problems, IIP).25 They then place this
information onto a multidimensional, interpersonal circumplex (a schematic depiction of
interpersonal relations arranged around a circle in two-dimensional space; see figure
9.1).26
Two studies that used the interpersonal circumplex in a twelve-session training group of
graduate psychology students generated the following results:
1. Group members who were avoidant and dismissive were much more likely to
experience other group members as hostile.
2. Group members who were anxious about or preoccupied with relationships saw
other members as friendly.
3. Strongly dominant individuals resist group engagement and may devalue or
discount the group.27
FIGURE 9.1 Interpersonal Circumplex
An illustrative example of this type of research may be found in a well-constructed
study that tested the comparative effectiveness of two kinds of group therapy and
attempted to determine the role of clients’ personality traits on the results.28 The
researchers randomly assigned clients seeking treatment for loss and complicated grief (N
= 107) to either a twelve-session interpretive/expressive or a supportive group therapy.
Client outcome assessments included measures of depression, anxiety, self-esteem, and
social adjustment. Before therapy, each client was given the NEO-Five Factor Inventory
(NEO-FFI), which measures five personality variables: neuroticism, extraversion,
openness, conscientiousness, and agreeableness.29 What did the study find?
1. Both group therapies were demonstrably effective, although the interpretive group
generated much greater affect and anxiety among the group members.
2. One personality factor, neuroticism, predicted poorer outcome in both types of
group.
3. Three factors predicted good outcomes with both treatments: extraversion,

conscientiousness, and openness.
4. The fifth factor, agreeableness predicted success in the interpretive/ expressive
group therapy but not in the supportive group therapy.
The authors suggest that the agreeableness factor is particularly important in sustaining
relatedness in the face of the challenging work associated with this form of intensive
group therapy.
Two other personality measures relevant to group therapy outcome have also been
studied in depth: psychological-mindedness30 and the Quality of Object Relations (QOR)
Scale.31w Both of these measures have the drawback of requiring that the client participate
in a 30–60-minute semistructured interview (in contrast to the relative ease of a client self-
report instrument such as the NEO-FFI).
Psychological-mindedness predicts good outcome in all forms of group therapy.
Psychologically minded clients are better able to work in therapy—to explore, reflect, and
understand. Furthermore, such clients are more accountable to themselves and responsible
to comembers.32 Clients with higher QOR scores, which reflect greater maturity in their
relationships, are more likely to achieve positive outcomes in interpretive/expressive,
emotionactivating group therapy. They are more trusting and able to express a broader
range of negative and positive emotions in the group. Clients with low QOR scores are
less able to tolerate this more demanding form of therapy and do better in supportive,
emotion-suppressing group formats.33
Once we identify a key problematic interpersonal area in a client, an interesting
question arises: do we employ a therapy that avoids or addresses that area of
vulnerability? The large NIMH study of time-limited therapy in the treatment of
depression demonstrated that clients do not necessarily do well when matched to the form
of therapy that appears to target their specific problems. For example, clients with greater
interpersonal difficulty did less well in the interpersonal therapy. Why would that be?
The answer is that some interpersonal competence is required to make use of
interpersonal therapy. Clients with greater interpersonal dysfunction tend to do better in
cognitive therapy, which requires less interpersonal skill. Conversely, clients with greater
cognitive distortions tend to achieve better results with interpersonal therapy than with
cognitive therapy. An additional finding of the NIMH study is that perfectionistic clients
tend to do poorly in time-limited therapies, often becoming preoccupied with the looming
end of therapy and their disappointment in what they have accomplished.34
Summary: Group compositional research is still a soft science. Nonetheless, some
practical treatment considerations flow from the research findings. Several key principles
can guide us in composing intensive interactional psychotherapy groups:
• Clients will re-create their typical relational patterns within the microcosm of the
group.
• Personality and attachment variables are more important predictors of in-group
behavior than diagnosis alone.

• Clients require a certain amount of interpersonal competence to make the best use
of interactional group therapy.
• Clients who are rigidly domineering or dismissive will impair the work of the
therapy group.
• Members eager for engagement and willing to take social risks will advance the
group’s work.
• Psychologically minded clients are essential for an effective, interactional therapy
group; with too few such clients, a group will be slow and ineffective.
• Clients who are less trusting, less altruistic, or less cooperative will likely struggle
with interpersonal exploration and feedback and may require more supportive
groups.
• Clients with high neuroticism or perfectionism will likely require a longer course of
therapy to effect meaningful change in symptoms and functioning.
Direct Sampling of Group-Relevant Behavior. The most powerful method of predicting
group behavior is to observe the behavior of an individual who is engaged in a task closely
related to the group therapy situation. 35 In other words, the closer we can approximate the
therapy group in observing individuals, the more accurately we can predict their in-group
behavior. Substantial research evidence supports this thesis. An individual’s behavior will
show a certain consistency over time, even though the people with whom the person
interacts change—as has been demonstrated with therapist-client interaction and small
group interaction.36 For example, it has been demonstrated that a client seen by several
individual therapists in rotation will be consistent in behavior (and, surprisingly, will
change the behavior of each of the therapists!).37
Since we often cannot accurately predict group behavior from an individual interview,
we should consider obtaining data on behavior in a group setting. Indeed, business and
government have long found practical applications for this principle. For example, in
screening applicants for positions that require group-related skills, organizations observe
applicants’ behavior in related group situations. A group interview test has been used to
select Air Force officers, public health officers, and many types of public and business
executives and industry managers. Universities have also made effective use of group
assessment to hire academic faculty.38
This general principle can be refined further: group dynamic research also demonstrates
that behavior in one group is consistent with behavior in previous groups, especially if the
groups are similar in composition,39 in group task,40 in group norms,41 in expected role
behavior,42 or in global group characteristics (such as climate or cohesiveness).43 In other
words, even though one’s behavior is broadly consistent from one group to the next, the
individual’s specific behavior in a new group is influenced by the task and the structural
properties of the group and by the specific interpersonal styles of the other group
members.
The further implication, then, is that we can obtain the most relevant data for prediction

of group behavior by observing an individual behave in a group that is as similar as
possible to the one for which he or she is being considered. How can we best apply this
principle? The most literal application would be to arrange for the applicant to meet with
the therapy group under consideration and to observe his or her behavior in this setting. In
fact, some clinicians have attempted just that: they invite prospective members to visit the
group on a trial basis and then ask the group members to participate in the selection
process.44 Although there are several advantages to this procedure (to be discussed in
chapter 11), I find it clinically unwieldy: it tends to disrupt the group; the members are
disinclined to reject a prospective member unless there is some glaring incompatibility;
furthermore, prospective members may not act naturally when they are on trial.
An interesting research technique with strong clinical implications is the waiting-list
group—a temporary group constituted from a clinic waiting list. Clinicians observe the
behavior of a prospective group therapy member in this group and, on the basis of the data
they obtain there, refer the individual to a specific therapy or research group. In an
exploratory study, researchers formed four groups of fifteen members each from a group
therapy waiting list; the groups met once a week for four to eight weeks.45 Waiting-list
group behavior of the clients not only predicted their behavior in their subsequent long-
term therapy group but also enhanced the clients’ engagement in their subsequent therapy
group. They concluded, as have other researchers using a group diagnostic procedure for
clients applying for treatment, that clients did not react adversely to the waiting-list
group.46 It is challenging to lead waiting list groups. It requires an experienced leader who
has the skill to sustain a viable group in an understaffed setting dealing with vulnerable
and often demoralized clients.47
In one well-designed project, thirty clients on a group therapy waiting list were placed
into four one-hour training sessions. The sessions were all conducted according to a single
protocol, which included an introduction to here-and-now interaction.48 The researchers
found that each client’s verbal participation and interpersonal responsivity in the training
sessions correlated with their subsequent behavior during their first sixteen group therapy
sessions. These findings were subsequently replicated in another, larger project.49

Summary: A number of studies attest to the predictive power of observed pretherapy
group behavior. Furthermore, there is a great deal of corroborating evidence from human
relations and social-psychological group research that subsequent group behavior may be
satisfactorily predicted from pretherapy waiting or training groups.†

The Interpersonal Intake Interview. For practitioners or clinics facing time or resource
pressures, the use of trial groups may be an intriguing but highly impractical idea. A less
accurate but more pragmatic method of obtaining similar data is an interpersonally
oriented interview in which the therapist tests the prospective group client’s ability to deal

with the interpersonal here-and-now reality. Is the client able to comment on the process
of the intake interview or to understand or accept the therapist’s process commentary? For
example, is the client obviously tense but denies it when the therapist asks? Is the client
able and willing to identify the most uncomfortable or pleasant parts of the interview? Or
comment on how he or she wishes to be thought of by the therapist?
Detailed inquiry should be made into the client’s interpersonal and group relationships,
relationships with early chums, closest prolonged friendships, and degree of intimacy with
members of both sexes. Many of Harry Stack Sullivan’s interview techniques are of great
value in this task.50 It is informative, for example, when inquiring about friendships to ask
for the names of best friends and what has become of them. It is valuable to obtain a
detailed history of formal and informal groups, childhood and adult cliques, fraternities,
club memberships, gangs, teams, elected offices, and informal roles and status positions. I
find it valuable to ask the client to give a detailed description of a typical twenty-four
hours and to take particular note of the way the client’s life is peopled.
The predictive power of this type of interview has yet to be determined empirically, but
it seems to me far more relevant to subsequent group behavior than does the traditional
intake clinical interview. This interview approach has become a standard assessment
component in interpersonal therapy (IPT) and cognitive behavioral analysis system
psychotherapy (CBASP).51
Fifty years ago, Powdermaker and Frank described an interpersonal relations interview
that correctly predicted several patterns of subsequent group therapy behavior, such as
“will dominate the group by a flood of speech and advice”; “will have considerable
difficulty in showing feelings but will have compulsion to please the therapist and other
members”; “will be bland and socially skillful, tending to seek the leader’s attention while
ignoring the other members”; “will have a wait-and-see attitude”; or “will have a sarcastic,
superior ‘show-me’ attitude and be reluctant to discuss his problems.”52 Contemporary
psychotherapists have made an important addition to this approach: they emphasize the
client’s beliefs and expectations about relationships, which give form to the client’s
interpersonal behavior. This behavior in turn pulls characteristic responses from others.53
Such a sequence is illustrated in the following vignette, which also illustrates the
necessity of the therapist attending to his own emotional and behavioral reactions and
responses to the client.
• Connie, a woman in her forties, was referred by her family physician for group
therapy because of her social anxiety, dysthymia, and interpersonal isolation.
Immediately on entering the office she told me she had a “bone to pick” with me.
“How could you leave a message on my answering machine calling me Connie
and yourself Doctor So-and-so? Don’t you understand the power imbalance that
perpetuates? Haven’t you heard of feminism and empowerment? Do you treat all
the women you know like this, or only your clients?”
I was at first stunned, and then felt threatened and angry. After a few moments’
reflection I considered that she indeed had a point, and I acknowledged my

carelessness.
Later in the session I asked whether we might explore the extent of her anger,
and we soon began discussing her expectation that she would be silenced and
devalued in this process, as she had been so many times in the past. I told her that
she had, in a sense, presented a powerful test to me—hoping, perhaps, that I would
not take the bait, that I would not confirm her expectations about how her world
always treats her, a pattern that often resulted in her feeling rebuked, attacked, and
shut down. I suggested that she no doubt came to these beliefs honestly and that
they reflected her experiences in life. She may well initially relate to the group
members in the same way that she did with me, but she did have a choice. She
could make the group experience yet another in a series of angry rejections, or she
could begin a process of learning and understanding that could interrupt this self-
fulfilling prophecy.
Summary
Group behavior can be predicted from a pretherapy encounter. Of all the prediction
methods, the traditional intake individual interview oriented toward establishing a
diagnosis appears the least accurate, and yet it is the most commonly used. An
individual’s group behavior will vary depending on internal psychological needs, the
manner of expressing them, the interpersonal composition and the norms of the group. A
general principle, however, is that the more similar the intake procedure is to the actual
group situation, the more accurate will be the prediction of a client’s behavior . The most
promising single clinical method may be observation of a client’s behavior in an intake,
role-play, or waiting-list group. If circumstances and logistics do not permit this method, I
recommend that group therapists modify their intake interview to focus primarily on a
client’s interpersonal functioning.
PRINCIPLES OF GROUP COMPOSITION
To return now to the central question: Given ideal circumstances—a large number of
client applicants, plenty of time, and a wealth of information by which we can predict
behavior—how then to compose the therapy group?
Perhaps the reason for the scarcity of interest in the prediction of group behavior is that
the information available about the next step—group composition—is even more
rudimentary. Why bother refining tools to predict group behavior if we do not know how
to use this information? Although all experienced clinicians sense that the composition of
a group profoundly influences its character, the actual mechanism of influence has eluded
clarification.54 I have had the opportunity to study closely the conception, birth, and
development of more than 250 therapy groups—my own and my students’—and have

been struck repeatedly by the fact that some groups seem to jell immediately, some more
slowly, and other groups founder painfully and either fail entirely or spin off members and
emerge as working groups only after several cycles of attrition and addition of members. It
has been my impression that whether a group jells is only partly related to the competence
or efforts of the therapist or to the number of “good” members in the group. To a degree,
the critical variable is some as yet unclear blending of the members.
A clinical experience many years ago vividly brought this principle home to me. I was
scheduled to lead a six-month experiential group of clinical psychology interns, all at the
same level of training and approximately the same age. At the first meeting, over twenty
participants appeared—too many for one group—and I decided to break them into two
groups, and asked the participants simply to move in random fashion around the room for
five minutes and at the end of that time position themselves at one or the other end of the
room. Thereafter, each group met for an hour and a half, one group immediately following
the other.
Although superficially it might appear that the groups had similar compositions, the
subtle blending of personalities resulted in each having a radically different character. The
difference was apparent in the first meeting and persisted throughout the life of the groups.
One group assumed an extraordinarily dependent posture. In the first meeting, I arrived on
crutches with my leg in a cast because I had injured my knee playing football a couple of
days earlier. Yet the group made no inquiry about my condition. Nor did they themselves
arrange the chairs in a circle. (Remember that all were professional therapists, and most
had led therapy groups!) They asked my permission for such acts as opening the window
and closing the door. Most of the group life was spent analyzing their fear of me, the
distance between me and the members, my aloofness and coldness.
In the other group, I wasn’t halfway through the door before several members asked,
“Hey, what happened to your leg?” The group moved immediately into hard work, and
each of the members used his or her professional skills in a constructive manner. In this
group I often felt unnecessary to the work and occasionally inquired about the members’
disregard of me.
This “tale of two groups” underscores the fact that the composition of the groups
dramatically influenced the character of their subsequent work. If the groups had been
ongoing rather than time limited, the different environments they created might eventually
have made little difference in the beneficial effect each group had on its members. In the
short run, however, the members of the first group felt more tense, more deskilled, and
more restricted. Had it been a therapy group, some members might have felt so
dissatisfied that they would have dropped out of the group. The group was dominated by
what Nitsun describes as “antigroup” forces (elements present in each group that serve to
undermine the group’s work).55 Because of their narrower range of experience in the
group, they learned less about themselves than the members of the other group did.
A similar example may be drawn from two groups in the Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles
group study.56 These two short-term groups were randomly composed but had an identical
leader—a tape recording that provided instructions about how to proceed at each meeting

(the Encountertape Program). Within a few meetings, two very different cultures emerged.
One group was dependably obedient to the taped instructions and faithfully followed all
the prescribed exercises. The other group developed a disrespectful tone to the tape, soon
referring to it as “George.” It was common for these members to mock the tape. For
example, when the tape gave an instruction to the group, one member commented
derisively, “That’s a great idea, George!” Not only was the culture different for these
groups, but so was the outcome. At the end of the thirty-hour group experience—ten
meetings—the irreverent group had an appreciably better outcome.
Thus, we can be certain that composition affects the character and process of the group.
Still, we are a long way from concluding that a given method X composes a group more
effectively than method Y does. Group therapy outcome studies are complex, and rigorous
research has not yet defined the relationship between group composition and the ultimate
criterion: therapy outcome. Despite some promising work using the personality variables
reviewed earlier in this chapter, we still must rely largely on nonsystematic clinical
observations and studies stemming from nontherapy settings.
Clinical Observations
The impressions of individual clinicians on the effects of group composition must be
evaluated with caution. The lack of a common language for describing behavior, the
problems of outcome evaluation, the theoretical biases of the therapist, and the limited
number of groups that any one clinician may treat all limit the validity of clinical
impressions in this area.
There appears to be a general clinical sentiment that heterogeneous groups have
advantages over homogeneous groups for long-term intensive interactional group
therapy.†57 Homogeneous groups, on the other hand, have many advantages if the
therapist wishes to offer support for a shared problem or help clients develop skills to
obtain symptomatic relief over a brief period.58 Even with these groups, however,
composition is not irrelevant. A homogeneous group for men with HIV or women with
breast cancer will be strongly affected by the stage of illness of the members. An
individual with advanced disease may represent the other members’ greatest fears and lead
to members’ disengagement or withdrawal.59
Even in highly specialized, homogeneous, manual-guided group therapies, such as
groups for individuals dealing with a genetic predisposition to developing breast or
colorectal cancer, the therapist can expect composition to play a substantial role.60 Like
the group of psychology interns described earlier, some therapy groups quickly come
together, whereas others stumble along slowly, even with the same leader.
In general, though, homogeneous groups jell more quickly, become more cohesive, offer
more immediate support to group members, are better attended, have less conflict, and
provide more rapid relief of symptoms . However, many clinicians believe that they do not
lend themselves to long-term psychotherapeutic work with ambitious goals of personality

change. The homogeneous group, in contrast to the heterogeneous group, has a tendency
to remain at superficial levels and is a less effective medium for the altering of character
structure.
The issue becomes clouded when we ask, “Homogeneous for what?” “Heterogeneous
for what?” “For age?” “Sex?” “Symptom complex?” “Marital status?” “Education?”
“Socioeconomic status?” “Verbal skills?” “Psychosexual development?” “Psychiatric
diagnostic categories?” “Interpersonal needs?” Which of these are the critical variables? Is
a group composed of women with bulimia or seniors with depression homogeneous
because of the shared symptom, or heterogeneous because of the wide range of personality
traits of the members?
A number of authors seek to clarify the issue by suggesting that the group therapist
strive for maximum heterogeneity in the clients’ conflict areas and patterns of coping, and
at the same time strive for homogeneity of the clients’ degree of vulnerability and capacity
to tolerate anxiety. For example, a homogeneous group of individuals who all have major
conflicts about hostility that they dealt with through denial could hardly offer therapeutic
benefit to its members. However, a group with a very wide range of vulnerability (loosely
defined as ego strength) will, for different reasons, also be retarded: the most vulnerable
member will place limits on the group, which will become highly restrictive to the less
vulnerable ones. Foulkes and Anthony suggest blending diagnoses and disturbances to
form a therapeutically effective group. The greater the span between the polar types, the
higher the therapeutic potential.61 But the head and tail of the group both must stay
connected to the body of the group for therapeutic benefit to emerge.
Unfolding from these clinical observations is the rule that a degree of incompatibility
must exist between the client and the interpersonal culture of the group if change is to
occur. This principle—that change is preceded by a state of dissonance or incongruity—is
backed by considerable clinical and social-psychological research; I will return to it later
in this chapter. In the absence of adequate ego strength, however, group members cannot
profit from the dissonance.
Therefore, for the long-term intensive therapy group, the rule that will serve clinicians
in good stead is: heterogeneity for conflict areas and homogeneity for ego strength. We
seek heterogeneity of individuals with regard to gender, level of activity or passivity,
thinking and feeling, and interpersonal difficulties, but homogeneity with regard to
intelligence, capacity to tolerate anxiety, and ability to give and receive feedback and to
engage in the therapeutic process.
But heterogeneity must not be maintained at the price of creating a group isolate.
Consider the age variable: If there is one sixty-year-old member in a group of young
adults, that individual may choose (or be forced) to personify the older generation. Thus,
this member is stereotyped (as are the younger members), and the required interpersonal
honesty and intimacy will fail to materialize. A similar process may occur in an adult
group with a lone late adolescent who assumes the unruly teenager role. Yet there are
advantages to having a wide age spread in a group. Most of my ambulatory groups have
members ranging in age from twenty-five to sixty-five. Through working out their

relationships with other members, they come to understand their past, present, and future
relationships with a wider range of significant people: parents, peers, and children.
Sexual orientation, cultural, and ethno-racial factors similarly need to be considered.
Group members from minority backgrounds will need to trust that other group members
are willing to consider each individual’s specific context and not to view that individual as
a stereotype of his culture.†
Some therapists employ another concept—role heterogeneity—in their approach to
group composition. Their primary consideration when adding a new member is what role
in the group is open. Theoretically, such an orientation seems desirable. Practically,
however, it suffers from lack of clarity. An extraordinary range of therapy group roles
have been suggested: task leader, social-emotional leader, provocateur, doctor’s helper,
help-rejecting complainer, self-righteous moralist, star, fight/flight leader, dependency
leader, pairing leader, group hysteric, technical executive leader, social secretary, group
stud, group critic, group romantic, guardian of democracy, timekeeper, aggressive male,
vigilante of honesty, the sociable role, the structural role, the divergent role, the cautionary
role, the scrutinizer, the innocent, the scapegoat, the intellectualizer, the child, the puritan,
the reintegrater, and so on. Can we expand the list arbitrarily and indefinitely by including
all behavior trait constellations? Or is there a fixed set of roles, constant from group to
group, that members are forced to fill? Until we have some satisfactory frame of reference
to deal with these questions, asking “What role is open in the group?” will contribute little
toward an effective approach to group composition.
Clinical experience demonstrates that groups do better if some members can be
exemplars and advocates of constructive group norms. Placing one or two “veterans” of
group therapy into a new group may pay large dividends. Conversely, we can sometimes
predict that clients will fit poorly with a particular group because of the likelihood that
they will assume an unhealthy role in it. Consider this clinical illustration:
• Eve, a twenty-nine-year-old woman with prominent narcissistic personality
difficulties, was evaluated for group therapy. She was professionally successful but
interpersonally isolated, and she experienced chronic dysthymia that was only
partially ameliorated with antidepressants. When she came to my office for a
pregroup consultation, within minutes I experienced her as brittle, explosive,
highly demanding, and devaluing of others. In many ways, Eve’s difficulties echoed
those of another woman, Lisa, who had just quit this group (thereby creating the
opening for which Eve was being evaluated). Lisa’s intense, domineering need to
be at the center of the group, coupled with an exquisite vulnerability to feedback,
had paralyzed the group members, and her departure had been met with clear
relief by all. At another time, this group and Eve could have been a constructive fit.
So soon after Lisa’s departure, however, it was very likely that Eve’s characteristic
style of relating would trigger strong feelings in the group of “here we go again,”
shifting the group members back into feelings that they had just painfully
processed. An alternative group for Eve was recommended.
One final clinical observation. As a supervisor and researcher, I had an opportunity to

study closely the entire thirty-month course of an ambulatory group led by two competent
psychiatric residents. The group consisted of seven members, all in their twenties, six of
whom could be classified as having schizoid personality disorder. The most striking
feature of this homogeneous group was its extraordinary dullness. Everything associated
with the group meetings, tape recordings, written summaries, and supervisory sessions
seemed low-keyed and plodding. Often nothing seemed to be happening: there was no
discernible movement individually among the members or in the group as a whole. And
yet attendance was near perfect, and the group cohesiveness extraordinarily high.
At that time many ambulatory groups in the Stanford outpatient clinic were part of a
study involving the measurement of group cohesiveness. This homogeneous schizoid
group scored higher on cohesiveness (measured by self-administered questionnaires) than
any other group. Since all the group participants in the Stanford clinic during this period
were subjects in outcome research,62 thorough evaluations of clinical progress were
available at the end of one year and again at thirty months. The members of this group,
both the original members and the replacements, did extraordinarily well and underwent
substantial characterological changes as well as complete symptomatic remission. In fact,
few other groups I’ve studied have had comparably good results. My views about group
composition were influenced by this group, and I have come to attach great importance to
group stability, attendance, and cohesiveness.
Although in theory I agree with the concept of composing a group of individuals with
varied interpersonal stresses and needs, I feel that in practice it may be a spurious issue.
Given the limited predictive value of our traditional screening interview, it is probable that
our expectations exceed our abilities if we think we can achieve the type of subtle balance
and personality interlocking necessary to make a real difference in group functioning. For
example, although six of the seven members in the group I just discussed were diagnosed
as schizoid personalities, they differed far more than they resembled one another. This
apparently homogeneous group, contrary to the clinical dictum, did not remain at a
superficial level and effected significant personality changes in its members. Although the
interaction seemed plodding to the therapists and researchers, it did not to the participants.
None of them had ever had intimate relationships, and many of their disclosures, though
objectively unremarkable, were subjectively exciting first-time disclosures.
Many so-called homogeneous groups remain superficial, not because of homogeneity
but because of the psychological set of the group leaders and the restricted group culture
they fashion. Therapists who organize a group of individuals around a common symptom
or life situation must be careful not to convey powerful implicit messages that generate
group norms of restriction, a search for similarities, submergence of individuality, and
discouragement of self-disclosure and interpersonal honesty. Norms, as I elaborated in
chapter 5, once set into motion, may become self-perpetuating and difficult to change. We
should aim to reduce negative outcomes by forming groups with members who offer care,
support, mutual engagement, regular attendance, and openness, but composition itself is
not always destiny.†
What about gender and group composition? Some authors, arguing from theory or

clinical experience, advocate single-gender groups, but the limited empirical research does
not support this.63 Men in all-male groups are less intimate and more competitive, whereas
men in mixed-gender groups are more self-disclosing and less aggressive. Unfortunately,
the benefit of gender heterogeneity does not accrue to the women in these groups: women
in mixed-gender groups may become less active and deferential to the male participants.
Men may do poorly in mixed-gender groups composed of only one or two men and
several women; men in this instance may feel peripheral, marginalized, and isolated.64
OVERVIEW
It would be most gratifying at this point to integrate these clinical and experimental
findings, to point out hitherto unseen lines of cleavage and coalescence, and to emerge
with a crisp theory of group composition that has firm experimental foundations as well as
immediate practicality. Unfortunately, the data do not permit such a definitive synthesis.
But there is value in highlighting major research findings that pertain to group
composition.
The culture and functioning of every group—its ethos, values, and modus vivendi—will
be influenced by the composition of its members. Our approach to composition must be
informed by our understanding of the group’s tasks. The group must be able to respond to
members’ needs for emotional support and for constructive challenge. In psychotherapy
groups we should aim for a composition that balances similarity and divergence in
interpersonal engagement and behavior; relationship to authority; emotional bonding; and
task focus. Moreover, it is essential that members agree with the values that guide the
therapeutic enterprise.
The research also points to certain unequivocal findings. The composition of a group
does make a difference and influences many aspects of group function.† A group’s
composition influences certain predictable short-term characteristics—for example, high
cohesion and engagement, high conflict, high flight, high dependency. Furthermore, we
can, if we choose to use available procedures, predict to some degree the group behavior
of the individual.
What we are uncertain of, however, is the relationship between any of these group
characteristics and the ultimate therapy outcome of the group members. Furthermore, we
do not know how much the group leader may alter these characteristics of the group or
how long an ongoing group will manifest them. We do know, however, that cohesive
groups with higher engagement generally produce better clinical outcomes.†
In practice there are two major theoretical approaches to group composition: the
homogeneous and the heterogeneous approach. Let us examine briefly the theoretical
underpinnings of these two approaches. Underlying the heterogeneous approach to
composition are two theoretical rationales that may be labeled the social microcosm
theory and the dissonance theory. Underlying the homogeneous group composition

approach is the group cohesiveness theory.
The Heterogeneous Mode of Composition
The social microcosm theory postulates that because the group is regarded as a miniature
social universe in which members are urged to develop new methods of interpersonal
interaction, the group should be heterogeneous in order to maximize learning
opportunities. It should resemble the real social universe by being composed of
individuals of different sexes, professions, ages, and socioeconomic and educational
levels. In other words, it should be a demographic assortment.
The dissonance theory as applied to group therapy also suggests a heterogeneous
compositional approach, but for a different reason. Learning or change is likely to occur
when the individual, in a state of dissonance, acts to reduce that dissonance. Dissonance
creates a state of psychological discomfort and propels the individual to attempt to achieve
a more consonant state. Individuals who find themselves in a group in which membership
has many desirable features (for example, hopes of alleviation of suffering, attraction to
the leader and other members) but which, at the same time, makes tension-producing
demands (for example, self-disclosure or interpersonal confrontation) will experience a
state of dissonance or imbalance.65
Similarly, a state of discomfort occurs when, in a valued group, one finds that one’s
interpersonal needs are unfulfilled or when one’s customary style of interpersonal
behavior produces discord. The individual in these circumstances will search for ways to
reduce discomfort—for example, by leaving the group or, preferably, by beginning to
experiment with new forms of behavior. To facilitate the development of adaptive
discomfort, the heterogeneous argument suggests that clients be exposed to other
individuals in the group who will not reinforce neurotic positions by fulfilling
interpersonal needs but instead will be frustrating and challenging, making clients aware
of different conflict areas and also demonstrating alternative interpersonal modes.
Therefore, it is argued, a group should include members with varying interpersonal
styles and conflicts. It is a delicate balance, because if frustration and challenge are too
great, and the staying forces (the attraction to the group) too small, no real asymmetry or
dissonance occurs; the individual does not change but instead physically or
psychologically leaves the group. If, on the other hand, the challenge is too small, no
learning occurs; members will collude, and exploration will be inhibited. The dissonance
theory thus argues for a broad personality assortment.
The Homogeneous Mode of Composition
The cohesiveness theory, underlying the homogeneous approach to group composition,
postulates, quite simply, that attraction to the group is the intervening variable critical to
outcome and that the paramount aim should be to assemble a cohesive, compatible group.

Summary
How can we reconcile or decide between these two approaches? First, note that no group
therapy research supports the dissonance model. There is great clinical consensus (my
own included) that group therapy clients should be exposed to a variety of conflict areas,
coping methods, and conflicting interpersonal styles, and that conflict in general is
essential to the therapeutic process. However, there is no empirical evidence that
deliberately composed heterogeneous groups facilitate therapy, and I have just cited
modest evidence to the contrary.
On the other hand, a large body of small-group research supports the cohesiveness
concept. Interpersonally compatible therapy groups will develop greater cohesiveness.
Members of cohesive groups have better attendance, are more able to express and tolerate
hostility, are more apt to attempt to influence others, and are themselves more readily
influenced. Members with greater attraction to their group have better therapeutic
outcome; members who are less compatible with the other members tend to drop out of the
group. Members with the greatest interpersonal compatibility become the most popular
group members, and group popularity is highly correlated with successful outcome.
The fear that a homogeneous group will be unproductive, constricted, or conflict free or
that it will deal with a only narrow range of interpersonal concerns is unfounded, for
several reasons. First, there are few individuals whose pathology is indeed monolithic—
that is, who, despite their chief conflict area, do not also encounter conflicts in intimacy or
authority, for example. Second, the group developmental process may demand that clients
deal with certain conflict areas. For example, the laws of group development (see chapter
11) demand that the group ultimately deal with issues of control, authority, and the
hierarchy of dominance. In a group with several controlconflicted individuals, this phase
may appear early or very sharply. In a group lacking such individuals, other members
who are less conflicted or whose conflicts are less overt in the area of dependency and
authority may be forced nonetheless to deal with it as the group inevitably moves into this
stage of development. If certain developmentally required roles are not filled in the group,
most leaders, consciously or unconsciously, alter their behavior to fill the void.66
Furthermore—and this is an important point—no therapy group with proper leadership
can be too comfortable or fail to provide dissonance for its members, because the
members must invariably clash with the group task. To develop trust, to disclose oneself,
to develop intimacy, to examine oneself, to confront others—are all discordant tasks to
individuals who have significant problems in interpersonal relationships.
Many problem-specific brief groups can easily be transformed into a productive
interactional group with proper guidance from the leader. For example, two rigorous
studies compared homogeneous groups of clients with bulimia who were randomly
assigned to behavioral group therapy, cognitive-behavioral group therapy, or
interactional group therapy (therapy that did not explicitly address eating behavior but
instead focused entirely on interpersonal interaction). Not only did these homogeneous
interactional groups function effectively, but their outcome was in every way equal to the

cognitive-behavioral groups, including their positive effect on the eating disorder.67
On the basis of our current knowledge, therefore, I propose that cohesiveness be the
primary guideline in the composition of therapy groups. The hoped-for dissonance will
unfold in the group, provided the therapist functions effectively in the pretherapy
orientation of clients and during the early group meetings. Group integrity should be
given highest priority, and group therapists must select clients with the lowest likelihood
of premature termination. Individuals with a high likelihood of being irreconcilably
incompatible with the prevailing group ethos and culture, or with at least one other
member, should not be included in the group. It bears repeating that group cohesiveness is
not synonymous with group comfort or ease. Quite the contrary: it is only in a cohesive
group that conflict can be tolerated and transformed into productive work.
A FINAL CAVEAT
Admittedly, the idea of crafting an ideal group is seductive. It is a siren’s wail that has
lured many researchers and generated a large body of research, little of which, alas, has
proved substantial, replicable, or clinically relevant. Not only that, but, in many ways, the
topic of group composition is out of touch with the current everyday realities of clinical
practice. As noted earlier, contemporary pressures on the practice of group therapy
discourage the therapist’s attention to group composition as a relevant concern.
Many contemporary group clinicians in private practice and in public clinics are more
concerned with group integrity and survival. Generally, these clinicians have difficulty
accumulating enough clients to form and maintain groups. (And I have no doubt that this
difficulty will grow with each passing year because of the rapid increase in numbers of
practicing psychotherapists from ever more professional disciplines.) The more therapists
available, the more professional competition for clients, the harder it is to begin and
maintain therapy groups in private practice. Therapists prefer to fill their individual hours
and are reluctant to risk losing a client through referral to a therapy group. If clinicians
attempt to put some group candidates on hold while awaiting the perfect blend of group
participants—assuming that we know the formula of the blend (which we do not)—they
will never form a group. Referrals accumulate so slowly that the first prospective
members interviewed may tire of waiting and find suitable therapy elsewhere.
Thus contemporary clinicians, myself included, generally form groups by accepting,
within limits, the first suitable seven or eight candidates screened and deemed to be good
group therapy candidates. Only the crudest principles of group composition are employed,
such as having an equal number of men and women or a wide range of age, activity, or
interactional style. For example, if two males already selected for the group are
particularly passive, it is desirable to create balance by adding more active men.
Other excellent options exist in practice, however. First, the clinician may compose a
group from clients in his individual practice. As I shall discuss in chapter 15, concurrent

therapy is a highly effective format. Second, clinicians who are in a collaborative practice,
often sharing a suite of offices, may coordinate referrals and fill one group at a time. In
many communities, group therapists have successfully created a specialty practice by
marketing themselves through speaking engagements and advertising.
The therapist’s paramount task is to create a group that coheres. Time and energy spent
on delicately casting and balancing a group cannot be justified, given the current state of
our knowledge and clinical practice. I believe that therapists do better to invest their time
and energy in careful selection of clients for group therapy and in pretherapy preparation
(to be discussed in the next chapter). There is no question that composition radically
affects the group’s character, but if the group holds together and if you appreciate the
therapeutic factors and are flexible in your role, you can make therapeutic use of any
conditions (other than lack of motivation) that arise in the group.

Chapter 10
CREATION OF THE GROUP: PLACE, TIME, SIZE,
PREPARATION
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS
Before convening a group, therapists must secure an appropriate meeting place and make
a number of practical decisions about the structure of the therapy: namely, the size and the
life span of the group, the admission of new members, the frequency of meetings, and the
duration of each session. In addition, the contemporary practitioner often must negotiate a
relationship with a third-party payer, HMO, or managed care organization. 1 The tension
between therapeutic priorities and the economic priorities of managed care regarding the
scope and duration of treatment must also be addressed.2 Dissonance between therapists
and third-party administrators may have a deleterious impact on the client-therapist
relationship. † The entire practice of therapy, including therapists’ morale, will benefit
from greater partnership and less polarization.
Today clinicians have an ethical responsibility to advocate for effective therapy. They
must educate the public, destigmatize group therapy, build strong clinical practice
organizations with well-trained and properly credentialed clinicians, and urge third-party
payers to attend to the robust empirical research supporting group therapy’s
effectiveness.†
The Physical Setting
Group meetings may be held in any room that affords privacy and freedom from
distractions. In institutional settings, the therapist must negotiate with the administration to
establish inviolate time and space for therapy groups. The first step of a meeting is to form
a circle so that members can all see one another. For that reason, a seating arrangement
around a long, rectangular table or the use of sofas that seat three or four people is
unsatisfactory. If members are absent, most therapists prefer to remove the empty chairs
and form a tighter circle.
If the group session is to be videotaped or observed through a one-way mirror by
trainees, the group members’ permission must be obtained in advance and ample
opportunity provided for discussion of the procedure. Written consent is essential if any
audiovisual recording is planned. A group that is observed usually seems to forget about
the viewing window after a few weeks, but often when working through authority issues
with the leader, members again become concerned about it. If only one or two students are

regular observers, it is best to seat them in the room but outside of the group circle. This
avoids the intrusion of the mirror and allows the students to sample more of the group
affect, which inexplicably is often filtered out by the mirror. Observers should be
cautioned to remain silent and to resist any attempts of the group members to engage them
in the discussion. (See chapter 17 for further discussion about group observation.)
Open and Closed Groups
At its inception, a group is designated by its leader as open or closed. A closed group,
once begun, shuts its gates, accepts no new members except within the first 2 or 3 sessions
and meets for a predetermined length of time. An open group, by contrast, maintains a
consistent size by replacing members as they leave the group. An open group may have a
predetermined life span—for example, groups in a university student health service may
plan to meet only for the nine-month academic year. Many open groups continue
indefinitely even though every couple of years there may be a complete turnover of group
membership and even of leadership. I have known of therapy groups in psychotherapy
training centers that have endured for twenty years, being bequeathed every year or two by
a graduating therapist to an incoming student. Open groups tolerate changes in
membership better if there is some consistency in leadership. One way to achieve this in
the training setting is for the group to have two co-therapists; when the senior co-therapist
leaves, the other one continues as senior group leader, and a new co-therapist joins.3
Most closed groups are brief therapy groups that meet weekly for six months or less. A
longer closed group may have difficulty maintaining stability of membership. Invariably,
members drop out, move away, or face some unexpected scheduling incompatibility.
Groups do not function well if they become too small, and new members must be added
lest the group perish from attrition. A long-term closed-group format is feasible in a
setting that assures considerable stability, such as a prison, a military base, a long-term
psychiatric hospital, and occasionally an ambulatory group in which all members are
concurrently in individual psychotherapy with the group leader. Some therapists lead a
closed group for six months, at which time members evaluate their progress and decide
whether to commit themselves to another six months.
Some intensive partial hospitalization programs begin with an intensive phase with
closed group therapy, which is followed by an extended, less intensive open group therapy
aftercare maintenance phase. The closed phase emphasizes common concerns and
fundamental skills that are best acquired if the whole group can move in concert. The open
phase, which aims to reduce relapse, reinforces the gains made during the intensive phase
and helps clients apply their gains more broadly in their own social environments. This
model has worked well in the treatment of substance abuse, trauma, and depression.4
DURATION AND FREQUENCY OF MEETINGS

Until the mid-1960s, the length of a psychotherapy session seemed fixed: the fifty-minute
individual hour and the eighty- to ninety-minute group therapy session were part of the
entrenched wisdom of the field. Most group therapists agree that, even in well-established
groups, at least sixty minutes is required for the warm-up interval and for the unfolding
and working through of the major themes of the session. There is also some consensus
among therapists that after about two hours, the session reaches a point of diminishing
returns: the group becomes weary, repetitious, and inefficient. Many therapists appear to
function best in segments of eighty to ninety minutes; with longer sessions therapists often
become fatigued, which renders them less effective in subsequent therapy sessions on the
same day.
Although the frequency of meetings varies from one to five times a week, the
overwhelming majority of groups meet once weekly. It is often logistically difficult to
schedule multiple weekly ambulatory group meetings, and most therapists have never led
an outpatient group that meets more than once a week. But if I had my choice, I would
meet with groups twice weekly: such groups have a greater intensity, the members
continue to work through issues raised in the previous session, and the entire process takes
on the character of a continuous meeting. Some therapists meet twice weekly for two or
three weeks at the start of a time-limited group to turbocharge the intensity and launch the
group more effectively.5
Avoid meeting too infrequently. Groups that meet less than once weekly generally have
considerable difficulty maintaining an interactional focus. If a great deal has occurred
between meetings in the lives of the members, such groups have a tendency to focus on
life events and on crisis resolution.
The Time-Extended Group. In efforts to achieve “time-efficient therapy,” 6 group leaders
have experimented with many aspects of the frame of therapy, but none more than the
duration of the meeting. Today’s economically driven climate pressures therapists to
abbreviate therapy, but the opposite was true in the 1960s and 1970s, the heyday of the
encounter groups (see chapter 16), when group therapists experimented boldly with the
length of meetings. Therapists held weekly meetings that lasted four, six, even eight hours.
Some therapists chose to meet less frequently but for longer periods—for example, a six-
hour meeting every other week. Individual therapists often referred their clients to a
weekend time-extended group. Some group therapists referred their entire group for a
weekend with another therapist or, more commonly, conducted a marathon meeting with
their own group sometime during the course of therapy.
The “marathon group” was widely publicized during that time in U.S. magazines,
newspapers, and fictionalized accounts.† It met for a prolonged session, perhaps lasting
twenty-four or even forty-eight hours, with little or no time permitted for sleep.
Participants were required to remain together for the entire designated time. Meals were
served in the therapy room, and sleep, if needed, was snatched during quick naps in the
session or in short scheduled sleep breaks. The emphasis of the group was on total self-
disclosure, intensive interpersonal confrontation, and affective involvement and
participation. Later the time-extended format was adapted by such commercial enterprises

as est and Lifespring; today, these large group awareness training programs have virtually
disappeared.7
Proponents of the time-extended group claimed that it accelerated group development,
intensified the emotional experience, and efficiently condensed a lengthy course of
therapy into a day or a weekend.† The emotional intensity and fatigue resulting from lack
of sleep was also thought to accelerate the abandonment of social facades. The results of
marathon group therapy reported in the mass media and in scientific journals at the time
were mind-boggling, exceeding even today’s claims of the personality-transforming
effects of new miracle drugs: “Eighty percent of the participants undergo significant
change as the result of a single meeting”; 8 “ninety percent of 400 marathon group
members considered the meeting as one of the most significant and meaningful
experiences of their lives”;9 “marathon group therapy represents a breakthrough in
psychotherapeutic practice”;10 “the marathon group has become a singular agent of
change which allows rapidity of learning and adaptation to new patterns of behavior not
likely to occur under traditional arrangements”; 11 “if all adults had been in a marathon,
there would be no more war; if all teenagers had been in a marathon, there would be no
more juvenile delinquency”;12 and so on.
Yet despite these claims, the marathon movement has come and gone. The therapists
who still regularly or periodically hold time-extended group meetings represent a small
minority of practitioners. Though there have been occasional recent reports of intensive,
and effective, retreat weekends for various conditions ranging from substance abuse to
bulimia, 13 these enterprises consist of a comprehensive program that includes group
therapy, psychoeducation, and clear theory rather than a reliance on the intensive
confrontation and fatigue characteristic of the marathon approach. This approach is also
used today to augment weekly group therapy for clients with cancer, in the form of an
intensive weekend retreat for skill building, reflection, and meditation.14
Nonetheless, it is important to inform ourselves about the marathon movement—not
because it has much current usage, nor to pay homage to it as a chapter in the history of
psychotherapy, but because of what it reveals about how therapists make decisions about
clinical practice. Over the past several decades, psychotherapy in general and group
therapy in particular have been taken by storm by a series of ideological and stylistic fads.
Reliance on the fundamentals and on well-constructed research is the best bulwark against
will-o’-the-wisp modes of therapy dominated by the fashion of the day.
Many therapeutic fads come and go so quickly that research rarely addresses the issues
they raise. Not so for the time-extended meeting, which has spawned a considerable
research literature. Why? For one thing, the format lends itself to experimentation: it is far
easier to do outcome research on a group that lasts, say, one day than on one that lasts for
six months: there are fewer dropouts, fewer life crises, no opportunities for subjects to
obtain ancillary therapy. Another reason is that time-extended groups arose in an
organization (the National Training Laboratories—see chapter 16) that had a long tradition
of coupling innovation and research.

The highly extravagant claims I quoted above were based entirely on anecdotal reports
of various participants or on questionnaires distributed shortly after the end of a meeting—
an exceedingly unreliable approach to evaluation. In fact, any outcome study based solely
on interviews, testimonials, or client self-administered questionnaires obtained at the end
of the group is of questionable value. At no other time is the client more loyal, more
grateful, and less objective about a group than at termination, when there is a powerful
tendency to recall and to express only positive, tender feelings. Experiencing and
expressing negative feelings about the group at this point would be unlikely for at least
two reasons: (1) there is strong group pressure at termination to participate in positive
testimonials—few group participants, as Asch15 has shown, can maintain their objectivity
in the face of apparent group unanimity; and (2) members reject critical feelings toward
the group at this time to avoid a state of cognitive dissonance: in other words, once an
individual invests considerable emotion and time in a group and develops strong positive
feelings toward other members, it becomes difficult to question the value or activities of
the group. To do so thrusts the individual into a state of uncomfortable dissonance.
Research on marathon groups is plagued with a multitude of design defects. 16 Some
studies failed to employ proper controls (for example, a non–time-extended comparison
group). Others failed to sort out the effects of artifact and other confounding variables. For
example, in a residential community of drug addicts, an annual marathon group was
offered to rape survivors. Because the group was offered only once a year, the participants
imbued it with value even before it took place.17
The rigorous controlled studies comparing differences in outcome between time-
extended and non–time-extended groups conclude that there is no evidence for the
efficacy of the time-extended format. The positive results reported in a few studies were
unsystematic and evaporated quickly.18
Is it possible, as is sometimes claimed, that a time-extended meeting accelerates the
maturation of a therapy group, that it increases openness, intimacy, and cohesiveness and
thus facilitates insight and therapeutic breakthroughs? My colleagues and I studied the
effect of a six-hour meeting on the development of cohesiveness and of a here-and-now,
interactive communicational mode.19 We followed six newly formed groups in an
ambulatory mental health program for the first sixteen sessions. Three of the groups held a
six-hour first session, whereas the other three held a six-hour eleventh session.20
We found that the marathon session did not favorably influence the communication
patterns in subsequent meetings.21 In fact, there was a trend in the opposite direction: after
the six-hour meetings, the groups appeared to engage in less here-and-now interaction.
The influence of the six-hour meeting on cohesiveness was quite interesting. In the three
groups that held a six-hour initial meeting, there was a trend toward decreased
cohesiveness in subsequent meetings. In the three groups that held a six-hour eleventh
meeting, however, there was a significant increase in cohesiveness in subsequent
meetings. Thus, timing is a consideration: it is entirely possible that, at a particular
juncture in the course of a group, a time-extended session may help increase member
involvement in the group. Hence, the results showed that cohesiveness can be accelerated

but not brought into being by time-extended meetings.
During the 1960s and 1970s, many therapists referred individual therapy patients to
weekend marathon groups; in the 1980s, many sent patients to intensive large-group
awareness training weekends (for example, est and Lifespring). Is it possible that an
intensive, affect-laden time-extended group may open up a client who is stuck in therapy?
My colleagues and I studied thirty-three such clients referred by individual therapists for a
weekend encounter group. We assigned them to one of three groups: two affect-evoking
gestalt marathons and a control group (a weekend of meditation, silence, and tai chi).22
Six weeks later, the experimental subjects showed slight but significant improvement in
their individual therapy compared to the control subjects. By twelve weeks, however, all
differences had disappeared, and there were no remaining measurable effects on the
process of individual therapy.
The marathon group phenomenon makes us mindful of the issue of transfer of learning.
There is no question that the time-extended group can evoke powerful affect and can
encourage members to experiment with new behavior. But does a change in one’s
behavior in the group invariably beget a change in one’s outside life? Clinicians have long
known that change in the therapy session is not tantamount to therapeutic success, that
change, if it is to be consolidated, must be carried over into important outside
interpersonal relationships and endeavors and tested again and again in these natural
settings. Of course therapists wish to accelerate the process of change, but the evidence
suggests that the duration of treatment is more influential than the number of treatments.
The transfer of learning is laborious and demands a certain irreducible amount of time.23
Consider, for example, a male client who, because of his early experience with an
authoritarian, distant, and harsh father, tends to see all other males, especially those in a
position of authority, as having similar qualities. In the group he may have an entirely
different emotional experience with a male therapist and perhaps with some of the male
members. What has he learned? Well, for one thing he has learned that not all men are
frightening bastards—at least there are one or two who are not. Of what lasting value is
this experience to him? Probably very little unless he can generalize the experience to
future situations. As a result of the group, the individual learns that at least some men in
positions of authority can be trusted. But which ones? He must learn how to differentiate
among people so as not to perceive all men in a predetermined manner. A new repertoire
of perceptual skills is needed. Once he is able to make the necessary discriminations, he
must learn how to go about forming relationships on an egalitarian, distortion-free basis.
For the individual whose interpersonal relationships have been impoverished and
maladaptive, these are formidable and lengthy tasks that often require the continual testing
and reinforcement available in the long-term therapeutic relationship.
BRIEF GROUP THERAPY

Brief group therapy is rapidly becoming an important and widely used therapy format. To
a great extent, the search for briefer forms of group therapy is fueled by economic
pressures. Managed care plans and HMOs strive relentlessly for briefer, less expensive,
and more efficient forms of therapy.x A survey of managed care administrators responsible
for the health care of over 73 million participants24 noted that they were interested in the
use of more groups but favored brief, problem-homogeneous, and structured groups. In the
same survey, a range of therapists favored process, interpersonal, and psychodynamic
group therapy without arbitrary time restrictions. Other factors also favor brief therapy: for
example, many geographic locations have high service demands and low availability of
mental health professionals; here, brevity translates into greater access to services.
How long is “brief”? The range is wide: some clinicians say that fewer than twenty to
twenty-five visits is brief,25 others sixteen to twenty sessions, 26 and still others fifty or
sixty meetings.27 Inpatient groups may be thought of as having a life span of a single
session (see chapter 15). Perhaps it is best to offer a functional rather than a temporal
definition: a brief group is the shortest group life span that can achieve some specified
goal—hence the felicitous term “time-efficient group therapy”.28 A group dealing with an
acute life crisis, such as a job loss, might last four to eight sessions, whereas a group
addressing major relationship loss, such as divorce or bereavement, might last twelve to
twenty sessions. A group for dealing with a specific symptom complex, such as eating
disorders or the impact of sexual abuse, might last eighteen to twenty-four sessions. A
“brief” group with the goal of changing enduring characterological problems might last
sixty to seventy sessions.29
These time frames are somewhat arbitrary, but recent explorations into the “dose-effect”
of individual psychotherapy shed some light on the question of duration of therapy.30 This
research attempts to apply the drug dose-response curve model to individual
psychotherapy by studying large numbers of clients seeking psychotherapy in ambulatory
settings. Typically the form of therapy provided is eclectic, integrating supportive,
exploratory, and cognitive therapy approaches without the use of therapy manuals.
Although no comparable dose-effect research in group therapy has been reported, it seems
reasonable to assume that there are similar patterns of response to group therapy.
Researchers note that clients with less disturbance generally require fewer therapy hours
to achieve a significant improvement. Remoralization can occur quickly, and eight
sessions or fewer are sufficient to return many clients to their precrisis level. The vast
majority of clients with more chronic difficulties require about fifty to sixty sessions to
improve, and those with significant personality disturbances require even more. The
greater the impairment in trust or emotional deprivation and the earlier in development the
individual has suffered loss or trauma, the greater the likelihood that a brief therapy will
be insufficient. Failure of prior brief therapies is also often a sign of the need for a longer
therapy.31
Whatever the precise length of therapy, all brief psychotherapy groups (excluding
psychoeducational groups) share many common features. They all strive for efficiency;

they contract for a discrete set of goals and attempt to stay focused on goal attainment;
they tend to stay in the present (with either a here-and-now focus or a “there-and-now”
recent-problem-oriented focus); they attend throughout to the temporal restrictions and the
approaching ending of therapy; they emphasize the transfer of skills and learning from the
group to the real world; their composition is often homogeneous for some problem,
symptomatic syndrome, or life experience; they focus more on interpersonal than on
intrapersonal concerns.32
A course of brief group therapy need not be viewed as the definitive treatment. Instead
it could be considered an installment of treatment—an opportunity to do a piece of
important, meaningful work, which may or may not require another installment in the
future.33
When leading a brief therapy group, a group therapist must heed some general
principles:
• The brief group is not a truncated long-term group;34 group leaders must have a
different mental set: they must clarify goals, focus the group, manage time, and be
active and efficient. Since groups tend to deny their limits, leaders of brief groups
must act as group timekeeper, periodically reminding the group how much time
has passed and how much remains. The leader should regularly make comments
such as: “This is our twelfth meeting. We’re two-thirds done, but we still have six
more sessions. It might be wise to spend a few minutes today reviewing what
we’ve done, what goals remain, and how we should invest our remaining time.”
• Leaders must also attend to the transfer of learning, encouraging clients to apply
what they have learned in the group to their situations outside the group. They
must emphasize that treatment is intended to set change in motion, but not
necessarily to complete the process within the confines of the scheduled treatment.
The work of therapy will continue to unfold long after the sessions stop.
• Leaders should attempt to turn the disadvantages of time limitations into an
advantage. Since the time-limited therapy efforts of Carl Rogers, we have known
that imposed time limits may increase efficiency and energize the therapy.35 Also,
the fixed, imminent ending may be used to heighten awareness of existential
dimensions of life: time is not eternal; everything ends; there will be no magic
problem solver; the immediate encounter matters; the ultimate responsibility rests
within, not without.36
• Keep in mind that the official name of the group does not determine the work of
therapy. In other words, just because the group is made up of recently divorced
individuals or survivors of sex abuse does not mean that the focus of the group is
“divorce” or “sexual abuse.” It is far more effective for the group’s focus to be
interactional, directed toward those aspects of divorce or abuse that have
ramifications in the here-and-now of the group. For example, clients who have
been abused can work on their shame, their rage, their reluctance to ask for help,
their distrust of authority (that is, the leaders), and their difficulty in establishing

intimate relationships. Groups of recently divorced members will work most
profitably not by a prolonged historical focus on what went wrong in the marriage
but by examining each member’s problematic interpersonal issues as they manifest
in the here-and-now of the group. Members must be helped to understand and
change these patterns so that they do not impair future relationships.
• The effective group therapist should be flexible and use all means available to
increase efficacy. Techniques from cognitive or behavioral therapy may be
incorporated into the interactional group to alleviate symptomatic distress. For
example, the leader of a group for binge eating may recommend that members
explore the relationship between their mood and their eating in a written journal, or
log their food consumption, or meditate to reduce emotional distress. But this is by
no means essential. Brief group work that focuses on the interpersonal concerns
that reside beneath the food-related symptoms is as effective as brief group work
that targets the disordered eating directly.37 In other words, therapists can think of
symptoms as issuing from disturbances in interpersonal functioning and alleviate
the symptom by repairing the interpersonal disturbances.†
• Time is limited, but leaders must not make the mistake of trying to save time by
abbreviating the pregroup individual session. On the contrary, leaders must
exercise particularly great care in preparation and selection. The most important
single error made by busy clinics and HMOs is to screen new clients by phone and
immediately introduce them into a group without an individual screening or
preparatory session. Brief groups are less forgiving of errors than long-term
groups. When the life of the group is only, say, twelve sessions, and two or three of
those sessions are consumed by attending to an unsuitable member who then drops
out (or must be asked to leave), the cost is very high: the development of the group
is retarded, levels of trust and cohesion are slower to develop, and a significant
proportion of the group’s precious time and effectiveness is sacrificed.
• Use the pregroup individual meeting not only for standard group preparation but
also to help clients reframe their problems and sharpen their goals so as to make
them suitable for brief therapy.38 Some group therapists will use the first group
meeting to ask each client to present his/her interpersonal issues and treatment
goals.39
Some clinicians have sought ways to bridge the gap between brief and longer-term
treatment. One approach is to follow the brief group with booster group sessions
scheduled at greater intervals, perhaps monthly, for another six months.40 Another
approach offers clients a brief group but provides them with the option of signing on for
another series of meetings. One program primarily for clients with chronic illness consists
of a series of twelve-week segments with a two-week break between segments. 41
Members may enter a segment at any time until the sixth week, at which time the group
becomes a closed group. A client may attend one segment and then choose at some later
point to enroll for another segment. The program has the advantage of keeping all clients,
even the long-term members, goal-focused, as they reformulate their goals each segment.

Are brief groups effective? Outcome research on brief group therapy has increased
substantially over the past ten years. An analysis of forty-eight reports of brief therapy
groups (both cognitive-behavioral and dynamic /interpersonal) for the treatment of
depression demonstrated that groups that meet, on average, for twelve sessions produced
significant clinical improvement: group members were almost three times more likely to
improve than clients waiting for treatment.42 Furthermore, therapy groups add
substantially to the effect of pharmacotherapy in the treatment of depression.43 Brief
groups for clients with loss and grief have also been proven effective and are significantly
more effective than no treatment. 44 Both expressive-interpretive groups and supportive
groups have demonstrated significant effects with this clinical population.45
A study of brief interpersonal group therapy for clients with borderline personality
disorder reported improvement in clients’ mood and behavior at the end of twenty-five
sessions.46 Brief group therapy is also effective in the psychological treatment of the
medically ill:47 it improves coping and stress management, reduces mood and anxiety
symptoms, and improves self-care.
Some less salubrious findings have also been reported. In a comparison study of short-
term group, long-term group, brief individual, and long-term individual therapies, the
short-term group was the least effective of the four modalities.48 In a study in which
subjects were randomly assigned to short-term group treatment and short-term individual
treatment, the investigators found significant improvement in both groups and no
significant differences between them—except that subjectively the members preferred
brief individual to brief group treatment.49
In sum, research demonstrates the effectiveness of brief group therapy. However, there
is no evidence that brief therapy is superior to longer-term therapy.50 In other words, if
brief groups are necessary, we can lead them with confidence: we know there is much we
can offer clients in the brief format. But don’t be swept away by the powerful
contemporary press for efficiency. Don’t make the mistake of believing that a brief,
streamlined therapy approach offers clients more than longer-term therapy. One of the
architects of the NIMH Collaborative Treatment of Depression Study, one of the largest
psychotherapy trial conducted, has stated that the field has likely oversold the power of
brief psychotherapy.51
Size of the Group
My own experience and a consensus of the clinical literature suggest that the ideal size of
an interactional therapy group is seven or eight members, with an acceptable range of five
to ten members. The lower limit of the group is determined by the fact that a critical mass
is required for an aggregation of individuals to become an interacting group. When a
group is reduced to four or three members, it often ceases to operate as a group; member
interaction diminishes, and therapists often find themselves engaged in individual therapy
within the group. The groups lack cohesiveness, and although attendance may be good, it

is often due to a sense of obligation rather than a true alliance. Many of the advantages of
a group, especially the opportunity to interact and analyze one’s interaction with a large
variety of individuals, are compromised as the group’s size diminishes. Furthermore,
smaller groups become passive, suffer from stunted development, and frequently develop
a negative group image.52 Obviously the group therapist must replace members quickly,
but appropriately. If new members are unavailable, therapists do better to meld two small
groups rather than to continue limping along with insufficient membership in both.
The upper limit of therapy groups is determined by sheer economic principles. As the
group increases in size, less and less time is available for the working through of any
individual’s problems. Since it is likely that one or possibly two clients will drop out of the
group in the course of the initial meetings, it is advisable to start with a group slightly
larger than the preferred size; thus, to obtain a group of seven or eight members, many
therapists start a new group with eight or nine. Starting with a group size much larger than
ten in anticipation of dropouts may become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Some members will
quit because the group is simply too large for them to participate productively. Larger
groups of twelve to sixteen members may meet productively in day hospital settings,
because each member is likely to have many other therapeutic opportunities over the
course of each week and because not all members will necessarily participate in each
group session.
To some extent, the optimal group size is a function of the duration of the meeting: the
longer the meeting, the larger the number of participants who can profitably engage in the
group. Thus, many of the marathon therapy groups of past years had as many sixteen
members. Groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous and Recovery, Inc. that do not focus on
interaction may range from twenty to eighty. Psychoeducational groups for conditions
such as generalized anxiety may meet effectively with twenty to thirty participants. These
groups actively discourage individual disclosure and interaction, relying instead on the
didactic imparting of information about anxiety and stress reduction.53 Similar findings
have been reported in the treatment of panic disorder and agoraphobia.54
The large-group format has also been used with cancer patients, often with training in
stress reduction and self-management of illness symptoms and medical treatment side
effects. These groups may contain forty to eighty participants meeting weekly for two
hours over a course of six weeks.55 If you think of the health care system as a pyramid,
large groups of this type are part of the broad base of accessible, inexpensive treatment at
the system’s entry level. For many, this provision of knowledge and skills is sufficient.
Clients who require more assistance may move up the pyramid to more focused or
intensive interventions.56
A range of therapeutic factors may operate in these groups. Large homogeneous groups
normalize, destigmatize, activate feelings of universality, and offer skills and knowledge
that enhance self-efficacy. AA groups use inspiration, guidance, and suppression; the large
therapeutic community relies on group pressure and interdependence to encourage reality
testing, to combat regression, and to instill a sense of individual responsibility toward the
social community.

Group size is inversely proportional to interaction. One study investigated the
relationship between group size and the number of different verbal interactions initiated
between members in fifty-five inpatient therapy groups. The groups ranged in size from
five to twenty participants. A marked reduction in interactions between members was
evident when group size reached nine members, and another when it reached seventeen
members. The implication of the research is that, in inpatient settings, groups of five to
eight offer the greatest opportunity for total client participation.57
Several studies of non-therapy groups suggest that as the size of a group increases, there
is a corresponding tendency for members to feel disenfranchised and to form cliques and
disruptive subgroups.58 Furthermore, only the more forceful and aggressive members are
able to express their ideas or abilities.59 A comparison of twelve-member and five-
member problem-solving groups indicates that the larger groups experience more
dissatisfaction and less consensus.60
PREPARATION FOR GROUP THERAPY
There is great variation in clinical practice regarding individual sessions with clients prior
to group therapy. Some therapists, after seeing prospective clients once or twice in
selection interviews, do not meet with them individually again, whereas others continue
individual sessions until the client starts in the group. If several weeks are required to
accumulate sufficient members, the therapist is well advised to continue to meet with each
member periodically to prevent significant attrition. Even in settings with plenty of
appropriate group therapy referrals it is important to maintain client momentum and
interest. One way to do this is to set a firm start date for the group and then focus
energetically on recruitment and assessment. A group leader may need to invest twenty to
twenty-five hours to assemble one group.
Some therapists prefer to see the client several times in individual sessions in order to
build a relationship that will keep members in the group during early periods of
discouragement and disenchantment. It is my clinical impression that the more often
clients are seen before entering the group, the less likely they are to terminate prematurely
from the group. Often the first step in the development of bonds among members is their
mutual identification with a shared person: the therapist. Keep in mind that the purpose of
the individual pregroup sessions is to build a therapeutic alliance. To use the sessions
primarily for anamnestic purposes is not a good use of clinical time; it suggests to the
client that anamnesis is central to the therapy process.
One other overriding task must be accomplished in the pregroup interview or
interviews: the preparation of the client for group therapy. If I had to choose the one area
where research has the greatest relevance for practice, it would be in the preparation of
clients for group therapy. There is highly persuasive evidence that pregroup preparation
expedites the course of group therapy. Group leaders must achieve several specific goals

in the preparatory procedure:
• Clarify misconceptions, unrealistic fears, and expectations
• Anticipate and diminish the emergence of problems in the group’s development
• Provide clients with a cognitive structure that facilitates effective group
participation
• Generate realistic and positive expectations about the group therapy
Misconceptions About Group Therapy
Certain misconceptions and fears about group therapy are so common that if the client
does not mention them, the therapist should point them out as potential problems. Despite
powerful research evidence on the efficacy of group therapy, many people still believe that
group therapy is second-rate. Clients may think of group therapy as cheap therapy—an
alternative for people who cannot afford individual therapy or a way for managed health
care systems to increase profits. Others regard it as diluted therapy because each member
has only twelve to fifteen minutes of the therapist’s time each week. Still others believe
that the raison d’être of group therapy is to accommodate a number of clients that greatly
exceeds the number of staff therapists.
Let us examine some surveys of public beliefs about group therapy. A study of 206
college students consisting of students seeking counseling and a comparable number of
psychology students identified three common misconceptions:
1. Group therapy is unpredictable or involves a loss of personal control—for
example, groups may coerce members into self-disclosure.
2. Group therapy is not as effective as individual therapy because effectiveness is
proportional to the attention received from the therapist.
3. Being in a group with many individuals with significant emotional disturbance is
in itself detrimental.61
A British National Health Service study of sixty-nine moderately distressed clients
seeking therapy reported that more than 50 percent declared that they would not enter
group therapy even if no other treatment were available. Concerns cited included the fear
of ridicule and shame, the lack of confidentiality, and the fear of being made worse
through some form of contagion. What are some of the sources of this strong antigroup
bias? For many clients seeking therapy, difficulties with their peer and social group or
family is the problem. Hence, groups in general are distrusted, and the individual therapy
setting is considered the protected, safe, and familiar zone. This is particularly the case for
those with no prior experience in therapy.62
In general, the media and fictional portrayals of group therapy are vastly inaccurate and
often portray therapy groups in a mocking, ridiculing fashion.y Reality television shows
may also play a role. They speak to our unconscious fears of being exposed and extruded

from our group because we are found to be defective, deficient, stimulate envy or are
deemed to be the “weakest link.”63 Whatever their sources, such misconceptions and
apprehensions must be countered; otherwise these strong negative expectations may make
successful group therapy outcome unlikely.†
Nor are these unfavorable expectations limited to the general public or to clients. A
survey of psychiatric residents found similar negative attitudes toward the efficacy of
group therapy.64 Lack of exposure in one’s training is part of the problem, but the strength
of resistances to remedying these training shortfalls suggest that antigroup attitudes may
be deeply rooted and even unconscious. Thus, it should not surprise us to find such
attitudes within institutional and administrative leadership.
In addition to evaluative misconceptions, clients usually harbor procedural
misconceptions and unrealistic interpersonal fears. Many of these are evident in the
following dream, which a client reported at her second pregroup individual session shortly
before she was to attend her first group meeting:
• I dreamed that each member of the group was required to bring cookies to the
meeting. I went with my mother to buy the cookies that I was to take to the meeting.
We had great difficulty deciding which cookies would be appropriate. In the
meantime, I was aware that I was going to be very late to the meeting, and I was
becoming more and more anxious about getting there on time. We finally decided
on the cookies and proceeded to go to the group. I asked directions to the room
where the group was to meet, and was told that it was meeting in room 129A. I
wandered up and down a long hall in which the rooms were not numbered
consecutively and in which I couldn’t find a room with an “A.” I finally discovered
that 129A was located behind another room and went into the group. When I had
been looking for the room, I had encountered many people from my past, many
people whom I had gone to school with and many people whom I had known for a
number of years. The group was very large, and about forty or fifty people were
milling around the room. The members of the group included members of my
family—most specifically, two of my brothers. Each member of the group was
required to stand in front of a large audience and say what they thought was their
difficulty and why they were there and what their problems were. The whole dream
was very anxiety-provoking, and the business of being late and the business of
having a large number of people was very distracting.
Several themes are abundantly clear in this dream. The client anticipated the first group
meeting with considerable dread. Her concern about being late reflected a fear of being
excluded or rejected by the group. Furthermore, since she was starting in a group that had
already been meeting for several weeks, she feared that the others had progressed too far,
that she would be left behind and could never catch up. (She could not find a room with an
“A” marked on it.) She dreamed that the group would number forty or fifty. Concerns
about the size of the group are common; members fear that their unique individuality will
be lost as they become one of the mass. Moreover, clients erroneously apply the model of
the economic distribution of goods to the group therapeutic experience, assuming that the

size of the crowd is inversely proportional to the goods received by each individual.
The dream image of each member confessing problems to the group audience reflects
one of the most basic and pervasive fears of individuals entering a therapy group: the
horror of having to reveal oneself and to confess shameful transgressions and fantasies to
an alien audience. What’s more, members imagine a critical, scornful, ridiculing, or
humiliating response from the other members. The experience is fantasized as an
apocalyptic trial before a stern, uncompassionate tribunal. The dream also suggests that
pregroup anticipation resulted in a recrudescence of anxiety linked to early group
experiences, including those of school, family, and play groups. It is as if her entire social
network—all the significant people and groups she had encountered in her life—would be
present in this group. (In a metaphorical sense, this is true: to the degree that she had been
shaped by other groups and other individuals, to the degree that she internalized them, she
would carry them into the group with her since they are part of her character structure;
furthermore, she would, transferentially, re-create in the therapy group her early
significant relationships.)
It is clear from the reference to room 129 (an early schoolroom in her life) that the
client was associating her impending group experience with a time in her life when few
things were more crucial than the acceptance and approval of a peer group. Furthermore,
she anticipated that the therapist would be like her early teachers: an aloof, unloving
evaluator.
Closely related to the dread of forced confession is the concern about confidentiality.
The client anticipated that there would be no group boundaries, that every intimacy she
disclosed would be known by every significant person in her life. Other common concerns
of individuals entering group therapy, not evident in this dream, include a fear of mental
contagion, of being made sicker through association with ill comembers. Often, but not
exclusively, this is a preoccupation of clients with fragile ego boundaries who lack a solid,
stable sense of self.
The anxiety about regression in an unstructured group and being helpless to resist the
pull to merge and mesh with others can be overwhelming. In part, this concern is also a
reflection of the self-contempt of individuals who project onto others their feelings of
worthlessness. Such dynamics underlie the common query, “How can the blind lead the
blind?” Convinced that they themselves have nothing of value to offer, some clients find it
inconceivable that they might profit from others like themselves. Others fear their own
hostility. If they ever unleash their rage, they think, it will engulf them as well as others.
The notion of a group where anger is freely expressed is terrifying, as they think silently,
“If others only knew what I really thought about them.”
All of these unrealistic expectations that, unchecked, lead to a rejection or a blighting of
group therapy can be allayed by adequate preparation of the client. Before outlining a
preparation procedure, I will consider four problems commonly encountered early in the
course of the group that may be ameliorated by preparation before therapy begins.

Common Group Problems
1. One important source of perplexity and discouragement for clients early in therapy
is perceived goal incompatibility. They may be unable to discern the congruence
between group goals (such as group integrity, construction of an atmosphere of
trust, and an interactional focus) and their individual goals (relief of suffering).
What bearing, members may wonder, does a discussion of their personal reactions
to other members have on their symptoms of anxiety, depression, phobias,
impotence, or insomnia?
2. A high turnover in the early stages of a group is, as I have discussed, a major
impediment to the development of an effective group. The therapist, from the very
first contact with a client, should discourage irregular attendance and premature
termination. The issue is more pressing than in individual therapy, where absences
and tardiness can be profitably investigated and worked through. In the initial
stages of the group, irregular attendance results in a discouraged and disconnected
group.
3. Group therapy, unlike individual therapy, often does not offer immediate comfort.
Clients may be frustrated by not getting enough “airtime” in the first few meetings,
they may feel deprived of their specialness,† or they may feel anxious about the
task of direct interpersonal interaction. The therapist should anticipate and address
this frustration and anxiety in the preparatory procedure. This is a particular
challenge for clients who have found individual therapy to be narcissistically
gratifying.
4. Subgrouping and extragroup socializing, which has been referred to as the
Achilles’ heel of group therapy, may be encountered at any stage of the group. This
complex problem will be considered in detail in chapter 12. Here it is sufficient to
point out that the therapist may begin to shape the group norms regarding
subgrouping in the very first contact with the clients.
A System of Preparation
There are many approaches to preparing clients for group therapy. The simplest and most
practical in the harried world of everyday clinical practice is to offer the client the
necessary information in the pregroup interview (s). I am careful to set aside sufficient
time for this presentation. I attempt to see clients at least twice before introducing them
into the group. But even if I see someone only once, I reserve at least half the time to
address each of the foregoing misconceptions and initial problems of group therapy.
Misconceptions should be explored in detail and each one corrected by an accurate and
complete discussion. I share with the client my predictions about the early problems in
therapy and present a conceptual framework and clear guidelines for effective group
behavior. Each client’s preparation must be individualized according to the presenting

complaints, questions and concerns raised in the interview, and level of sophistication
regarding the therapy process. Two situations require particular attention from the
therapist: the therapy neophyte and the client who presents with cross-cultural issues. The
client who has never been in any form of therapy may find group therapy particularly
challenging and may require additional pregroup individual preparation.† Clients from
other cultures may be particularly threatened by the intimate personal exposure in the
group. The pregroup preparation sessions provide the therapist the opportunity to explore
the impact of the client’s culture on his or her attitudes, beliefs, and identity and to
demonstrate the therapist’s genuine willingness to enter the client’s world.65
I have found a preparatory interview with the following objectives to be of considerable
value:
1. Enlist clients as informed allies. Give them a conceptual framework of the
interpersonal basis of pathology and how therapy works.
2. Describe how the therapy group addresses and corrects interpersonal problems.
3. Offer guidelines about how best to participate in the group, how to maximize the
usefulness of group therapy.
4. Anticipate the frustrations and disappointments of group therapy, especially of the
early meetings.
5. Offer guidelines about duration of therapy. Make a contract about attendance in
group.
6. Instill faith in group therapy; raise expectations about efficacy.
7. Set ground rules about confidentiality and subgrouping.
Now, to flesh out each of these points in turn.
1. First, I present clients with a brief explanation of the interpersonal theory of
psychiatry, beginning with the statement that although each person manifests his or her
problems differently, all who seek help from psychotherapy have in common the basic
difficulty of establishing and maintaining close and gratifying relationships with others. I
remind them of the many times in their lives that they have undoubtedly wished to clarify
a relationship, to be really honest about their positive and negative feelings with someone
and get reciprocally honest feedback. The general structure of society, however, does not
often permit such open communication. Feelings are hurt, relationships are ruptured,
misunderstandings arise, and, eventually, communication ceases.
2. I describe the therapy group, in simple, clear language, as a social laboratory in
which such honest interpersonal exploration is not only permitted but encouraged. If
people are conflicted in their methods of relating to others, then a social situation
encouraging honest interaction provides a precious opportunity to learn many valuable
things about themselves. I emphasize that working on their relationships directly with
other group members will not be easy; in fact, it may even be stressful. But it is crucial
because if they can completely understand and work out their relationships with the other

group members, there will be an enormous carryover into their outside world: they will
discover pathways to more rewarding relationships with significant people in their life
now and with people they have yet to meet.
3. I advise members that the way to use therapy best is to be honest and direct with their
feelings in the group at that moment, especially their feelings toward the other group
members and the therapists. I emphasize this point many times and refer to it as the core
of group therapy. I say that clients may, as they develop trust in the group, reveal intimate
aspects of themselves, but that the group is not a forced confessional and that people have
different rates of developing trust and revealing themselves. The group is a forum for risk
taking, I emphasize, and I urge members to try new types of behavior in the group setting.
4. I predict certain stumbling blocks and warn clients that they may feel puzzled and
discouraged in the early meetings. It will, at times, not be apparent how working on group
problems and intermember relationships can be of value in solving the problems that
brought them to therapy. This puzzlement, I stress, is to be expected in the typical therapy
process. I tell them that many people at first find it painfully difficult to reveal themselves
or to express directly positive or negative feelings, and I discuss the tendency to withdraw
emotionally, to hide feelings, to let others express one’s feelings, to form concealing
alliances with others. I also predict that they are likely to develop feelings of frustration or
annoyance with the therapist and that they will expect answers that the therapist cannot
supply. Help will often be forthcoming from other group members, however difficult it
may be for them to accept this fact.
5. For clients entering an open-ended psychotherapy group I emphasize that the
therapeutic goals of group therapy are ambitious because we desire to change behavior
and attitudes many years in the making. Treatment is therefore gradual and may be long,
often with no important change occurring for months. I strongly urge clients to stay with
the group and to ignore any inclination to leave the group before giving it a real chance. It
is almost impossible to predict the eventual effectiveness of the group during the first
dozen meetings. Thus, I urge them to suspend judgment and to make a good-faith
commitment of at least twelve meetings before even attempting to evaluate the ultimate
usefulness of the group. For clients who are entering a briefer group therapy, I say that the
group offers an outstanding opportunity to do a piece of important work that they can
build upon in the future. Each session is precious, and it is in their interest and the interest
of the other group members to attend each one of the limited number scheduled.
6. It is vitally important for the therapist to raise expectations, to instill faith in group
therapy, and to dispel the false notion that group therapy is second-class therapy. Research
tells us that clients who enter therapy expecting it to be successful will exert much greater
effort in the therapy, will develop a stronger therapeutic alliance, and are significantly
more likely to succeed.66 This effect of client pretherapy expectancies is even greater for
less structured therapies that may generate more client anxiety and uncertainty.67 In my
preparation, therefore, I provide a brief description of the history and development of
group therapy—how group therapy passed from a stage during World War II when it was
valued for its economic advantages (that is, it allowed psychotherapists to reach a large

number of people in need), to its current position in the field, where it clearly has
something unique to offer and is often the treatment of choice. I inform clients that
psychotherapy outcome studies demonstrate that group therapy is as efficacious as any
mode of individual therapy.
7. There are a few ground rules. Nothing is more important than honestly sharing
perceptions and feelings about oneself and other members in the group. Confidentiality, I
state, is as essential in group therapy as it is in any therapist-client relationship. For
members to speak freely, they must have confidence that their statements will remain
within the group. In my group therapy experience, I can scarcely recall a single significant
breach of confidence and can therefore reassure group members on this matter.z68
It is important not to corrode client trust regarding confidentiality. However, at the same
time, in the spirit of obtaining informed consent for treatment, I also inform the client of
my mandatory professional duties to report certain offenses.69 In virtually all jurisdictions
the therapist must report situations in which the actions of the client are, or will
imminently be, harmful to self or others. Occasionally, members may inquire whether they
can relate aspects of the group therapy discussion with a spouse or a confidant. I urge
them to discuss only their own experience: the other members’ experiences and certainly
their names should be kept in strictest confidence.
In addition to the ground rules of honesty and confidentiality, I make a point of
discussing the issue of contacts outside the group between members which, in one form or
another, will occur in every psychotherapy group. Two particularly important points must
be stressed:
1. The group provides an opportunity for learning about one’s problems in social
relationships; it is not an assembly for meeting and making social friends. On the contrary,
if the group is used as a source of friends it loses its therapeutic effectiveness. In other
words, the therapy group teaches one how to develop intimate, long-term relationships, but
it does not provide these relationships. It is a bridge, not the destination. It is not life but a
dress rehearsal for life.
2. If by chance or design, however, members do meet outside the group, it is their
responsibility to discuss the salient aspects of that meeting inside the group. It is
particularly useless for therapists to prohibit extragroup socializing or, for that matter, to
declare any injunctions about client behavior. Almost invariably during the therapy, group
members will engage in some outside socializing and in the face of the therapist’s
prohibition may be reluctant to disclose it in the group. As I shall elaborate in the next
chapter, extragroup relationships are not harmful per se (in fact, they may be extremely
important in the therapeutic process); what impedes therapy is the conspiracy of silence
that often surrounds such meetings.
An approach of injunction and prohibition merely draws group members into the issue
of rule setting and rule breaking. It is far more effective to explain at length why certain
actions may interfere with therapy. With subgrouping, for example, I explain that
friendships among group members often prevent them from speaking openly to one

another in the group. Members may develop a sense of loyalty to a dyadic relationship and
may thus hesitate to betray the other by reporting their conversations back to the group.
Yet such secrecy will conflict with the openness and candor so essential to the therapy
process. The primary task of therapy group members is, I remind them, to learn as much
as possible about the way each individual relates to each other person in the group. All
events that block that process ultimately obstruct therapy. Occasionally group members
may wish to make a secret disclosure to the group leader. Almost always it is best that the
disclosure be shared with the group. Group leaders must never, in advance, agree to
secrecy but instead promise to use discretion and their best clinical judgment.
This strategy of providing full information to the members about the effects of
extragroup socializing provides the therapist with far greater leverage than the strategy of
the ex cathedra “thou shall not.” If group members engage in secretive subgrouping, you
do not have to resort to the ineffectual, misdirected “Why did you break my rules?” but
instead can plunge into the heart of resistance by inquiring, “How come you’re sabotaging
your own therapy?”

In summary, this cognitive approach to group therapy preparation has several goals: to
provide a rational explanation of the therapy process; to describe what types of behavior
are expected of group members; to establish a contract about attendance; to raise
expectations about the effects of the group; to predict (and thus to ameliorate) problems
and discomfort in early meetings. Underlying these words is the process of demystification
. Therapists convey the message that they respect the client’s judgment and intelligence,
that therapy is a collaborative venture, that leaders are experts who operate on a rational
basis and are willing to share their knowledge with the client. One final point is that
comprehensive preparation also enables the client to make an informed decision about
whether to enter a therapy group.
Though this discussion is geared toward a longer-term interactional group, its basic
features may be adapted to any other type of group therapy. In brief therapy groups
relying on different therapeutic factors—for example, cognitive-behavioral groups—the
relevant details of the presentation would have to be altered, but every therapy group
profits from preparation of its members.† If clinical exigencies preclude a thorough
preparation, then a short preparation is better than none at all. In chapter 15, I describe a
three-minute preparation I provide at the start of an acute inpatient group.
Other Approaches to Preparation
Straightforward cognitive preparation presented a single time to a client may not be
sufficiently powerful. Clients are anxious during their pregroup interviews and often recall
astonishingly little of the content of the therapist’s message or grossly misunderstand key
points. For example, some group participants whom I asked to remain in the group for
twelve sessions before evaluating its usefulness understood me to say that the group’s

entire life span would be twelve sessions.
Consequently, it is necessary to repeat and to emphasize deliberately many key points
of the preparation both during the pregroup sessions and during the first few sessions of
the group. For my ambulatory groups that meet once a week, I prepare a weekly written
summary that I mail out to all the group members after each session (see chapter 14).
These summaries provide an excellent forum to repeat in writing essential parts of the
preparation procedure. When a new member joins an ongoing group, I provide additional
preparation by requesting that he or she read the group summaries of the previous six
meetings.
Many therapists have described other methods to increase the potency of the
preparatory procedure. Some have used another group member to sponsor and to prepare a
new member.70 Others have used a written document for the new client to study before
entering a group. The appendix to this book contains an example of a written handout to
be used as a supplement for preparing clients entering a group. It stresses focusing on the
here-and-now, assuming personal responsibility, avoiding blaming others, avoiding giving
suggestions and fostering dependency, learning to listen to others, becoming aware both of
feelings and of thoughts, and attempting to experiment with intimacy and with new
behavior. We emphasize feedback and offer prospective members specific instructions
about how to give and receive feedback: for example, be specific, give it as soon as
possible, be direct, share the positive and the negative, tell how the other makes you feel,
don’t deal with why but with what you see and feel, acknowledge the feedback, don’t
make excuses, seek clarification, think about it, and beware of becoming defensive.71
Other preparation techniques include observation of an audiotape or videotape of
meetings.† For reasons of confidentiality, this must be a professionally marketed tape in
the public domain or a tape of a simulated group meeting with staff members or
professional actors playing the roles of members. The scripts may be deliberately designed
to demonstrate the major points to be stressed in the preparatory phase.
An even more powerful mode of preparing clients is to provide them with personal
training in desired group behavior.†72 Several experiential formats have been described.
One brief group therapy team, for example, employs a two-part preparation. First, each
group member has an individual meeting to establish a focus and goals for therapy.
Afterward, prospective group members participate in an experiential single-session
workshop at which eighteen to twenty clients perform a series of carefully selected
structured interactional exercises, some involving dyads, some triads, and some the entire
group.73
Another study used four preparatory sessions, each of which focused on a single
concept of pregroup training: (1) using the here-and-now, (2) learning how to express
feelings, (3) learning to become more self-disclosing, and (4) becoming aware of the
impact one has and wishes to have on others. The researchers handed out cognitive
material in advance and designed structured group exercises to provide experiential
learning about each concept.74 Other projects use role playing to simulate group therapy

interaction.75
In general, the more emotionally alive and relevant the preparation is, the greater its
impact will be. Some research suggests that it is the active, experiential rather than the
cognitive or passive, observing component of the pretraining that may have the greatest
impact.76
Much current preparation research centers on the client’s motivation and change
readiness.aa77 The focus on motivation as a target for intervention (rather than a
prerequisite for treatment) originated in the treatment of addiction and has subsequently
been applied effectively for clients with eating disorders and perpetrators of sexual abuse
—clinical populations well recognized for denial and resistance to change.78
In the future, we can expect interactive computer technology to generate even more
effective preparatory programs. However, the existing approaches, used singly or in
combination, can be highly effective. Much research evidence, to which I now turn, attests
to the general effectiveness of these techniques.
Research Evidence
In a controlled experiment, my colleagues and I tested the effectiveness of a brief
cognitive preparatory session.79 Of a sample of sixty clients awaiting group therapy, half
were seen in a thirty-minute preparatory session, and the other half were seen for an equal
period in a conventional interview dedicated primarily to history-taking. Six therapy
groups (three of prepared clients, three of unprepared clients) were organized and led by
group therapists unaware that there had been an experimental manipulation. (The
therapists believed only that all clients had been seen in a standard intake session.) A study
of the first twelve meetings demonstrated that the prepared groups had more faith in
therapy (which, in turn, positively influences outcome) and engaged in significantly more
group and interpersonal interaction than did the unprepared groups, and that this
difference was as marked in the twelfth meeting as in the second.80 The research design
required that identical preparation be given to each participant. Had the preparation been
more thorough and more individualized for each client, its effectiveness might have been
greater.
The basic design and results of this project—a pregroup preparation sample, which is
then studied during its first several group therapy meetings and shown to have a superior
course of therapy compared with a sample that was not properly prepared—has been
replicated many times. The clinical populations have varied, and particular modes of
preparation and process and outcome variables have grown more sophisticated. But the
amount of corroborative evidence supporting the efficacy on both group processes and
client outcomes of pregroup preparation is impressive. 81 Furthermore, few studies fail to
find positive effects of preparation on clients’ work in group therapy.82
Pregroup preparation improves attendance83 and increases self-disclosure, self-

exploration, and group cohesion,84 although the evidence for lower dropout rates is less
consistent.85 Prepared group members express more emotion;86 assume more personal
responsibility in a group;87 disclose more of themselves;88 show increased verbal, work-
oriented participation; 89 are better liked by the other members;90 report less anxiety;91 are
more motivated to change;92 show a significant decrease in depression;93 improve in
marital adjustment and ability to communicate;94 are more likely to attain their primary
goals in therapy;95 and have fewer erroneous conceptions about the group procedure.96
Research shows that cognitive preparation of clients in lower socioeconomic classes
results in greater involvement, group activity, and self-exploration.97 Even notoriously
hard to engage populations, such as domestic abusers, respond very positively to measures
aimed at enhancing attendance and participation.98
In summary, a strong research consensus endorses the value of pregroup client
preparation. Most of the findings demonstrate the beneficial impact of preparation on
intervening variables; a direct effect on global client outcome is more difficult to
demonstrate because the contributions of other important therapy variables obscure the
effect of preparation.99
The Rationale Behind Preparation
Let us consider briefly the rationale behind preparation for group therapy. The first
meetings of a therapy group are both precarious and vitally important: many members
grow unnecessarily discouraged and terminate therapy, and the group is in a highly fluid
state and maximally responsive to the influence of the therapist—who has the opportunity
to help the group elaborate therapeutic norms. The early meetings are a time of
considerable client anxiety, both intrinsic, unavoidable anxiety and extrinsic, unnecessary
anxiety.
The intrinsic anxiety issues from the very nature of the group. Individuals who have
encountered lifelong disabling difficulties in interpersonal relationships will invariably be
stressed by a therapy group that demands not only that they attempt to relate deeply to
other members but also that they discuss these relationships with great candor. In fact, as I
noted in chapter 9, clinical consensus and empirical research both indicate that anxiety
seems to be an essential condition for the initiation of change.100 In group therapy, anxiety
arises not only from interpersonal conflict but from dissonance, which springs from one’s
desire to remain in the group while at the same time feeling highly threatened by the group
task. An imposing body of evidence, however, demonstrates that there are limits to the
adaptive value of anxiety in therapy.101 An optimal degree of anxiety enhances motivation
and increases vigilance, but excessive anxiety will obstruct one’s ability to cope with
stress. White notes, in his masterful review of the evidence supporting the concept of an
exploratory drive, that excessive anxiety and fear are the enemies of environmental
exploration; they retard learning and decrease exploratory behavior in proportion to the
intensity of the fear.102 In group therapy, crippling amounts of anxiety may prevent the

introspection, interpersonal exploration, and testing of new behavior essential to the
process of change.
Much of the anxiety experienced by clients early in the group is not intrinsic to the
group task but is extrinsic, unnecessary, and sometimes iatrogenic. This anxiety is a
natural consequence of being in a group situation in which one’s expected behavior, the
group goals, and their relevance to one’s personal goals are exceedingly unclear. Research
with laboratory groups demonstrates that if the group’s goals, the methods of goal
attainment, and expected role behavior are ambiguous, the group will be less cohesive and
less productive and its members more defensive, anxious, frustrated, and likely to
terminate membership.103
Effective preparation for the group will reduce the extrinsic anxiety that stems from
uncertainty. By clarifying the group goals, by explaining how group and personal goals are
confluent, by presenting unambiguous guidelines for effective behavior, by providing the
client with an accurate formulation of the group process, the therapist reduces uncertainty
and the accompanying extrinsic anxiety.
A systematic preparation for group therapy by no means implies a rigid structuring of
the group experience. I do not propose a didactic, directive approach to group therapy but,
on the contrary, suggest a technique that will enhance the formation of a freely interacting,
autonomous group. By averting lengthy ritualistic behavior in the initial sessions and by
diminishing initial anxiety stemming from ambiguity, the group is enabled to plunge
quickly into group work.
Although some group therapists eschew systematic preparation for the group, all group
therapists attempt to clarify the therapeutic process and the behavior expected of clients:
Differences between therapists or between therapeutic schools are largely in the timing
and style of preparation. By subtle or even subliminal verbal and nonverbal reinforcement,
even the most nondirective therapist attempts to persuade a group to accept his or her
values about what is or is not important in the group process.104
Bureaucratic considerations add another component to preparation: informed consent.
Contemporary therapists are under increasing pressure to provide (and to document in the
record that it has been provided) sufficient information about treatment benefits, side
effects, costs, and alternatives to make an informed choice about their therapy.105
Furthermore, informed consent cannot be dispensed with in a single discussion but must
be revisited on a timely basis. Obtaining informed consent is rapidly evolving into a
standard of practice enshrined in the Ethics Guidelines of the American Psychological
Association106 and the American Psychiatric Association.107 Though this procedure may
seem onerous, it is here to stay, and adaptive therapists must find a way to transform it into
something useful: periodic frank discussions about the course of therapy convey respect
for the client and strengthen the therapeutic alliance.
One final practical observation about preparation is in order. Group therapists often find
themselves pressed to find group members. A sudden loss of members may provoke
therapists into hasty activity to rebuild the group, often resulting in the selection of

unsuitable, inadequately prepared members. The therapist then has to assume the position
of selling the group to the prospective member—a position that is generally obvious to the
client. The therapist does better to continue the group with reduced membership, to select
new members carefully, and then to present the group in such a way as to maximize a
client’s desire to join it. In fact, research indicates that the more difficult it is to enter a
group and the more one wants to join, the more the individual will subsequently value the
group.108 This is the general principle underlying initiation rites to fraternities and arduous
selection and admission criteria for many organizations. An applicant cannot but reason
that a group so difficult to join must be very valuable indeed.

Chapter 11
IN THE BEGINNING
The work of the group therapist begins long before the first group meeting. As I have
already emphasized, successful group outcome depends largely on the therapist’s effective
performance of the pretherapy tasks. In previous chapters, I discussed the crucial
importance of proper group selection, composition, setting, and preparation. In this
chapter I consider the birth and development of the group: first, the stages of development
of the therapy group, and then problems of attendance, punctuality, membership turnover,
and addition of new members—important issues in the life of the developing group.
FORMATIVE STAGES OF THE GROUP
Every therapy group, with its unique cast of characters and complex interaction, undergoes
a singular development. All the members begin to manifest themselves interpersonally,
each creating his or her own social microcosm. In time, if therapists do their job
effectively, members will begin to understand their interpersonal style and eventually to
experiment with new behavior. Given the richness of human interaction, compounded by
the grouping of several individuals with maladaptive styles, it is obvious that the course of
a group over many months or years will be complex and, to a great degree, unpredictable.
Nevertheless, group dynamic forces operate in all groups to influence their development,
and it is possible to describe an imperfect but nonetheless useful schema of developmental
phases.
One well-known group developmental theory postulates five stages: forming, storming,
norming, performing, and adjourning.1 This simple, rhythmic phrase captures well the
range of group development models articulated by diverse researchers and applies to both
time-limited and open-ended groups.†2
In general, groups are first preoccupied with the tasks of initial member engagement
and affiliation. This phase is followed by one with a focus on control, power, status,
competition, and individual differentiation. Next comes a long, productive working phase
marked by intimacy, engagement, and genuine cohesion. The final stage is termination of
the group experience. These models also share a premise that development is epigenetic—
that is, each stage builds on the success of preceding ones. Hence, early developmental
failures will express themselves throughout the group’s life. Another premise of
development is that groups are likely to regress under conditions threatening group
integrity.†
As group development unfolds, we see shifts in group member behavior and
communication. As the group matures, increased empathic, positive communication will
be evident. Members describe their experience in more personal, affective and less

intellectual ways. Group members focus more on the here-and-now, are less avoidant of
productive conflict, offer constructive feedback, are more disclosing, and are more
collaborative. Advice is replaced with exploration, and the group is more interactional,
self-directed and less leader centered.3 This developmental shift to more meaningful work
has also been demonstrated repeatedly in reliable studies of task and work groups and
correlates significantly with enhanced productivity and achievement.4
There are compelling reasons for you as the therapist to familiarize yourself with the
developmental sequence of groups. If you are to perform your task of assisting the group
to form therapeutic norms and to prevent the establishment of norms that hinder therapy,
then you must have a clear conception of the optimal development of a therapy group. If
you are to diagnose group blockage and to intervene strategically to encourage healthy
development, you must have a sense of favorable and of flawed development.
Furthermore, knowledge of a broad developmental sequence will provide you with a sense
of mastery and direction in the group; a confused and anxious leader engenders similar
feelings in the group members.
The First Meeting
The first group therapy session is invariably a success. Clients (as well as neophyte
therapists) generally anticipate it with such dread that they are always relieved by the
actual event. Any actions therapists take to reduce clients’ anxiety and unease are
generally useful. It is often helpful to call members a few days before the first meeting to
reestablish contact and remind them of the group’s beginning. Greeting group members
outside the group room before the first meeting or posting signs on the hallway directing
clients to the group room for the first meeting are easy and reassuring steps to take.
Some therapists begin the meeting with a brief introductory statement about the purpose
and method of the group (especially if they have not thoroughly prepared the clients
beforehand); others may simply mention one or two basic ground rules—for example,
honesty and confidentiality. The therapist may suggest that the members introduce
themselves; if the therapist instead remains silent, invariably some member will suggest
that the members introduce themselves. In North American groups the use of first names
is usually established within minutes. Then a very loud silence ensues, which, like most
psychotherapy silences, seems eternal but lasts only a few seconds.
Generally, the silence is broken by the individual destined to dominate the early stages
of the group, who will say, “I guess I’ll get the ball rolling,” or words to that effect.
Usually that person then recounts his or her reasons for seeking therapy, which often
elicits similar descriptions from other members. An alternative course of events occurs
when a member (perhaps spurred by the tension of the group during the initial silence)
comments on his or her social discomfort or fear of groups. This remark may stimulate
related comments from others who have similar feelings.
As I stressed in chapter 5, the therapist wittingly or unwittingly begins to shape the

norms of the group at its inception. This task can be more efficiently performed while the
group is still young. The first meeting is therefore no time for the therapist to be passive
and inactive;5 in chapter 5 I described a number of techniques to shape norms in a
beginning group.
The Initial Stage: Orientation, Hesitant Participation, Search for Meaning, Dependency
Two tasks confront members of any newly formed group. First, they must understand how
to achieve their primary task—the purpose for which they joined the group. Second, they
must attend to their social relationships in the group so as to create a niche for themselves
that will provide not only the comfort necessary to achieve their primary task but also
gratification from the sheer pleasure of group membership. In many groups, such as
athletic teams, college classrooms, and work settings, the primary task and the social task
are well differentiated.6 In therapy groups, although this fact is not often appreciated at
first by members, the tasks are confluent—a fact vastly complicating the group experience
of socially ineffective individuals.
Several simultaneous concerns are present in the initial meetings. Members, especially
if not well prepared by the therapist, search for the rationale of therapy; they may be
confused about the relevance of the group’s activities to their personal goals in therapy.
The initial meetings are often peppered with questions reflecting this confusion. Even
months later, members may wonder aloud, “How is this going to help? What does all this
have to do with solving my problems?”
At the same time, the members are attending to their social relationships: they size up
one another and the group. They search for viable roles for themselves and wonder
whether they will be liked and respected or ignored and rejected. Although clients
ostensibly come to a therapy group for treatment, social forces impel them to invest most
of their energy in a search for approval, acceptance, respect, or domination. To some,
acceptance and approval appear so unlikely that they defensively reject or depreciate the
group by mentally derogating the other members and by reminding themselves that the
group is unreal and artificial, or that they are too special to care about a group that requires
sacrificing even one particle of their prized individuality. Many members are particularly
vulnerable at this time.†7
In the beginning, the therapist is well advised to keep one eye on the group as a whole,
and the other eye on each individual’s subjective experience in this new group. Members
wonder what membership entails. What are the admission requirements? How much must
one reveal or give of oneself? What type of commitment must one make? At a conscious
or near-conscious level, they seek the answers to questions such as these and maintain a
vigilant search for the types of behavior that the group expects and approves. Most clients
crave both a deep, intimate one-to-one connection and a connection to the whole group.†8
Occasionally, however, a member with a very tenuous sense of self may fear losing his
identity through submersion in the group. If this fear is particularly pronounced it may

impede engagement in the group. For such individuals, differentiation trumps belonging.9
If the early group is puzzled, testing, and hesitant, then it is also dependent. Overtly and
covertly, members look to the leader for structure and answers as well as for approval and
acceptance. Many comments and reward-seeking glances are cast at you as members seek
to gain approval from authority. Your early comments are carefully scrutinized for
directives about desirable and undesirable behavior. Clients appear to behave as if
salvation emanates solely or primarily from you, if only they can discover what it is you
want them to do. There is considerable realistic evidence for this belief: you have a
professional identity as a healer, you host the group by providing a room, you prepare
members, and you charge a fee for your services. All of this reinforces their expectation
that you will take care of them. Some therapists unwittingly compound this belief by
absorbing the client projections of special powers and unconsciously offering unfulfillable
promise of succor.10
The existence of initial dependency thus stems from many sources: the therapeutic
setting, the therapist’s behavior, a morbid dependency state on the part of the client and, as
I discussed in chapter 7, the many irrational sources of the members’ powerful feelings
toward the therapist. Among the strongest of these is the human need for an omnipotent,
omniscient, all-caring parent or rescuer—a need that colludes with the infinite human
capacity for self-deception to create a yearning for and a belief in a superbeing.†
In young groups, the members’ fantasies play in concert to result in what Freud referred
to as the group’s “need to be governed by unrestricted force, its extreme passion for
authority, its thirst for obedience.”11 (Yet, who is God’s god? I have often thought that the
higher suicide rate among psychiatrists relative to other specialists is one tragic
commentary on this dilemma.12 Psychotherapists who are deeply depressed and who know
that they must be their own superbeing, their own ultimate rescuer, are more likely than
many of their clients to plunge into final despair.)
The content and communicational style of the initial phase tends to be relatively
stereotyped and restricted, resembling the interaction occurring at a cocktail party or
similar transient social encounters. Problems are approached rationally; the client
suppresses irrational aspects of his concerns in the service of support, etiquette, and group
tranquillity. Thus, at first, groups may endlessly discuss topics of apparently little
substantive interest to any of the participants; these cocktail party issues, however, serve
as a vehicle for the first interpersonal exploratory forays. Hence, the content of the
discussion is less important than the unspoken process: members size up one another, they
attend to such things as who responds favorably to them, who sees things the way they do,
whom to fear, whom to respect.
In the beginning, therapy groups often spend time on symptom description, previous
therapy experience, medications, and the like. The members often search for similarities.
Members are fascinated by the notion that they are not unique in their misery, and most
groups invest considerable energy in demonstrating how the members are similar. This
process often offers considerable relief to members (see the discussion of universality in
chapter 1) and provides part of the foundation for group cohesiveness. These first steps set

the stage for the later deeper engagement that is a prerequisite for effective therapy.13
Giving and seeking advice is another characteristic of the early group: clients seek
advice for problems with spouses, children, employers, and so on, and the group attempts
to provide some practical solution. As discussed in chapter 1, this guidance is rarely of
functional value but serves as a vehicle through which members can express mutual
interest and caring. It is also a familiar mode of communication that can be employed
before members understand how to work fully in the here-and-now.
In the beginning the group needs direction and structure. A silent leader will amplify
anxiety and foster regression.† This phenomenon occurs even in groups of
psychologically sophisticated members. For example, a training group of psychiatry
residents led by a silent, nondirective leader grew anxious at their first meeting and
expressed fears of what could happen in the group and who might become a casualty of
the experience. One member spoke of a recent news report of a group of seemingly
“normal” high school students who beat a homeless man to death. Their anxiety lessened
when the leader commented that they were all concerned about the harmful forces that
could be unleashed as a result of joining this group of seemingly “normal” residents.
The Second Stage: Conflict, Dominance, Rebellion
If the first core concern of a group is with “in or out,” then the next is with “top or
bottom.”14 In this second, “storming” stage, the group shifts from preoccupation with
acceptance, approval, commitment to the group, definitions of accepted behavior, and the
search for orientation, structure, and meaning, to a preoccupation with dominance, control,
and power. The conflict characteristic of this phase is among members or between
members and leader. Each member attempts to establish his or her preferred amount of
initiative and power. Gradually, a control hierarchy, a social pecking order, emerges.
Negative comments and intermember criticism are more frequent; members often
appear to feel entitled to a one-way analysis and judgment of others. As in the first stage,
advice is given but in the context of a different social code: social conventions are
abandoned, and members feel free to make personal criticism about a complainer’s
behavior or attitudes. Judgments are made of past and present life experiences and styles.
It is a time of “oughts” and “shoulds” in the group, a time when the “peercourt” 15 is in
session. Members make suggestions or give advice, not as a manifestation of deep
acceptance and understanding—sentiments yet to emerge in the group—but in the service
of jockeying for position.
The struggle for control is part of the infrastructure of every group. It is always present,
sometimes quiescent, sometimes smoldering, sometimes in full conflagration. If there are
members with strong needs to dominate, control may be the major theme of the early
meetings. A dormant struggle for control often becomes more overt when new members
are added to the group, especially new members who do not “know their place” and,
instead of making obeisance to the older members in accordance with their seniority, make

strong early bids for dominance.
The emergence of hostility toward the therapist is inevitable in the development of a
group. Many observers have emphasized an early stage of ambivalence to the therapist
coupled with resistance to self-examination and self-disclosure. Hostility toward the leader
has its source in the unrealistic, indeed magical, attributes with which clients secretly
imbue the therapist. Their expectations are so limitless that they are bound to be
disappointed by any therapist, however competent. Gradually, as they recognize the
therapist’s limitations, reality sets in and hostility to the leader dissipates.
This is by no means a clearly conscious process. The members may intellectually
advocate a democratic group that draws on its own resources but nevertheless may, on a
deeper level, crave dependency and attempt first to create and then destroy an authority
figure. Group therapists refuse to fill the traditional authority role: they do not lead in the
ordinary manner; they do not provide answers and solutions; they urge the group to
explore and to employ its own resources. The members’ wish lingers, however, and it is
usually only after several sessions that the group members come to realize that the
therapist will frustrate their yearning for the ideal leader.
Yet another source of resentment toward the leader lies in the gradual recognition by
each member that he or she will not become the leader’s favorite child. During the
pretherapy session, each member comes to harbor the fantasy that the therapist is his or
her very own therapist, intensely interested in the minute details of that client’s past,
present, and fantasy world. In the early meetings of the group, however, each member
begins to realize that the therapist is no more interested in him or her than in the others;
seeds are sown for the emergence of rivalrous, hostile feelings toward the other members.
Each member feels, in some unclear manner, betrayed by the therapist. Echoes of prior
issues with siblings may emerge and members begin to appreciate the importance of peer
interactions in the work of the group.†
These unrealistic expectations of the leader and consequent disenchantment are by no
means a function of childlike mentality or psychological naivete. The same phenomena
occur, for example, in groups of professional psychotherapists. In fact, there is no better
way for the trainee to appreciate the group’s proclivity both to elevate and to attack the
leader than to be a member of a training or therapy group and to experience these
powerful feelings firsthand. Some theorists16 take Freud’s Totem and Taboo†17 literally
and regard the group’s pattern of relationship with the leader as a recapitulation of the
primal horde patricide. Freud does indeed suggest at one point that modern group
phenomena have their prehistoric analogues in the mist of ancient, primal horde events:
“Thus the group appears to us as a revival of the primal horde. Just as primitive man
survives potentially in every individual, so the primal horde may arise once more out of
any random collection; insofar as men are habitually under the sway of group formation,
we recognize in it the survival of the primal horde.”18 The primal horde is able to free
itself from restrictive, growth-inhibiting bonds and progress to a more satisfying existence
only after the awesome leader has been removed.
The members are never unanimous in their attack on the therapist. Invariably, some

champions of the therapist will emerge from the group. The lineup of attackers and
defenders may serve as a valuable guide for the understanding of characterological trends
useful for future work in the group. Generally, the leaders of this phase, those members
who are earliest and most vociferous in their attack, are heavily conflicted in the area of
dependency and have dealt with intolerable dependency yearnings by reaction formation.
These individuals, sometimes labeled counterdependents, 19 are inclined to reject prima
facie all statements by the therapist and to entertain the fantasy of unseating and replacing
the leader.
For example, approximately three-fourths of the way through the first meeting of a
group for clients with bulimia, I asked for the members’ reflections on the meeting: How
had it gone for them? Disappointments? Surprises? One member, who was to control the
direction of the group for the next several weeks, commented that it had gone precisely as
she had expected; in fact, it had been almost disappointingly predictable. The strongest
feeling that she had had thus far, she added, was anger toward me because I had asked one
of the members a question that evoked a brief period of weeping. She had felt then,
“They’ll never break me down like that!” Her first impressions were very predictive of her
behavior for some time to come. She remained on guard and strove to be self-possessed
and in control at all times. She regarded me not as an ally but as an adversary and was
sufficiently forceful to lead the group into a major emphasis on control issues for the first
several sessions.
If therapy is to be successful, counterdependent members must at some point experience
their flip side and recognize and work through deep dependency cravings. The challenge
in their therapy is first to understand that their counterdependent behavior often evokes
rebuke and rejection from others before their wish to be nourished and protected can be
experienced or expressed.
Other members invariably side with the therapist. They must be helped to investigate
their need to defend the therapist at all costs, regardless of the issue involved.
Occasionally, clients defend you because they have encountered a series of unreliable
objects and misperceive you as extraordinarily frail; others need to preserve you because
they fantasize an eventual alliance with you against other powerful members of the group.
Beware that you do not unknowingly transmit covert signals of personal distress to which
the rescuers appropriately respond.
Many of these conflicted feelings crystallize around the issue of the leader’s name. Are
you to be referred to by professional title (Dr. Jones or, even more impersonally, the doctor
or the counselor) or by first name? Some members will immediately use the therapist’s
first name or even a diminutive of the name, before inquiring about the therapist’s
preference. Others, even after the therapist has wholeheartedly agreed to proceeding on a
first-name basis, still cannot bring themselves to mouth such irreverence and continue to
bundle the therapist up in a professional title. One client, a successful businessman who
had been consistently shamed and humiliated by a domineering father insisted on
addressing the therapist as “Doctor” because he claimed this was a way to ensure that he
was getting his money’s worth.

Although I have posited disenchantment and anger with the leader as a ubiquitous
feature of small groups, by no means is the process constant across groups in form or
degree. The therapist’s behavior may potentiate or mitigate both the experience and the
expression of rebellion. Thus, one prominent sociologist, who has for many years led
sensitivity-training groups of college students, reports that inevitably there is a powerful
insurrection against the leader, culminating in the members removing him or her bodily
from the group room.20 I, on the other hand, led similar groups for more than a decade and
never encountered a rebellion so extreme that members physically ejected me from the
room. Such a difference can be due only to differences in leader styles and behavior. What
kind of leader evokes the most negative responses? Generally it is those who are
ambiguous or deliberately enigmatic; those who are authoritative yet offer no structure or
guidelines; or those who covertly make unrealistic promises to the group early in
therapy.21
This stage is often difficult and personally unpleasant for group therapists. Let me
remind neophyte therapists that you are essential to the survival of the group. The
members cannot afford to liquidate you: you will always be defended. For your own
comfort, however, you must learn to discriminate between an attack on your person and an
attack on your role in the group. The group’s response to you is similar to transference
distortion in individual therapy in that it is not directly related to your behavior, but its
source in the group must be understood from both an individual psychodynamic and a
group dynamic viewpoint.
Therapists who are particularly threatened by a group attack protect themselves in a
variety of ways.†22 Once I was asked to act as a consultant for two therapy groups, each
approximately twenty-five sessions old, that had developed similar problems: both groups
seemed to have reached a plateau, no new ground appeared to have been broken for
several weeks, and the members seemed to have withdrawn their interest in the groups. A
study of current meetings and past protocols revealed that neither group had yet directly
dealt with any negative feelings toward the therapists. However, the reasons for this
inhibition were quite different in the two groups. In the first group, the two co-therapists
(first-time leaders) had clearly exposed their throats, as it were, to the group and, through
their obvious anxiety, uncertainty, and avoidance of hostility-laden issues, pleaded frailty.
In addition, they both desired to be loved by all the members and had been at all times so
benevolent and so solicitous that an attack by the group members would have appeared
unseemly and ungrateful.
The therapists of the second group had forestalled an attack in a different fashion: they
remained aloof, Olympian figures whose infrequent, ostensibly profound interventions
were delivered in an authoritarian manner. At the end of each meeting, they summarized,
often in unnecessarily complex language, the predominant themes and each member’s
contributions. To attack these therapists would have been both impious and perilous.
Therapist countertransference in these two instances obstructed the group’s work.
Placing one’s own emotional needs ahead of the group’s needs is a recipe for failure.23
Either of these two leadership styles tends to inhibit a group; suppression of important

ambivalent feelings about the therapist results in a counterproductive taboo that opposes
the desired norm of interpersonal honesty and emotional expression. Furthermore, an
important model-setting opportunity is lost. The therapist who withstands an attack
without being either destroyed or vindictive but instead responds by attempting to
understand and work through the sources and effects of the attack demonstrates to the
group that aggression need not be lethal and that it can be expressed and understood in the
group.
One of the consequences of suppression of therapist-directed anger for the two groups
in question, and for most groups, is the emergence of displaced, off-target aggression. For
example, one group persisted for several weeks in attacking doctors. Previous unfortunate
experiences with doctors, hospitals, and individual therapists were described in detail,
often with considerable group consensus on the injustices and inhumanity of the medical
profession. In one group, a member attacked the field of psychotherapy by bringing in a
Psychology Today article that purported to prove that psychotherapy is ineffective. At
other times, police, teachers, and other representatives of authority are awarded similar
treatment.
Scapegoating of other members is another off-target manifestation. It is highly
improbable for scapegoating to persist in a group in the absence of the therapist’s
collusion. The leader who cannot be criticized openly generally is the source of
scapegoating. Peer attack is a safer way of expressing aggression and rivalry or of
elevating one’s status in the group. Added to this dynamic is the group members’
unconscious need to project unacceptable aspects of self onto a group member in an
attempt to reduce the risk of personal rejection by the group. At its worst, this scapegoated
member can be sacrificed by the group under the covert and misguided belief that if only
it were not for this one member, the group would become a utopia.24
Yet another source of group conflict originates in the intrinsic process of change.
Rigidly entrenched attitudes and behavioral patterns are challenged by other members, and
each individual is faced with the discomfort of letting go of old patterns. A useful
paradigm of change in group work consists of the sequence of unfreezing, change, and
refreezing. 25 The stage of “unfreezing” naturally entails a degree of challenge and
conflict. Individuals adhere to their beliefs about relationships and cling to what is familiar
to them. At first many clients lack the ability to examine themselves and to accept
feedback. Gradually clients acquire the capacity to participate, feel emotion, and then
reflect on that experience. Once that is possible, harmful, habitual patterns of behavior can
be altered.26
The Third Stage: Development of Cohesiveness
A third commonly recognized formative phase of a group is the development of mature
group cohesiveness. After the previous period of conflict, the group gradually develops
into a cohesive unit. Many varied phrases with similar connotations have been used to

describe this phase: in-group consciousness;27 common goal and group spirit;28
consensual group action, cooperation, and mutual support;29 group integration and
mutuality; 30 we-consciousness unity;31 support and freedom of communication;32 and
establishment of intimacy and trust between peers.
In this phase the interpersonal world of the group is one of balance, resonance, safety,
increased morale, trust, and self-disclosure.33 Some members reveal the real reason they
have come for treatment: sexual secrets and long-buried transgressions are shared.
Postgroup coffee meetings may be arranged. Attendance improves, and clients evince
considerable concern about missing members.
The chief concern of the group is with intimacy and closeness. If we characterize
clients’ concerns in the first phase as “in or out” and the second as “top or bottom,” then
we can think of the third phase as “near or far.” The members’ primary anxieties have to
do with not being liked, not being close enough to others, or being too close to others.34
Although there may be greater freedom of self-disclosure in this phase, there may also
be communicational restrictions of another sort: often the group suppresses all expression
of negative affect in the service of cohesion. Compared with the previous stage of group
conflict, all is sweetness and light, and the group basks in the glow of its newly discovered
unity.35 Eventually, however, the glow will pale and the group embrace will seem
ritualistic unless differentiation and conflict in the group are permitted to emerge. Only
when all affects can be expressed and constructively worked through in a cohesive group
does the group become a mature work group—a state lasting for the remainder of the
group’s life, with periodic short-lived recrudescences of each of the earlier phases. Thus
one may think of the stage of growing cohesiveness as consisting of two phases: an early
stage of great mutual support (group against external world) and a more advanced stage of
group work or true teamwork in which tension emerges not out of the struggle for
dominance but out of each member’s struggle with his or her own resistances.
Overview
Now that I have outlined the early stages of group development, let me qualify my
statements lest the novice take the proposed developmental sequence too literally. The
developmental phases are in essence constructs—entities that exist for the group leaders’
semantic and conceptual convenience. Although the research shows persuasively, using
different measures, client populations, and formal change theories, that group
development occurs, the evidence is less clear on whether there is a precise, inviolate
sequence of development. At times the development appears linear; at other times it is
cyclical with a reiterative nature.36 It is also apparent that the boundaries between phases
are not clearly demarcated and that a group does not permanently graduate from one
phase.
Another approach to group development research is to track the course of particular
variables such as cohesion,37 emotionality,38 or intimacy39 through the course of the

group. No linear course exists. In considering group development, think of replacing an
automobile wheel: one tightens the bolts one after another just enough so that the wheel is
in place; then the process is repeated, each bolt being tightened in turn, until the wheel is
entirely secure. In the same way, phases of a group emerge, become dominant, and then
recede, only to have the group return to the same issues with greater thoroughness later.
Thus, it is more accurate to speak of developmental tasks rather than developmental
phases or a predictable developmental sequence. We may, for example, see a sequence of
high engagement and low conflict, followed by lower engagement and higher conflict,
followed by a return to higher engagement.40 Hamburg suggests the term cyclotherapy to
refer to this process of returning to the same issues but from a different perspective and
each time in greater depth.41 Often a therapy group will spend considerable time dealing
with dominance, trust, intimacy, fears, the relationship between the co-therapists, and then,
months later, return to the same topic from an entirely different perspective.
The group leader is well advised to consider not only the forces that promote the
group’s development, but also those that have been identified as antigroup.42 These
common forces encompass individual and societal resistance to joining—the fear of
merging; the fear of loss of one’s sense of independence; the loss of one’s fantasy of
specialness; the fear of seeking but being turned away.
THE IMPACT OF CLIENTS ON GROUP
DEVELOPMENT
The developmental sequence I have described perhaps accurately portrays the unfolding of
events in a theoretical, unpeopled therapy group and is much like the major theme of an
ultramodern symphony that is unintelligible to the untrained ear. In the group, obfuscation
derives from the richness and unpredictability of human interaction, which complicates
the course of treatment and yet contributes to its excitement and challenge.
My experience is that the development of therapy groups is heavily and invariably
influenced by chance—by the particular and unique composition of the group. Often the
course of the group is set by a single member, generally the one with the loudest
interpersonal pathology. By loudest I refer not to severity of pathology but to pathology
that is most immediately manifest in the group. For example, in the first meeting of a
group of incest victims, a member made a number of comments to the effect that she was
disappointed that so many members were present whose healing was at such an earlier
state than hers. Naturally, this evoked considerable anger from the others, who attacked
her for her condescending remarks. Before long this group developed into the angriest,
and least caring, group I’d ever encountered. We cannot claim that this one member put
anger into the group. It would be more accurate to say that she acted as a lightning rod to
release anger that was already present in each of the participants. But had she not been in
the group, it is likely that the anger may have unfolded more slowly, perhaps in a context

of more safety, trust, and cohesiveness. Groups that do not start well face a far more
difficult challenge than ones that follow the kind of developmental sequence described in
this chapter.
Many of the very individuals who seek group therapy struggle with relating and
engaging. That is often why they seek therapy. Many say of themselves, “I am not a group
person.”43 A group composed of several such individuals will doubtless struggle with the
group tasks more than a group containing several members who have had constructive and
effective experience with groups.44
Other individuals who may alter typical group developmental trends include those with
monopolistic proclivities, exhibitionism, promiscuous self-disclosure, or an unbridled
inclination to exert control. Not infrequently, such individuals receive covert
encouragement from the therapist and other group members. Therapists value these clients
because they provide a focus of irritation in the group, stimulate the expression of affect,
and enhance the interest and excitement of a meeting. The other members often initially
welcome the opportunity to hide behind the protagonist as they themselves hesitantly
examine the terrain.
In a study of the dropouts of nine therapy groups, I found that in five of them, a client
with a characteristic pattern of behavior fled the therapy group within the first dozen
meetings.45 These clients (“early provocateurs”) differed from one another dynamically
but assumed a similar role in the group: They stormed in, furiously activated the group,
and then vanished. The therapists described their role in the group in such terms as
“catalysts,” “targets,” “hostile interpreters,” or “the only honest one.” Some of these early
provocateurs were active counterdependents and challenged the therapist early in the
group. One, for example, challenged the leader in the third meeting in several ways: he
suggested that the members hold longer meetings and regular leaderless meetings, and,
only half jokingly, tried to launch an investigation into the leader’s personal problems.
Other provocateurs prided themselves on their honesty and bluntness, mincing no words in
giving the other members candid feedback. Still others, heavily conflicted in intimacy,
both seeking it and fearing it, engaged in considerable self-disclosure and exhorted the
group to reciprocate, often at a reckless pace. Although the early provocateurs usually
claimed that they were impervious to the opinions and evaluations of others, in fact they
cared very much and, in each instance, deeply regretted the nonviable role they had
created for themselves in the group.46
Therapists must recognize this phenomenon early in the group and, through clarification
and interpretation of their role, help prevent these individuals from committing social
suicide. Perhaps even more important, therapists must recognize and discontinue their own
covert encouragement of the early provocateur’s behavior. It is not uncommon for
therapists to be stunned when the early provocateur drops out. They may so welcome the
behavior of these clients that they fail to appreciate the client’s distress as well as their
own dependence on these individuals for keeping the group energized.
It is useful for therapists to take note of their reactions to the absence of the various
members of the group. If some members are never absent, you may fantasize their

absences and your reaction to it. Consider what thoughts, feelings, fantasies and actions
these individuals generate in you, and what they do to generate that impact.47 If you dread
the absence of certain members, feeling that there would be no life in the group that day,
then it is likely that there is too much burden on those individuals and so much secondary
gratification that they will not be able to deal with their primary task in therapy. Given the
responsibility projected onto them, they may well be considered a form of scapegoat,
although a positively viewed one, at least at first.ab
I believe much of the confusion about group development is that each group is, at the
same time, like all groups, like some groups, and like no other group! Of course, all
therapy groups go through some change as they proceed. Of course there is some early
awkwardness, as the group deals with its raison d’être and its boundaries. Of course this is
followed by some tension and by repeated attempts to develop intimacy. And of course all
groups must face termination—the final phase. And from time to time, but only from time
to time, one encounters a group that runs “on schedule.”
Some time ago at an A. K. Rice two-week group workshop, I took part in an intergroup
exercise in which the sixty participants were asked to form four groups in any manner they
wished and then to study the ongoing relationships among the groups. The sixty
participants, in near panic, stampeded from the large room toward the four rooms
designated for the four small groups. The panic, an inevitable part of this exercise,
probably stemmed from primitive fears of exclusion from a group.48 In the group in which
I participated, the first words spoken after approximately sixteen members had entered the
room were, “Close the door. Don’t let anyone else in!” The first act of the group was to
appoint an official doorkeeper. Once the group’s boundaries were defined and its identity
vis-à-vis the outside world established, the group turned its attention to regulating the
distribution of power by speedily electing a chairman, before multiple bids for leadership
could immobilize the group. Only later did the group experience and discuss feelings of
trust and intimacy and then, much later, feelings of sadness as the group approached
termination.
In summary, there are some advantages to group therapists’ possessing some broad
schema of a group developmental sequence: It enables them to maintain objectivity and to
chart the voyage of a group despite considerable yawing, and to recognize if a group never
progresses past a certain stage or omits some. At times, therapists may demand something
for which the group is not yet ready: mutual caring and concern develop late in the group;
in the beginning, caring may be more pro forma as members view one another as
interlopers or rivals for the healing touch of the therapist. The therapist who is aware of
normative group development is able to remain more finely tuned to the group.
But there is a downside to the clinical application of group developmental ideas. The
inexperienced therapist may take them too seriously and use them as a template for
clinical practice. I have seen beginning therapists exert energy on forcing a group, in
procrustean fashion, to progress in lockstep through set phases. Such formulaic therapy—
and it grows more common in these days of standardized therapy via treatment manual—
lessens the possibility of real therapist-client engagement. The sacrifice of realness, of

authenticity, in the therapeutic relationship is no minor loss: It is the loss of the very heart
of psychotherapy.
Certainly, the first generations of psychotherapy manuals diminished the authenticity of
therapy by their slavish attention to adherence to the model. More contemporary therapy
manuals do less micromanaging of treatment and provide more scope for therapist
flexibility and naturalness.49
Psychotherapy, whether with a group or with an individual client, should be a shared
journey of discovery. There is danger in every system of “stages”—in the therapist having
fixed, preconceived ideas and procedural protocols in any kind of growth-oriented therapy.
It is precisely for this reason that some trends forced on the field by managed care are so
toxic.
In the mid-1970s, I began the first group for cancer patients with Katy Weers, a
remarkable woman with advanced breast cancer. She often railed about the harm brought
to the field by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s “stages” of dying, and dreamed of writing a book
to refute this concept. To experience the client against a template of stages interferes with
the very thing so deeply desired by clients: “therapeutic presence.” Katy and I both
suspected that therapists cloaked themselves in the mythology of “stages” to muffle their
own death anxiety.
MEMBERSHIP PROBLEMS
The early developmental sequence of a therapy group is powerfully influenced by
membership problems. Turnover in membership, tardiness, and absence are facts of life in
the developing group and often threaten its stability and integrity. Considerable
absenteeism may redirect the group’s attention and energy away from its developmental
tasks toward the problem of maintaining membership. It is the therapist’s task to
discourage irregular attendance and, when necessary, to replace dropouts appropriately by
adding new members.
Turnover
In the normal course of events, a substantial number of members drop out of
interactionally based groups in the first twelve meetings (see table 8.1). If two or more
members drop out, new members are usually added—but often a similar percentage of
these additions drop out in their first dozen or so meetings. Only after this does the group
solidify and begin to engage in matters other than those concerning group stability.
Generally, by the time clients have remained in the group for approximately twenty
meetings, they have made the necessary long-term commitment. In an attendance study of
five groups, there was considerable turnover in membership within the first twelve

meetings, a settling in between the twelfth and twentieth, and near-perfect attendance,
with excellent punctuality and no dropouts, between the twentieth and forty-fifth meetings
(the end of the study).50 Most studies demonstrate the same findings.51 It is unusual for the
number of later dropouts to exceed that of earlier phases.52 In one study in which attrition
in later phases was higher, the authors attributed the large numbers of later dropouts to
mounting discomfort arising from the greater intimacy of the group. Some groups had a
wave of dropouts; one dropout seemed to seed others. As noted in chapter 8, prior or
concurrent individual therapy substantially reduces the risk of premature termination.53
In general, short-term groups report lower dropout rates.54 In closed, time-limited
groups, it is useful to start with a large enough number of clients that the group can
withstand some attrition and yet be sufficiently robust for the duration of the group’s
course. Too large a starting size invites dropouts from individuals who will feel detached
and peripheral to the group. Starting with nine or ten members is probably ideal in this
situation.
Attendance and Punctuality
Despite the therapist’s initial encouragement of regular attendance and punctuality,
difficulties usually arise in the early stages of a group. At times the therapist, buffeted by
excuses from clients—baby-sitting problems, vacations, transportation difficulties, work
emergencies, out-of-town guests—becomes resigned to the impossibility of synchronizing
the schedules of eight busy people. Resist that course! Tardiness and irregular attendance
usually signify resistance to therapy and should be regarded as they are in individual
therapy. When several members are often late or absent, search for the source of the group
resistance; for some reason, cohesiveness is limited and the group is foundering. If a group
solidifies into a hard-working cohesive group, then—mirabile dictu—the baby-sitting and
scheduling problems vanish and there may be perfect attendance and punctuality for many
months.
At other times, the resistance is individual rather than group based. I am continually
amazed by the transformation in some individuals, who for long periods have been tardy
because of “absolutely unavoidable” contingencies—for example, periodic business
conferences, classroom rescheduling, child care emergencies—and then, after recognizing
and working through the resistance, become the most punctual members for months on
end. One periodically late member hesitated to involve himself in the group because of his
shame about his impotence and homosexual fantasies. After he disclosed these concerns
and worked through his feelings of shame, he found that the crucial business commitments
responsible for his lateness—commitments that, he later revealed, consisted of perusing
his mail—suddenly evaporated.
Whatever the basis for resistance, it is behavior that must, for several reasons, be
modified before it can be understood and worked through. For one thing, irregular
attendance is destructive to the group. It is contagious and leads to group demoralization.

Obviously, it is impossible to work on an issue in the absence of the relevant members.
Few exercises are more futile than addressing the wrong audience by deploring irregular
attendance with the group members who are present—the regular, punctual participants.
Groups are generally supportive of individuals who are genuinely trying to attend
regularly but fall short, in contrast to their intolerance of those who lack real commitment
to the group.
Various methods of influencing attendance have been adopted by therapists. During
pretherapy interviews, many therapists stress the importance of regular attendance. Clients
who appear likely to have scheduling or transportation problems are best referred for
individual therapy, as are those who must be out of town once a month or who, a few
weeks after the group begins, plan an extended out-of-town vacation. Charging full fees
for missed sessions is standard practice. Many private practitioners set a fixed monthly
fee, which is not reduced for missed meetings for any reason.
There are few more resistant group clients than men who have physically abused their
partners. At the same time, there is robust evidence that group interventions are effective
with this population, if the men continue in treatment. However, dropout rates of 40–60
percent within three months are not uncommon. Clinicians working with this population
have tackled the problem of poor motivation directly with intensive pregroup training,
including psychoeducational videos to increase empathy for the victims and inform
abusers about the physiology and psychology of violence. 55 An even simpler intervention
has proven powerfully effective. In a study of 189 men, group leaders who reached out
actively via phone calls, expressions of concern, and personalized alliance-building
measures produced dramatic results. These simple, low-tech interventions significantly
increased both attendance and tenure in both interpersonal and cognitive-behavioral group
therapies and significantly reduced the incidence of domestic violence.56
It is critical that the therapist be utterly convinced of the importance of the therapy
group and of regular attendance. The therapist who acts on this conviction will transmit it
to the group members. Thus, therapists should arrive punctually, award the group high
priority in their own schedule, and, if they must miss a meeting, inform the group of their
absence weeks in advance. It is not uncommon to find that therapist absence or group
cancellation may be followed by poor attendance.
• Upon arriving at a psychotherapy group for elderly men, I discovered that half
the group of eight was absent. Illness, family visits, and conflicting appointments
all conspired to diminish turnout. As I surveyed the room strewn with empty chairs,
one man spoke up and suggested with some resignation that we cancel the group
since so many members were away. My first reaction was one of quiet relief at the
prospect of unexpected free time in my day. My next thought was that canceling the
meeting was a terrible message to those present. In fact, the message would echo
the diminishment, isolation, and unwantedness that the men felt in their lives.
Therefore I suggested that it might be even more important than ever to meet today.
The men actively embraced my comment as well as my suggestion that we remove
the unnecessary chairs and tighten the circle so that we could hear one another

better.
A member who has a poor attendance record (whatever the reason) is unlikely to benefit
from the group. In a study of ninety-eight group participants, Stone and his colleagues
found that poor attendance early in the group was linearly related to late dropout (at six to
twelve months).57 Thus, inconsistent attendance demands decisive intervention.
• In a new group, one member, Dan, was consistently late or absent. Whenever the
co-therapists discussed his attendance, it was clear that Dan had valid excuses: his
life and his business were in such crisis that unexpected circumstances repeatedly
arose to make attendance impossible. The group as a whole had not jelled; despite
the therapists’ efforts, other members were often late or absent, and there was
considerable flight during the sessions. At the twelfth meeting, the therapists
decided that decisive action was necessary. They advised Dan to leave the group,
explaining that his schedule was such that the group could be of little value to him.
They offered to help Dan arrange individual therapy, which would provide greater
scheduling flexibility. Although the therapists’ motives were not punitive and
although they were thorough in their explanation, Dan was deeply offended and
walked out in anger midway through the meeting. The other members, extremely
threatened, supported Dan to the point of questioning the therapists’ authority to
ask a member to leave.
Despite the initial, raucous reaction of the group, it was soon clear that the
therapists had made the proper intervention. One of the co-therapists phoned Dan
and saw him individually for two sessions, then referred him to an appropriate
therapist for individual therapy. Dan soon appreciated that the therapists were
acting not punitively but in his best interests: irregularly attending a therapy group
would not have been effective therapy for him. The group was immediately
affected: attendance abruptly improved and remained near perfect over the next
several months. The members, once they had recovered from their fear of similar
banishment, gradually disclosed their approval of the therapists’ act and their
great resentment toward Dan and, to a lesser extent, toward some of the other
members for having treated the group in such a cavalier fashion.
Some therapists attempt to improve attendance by harnessing group pressure—for
example, by refusing to hold a meeting until a predetermined number of members (usually
three or four) are present. Even without formalization of this sort, the pressure exerted by
the rest of the group is an effective lever to bring to bear on errant members. The group is
often frustrated and angered by the repetitions and false starts necessitated by irregular
attendance. The therapist should encourage the members to express their reactions to late
or absent members. Be mindful, though, that the therapist’s concern about attendance is
not always shared by the members: a young or immature group often welcomes the small
meeting, regarding it as an opportunity for more individual attention from the leader.
Similarly, be cautious not to punish the regular participants by withholding treatment in
the process of applying group pressure on the absent members.
Like any event in the group, absenteeism or tardiness is a form of behavior that reflects

an individual’s characteristic patterns of relating to others. Be sure to examine the personal
meaning of the client’s action. If Mary arrives late, does she apologize? Does Joe enter in
a thoughtless, exhibitionistic manner? Does Sally arrive late because she experiences
herself as nonentity who makes no contribution to the group’s life in any event? Does
Ralph come as he chooses because he believes nothing of substance happens without him
anyway? Does Peg ask for a recap of the events of the meeting? Is her relation with the
group such that the members provide her with a recap? If Stan is absent, does he phone in
advance to let the group know? Does he offer complex, overelaborate excuses, as though
convinced he will not be believed? Not infrequently, a client’s psychopathology is
responsible for poor attendance. For example, one man who sought therapy because of a
crippling fear of authority figures and a pervasive inability to assert himself in
interpersonal situations was frequently late because he was unable to muster the courage
to interrupt a conversation or a conference with a business associate. An obsessive-
compulsive client was late because he felt compelled to clean his desk over and over
before leaving his office.
Thus, absenteeism and lateness are part of the individual’s social microcosm and, if
handled properly, may be harnessed in the service of self-understanding. For both the
group’s and the individual’s sake, however, they must be corrected before being analyzed.
No interpretation can be heard by an absent group member. In fact, the therapist must
attend to the timing of his comments to the returning member. Clients who have been
absent or are late often enter the meeting with some defensive guilt or shame and are not
in an optimal state of receptiveness for observations about their behavior. The therapist
does well to attend first to group maintenance and norm-setting tasks and then, later, when
the timing seems right and defensiveness diminished, attempt to help the individual
explore the meaning of his or her behavior. The timing of feedback is particularly
important for members who have greater psychological vulnerability and less mature
relationships.58
Group members who must miss a meeting or arrive late should, as they were advised in
pregroup preparation, phone the therapist in advance in order to spare the group from
wasting time expressing curiosity or concern about their absence. Often, in advanced
groups, the fantasies of group members about why someone is absent provide valuable
material for the therapeutic process; in early groups, however, such speculations tend to be
superficial and unfruitful.
An important adage of interactional group therapy, which I emphasize many times
throughout this book, is that any event in the group can serve as grist for the interpersonal
mill. Even the absence of a member can generate important, previously unexplored
material.
• A group composed of four women and three men held its eighth meeting in the
absence of two of the men. Albert, the only male present, had previously been
withdrawn and submissive in the group, but in this meeting a dramatic
transformation occurred. He erupted into activity, talked about himself, questioned
the other members, spoke loudly and forcefully, and, on a couple of occasions,

challenged the therapist. His nonverbal behavior was saturated with quasi-
courtship bids directed at the women members: for example, frequent adjustment
of his shirt collar and preening of the hair at his temples. Later in the meeting, the
group focused on Albert’s change, and he realized and expressed his fear and envy
of the two missing males, both of whom were aggressive and assertive. He had
long experienced a pervasive sense of social and sexual impotence, which had
been reinforced by his feeling that he had never made a significant impact on any
group of people and especially any group of women. In subsequent weeks, Albert
did much valuable work on these issues—issues that might not have become
accessible for many months without the adventitious absence of the two other
members.
My clinical preference is to encourage attendance but never, regardless of how small the
group is, to cancel a session. There is considerable therapeutic value in the client’s
knowing that the group is always there, stable and reliable: its constancy will in time beget
constancy of attendance. I have led many small group sessions, with as few as two
members, that have proved to be critical for those attending. The technical problem with
such meetings is that without the presence of interaction, the therapist may revert to
focusing on intrapsychic processes in a manner characteristic of individual therapy and
forgo group and interpersonal issues. It is far more therapeutically consistent to focus in
depth on group and interpersonal processes even in the smallest of sessions. Consider the
following clinical example from a ten-month-old group:
• For various reasons—vacations, illnesses, resistance—only two members
attended: Wanda, a thirty-eight-year-old depressed woman with borderline
personality disorder who had twice required hospitalization, and Martin, a twenty-
three-year-old man with schizoid personality disorder who was psychosexually
immature and suffered from moderately severe ulcerative colitis.
Wanda spent much of the early part of the meeting describing the depth of her
despair, which during the past week had reached such proportions that she had
been preoccupied with suicide and, since the group therapist was out of town, had
visited the emergency room at the hospital. While there, she had surreptitiously
read her medical chart and seen a consultation note written a year earlier by the
group therapist in which he had diagnosed her as borderline. She said that she had
been anticipating this diagnosis and now wanted the therapist to hospitalize her.
Martin then recalled a fragment of a dream he had several weeks before but had
not discussed: the therapist was sitting at a large desk interviewing Martin, who
stood up and looked at the paper on which the therapist is writing. There he saw in
huge letters one word covering the entire page: IMPOTENT. The therapist helped
both Wanda and Martin discuss their feelings of awe, helpless dependence, and
resentment toward him as well as their inclination to shift responsibility and
project onto him their bad feelings about themselves.
Wanda proceeded to underscore her helplessness by describing her inability to
cook for herself and her delinquency in paying her bills, which was so extreme that

she now feared police action against her. The therapist and Martin both discussed
her persistent reluctance to comment on her positive accomplishments—for
example, her continued excellence as a teacher. The therapist wondered whether
her presentation of herself as helpless was not designed to elicit responses of
caring and concern from the other members and the therapist—responses that she
felt would be forthcoming in no other way.
Martin then mentioned that he had gone to the medical library the previous day
to read some of the therapist’s professional articles. In response to the therapist’s
question about what he really wanted to find out, Martin answered that he guessed
he really wanted to know how the therapist felt about him and proceeded to
describe, for the first time, his longing for the therapist’s sole attention and love.
Later, the therapist expressed his concern at Wanda’s reading his note in her
medical record. Since there is a realistic component to a client’s anxiety on
learning that her therapist has diagnosed her as borderline, the therapist candidly
discussed both his own discomfort at having to use diagnostic labels for hospital
records and the confusion surrounding psychiatric nosological terminology; he
recalled as best he could his reasons for using that particular label and its
implications.
Wanda then commented on the absent members and wondered whether she had
driven them from the group (a common reaction). She dwelled on her unworthiness
and, at the therapist’s suggestion, made an inventory of her baleful characteristics,
citing her slovenliness, selfishness, greed, envy, and hostile feelings toward all
those in her social environment. Martin both supported Wanda and identified with
her, since he recognized many of these feelings in himself. He discussed how
difficult it was for him to reveal himself in the group (Martin had disclosed very
little of himself previously in the group). Later, he discussed his fear of getting
drunk or losing control in other ways: for one thing, he might become indiscreet
sexually. He then discussed, for the first time, his fear of sex, his impotence, his
inability to maintain an erection, and his last-minute refusals to take advantage of
sexual opportunities. Wanda empathized deeply with Martin and, although she had
for some time regarded sex as abhorrent, expressed the strong wish (a wish, not an
intention) to help him by offering herself to him sexually. Martin then described his
strong sexual attraction to her, and later both he and Wanda discussed their sexual
feelings toward the other members of the group. The therapist made the
observation, one that proved subsequently to be of great therapeutic importance to
Wanda, that her interest in Martin and her desire to offer herself to him sexually
belied many of the items in her inventory: her selfishness, greed, and ubiquitous
hostility to others.
Although only two members were present at this meeting, they met as a group and not
as two individual clients. The other members were discussed in absentia, and previously
undisclosed interpersonal feelings between the two clients and toward the therapist were
expressed and analyzed. It was a valuable session, deeply meaningful to both participants.

It is worth noting here that talking about group members in their absence is not “talking
behind people’s backs.” A member’s absence cannot dictate what gets addressed by those
in attendance, although it is essential that absent members be brought back into the loop
upon their return. Mailing out a group summary (see chapter 14) is a good way to
accomplish this.
Dropouts
There is no more threatening problem for the neophyte group therapist (and for many
experienced therapists as well) than the dropout from group therapy. Dropouts concerned
me greatly when I first started to lead groups, and my first group therapy research was a
study of all the group participants who had dropped out of the therapy groups in a large
psychiatric clinic.59 It is no minor problem. As I discussed earlier, the group therapy
demographic research demonstrates that a substantial number of clients will leave a group
prematurely regardless of what the therapist does. In fact, some clinicians suggest that
dropouts are not only inevitable but necessary in the sifting process involved in achieving
a cohesive group.60
Consider, too, that the existence of an escape hatch may be essential to allow some
members to make their first tentative commitments to the group. The group must have
some decompression mechanism: mistakes in the selection process are inevitable,
unexpected events occur in the lives of new members, and group incompatibilities
develop. Some intensive weeklong human relations laboratories or encounter groups that
meet at a geographically isolated place lack a way of escape; on several occasions, I have
seen psychotic reactions in participants forced to continue in an incompatible group.
There are various reasons for premature termination (see chapter 8). It is often
productive to think about the dropout phenomenon from the perspective of the interaction
of three factors: the client, the group, and the therapist.61 In general, client contributions
stem from problems caused by deviancy, conflicts in intimacy and disclosure, the role of
the early provocateur, external stress, complications of concurrent individual and group
therapy, inability to share the leader, and fear of emotional contagion. Underlying all these
reasons is the potential stress early in the group. Individuals who have maladaptive
interpersonal patterns are exposed to unaccustomed demands for candor and intimacy;
they are often confused about procedure; they suspect that the group activities bear little
relevance to their problem; and, finally, they feel too little support in the early meetings to
sustain their hope.
Group factors include the consequences of subgrouping, poor compositional match of
clients, scapegoating, member-member impasses, or unresolved conflict. The therapists
also play a role: they may select members too hurriedly, they may not prepare members
adequately, they may not attend to building group cohesion, or they may be influenced by
unresolved countertransference reactions.

Preventing Dropouts. As I discussed earlier, the two most important methods of
decreasing the dropout rate are proper selection and comprehensive pretherapy
preparation. It is especially important that in the preparation procedure, the therapist make
it clear that periods of discouragement are to be expected in the therapy process. Clients
are less likely to lose confidence in a therapist who appears to have the foreknowledge that
stems from experience. In fact, the more specific the prediction, the greater its power. For
example, it may be reassuring to a socially anxious and phobic individual to anticipate that
there will be times in the group when he will wish to flee, or that he will dread coming to
the next meeting. The therapist can emphasize that the group is a social laboratory and
suggest that the client has the choice of making the group yet another instance of failure
and avoidance or, for the first time, staying in the group and experimenting, in a low-risk
situation, with new behaviors. Some groups contain experienced group members who
assume some of this predictive function, as in the following case:
• One group graduated several members and was reconstituted by adding five new
members to the remaining three veteran members. In the first two meetings, the old
members briefed the new ones and told them, among other things, that by the sixth
or seventh meeting some member would decide to drop out and then the group
would have to drop everything for a couple of meetings to persuade him to stay.
The old members went on to predict which of the new members would be the first
to decide to terminate. This form of prediction is a most effective manner of
ensuring that it is not fulfilled.
Despite painstaking preparation, however, many clients will consider dropping out.
When a member informs a therapist that he or she wishes to leave the group, a common
approach is to urge the client to attend the next meeting to discuss it with the other group
members. Underlying this practice is the assumption that the group will help the client
work through resistance and thereby dissuade him or her from terminating. This approach,
however, is rarely successful. In one study of thirty-five dropouts from nine therapy
groups (with a total original membership of ninety-seven clients), I found that every one of
the dropouts had been urged to return for another meeting, but not once did this final
session avert premature termination.62 Furthermore, there were no group continuers who
had threatened to drop out and were salvaged by this technique, despite considerable
group time spent in the effort. In short, asking the client who has decided to drop out to
return for a final meeting is usually an ineffective use of group time.
Generally, the therapist is well advised to see a potential dropout for a short series of
individual interviews to discuss the sources of group stress. Occasionally an accurate,
penetrating interpretation will keep a client in therapy.
• Joseph, an alienated client with schizoid personality disorder, announced in the
eighth meeting that he felt he was getting nowhere in the group and was
contemplating termination. In an individual session, he told the therapist
something he had never been able to say in the group—namely, that he had many
positive feelings toward a couple of the group members. Nevertheless, he insisted
that the therapy was ineffective and that he desired a more accelerated and precise

form of therapy. The therapist correctly interpreted Joseph’s intellectual criticism
of the group therapy format as a rationalization: he was, in fact, fleeing from the
closeness he had felt in the group. The therapist again explained the social
microcosm phenomenon and clarified for Joseph that in the group he was
repeating his lifelong style of relating to others. He had always avoided or fled
intimacy and no doubt would always do so in the future unless he stopped running
and allowed himself the opportunity to explore his interpersonal problems in vivo.
Joseph continued in the group and eventually made considerable gains in therapy.
In general the therapist can decrease premature termination by attending assiduously to
early phase problems. I will have much to say later in this text about self-disclosure, but
for now keep in mind that outliers—excessively active members and excessively quiet
members—are both dropout risks. Try to balance self-disclosure. It may be necessary to
slow the pace of a client who too quickly reveals deeply personal details before
establishing engagement. On the other hand, members who remain silent session after
session may become demoralized and increasingly frightened of self-disclosure.
Negative feelings, misgivings, and apprehensions about the group or the therapeutic
alliance must be addressed and not pushed underground. Moreover, the expression of
positive affects should also be encouraged and, whenever possible, modeled by the
therapist.63
Inexperienced therapists are particularly threatened by the client who expresses a wish
to drop out. They begin to fear that, one by one, their group members will leave and that
they will one day come to the group and find themselves alone in the room. (And what,
then, do they tell their group supervisor?) Therapists for whom this fantasy truly takes
hold cease to be therapeutic to the group. The balance of power shifts. They feel
blackmailed. They begin to be seductive, cajoling—anything to entice the clients back to
future meetings. Once this happens, of course, any therapeutic leverage is lost entirely.
After struggling in my own clinical work with the problem of group dropouts over
many years, I have finally achieved some resolution of the issue. By shifting my personal
attitude, I no longer have group therapy dropouts. But I do have group therapy throwouts!
I do not mean that I frequently ask members to leave a therapy group, but I am perfectly
prepared to do so if it is clear that the member is not working in the group. I am persuaded
(from my clinical experience and from empirical research findings) that group therapy is a
highly effective mode of psychotherapy. If an individual is not going to be able to profit
from it, then I want to get that person out of the group and into a more appropriate mode
of therapy , and bring someone else into the group who will be able to use what the group
has to offer.
This method of reducing dropouts is more than a specious form of bookkeeping; it
reflects a posture of the therapist that increases the commitment to work. Once you have
achieved this particular mental set, you communicate it to your clients in direct and
indirect ways. You convey your confidence in the therapeutic modality and your
expectation that each client will use the group for effective work.

Removing a Client from a Group. Taking a client out of a therapy group is an act of
tremendous significance for both that individual and the group. Hence it must be
approached thoughtfully. Once a therapist determines that a client is not working
effectively, the next step is to identify and remove all possible obstacles to the client’s
productive engagement in the group. If the therapist has done everything possible yet is
still unable to alter the situation, there is every reason to expect one of the following
outcomes: (1) the client will ultimately drop out of the group without benefit (or without
further benefit); (2) the client may be harmed by further group participation (because of
negative interaction or the adverse consequences of the deviant role—see chapter 8); or
(3) the client will substantially obstruct the group work for the remaining group members.
Hence, it is folly to adopt a laissez-faire posture: the time has come to remove the client
from the group.
How? There is no adroit, subtle way to remove a member from a group. Often the task
is better handled in an individual meeting with the client than in the group. The situation is
so anxiety-provoking for the other members that generally the therapist can expect little
constructive group discussion; moreover, an individual meeting reduces the member’s
public humiliation. It is not helpful to invite the client back for a final meeting to work
things through with the group: if the individual were able to work things through in an
open, nondefensive manner, there would have been no need to ask him or her to leave the
group in the first place. In my experience, such final working-through meetings are
invariably closed, nonproductive, and frustrating.
Whenever you remove a client from the group, you should expect a powerful reaction
from the rest of the group. The ejection of a group member stirs up deep levels of anxiety
associated with rejection or abandonment by the primal group. You may get little support
from the group, even if there is unanimous agreement among the members that the client
should have been asked to leave. Even if, for example, the client had developed a manic
reaction and was disrupting the entire group, the members will still feel threatened by your
decision.
There are two possible interpretations the members may give to your act of removing
the member. One interpretation is rejection and abandonment: that is, that you do not like
the client, you resent him, you’re angry, and you want him out of the group and out of
your sight. Who might be next?
The other interpretation (the correct one, let us hope) is that you are a responsible
mental health professional acting in the best interests of that client and of the remaining
group members. Every individual’s treatment regimen is different, and you made a
responsible decision about the fact that this form of therapy was not suited to a particular
client at this moment. Furthermore, you acted in a professionally responsible manner by
ensuring that the client will receive another form of therapy more likely to be helpful.
The remaining group members generally embrace the first, or rejection, interpretation.
Your task is to help them arrive at the second interpretation. You may facilitate the process

by making clear the reasons for your actions and sharing your decisions about future
therapy for the extruded client, such as individual therapy with you or a referral to a
colleague. Occasionally, the group may receive the decision to remove a member with
relief and appreciation. A sexually abused woman described the extrusion of a sadistic,
destructive male group member as the first time in her life that the “people in charge”
were not helpless or blind to her suffering.

The Departing Member: Therapeutic Considerations. When a client is asked to leave or
chooses to leave a group, the therapist must endeavor to make the experience as
constructive as possible. Such clients ordinarily are considerably demoralized and tend to
view the group experience as one more failure. Even if the client denies this feeling, the
therapist should still assume that it is present and, in a private discussion, provide
alternative methods of viewing the experience. For example, the therapist may present the
notion of readiness or group fit. Some clients are able to profit from group therapy only
after a period of individual therapy; others, for reasons unclear to us, are never able to
work effectively in therapy groups. It is also entirely possible that the client may achieve a
better fit and a successful course of therapy in another group, and this possibility should
be explored. In any case, you should help the removed member understand that this
outcome is not a failure on the client’s part but that, for several possible reasons, a form of
therapy has proved unsuccessful.
It may be useful for the therapist to use the final interview to review in detail the client’s
experience in the group. Occasionally, a therapist is uncertain about the usefulness or the
advisability of confronting someone who is terminating therapy. Should you, for example,
confront the denial of an individual who attributes his dropping out of the group to his
hearing difficulties when, in fact, he had been an extreme deviant and was clearly rejected
by the group? As a general principle, it is useful to consider the client’s entire career in
therapy. If the client is very likely to reenter therapy, a constructive gentle confrontation
will, in the long run, make any subsequent therapy more effective. If, on the other hand,
there is little likelihood that the client will pursue a dynamically oriented therapy, there is
little point in presenting a final interpretation that he or she will never be able to use or
extend. Test the denial. If it is deep, leave it be: there is no point in undermining defenses,
even self-deceptive ones, if you cannot provide a satisfactory substitute. Avoid adding
insight to injury.64
The Addition of New Members
Whenever the group census falls too low (generally five or fewer members), the therapist
should introduce new members. This may occur at any time during the course of the
group, but in the long-term group there are major junctures when new members are
usually added: during the first twelve meetings (to replace early dropouts) and after twelve
to eighteen months (to replace improved, graduating members). With closed, time-limited

groups, there is a narrow window of the first 3–4 weeks in which it is possible to add new
members, and yet provide them with an adequate duration of therapy.

Timing. The success of introducing new members depends in part on proper timing: there
are favorable and unfavorable times to add members. Generally, a group that is in crisis, is
actively engaged in an internecine struggle, or has suddenly entered into a new phase of
development does not favor the addition of new members; it will often reject the
newcomers or else evade confrontation with the pressing group issue and instead redirect
its energy toward them.
Examples include a group that is dealing for the first time with hostile feelings toward a
controlling, monopolistic member or a group that has recently developed such
cohesiveness and trust that a member has, for the first time, shared an extremely important
secret. Some therapists postpone the addition of new members if the group is working
well, even when the census is down to four or five. I prefer not to delay, and promptly
begin to screen candidates. Small groups, even highly cohesive ones, will eventually grow
even smaller through absence or termination and soon will lack the interaction necessary
for effective work. The most auspicious period for adding new members is during a phase
of stagnation in the group. Many groups, especially older ones, sensing the need for new
stimulation, actively encourage the therapist to add members.
In groups for women with metastatic breast cancer,65 the members were very clear
about the timing of new members joining. If the group was dealing with a very ill, dying,
or recently deceased member, the members preferred not to have new additions because
they needed all of their energy and time to address their loss and grief.

Response of the Group. A cartoon cited by a British group therapist portrays a harassed
woman and her child trying to push their way into a crowded train compartment. The child
looks up at his mother and says, “Don’t worry, Mother, at the next stop it will be our turn
to hate!”66 The parallel to new members entering the group is trenchant. Hostility to the
newcomer is evident even in the group that has beseeched the therapist to add new
members, and it may reach potent levels. The extent of the antipathy has even been
labeled “infanticide.”67
I have observed many times that when new members are slated to enter a meeting, the
old members arrive late and may even remain for a few minutes talking together
animatedly in the waiting room while the therapists and the new clients wait in the therapy
room. A content analysis of the session in which a new member or members are
introduced reveals several themes that are hardly consonant with benevolent hospitality.
The group suddenly spends far more time than in previous meetings discussing the good
old days. Long-departed group members and events of bygone meetings are avidly
recalled, as new members are guilelessly reminded, lest they have forgotten, of their

novitiate status. Old battles are reengaged to make the group as unpalatable as possible.
Similarly, members may remark on resemblances they perceive between the new
member and some past member. The newcomer may get grilled. In a meeting I once
observed in which two members were introduced, the group noted a similarity between
one of them and a past member who (the newcomer shortly learned) had committed
suicide a year before; the other client was compared to someone who had dropped out,
discouraged and unimproved, after three months of therapy. These members, unaware of
the invidiousness of their greetings, consciously felt that they were extending a welcome,
whereas in fact they projected much unpleasant emotion onto the newcomers.
A group may also express its ambivalence by discussing, in a newcomer’s first meeting,
threatening and confidence-shaking issues. For example, in its seventeenth session, in
which two new members entered, one group discussed for the first time the therapists’
competence. The members noted that the therapists were listed in the hospital catalogue as
resident-students and that they might be leading their first group. This issue—an important
one that should be discussed—was nonetheless highly threatening to new members. It is
of interest that this information was already known to several group members but had
never until that meeting been broached in the group.
There can, of course, be strong feelings of welcome and support if the group has been
searching for new members. The members may exercise great gentleness and patience in
dealing with new members’ initial fear or defensiveness. The group, in fact, may collude
in many ways to increase its attractiveness to the newcomer. Often members gratuitously
offer testimonials and describe the various ways in which they have improved. In one such
group, a newcomer asked a disgruntled, resistive woman member about her progress, and
before she could reply, two other members, sensing that she would devalue the group,
interrupted and described their own progress. Although groups may unconsciously wish to
discourage newcomers, members are generally not willing to do so by devaluing their own
group.
There are several reasons for a group’s ambivalent response to new members. Some
members who highly prize the solidarity and cohesiveness of the group may be threatened
by any proposed change to the status quo. Will the new members undermine the group?
Powerful sibling rivalry issues may be evoked at the entrance of a new drain on the
group’s supplies: members may envision newcomers as potential rivals for the therapist’s
and the group’s attention and perceive their own fantasized role as favored child to be in
jeopardy.68
Still other members, particularly those conflicted in the area of control and dominance,
may regard the new member as a threat to their position in the hierarchy of power. In one
group where a new attractive female client was being introduced, the two incumbent
female members, desperately protecting their stake, employed many prestige-enhancing
devices, including the recitation of poetry. When John Donne is quoted in a therapy group
as part of the incoming ritual, it is hardly for an aesthetic end.
A common concern of a group is that, even though new members are needed, they will
nonetheless slow the group down. The group fears that familiar material will have to be

repeated for the newcomers and that the group must recycle and relive the tedious stages
of gradual social introduction and ritualistic etiquette. This expectation fortunately proves
to be unfounded: new clients introduced into an ongoing group generally move quickly
into the prevailing level of group communication and bypass the early testing phases
characteristic of members in a newly formed group. Another, less frequent, source of
ambivalence issues from the threat posed to group members who have improved and who
fear seeing themselves in the newcomer, as they were at the beginning of their own
therapy. In order to avoid reexposure to painful past periods of life, they will frequently
shun new clients who appear as reincarnations of their earlier selves.
Commonly, the new members of the group have a unique and constructive perspective
on the group members. They see the older members as they are currently, reinforcing the
reality of the changes achieved, often admiring the veteran members’ perceptiveness,
social comfort, and interpersonal skills. This form of feedback can serve as a powerful
reminder of the value of the therapeutic work done to date. The morale of both the new
and the old members can be enhanced simultaneously.

Therapeutic Guidelines. Clients entering an ongoing group require not only the standard
preparation to group therapy I discussed in chapter 10 but also preparation to help them
deal with the unique stresses accompanying entry into an established group. Entry into any
established culture—a new living situation, job, school, hospital, and so on—produces
anxiety and, as extensive research indicates, demands orientation and support.†69 A review
of the new member’s prior experiences of joining can be instructive and identify potential
challenges that may emerge.
I tell clients that they can expect feelings of exclusion and bewilderment on entering an
unusual culture, and I reassure them that they will be allowed to enter and participate at
their own rate. New clients entering established groups may be daunted by the
sophistication, openness, interpersonal facility, and daring of more experienced members;
they may also be frightened or fear contagion, since they are immediately confronted with
members revealing more of their pathology than is revealed in the first meetings of a new
group. These contingencies should be discussed with the client. It is generally helpful to
describe to the incoming participant the major events of the past few meetings. If the
group has been going through some particularly intense, tumultuous events, it is wise to
provide an even more thorough briefing. If the group is being videotaped or the therapist
uses a written summary technique (see chapter 14), then the new member, with the group’s
permission, may be asked to view the tapes or read the summaries of the past few
meetings.
I make an effort to engage the new client in the first meeting or two. Often it is
sufficient merely to inquire about his or her experience of the meeting—something to the
effect of: “Sara, this has been your first session. What has the meeting felt like for you?
Does it seem like it will be difficult to get into the group? What concerns about your
participation are you aware of so far?” It’s often useful to help new clients assume some

control over their participation. For example, the therapist might say, “I note that several
questions were asked of you earlier. How did that feel? Too much pressure? Or did you
welcome them?” Or, “Sara, I’m aware that you were silent today. The group was deeply
engaged in business left over from meetings when you were not present. How did that
make you feel? Relieved? Or would you have welcomed questions directed at you?” Note
that all of these questions are here-and-now centered.
Many therapists prefer to introduce two new members at a time, a practice that may
have advantages for both the group and the new members. Occasionally, if one client is
integrated into the group much more easily than the other, it may backfire and create even
greater discomfort for a newcomer, who may feel that he is already lagging behind his
cohort. Nevertheless, introduction in pairs has much to recommend it: the group conserves
energy and time by assimilating two members at once; the new members may ally with
each other and thereby feel less alien.
The number of new members introduced into the group distinctly influences the pace of
absorption. A group of six or seven can generally absorb a new member with scarcely a
ripple; the group continues work with only the briefest of pauses and rapidly pulls the new
member along. On the other hand, a group of four confronted with three new members
often comes to a screeching halt as all ongoing work ceases and the group devotes all its
energy to the task of incorporating the new members. The old members will wonder how
much they can trust the new ones. Dare they continue with the same degree of self-
disclosure and risk taking? To what extent will their familiar, comfortable group be
changed forever? The new members will be searching for guidelines to behavior. What is
acceptable in this group? What is forbidden? If their reception by the established members
is not gracious, they may seek the comfort inherent in an alliance of newcomers. The
therapist who notes frequent use of “we” and “they,” or “old members” and “new
members,” should heed these signs of schism. Until incorporation is complete, little
further therapeutic work can be done.
A similar situation often arises when the therapist attempts to amalgamate two groups
that have been reduced in number. This procedure is not easy. A clash of cultures and
cliques formed along the lines of the previous groups can persist for a remarkably long
time, and the therapist must actively prepare clients for the merger. It is best in this
situation to end both groups and then resume as a totally new entity.
The introduction of new members may, if properly considered, enhance the therapeutic
process of the old members, who may respond to a newcomer in highly idiosyncratic
styles. An important principle of group therapy, which I have discussed, is that every
major stimulus presented to the group elicits a variety of responses by the group members.
The investigation of the reasons behind these different responses is generally rewarding
and clarifies aspects of character structure. For members to observe others respond to a
situation in ways remarkably different from the way they do is an arresting experience that
can provide them with considerable insight into their behavior. Such an opportunity is
unavailable in individual therapy but constitutes one of the chief strengths of the group
therapeutic format. An illustrative clinical example may clarify this point.

• A new member, Alice—forty years old, attractive, divorced—was introduced at a
group’s eighteenth meeting. The three men in the group greeted her in strikingly
different fashions.
Peter arrived fifteen minutes late and missed the introduction. For the next hour,
he was active in the group, discussing issues left over from the previous meeting as
well as events occurring in his life during the past week. He totally ignored Alice,
avoiding even glancing at her—a formidable feat in a group of six people in close
physical proximity. Later in the meeting, as others attempted to help Alice
participate, Peter, still without introducing himself, fired questions at her like a
harsh prosecuting attorney. A twenty-eight-year-old devout Catholic father of four,
Peter had sought therapy because he “loved women too much,” as he phrased it,
and had had a series of extramarital affairs. In subsequent meetings, the group
used the events of Alice’s first meeting to help Peter investigate the nature of his
“love” for women. Gradually, he came to recognize how he used women, including
his wife, as sex objects, valuing them for their genitals only and remaining
insensitive to their feelings and experiential world.
The two other men in the group, Arthur and Brian, on the other hand, were
preoccupied with Alice during her first meeting. Arthur, a twenty-four-year-old
who sought therapy because of his massive sexual inhibition, reacted strongly to
Alice and found that he could not look at her without experiencing an acute sense
of embarrassment. His discomfort and blushing were apparent to the other
members, who helped him explore far more deeply than he had previously his
relationship with the women in the group. Arthur had desexualized the other two
women in the group by establishing in his fantasy a brother-sister relationship with
them. Alice, who was attractive and available and at the same time old enough to
evoke in him affect-laden feelings about his mother, presented a special problem
for Arthur, who had previously been settling into too comfortable a niche in the
group.
Brian, on the other hand, transfixed Alice with his gaze and delivered an
unwavering broad smile to her throughout the meeting. An extraordinarily
dependent twenty-three-year-old, Brian had sought therapy for depression after the
breakup of a love affair. Having lost his mother in infancy, he had been raised by a
succession of nannies and had had only occasional contact with an aloof, powerful
father of whom he was terrified. His romantic affairs, always with considerably
older women, had invariably collapsed because of the insatiable demands he made
on the relationship. The other women in the group in the past few meetings had
similarly withdrawn from him and, with progressive candor, had confronted him
with, as they termed it, his puppy-dog presentation of himself. Brian thus
welcomed Alice, hoping to find in her a new source of succor. In subsequent
meetings, Alice proved helpful to Brian as she revealed her feeling, during her first
meeting, of extreme discomfort at his beseeching smile and her persistent sense
that he was asking for something important from her. She said that although she
was unsure of what he wanted, she knew it was more than she had to give.

Freud once compared psychotherapy to chess in that far more is known and written
about the opening and the end games than about the middle game. Accordingly, the
opening stages of therapy and termination may be discussed with some degree of
precision, but the vast bulk of therapy cannot be systematically described. Thus, the
subsequent chapters follow no systematic group chronology but deal in a general way with
the major issues and problems of later stages of therapy and with some specialized
therapist techniques.

Chapter 12
THE ADVANCED GROUP
Once a group achieves a degree of maturity and stability, it no longer exhibits easily
described, familiar stages of development. The rich and complex working-through process
begins, and the major therapeutic factors I described earlier operate with increasing force
and effectiveness. Members gradually engage more deeply in the group and use the group
interaction to address the concerns that brought them to therapy. The advanced group is
characterized by members’ growing capacity for reflection, authenticity, self-disclosure,
and feedback.1 Hence, it is impossible to formulate specific procedural guidelines for all
contingencies. In general, the therapist must strive to encourage development and
operation of the therapeutic factors. The application of the basic principles of the
therapist’s role and technique to specific group events and to each client’s therapy (as
discussed in chapters 5, 6, and 7) constitutes the art of psychotherapy, and for this there is
no substitute for clinical experience, reading, supervision, and intuition.
Certain issues and problems, however, occur with sufficient regularity to warrant
discussion. In this chapter, I consider subgrouping, conflict, self-disclosure, and
termination of therapy. In the next chapter, I discuss certain recurrent behavioral
configurations in individuals that present a challenge to the therapist and to the group.
SUBGROUPING
Fractionalization—the splitting off of smaller units—occurs in every social organization.
The process may be transient or enduring, helpful or harmful, for the parent organization.
Therapy groups are no exception. Subgroup formation is an inevitable and often disruptive
event in the life of the group, yet there too the process, if understood and harnessed
properly, may further the therapeutic work.† How do we account for the phenomenon of
subgrouping? We need to consider both individual and group factors.
Individual Factors
Members’ concerns about personal connection and status often motivate the creation of the
subgroup.† A subgroup in the therapy group arises from the belief of two or more
members that they can derive more gratification from a relationship with one another than
from the entire group. Members who violate group norms by secret liaisons are opting for
need gratification rather than for pursuit of personal change—their primary reason for
being in therapy (see the discussion of primary task and secondary gratification in chapter
6). Need frustration occurs early in therapy: for example, members with strong needs for
intimacy, dependency, sexual conquests, or dominance may soon sense the impossibility

of gratifying these needs in the group and often attempt to gratify them outside the formal
group.
In one sense, these members are “acting out”: they engage in behavior outside the
therapy setting that relieves inner tensions and avoids direct expression or exploration of
feeling or emotion. Sometimes it is only possible in retrospect to discriminate “acting out”
from acting or participating in the therapy group. Let me clarify.
Keep in mind that the course of the therapy group is a continual cycle of action and
analysis of this action. The social microcosm of the group depends on members’ engaging
in their habitual patterns of behavior, which are then examined by the individual and the
group. Acting out becomes resistance only when one refuses to examine one’s behavior.
Extragroup behavior that is not examined in the group becomes a particularly potent form
of resistance, whereas extragroup behavior that is subsequently brought back into the
group and worked through may prove to be of considerable therapeutic import.2
Group Factors
Subgrouping may be a manifestation of a considerable degree of undischarged hostility in
the group, especially toward the leader. Research on styles of leadership demonstrates that
a group is more likely to develop disruptive in-group and out-group factions under an
authoritarian, restrictive style of leadership.3 Group members, unable to express their
anger and frustration directly to the leader, release these feelings obliquely by binding
together and mobbing or scapegoating one or more of the other members.
At other times, subgrouping is a sign of problems in group development. A lack of
group cohesion will encourage members to retreat from large and complex group
relationships into simpler, smaller, more workable subgroups.
Clinical Appearance of Subgrouping
Extragroup socializing is often the first stage of subgrouping. A clique of three or four
members may begin to have telephone conversations, to meet over coffee or dinner, to
visit each other’s homes, or even to engage in business ventures together. Occasionally,
two members will become sexually involved. A subgroup may also occur completely
within the confines of the group therapy room, as members who perceive themselves to be
similar form coalitions.
There may be any number of common bonds: comparable educational level, similar
values, ethno-cultural background, similar age, marital status, or group status (for
example, the old-timer original members). Social organizations characteristically develop
opposing factions—two or more conflicting subgroups. But such is not often the case in
therapy groups: one clique forms but the excluded members lack effective social skills and
do not usually coalesce into a second subgroup.

The members of a subgroup may be identified by a general code of behavior: they may
agree with one another regardless of the issue and avoid confrontations among their own
membership; they may exchange knowing glances when a member not in the clique
speaks; they may arrive at and depart from the meeting together; their wish for friendship
overrides their commitment to examination of their behavior.4
The Effects of Subgrouping
Subgrouping can have an extraordinarily disruptive effect on the course of the therapy
group. In a study of thirty-five clients who prematurely dropped out from group therapy, I
found that eleven (31 percent) did so largely because of problems arising from
subgrouping.5 Complications arise whether the client is included in or excluded from a
subgroup.

Inclusion. Those included in a twosome or a larger subgroup often find that group life is
vastly more complicated and, ultimately, less rewarding. As a group member transfers
allegiance from the group goals to the subgroup goals, loyalty becomes a major and
problematic issue. For example, should one abide by the group procedural rules of free
and honest discussion of feelings if that means breaking a confidence established secretly
with another member?
• Christine and Jerry often met after the therapy session to have long, intense
conversations. Jerry had remained withdrawn in the group and had sought out
Christine because, as he informed her, he felt that she alone could understand him.
After obtaining her promise of confidentiality, he soon was able to reveal to her his
pedophilic obsessions and his deep distrust of the group leader. Back in the group,
Christine felt restrained by her promise and avoided interaction with Jerry, who
eventually dropped out unimproved. Ironically, Christine was an exceptionally
sensitive member of the group and might have been particularly useful to Jerry by
encouraging him to participate in the group had she not felt restrained by the
antitherapeutic subgroup norm (that is, her promise of confidentiality).
Sharing with the rest of the members what one has learned in extragroup contacts is
tricky. The leader addressing such an issue must take care to avoid situations where
members feel humiliated or betrayed.
• An older, paternal man often gave two other group members a ride. On one
occasion he invited them to watch television at his house. The visitors witnessed an
argument between the man and his wife and at a subsequent group session told
him that they felt he was mistreating his wife. The older group member felt so
betrayed by the two members, whom he had considered his friends, that he began
concealing more from the group and ultimately dropped out of treatment.
Severe clinical problems occur when group members engage in sexual relations: they

often hesitate to “besmirch” (as one client phrased it) an intimate relationship by giving it
a public airing. Freud never practiced clinical group therapy, but in 1921 he wrote a
prescient essay on group psychology in which he underscored the incompatibility between
a sexual love relationship and group cohesiveness.6 Though we may disagree with the
cornerstone of his argument (that inhibited sexual instincts contribute to the cohesive
energy of the group), his conclusions are compelling: that is, no group tie—be it race,
nationality, social class, or religious belief—can remain unthreatened by the overriding
importance that two people in love can have for each other.
Obviously, the ties of the therapy group are no exception. Members of a therapy group
who become involved in a love/sexual relationship will almost inevitably come to award
their dyadic relationship higher priority than their relationship to the group. In doing so,
they sacrifice their value for each other as helpmates in the group; they refuse to betray
confidences; rather than being honest in the group, they engage in courtship behavior—
they attempt to be charming to each other, they assume poses in the group, they perform
for each other, blotting out the therapists, other members of the group, and, most
important, their primary goals in therapy. Often the other group members are dimly aware
that something important is being actively avoided in the group discussion, a state of
affairs that usually results in global group inhibition. An unusual chance incident provided
evidence substantiating these comments.7
• A research team happened to be closely studying a therapy group in which two
members developed a clandestine sexual relationship. Since the study began
months before the liaison occurred, good baseline data are available. Several
observers (as well as the clients themselves, in postgroup questionnaires) had for
months rated each meeting along a seven-point scale for amount of affect
expressed, amount of self-disclosure, and general value of the session. In addition,
the communication-flow system was recorded with the number and direction of
each member’s statements charted on a who-to-whom matrix.
During the observation period, Bruce and Geraldine developed a sexual
relationship and kept it secret from the therapist and the rest of the group for three
weeks. During these three weeks, the data (when studied in retrospect) showed a
steep downward gradient in the scoring of the quality of the meetings, and reduced
verbal activity, expression of affect, and self-disclosure. Moreover, scarcely any
verbal exchanges between Geraldine and Bruce were recorded!
This last finding is the quintessential reason that subgrouping impedes therapy. The
primary goal of group therapy is to facilitate each member’s exploration of his or her
interpersonal relationships. Here were two people who knew each other well, had the
potential of being deeply helpful to each other, and yet barely spoke to each other in the
group.
The couple resolved the problem by deciding that one of them would drop out of the
group (not an uncommon resolution). Geraldine dropped out, and in the following
meeting, Bruce discussed the entire incident with relief and great candor. (The ratings by
both the group members and the observers indicated this meeting to be valuable, with

active interaction, strong affect expression, and much disclosure from others as well as
Bruce.)
The positive, affiliative effects of subgrouping within the therapy group may be turned
to therapeutic advantage.8 From the perspective of a general systems approach, the therapy
group is a large and dynamic group made up of several smaller subgroups. Subgrouping
occurs (and may be encouraged by the therapist) as a necessary component of elucidating,
containing, and ultimately integrating areas of conflict or distress within the group. Clients
who have difficulty acknowledging their feelings or disclosing themselves may do better if
they sense they are not alone. Hence, the therapist may actively point out functional, but
shifting, subgroups of members who share some basic intra- or interpersonal concern and
urge that the subgroup work together in the group and share the risks of disclosure as well
as the relief of universality.

Exclusion. Exclusion from the subgroup also complicates group life. Anxiety associated
with earlier peer exclusion experiences is evoked, and if it is not discharged by working-
through, it may become disabling. Often it is exceptionally difficult for members to
comment on their feelings of exclusion: they may not want to reveal their envy of the
special relationship, or they may fear angering the involved members by “outing” the
subgroup in the session.
Nor are therapists immune to this problem. I recall, a group therapist, one of my
supervisees, observed two of his group members (both married) walking arm in arm along
the street. The therapist found himself unable to bring his observation back into the group.
Why? He offered several reasons:
• He did not want to assume the position of spy or disapproving parent in the eyes of
the group.
• He works in the here-and-now and is not free to bring up nongroup material.
• The involved members would, when psychologically ready, discuss the problem.
These are rationalizations, however. There is no more important issue than the
interrelationship of the group members. Anything that happens between group members is
part of the here-and-now of the group. The therapist who is unwilling to bring in all
material bearing on member relationships can hardly expect members to do so. If you feel
yourself trapped in a dilemma—on the one hand, knowing that you must bring in such
observations and, on the other, not wanting to seem a spy—then generally the best
approach is to share your dilemma with the group, both your observations and your
personal uneasiness and reluctance to discuss them.†
Therapeutic Considerations
By no means is subgrouping, with or without extragroup socializing, invariably disruptive.

If the goals of the subgroup are consonant with those of the parent group, subgrouping
may ultimately enhance group cohesiveness. For example, a coffee group or a bowling
league may operate successfully and increase the morale of a larger social organization. In
therapy groups, some of the most significant incidents occur as a result of some
extragroup member contacts that are then fully worked through in therapy.
• Two women members who went to a dance together after a meeting discussed, in
the following meeting, their observations of each other in that purely social setting.
One of them had been far more flirtatious, even openly seductive, than she had
been in the group; furthermore, much of this was “blind spot” behavior—out of
her awareness.
• Another group scheduled a beer party for one member who was terminating.
Unfortunately, he had to leave town unexpectedly, and the party was canceled. The
member acting as social secretary notified the others of the cancellation but by
error neglected to contact one member, Jim. On the night of the party Jim waited,
in vain, at the appointed place for two hours, experiencing many familiar feelings
of rejection, exclusion, and bitter loneliness. The discussion of these reactions and
of Jim’s lack of any annoyance or anger and his feeling that his being excluded
was natural, expected, the way it should be, led to much fruitful therapeutic work
for him. When the party was finally held, considerable data was generated about
the group. Members displayed different aspects of themselves. For example, the
member who was least influential in the group because of his emotional isolation
and his inability or unwillingness to disclose himself assumed a very different role
because of his wit, store of good jokes, and easy social mannerisms. A
sophisticated and experienced member reencountered his dread of social situations
and inability to make small talk, and took refuge behind the role of host, devoting
his time busily to refilling empty glasses.

• In another group, a dramatic example of effective subgrouping occurred when
the members became concerned about one member who was in such despair that
she considered suicide. Several group members maintained a weeklong telephone
vigil, which proved to be beneficial both to that client and to the cohesiveness of
the entire group.

• The vignette of the man who liked Robin Hood, described in chapter 2, is another
example of subgrouping that enhanced therapeutic work. The client attempted to
form an extragroup alliance with every member of the group and ultimately, as a
result of his extragroup activity, arrived at important insights about his
manipulative modes of relating to peers and about his adversarial stance toward
authority figures.
The principle is clear: any contact outside a group may prove to be of value provided
that the goals of the parent group are not relinquished. If such meetings are viewed as part

of the group rhythm of action and subsequent analysis of this action, much valuable
information can be made available to the group. To achieve this end, the involved
members must inform the group of all important extragroup events. If they do not, the
disruptive effects on cohesiveness I have described will occur. The cardinal principle is: it
is not the subgrouping per se that is destructive to the group, but the conspiracy of silence
that generally surrounds it.
In practice, groups that meet only once a week often experience more of the disruptive
than the beneficial effects of subgrouping. Much extragroup socializing never comes
directly to the group’s attention, and the behavior of the involved members is never made
available for analysis in the group. For example, the extragroup relationship I described
between Christine and Jerry, in which Jerry revealed in confidence his pedophilic
obsessions, was never made known to the group. Christine disclosed the incident more
than a year later to a researcher who interviewed her in a psychotherapy outcome study.
The therapist should encourage open discussion and analysis of all extragroup contacts
and all in-group coalitions and continue to emphasize the members’ responsibility to bring
extragroup contacts into the group. The therapist who surmises from glances between two
members in the group, or from their appearance together outside the group, that a special
relationship exists between them should not hesitate to present this thought to the group.
No criticism or accusation is implied, since the investigation and understanding of an
affectionate relationship between two members may be as therapeutically rewarding as the
exploration of a hostile impasse. The therapist must attempt to disconfirm the
misconception that psychotherapy is reductionistic in its ethos, that all experience will be
reduced to some fundamental (and base) motive. Furthermore, other members must be
encouraged to discuss their reaction to the relationship, whether it be envy, jealousy,
rejection, or vicarious satisfaction.9
One practical caveat: clients engaged in some extragroup relationship that they are not
prepared to discuss in the therapy group may ask the therapist for an individual session
and request that the material discussed not be divulged to the rest of the group. If you
make such a promise, you may soon find yourself in an untenable collusion from which
extrication is difficult. I would suggest that you refrain from offering a promise of
confidentiality but instead assure the clients that you will be guided by your professional
judgment and act sensitively, in their therapeutic behalf. Though this may not offer
sufficient reassurance to all members, it will protect you from entering into awkward,
antitherapeutic pacts.
Therapy group members may establish sexual relationships with one another, but not
with great frequency. The therapy group is not prurient; clients often have sexual conflicts
resulting in such problems as impotence, nonarousal, social alienation, and sexual guilt. I
feel certain that far less sexual involvement occurs in a therapy group than in any equally
long-lasting social or professional group.
The therapist cannot, by edict, prevent the formation of sexual relations or any other
form of subgrouping. Sexual acting out and compulsivity are often symptoms of
relationship difficulties that led to therapy in the first place. The emergence of sexual

acting out in the group may well present a unique therapeutic opportunity to examine the
behavior.
Consider the clinical example of the Grand Dame described in chapter 2. Recall that
Valerie seduced Charles and Louis as part of her struggle for power with the group
therapist. The episode was, in one sense, disruptive for the group: Valerie’s husband
learned of the incident and threatened Charles and Louis, who, along with other members,
grew so distrustful of Valerie that dissolution of the group appeared imminent. How was
the crisis resolved? The group expelled Valerie, who then, somewhat sobered and wiser,
continued therapy in another group. Despite these potentially catastrophic complications,
some considerable benefits occurred. The episode was thoroughly explored within the
group, and the participants obtained substantial help with their sexual issues. For example,
Charles, who had a history of a Don Juan style of relationships with women, at first
washed his hands of the incident by pointing out that Valerie had approached him and, as
he phrased it, “I don’t turn down a piece of candy when it’s offered.” Louis also tended to
disclaim responsibility for his relationships with women, whom he customarily regarded
as a “piece of ass.” Both Charles and Louis were presented with powerful evidence of the
implications of their act—the effects on Valerie’s marriage and on their own group—and
so came to appreciate their personal responsibility for their acts. Valerie, for the first time,
realized the sadistic nature of her sexuality; not only did she employ sex as a weapon
against the therapist but, as I have already described, as a means of depreciating and
humiliating Charles and Louis.
Though extragroup subgrouping cannot be forbidden, neither should it be encouraged. I
have found it most helpful to make my position on this problem explicit to members in the
preparatory or initial sessions. I tell them that extragroup activity often impedes therapy,
and I clearly describe the complications caused by subgrouping. I emphasize that if
extragroup meetings occur, fortuitously or by design, then it is the subgroupers’
responsibility to the other members and to the group to keep the others fully informed. As
I noted in chapter 10, the therapist must help the members understand that the group
therapy experience is a dress rehearsal for life; it is the bridge, not the destination. It will
teach the skills necessary to establish durable relationships but will not provide the
relationships. If group members do not transfer their learning, they derive their social
gratification exclusively from the therapy group and therapy becomes interminable.
It is my experience that it is unwise to include two members in a group who already
have a long-term special relationship: husband and wife, roommates, business associates,
and so on. Occasionally, the situation may arise in which two members naively arrive for a
first meeting and discover that they know one another from a prior or preexisting personal
or employment relationship. It is not the most auspicious start to a group, but the therapist
must not avoid examining the situation openly and thoroughly. Is the relationship
ongoing? Will the two members be less likely to be fully open in the group? Are there
concerns about confidentiality? How will it affect other group members? Is there a better
or more workable option? A quick and a shared decision must be reached about how to
proceed.

It is possible for group therapy to focus on current long-term relationships, but that
entails a different kind of therapy group than that described in this book—for example, a
marital couples’ group, conjoint family therapy, and multiple-family therapy.†
In inpatient psychotherapy groups and day hospital programs, the problem of
extragroup relationships is even more complex, since the group members spend their
entire day in close association with one another. The following case is illustrative.
• In a group in a psychiatric hospital for criminal offenders, a subgrouping
problem had created great divisiveness. Two male members—by far the most
intelligent, articulate, and educated of the group—had formed a close friendship
and spent much of every day together. The group sessions were characterized by
an inordinate amount of tension and hostile bickering, much of it directed at these
two men, who by this time had lost their separate identities and were primarily
regarded, and regarded themselves, as a dyad. Much of the attacking was off
target, and the therapeutic work of the group had become overshadowed by the
attempt to destroy the dyad.
As the situation progressed, the therapist, with good effect, helped the group
explore several themes. First, the group had to consider that the two members
could scarcely be punished for their subgrouping, since everyone had had an equal
opportunity to form such a relationship. The issue of envy was thus introduced, and
gradually the members discussed their own longing and inability to establish
friendships. Furthermore, they discussed their feelings of intellectual inferiority to
the dyad as well as their sense of exclusion and rejection by them. The two
members had, however, augmented these responses by their actions. Both had, for
years, maintained their self-esteem by demonstrating their intellectual superiority
whenever possible. When addressing other members, they deliberately used
polysyllabic words and maintained a conspiratorial attitude, which accentuated
the others’ feelings of inferiority and rejection. Both members profited from the
group’s description of the subtle rebuffs and taunts they had meted out and came to
realize that others had suffered painful effects from their behavior.
Nota bene that my comments on the potential dangers of subgrouping apply to groups
that rely heavily on the therapeutic factor of interpersonal learning. In other types of
groups, such as cognitive-behavioral groups for eating disorders, extragroup socializing
has been shown to be beneficial in altering eating patterns.10 Twelve-step groups, self-help
groups, and support groups also make good use of extragroup contact. In support groups
of, for example, cancer patients extragroup contact becomes an essential part of the
process, and participants may be actively encouraged to contact one another between
sessions as an aid in coping with the illness and its medical treatment.11 On many
occasions, I have seen the group rally around members in deep despair and provide
extraordinary support through telephone contact.
Clinical Example

I end this section with a lengthy clinical illustration—the longest in the book. I include it
because it shows in depth not only many of the issues involved in subgrouping but also
other aspects of group therapy discussed in other chapters, including the differentiation
between primary task and secondary gratification and the assumption of personal
responsibility in therapy.
The group met twice weekly. The participants were young, ranging in age from twenty-
five to thirty-five. At the time we join the group, two women had recently graduated,
leaving only four male clients. Bill, the male lead in the drama to unfold, was a tall,
handsome thirty-two-year-old divorced dentist and had been in the group for about eight
months without making significant progress. He originally sought therapy because of
chronic anxiety and episodic depressions. He was socially self-conscious to the degree that
simple acts—for example, saying good night at a party—caused him much torment. If he
could have been granted one wish by some benevolent therapeutic muse, it would have
been to be “cool.” He was dissatisfied with work, he had no male friends, and he highly
sexualized his relationships with women. Though he had been living with a woman for a
few months, he felt neither love nor commitment toward her.
The group, waiting for new members, met for several sessions with only the four men
and established a virile, Saturday-night, male-bonding subculture. Issues that had rarely
surfaced while women were in the group frequently occupied center stage: masturbatory
practices and fantasies, fear of bullies and feelings of cowardice about fighting, concerns
about physique, lustful feelings about the large breasts of a woman who had been in the
group, and fantasies of a “gang bang” with her.
Two women were then introduced into the group, and never has a well-established
culture disintegrated so quickly. The Saturday-night camaraderie was swept away by a
flood of male dominance behavior. Bill boldly and brazenly competed for not one but both
women. The other men in the group reacted to the first meeting with the two women
members in accordance with their dynamic patterns.
Rob, a twenty-five-year-old graduate student, arrived at the meeting in lederhosen, the
only time in eighteen months of therapy he thus bedecked himself, and during the meeting
was quick to discuss, in detail, his fears of (and his attraction to) other men. Another
member made an appeal to the maternal instincts of the new female additions by
presenting himself as a fledgling with a broken wing. The remaining member removed
himself from the race by remarking, after the first forty minutes, that he wasn’t going to
join the others in the foolish game of competing for the women’s favors; besides, he had
been observing the new members and concluded that they had nothing of value to offer
him.
One of the women, Jan, was an attractive twenty-eight-year-old, divorced woman with
two children. She was a language professor who sought therapy for many reasons:
depression, promiscuity, and loneliness. She complained that she could not say no to an
attractive man. Men used her sexually: they would drop by her home for an hour or two in
the evening for sex but would not be willing to be seen with her in daylight. There was an
active willingness on her part, too, as she boasted of having had sexual relations with most

of the heads of the departments at the college where she taught. Because of poor
judgment, she was in deep financial trouble. She had written several bad checks and was
beginning to flirt with the idea of prostitution: If men were exploiting her sexually, then
why not charge them for her favors?
In the pregroup screening interviews and preparatory sessions, I realized that her
promiscuity made her a likely candidate for self-destructive sexual acting-out in the group.
Therefore, I had taken much greater pains than usual to emphasize that outside social
involvement with other group members would not be in her or the group’s best interests.
After the entrance of the two women, Bill’s group behavior altered radically: he
disclosed himself less; he preened; he crowed; he played a charming, seductive role; he
became far more deliberate and self-conscious in his actions. In short, in pursuit of
secondary sexual gratification, he appeared to lose all sense of why he was in a therapy
group. Rather than welcoming my comments to him, he resented them: he felt they made
him look bad in front of the women. He rapidly jettisoned his relationship with the men in
the group and thenceforth related to them dishonestly. For example, in the first meeting,
when one of the male members told the women he felt they had nothing of value to offer
him, Bill rushed in to praise him for his honesty, even though Bill’s real feeling at that
moment was exhilaration that the other had folded his tent and left him in sole possession
of the field of women. At this stage, Bill resisted any intervention. I tried many times
during these weeks to illuminate his behavior for him, but I might as well have tried to
strike a match in a monsoon.
After approximately three months, Jan made an overt sexual proposition to Bill, which I
learned of in a curious way. Bill and Jan happened to arrive early in the group room, and
in their conversation, Jan invited Bill to her apartment to view some pornographic movies.
Observers viewing the group through a one-way mirror had also arrived early, overheard
the proposition, and related it to me after the meeting. I felt uneasy about how the
information had been obtained; nonetheless, I brought up the incident in the next meeting,
only to have Jan and Bill deny that a sexual invitation had been made. The discussion
ended with Jan angrily stomping out midway through the meeting.
In succeeding weeks, after each meeting she and Bill met in the parking lot for long
talks and embraces. Jan brought these incidents back into the meeting but, in so doing,
incurred Bill’s anger for betraying him. Eventually, Bill made an overt sexual proposition
to Jan, who, on the basis of much work done in the group, decided it would be against her
best interests to accept. For the first time, she said no to an attractive, interested, attentive
man and received much group support for her stance.
(I am reminded of an episode Victor Frankl once told me of a man who had consulted
him on the eve of his marriage. He had had a sexual invitation from a strikingly beautiful
woman, a friend of his fiancée, and felt he could not pass it up. When would such an
opportunity come his way again? It was, he insisted, a unique, once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity! Dr. Frankl—quite elegantly, I think—pointed out that he did indeed have a
unique opportunity and, indeed, it was one that would never come again. It was the
opportunity to say “no” in the service of his responsibility to himself and his chosen

mate!)
Bill, meanwhile, was finding life in the group increasingly complex. He was pursuing
not only Jan but also Gina, who had entered the group with Jan. At the end of each
meeting, Bill struggled with such conundrums as how to walk out of the group alone with
each woman at the same time. Jan and Gina were at first very close, almost huddling
together for comfort as they entered an all-male group. It was to Bill’s advantage to
separate them, and in a number of ways he contrived to do so. Not only did Bill have a
“divide and seduce” strategy, but he also found something intrinsically pleasurable in the
process of splitting. He had had a long history of splitting and seducing roommates and,
before that, of interposing himself between his mother and his sister.
Gina had, with the help of much prior therapy, emerged from a period of promiscuity
similar to Jan’s. Compared with Jan, though, she was more desperate for help, more
committed to therapy, and committed to a relationship with her boyfriend. Consequently,
she was not eager to consummate a sexual relationship with Bill. However, as the group
progressed she developed a strong attraction to him and an even stronger determination
that, if she could not have him, neither would Jan. One day in the group, Gina
unexpectedly announced that she was getting married in three weeks and invited the group
to the wedding. She described her husband-to-be as a rather passive, clinging, ne’er-do-
well. It was only many months later that the group learned he was a highly gifted
mathematician who was considering faculty offers from several leading universities.
Thus, Gina, too, pursued secondary gratification rather than her primary task. In her
efforts to keep Bill interested in her and to compete with Jan, she misrepresented her
relationship with another man, underplaying the seriousness of her involvement until her
marriage forced her hand. Even then, she presented her husband in a fraudulently
unfavorable light so as to nourish Bill’s hopes that he still had an opportunity for a liaison
with her. In so doing, Gina sacrificed the opportunity to work in the group on her
relationship with her fiancé—one of the urgent tasks for which she had sought therapy!
After several months in the group, Jan and Bill decided to have an affair and announced
to the group their planned assignation two weeks later. The members reacted strongly. The
other two women (another had entered the group by this time) were angry. Gina felt
secretly hurt at Bill’s rejection of her, but expressed anger only at how his and Jan’s
liaison would threaten the integrity of the group. The new member, who had a relationship
with a man similar to Bill, identified with Bill’s girlfriend. Some of the men participated
vicariously, perceiving Jan as a sexual object and rooting for Bill to “score.” Another said
(and as time went by this sentiment was heard more often) that he wished Bill would
“hurry up and screw her” so that they could talk about something else in the group. He
was an anxious, timid man who had had no heterosexual experience whatsoever. The
sexual goings-on in the group were, as he phrased it, so far “out of his league” that he
could not participate in any way.
Rob, the man in the group who had had worn lederhosen at Jan and Gina’s first
meeting, silently wished that the heterosexual preoccupation of the group were different.
He had been having increasing concern about his homosexual obsessions but had delayed

discussing them in the group for many weeks because of his sense that the group would be
unreceptive to his needs and that he would lose the respect of the members, who placed
such extraordinary value on heterosexual prowess.
Eventually, however, he did discuss these issues, with some relief. It is important to
note that Bill, aside from advice and solicitude, offered Rob very little. Some ten months
later, after Rob left the group and after the Bill-Jan pairing had been worked through, Bill
disclosed his own homosexual concerns and fantasies. Had Bill, whom Rob admired very
much, shared these at the appropriate time, it might have been of considerable help to
Rob. Bill would not at that time, however, disclose anything that might encumber his
campaign to seduce Jan—another instance of how the pursuit of secondary gratification
rendered the group less effective.
Once their sexual liaison began, Jan and Bill became even more inaccessible for group
scrutiny and for therapeutic work. They began speaking of themselves as “we” and
resisted all exhortations from me and the other members to learn about themselves by
analyzing their behavior. At first it was difficult to know what was operating between the
two aside from powerful lust. I knew that Jan’s sense of personal worth was centered
outside herself. To keep others interested in her she needed, she felt, to give gifts—
especially sexual ones.
Furthermore, there was a vindictive aspect: she had previously triumphed over
important men (department chairmen and several employers) by sexual seduction. It
seemed likely that Jan felt powerless in her dealings with me. Her chief coinage with men
—sex—afforded her no significant influence over me, but it did permit an indirect victory
through the medium of Bill. I learned much later how she and Bill would gleefully romp
in bed, relishing the thought of how they had put something over on me. In the group, Bill
not only recapitulated his sexualization of relationships and his repetitive efforts to prove
his potency by yet another seduction, but he also found particularly compelling the
opportunity for Oedipal mastery—taking women away from the leader.
Thus, Bill and Jan, in a rich behavioral tapestry, displayed their dynamics and re-created
their social environment in the microcosm of the group. Bill’s narcissism and inauthentic
mode of relating to women were clearly portrayed. He often made innuendoes to the effect
that his relationship with the woman he lived with was deteriorating, thus planting a seed
of matrimonial hope in Jan’s imagination. Bill’s innuendoes colluded with Jan’s enormous
capacity for self-deception: She alone of any of the group members considered marriage to
Bill a serious possibility. When the other members tried to help her hear Bill’s primary
message—that she was not important to him, that she was merely another sexual conquest
—she reacted defensively and angrily.
Gradually, the dissonance between Bill’s private statements and the group’s
interpretations of his intentions created so much discomfort that Jan considered leaving
the group. I reminded her, as forcibly as possible, that this was precisely what I had
warned her about before she entered the group. If she dropped out of therapy, all the
important things that had happened in the group would come to naught. She had had many
brief and unrewarding relationships in the past. The group offered her the unique

opportunity to stay with a relationship and, for once, play the drama through to its end. In
the end Jan decided to stay.
Jan and Bill’s relationship was exclusive: neither related in any significant way to
anyone else in the group, except that Bill attempted to keep erotic channels open to Gina
(to keep his “account open at the bank,” as he put it). Gina and Jan persisted in a state of
unrelenting enmity so extreme that each had homicidal fantasies about the other. (When
Gina married, she invited to the wedding everyone in the group except Jan. Only when a
boycott was threatened by the others was a frosty invitation proffered her.) Bill’s
relationship to me had been very important to him before Jan’s entry. During the first
months of his liaison with Jan, he seemed to forget my presence, but gradually his concern
about me returned. One day, for example, he related a dream in which I escorted all the
members but him into an advanced postgraduate group, while he was pulled by the hand
to a more elementary, “losers” group.
Jan and Bill’s relationship consumed enormous amounts of group energy and time.
Relatively few unrelated themes were worked on in the group, but all of the members
worked on personal issues relating to the pairing: sex, jealousy, envy, fears of competition,
concerns about physical attractiveness. There was a sustained high level of emotion in the
group. Attendance was astoundingly high: over a thirty-meeting stretch there was not a
single absence.
Gradually, Jan and Bill’s relationship began to sour. She had always maintained that all
she wanted from him was his sheer physical presence. One night every two weeks with
him was what she required. Now she was forced to realize that she wanted much more.
She felt pressured in life: she had lost her job and was beset by financial concerns; she had
given up her promiscuity but felt sexual pressures and now began to say to herself,
“Where is Bill when I really need him?” She grew depressed, but rather than work on the
depression in the group, she minimized it. Once again, secondary considerations were
given priority over primary, therapeutic ones, for she was reluctant to give Gina and the
other members the satisfaction of seeing her depressed: They had warned her months ago
that a relationship with Bill would ultimately be self-destructive.
And where, indeed, was Bill? That question plunged us into the core issue of Bill’s
therapy: responsibility. As Jan grew more deeply depressed (a depression punctuated by
accident proneness, including a car crash and a painful burn from a kitchen mishap), the
group confronted Bill with the question: Had he known in advance the outcome of the
adventure, would he have done anything different?
Bill said, “No! I would have done nothing different! If I don’t look after my own
pleasure, who will?” The other members of the group and now Jan, too, attacked him for
his self-indulgence and his lack of responsibility to others. Bill pondered over this
confrontation, only to advance a series of rationalizations at the subsequent meeting.
“Irresponsible? No, I am not irresponsible! I am high-spirited, impish, like Peer Gynt.
Life contains little enough pleasure,” he said. “Why am I not entitled to take what I can?
Who sets those rules?” He insisted that the group members and the therapist, guilefully
dressed in the robes of responsibility, were, in fact, trying to rob him of his life force and

freedom.
For many sessions, the group plunged into the issues of love, freedom, and
responsibility. Jan, with increasing directness, confronted Bill. She jolted him by asking
exactly how much he cared for her. He squirmed and alluded both to his love for her and
to his unwillingness to establish an enduring relationship with any woman. In fact, he
found himself “turned off” by any woman who wanted a long-term relationship.
I was reminded of a comparable attitude toward love in the novel The Fall, where
Camus expresses Bill’s paradox with shattering clarity:
It is not true, after all, that I never loved. I conceived at least one great love in my
life, of which I was always the object … sensuality alone dominated my love
life…. In any case, my sensuality (to limit myself to it) was so real that even for a
ten-minute adventure I’d have disowned father and mother, even were I to regret it
bitterly. Indeed—especially for a ten-minute adventure and even more so if I were
sure it was to have no sequel.12
The group therapist, if he were to help Bill, had to make certain that there was to be a
sequel.
Bill did not want to be burdened with Jan’s depression. There were women all around
the country who loved him (and whose love made him feel alive), yet for him these
women did not have an independent existence. He preferred to think that his women came
to life only when he appeared to them. Once again, Camus spoke for him:
I could live happily only on condition that all the individuals on earth, or the
greatest possible number, were turned toward me, eternally in suspense, devoid of
independent life and ready to answer my call at any moment, doomed in short to
sterility until the day I should deign to favor them. In short, for me to live happily
it was essential for the creatures I chose not to live at all. They must receive their
life, sporadically, only at my bidding.13
Jan pressed Bill relentlessly. She told him that there was another man who was seriously
interested in her, and she pleaded with Bill to level with her, to be honest about his
feelings to her, to set her free. By now Bill was quite certain that he no longer desired Jan.
(In fact, as we were to learn later, he had been gradually increasing his commitment to the
woman with whom he lived.) Yet he could not allow the words to pass his lips—a strange
type of freedom, then, as Bill himself gradually grew to understand: the freedom to take
but not to relinquish. (Camus, again: “Believe me, for certain men at least, not taking what
one doesn’t desire is the hardest thing in the world!”)14 He insisted that he be granted the
freedom to choose his pleasures, yet, as he came to see, he did not have the freedom to
choose for himself. His choice almost invariably resulted in his thinking less well of
himself. And the greater his self-hatred, the more compulsive, the less free, was his
mindless pursuit of sexual conquests that afforded him only an evanescent balm.
Jan’s pathology was equally patent. She ceded her freedom to Bill (a logical paradox);
only he had the power to set her free. I confronted her with her pervasive refusal to accept

her freedom: Why couldn’t she say no to a man? How could men use her sexually unless
she allowed it? It was evident, too, that she punished Bill in an inefficient, self-destructive
manner: she attempted to induce guilt through accidents, depression, and lamentations that
she had trusted a man who had betrayed her and that now she would be ruined for life.
Bill and Jan circled these issues for months. From time to time they would reenter their
old relationship but always with slightly more sobriety and slightly less self-deception.
During a period of nonwork, I sensed that the timing was right and confronted them in a
forcible manner. Jan arrived late at the meeting complaining about the disarray of her
financial affairs. She and Bill giggled as he commented that her irresponsibility about
money made her all the more adorable. I stunned the group by observing that Jan and Bill
were doing so little therapeutic work that I wondered whether it made sense for them to
continue in the group.
Jan and Bill accused me of hypermoralism. Jan said that for weeks she came to the
group only to see Bill and to talk to him after the group; if he left, she did not think she
would continue. I reminded her that the group was not a dating bureau: surely there were
far more important tasks for her to pursue. Bill, I continued, would play no role in the long
scheme of her life and would shortly fade from her memory. Bill had no commitment to
her, and if he were at all honest he would tell her so. Jan rejoined that Bill was the only
one in the group who truly cared for her. I disagreed and said that Bill’s caring for her was
clearly not in her best interests.
Bill left the meeting furious at me (especially at my comment that he would soon fade
from Jan’s mind). For a day, he fantasized marrying her to prove me wrong, but he
returned to the group to plunge into serious work. As his honesty with himself deepened,
as he faced a core feeling of emptiness that a woman’s love had always temporarily filled,
he worked his way through painful feelings of depression that his acting out had kept at
bay. Jan was deeply despondent for two days after the meeting, and then suddenly made
far-reaching decisions about her work, money, men, and therapy.
The group then entered a phase of productive work, which was further deepened when I
introduced a much older woman into the group who brought with her many neglected
themes in the group: aging, death, physical deterioration. Jan and Bill fell out of love.
They began to examine their relationships with others in the group, including the
therapists. Bill stopped lying, first to Jan, then to Gina, then to the other members, and
finally to himself. Jan continued in the group for six more months, and Bill for another
year.
The outcome for both Jan and Bill was—judged by any outcome criteria—stunning. In
interviews nine months after their termination, both showed impressive changes. Jan was
no longer depressed, self-destructive, or promiscuous. She was involved in the most stable
and satisfying relationship with a man she had ever had, and she had gone into a different
and more rewarding career. Bill, once he understood that he had made his relationship
with his girlfriend tenuous to allow him to seek what he really didn’t want, allowed
himself to feel more deeply and married shortly before leaving the group. His anxious
depressions, his tortured self-consciousness, his pervasive sense of emptiness had all been

replaced by their respective, vital counterparts.
I am not able in these few pages to sum up all that was important in the therapy of Jan
and Bill. There was much more to it, including many important interactions with other
members and with me. The development and working through of their extragroup
relationship was, I believe, not a complication but an indispensable part of their therapy.
It is unlikely that Jan would have had the motivation to remain in therapy had Bill not
been present in the group. It is unlikely that without Jan’s presence, Bill’s central problems
would have surfaced clearly and become accessible for therapy.
The price paid by the group, however, was enormous. Vast amounts of group time and
energy were consumed by Jan and Bill. Other members were neglected, and many
important issues went untouched. Most often, such extragroup subgrouping would create a
destructive therapy impasse. † It is most unlikely that a new group, or a group that met
less frequently than twice a week, could have afforded the price. It is also unlikely that Jan
and Bill would have been willing to persevere in their therapeutic work and to remain in
the group had they not already been committed to the group before their love affair began.
CONFLICT IN THE THERAPY GROUP
Conflict cannot be eliminated from human groups, whether dyads, small groups,
macrogroups, or such megagroups as nations and blocs of nations. If overt conflict is
denied or suppressed, invariably it will manifest itself in oblique, corrosive, and often ugly
ways. Although our immediate association with conflict is negative—destruction,
bitterness, war, violence—a moment of reflection brings to mind positive associations:
drama, excitement, change, and development. Therapy groups are no exception. Some
groups become “too nice” and diligently avoid conflict and confrontation, often mirroring
the therapist’s avoidance of aggression. Yet conflict is so inevitable in the course of a
group’s development that its absence suggests some impairment of the developmental
sequence. Furthermore, conflict can be exceeding valuable to the course of therapy,
provided that its intensity does not exceed the members’ tolerance and that proper group
norms have been established. Learning how to deal effectively with conflict is an
important therapeutic step that contributes to individual maturation and emotional
resilience. 15 In this section, I consider conflict in the therapy group—its sources, its
meaning, and its contribution to therapy.
Sources of Hostility
There are many sources of hostility in the therapy group and an equal number of relevant
explanatory models and perspectives, ranging from ego psychology to object relations to
self psychology.16 The group leader’s capacity to identify the individual, interpersonal,

and group dynamic contributions to the hostility in the group is essential.17
Some antagonisms are projections of the client’s self-contempt. Indeed, often many
sessions pass before some individuals really begin to hear and respect the opinions of
other members. They have so little self-regard that it is at first inconceivable that others
similar to themselves have something valuable to offer. Devaluation begets devaluation,
and a destructive interpersonal loop can be readily launched.
Transference or parataxic distortions often generate hostility in the therapy group. One
may respond to others not on the basis of reality but on the basis of an image of the other
distorted by one’s own past relationships and current interpersonal needs and fears. Should
the distortion be negatively charged, then a mutual antagonism may be easily initiated.
The group may function as a “hall of mirrors,”†18 which may aggravate hostile and
rejecting feelings and behaviors. Individuals may have long suppressed some traits or
desires of which they are much ashamed; when they encounter another person who
embodies these very traits, they generally shun the other or experience a strong but
inexplicable antagonism toward the person. The process may be close to consciousness
and recognized easily with guidance by others, or it may be deeply buried and understood
only after many months of investigation.
• One patient, Vincent, a second-generation Italian-American who had grown up in
the Boston slums and obtained a good education with great difficulty, had long
since dissociated himself from his roots. Having invested his intellect with
considerable pride, he spoke with great care in order to avoid betraying any
nuance of his accent or background. In fact, he abhorred the thought of his lowly
past and feared that he would be found out, that others would see through his front
to his core, which he regarded as ugly, dirty, and repugnant. In the group, Vincent
experienced extreme antagonism for another member, also of Italian descent, who
had, in his values and in his facial and hand gestures, retained his identification
with his ethnic group. Through his investigation of his antagonism toward this
man, Vincent arrived at many important insights about himself.

• In a group of psychiatric residents, Pat agonized over whether to transfer to a
more academically oriented residency. The group, with one member, Clem, as
spokesman, resented the group time Pat took for this problem, rebuking him for his
weakness and indecisiveness and insisting that he “crap or get off the pot.” When
the therapist guided the group members into an exploration of the sources of their
anger toward Pat, many dynamics became evident (several of which I will discuss
in chapter 17). One of the strongest sources was uncovered by Clem, who
discussed his own paralyzing indecisiveness. He had, a year earlier, faced the
same decision as Pat and, unable to act decisively, had resolved the dilemma
passively by suppressing it. Pat’s behavior reawakened that painful scenario for
Clem, who resented the other man not only for disturbing his uneasy slumber but
also for struggling with the issue more honestly and more courageously than he
had.

J. Frank described a reverberating double-mirror reaction:
• In one group, a prolonged feud developed between two Jews, one of whom
flaunted his Jewishness while the other tried to conceal it. Each finally realized
that he was combating in the other an attitude he repressed in himself. The militant
Jew finally understood that he was disturbed by the many disadvantages of being
Jewish, and the man who hid his background confessed that he secretly nurtured a
certain pride in it.19
Another source of conflict in groups arises from projective identification , an
unconscious process which consists of projecting some of one’s own (but disavowed)
internal attributes into another, toward whom one subsequently feels an uncanny
attraction-repulsion. A stark literary example of projective identification occurs in
Dostoevsky’s nightmarish tale “The Double,” in which the protagonist encounters a man
who is his physical double and yet a personification of all the dimly perceived, hated
aspects of himself.20 The tale depicts with astonishing vividness both the powerful
attraction and the horror and hatred that develop between the protagonist and his double.
Projective identification has intrapsychic and interpersonal components. 21 It is both a
defense (primitive in nature because it polarizes, distorts, and fragments reality), and a
form of interpersonal relationship.†22 Elements of one’s disowned self are put not only
onto another and shunned, as in simple projection, but into another. The behavior of the
other actually changes within the ongoing relationship because the overt and covert
communication of the projector influences the recipient’s psychological experience and
behavior. Projective identification resembles two distorting mirrors facing each other
producing increasing distortions as the reflected images bounce back and forth.23
There are many other sources of anger in group therapy. Individuals with a fragile sense
of self can respond with rage to experiences of shame, dismissal, empathic failure, or
rejection and seek to bolster their personal stature by retaliation or interpersonal coercion.
At times anger can be a desperate reaction to one’s sense of fragmentation in the face of
interpersonal rejection and may represent the client’s best effort at avoiding total
emotional collapse.24
Rivalry and envy may also fuel conflict. Group members may compete with one
another in the group for the largest share of the therapist’s attention or for some particular
role: for example, the most powerful, respected, sensitive, disturbed, or needy person in
the group. Members (fueled perhaps by unconscious remnants of sibling rivalry) search
for signs that the therapist may favor one or another of the members. In one group, for
example, one member asked the therapist where he was going on vacation and he
answered with uncharacteristic candor. This elicited a bitter response from another
member, who recalled how her sister had always received things from her parents that she
had been denied.†25
The addition of new members often ignites rivalrous feelings:
• In the fiftieth meeting of one group, a new member, Ginny,ac was added. In many

aspects she was similar to Douglas, one of the original members: they were both
artists, mystical in their approach to life, often steeped in fantasy, and all too
familiar with their unconscious. It was not affinity, however, but antagonism that
soon developed between the two. Ginny immediately established her characteristic
role by behaving in a spiritlike, irrational, and disorganized fashion in the group.
Douglas, who saw his role as the sickest and most disorganized member being
usurped, reacted to her with intolerance and irritation. Only after active
interpretation of the role conflict and Douglas’s assumption of a new role (“most
improved member”) was an entente between the two members achieved.
As the group progresses, the members may grow increasingly impatient and angry with
those who have not adopted the group’s norms of behavior. If someone, for example,
continues to hide behind a facade, the group may coax her and attempt to persuade her to
participate. After some time patience gives out and the members may angrily demand that
she be more honest with herself and the others.
Certain members, because of their character structure, will invariably be involved in
conflict and will engender conflict in any group. Consider a man with a paranoid
personality disorder whose assumptive world is that there is danger in the environment.
He is eternally suspicious and vigilant. He examines all experience with an extraordinary
bias as he searches for clues and signs of danger. He is tight, ready for an emergency. He
is never playful and looks suspiciously upon such behavior in others, anticipating their
efforts to exploit him. Obviously, these traits will not endear that individual to the other
group members. Sooner or later, anger will erupt all around him; and the more severe and
rigid his character structure, the more extreme will be the conflict. Eventually, if therapy is
to succeed, the client must access and explore the feelings of vulnerability that reside
beneath the hostile mistrust.
In chapter 11, I discussed yet another source of hostility in the group: members become
disenchanted and disappointed with the therapist for frustrating their (unrealistic)
expectations.† If the group is unable to confront the therapist directly, it may create a
scapegoat—a highly unsatisfactory solution for both victim and group. In fact,
scapegoating is a method by which the group can discharge anger arising from threats to
the group’s integrity and function, and it is a common phenomenon in any therapy group.
The choice of a scapegoat generally is not arbitrary. Some people repeatedly find
themselves in a scapegoat role, in a variety of social situations. It is useful for therapists to
view scapegoating as created jointly by the group members and the scapegoat.26
Hostility in the group can also be understood from the perspective of stages of group
development. In the early phase, the group fosters regression and the emergence of
irrational, uncivilized parts of individuals. The young group is also beset with anxiety
(from fear of exposure, shame, stranger anxiety, powerlessness) that may be expressed as
hostility. Prejudice (which is a way of reducing anxiety through a false belief that one
knows the other) may make an early appearance in the group and, of course, elicits
reciprocal anger from others. Throughout the course of the group, narcissistic injury
(wounds to self-esteem from feedback or being overlooked, unappreciated, excluded, or

misunderstood) is often suffered and is often expressed by angry retaliation. Still later in
the course of the group, anger may stem from other sources: projective tendencies, sibling
rivalry, transference, or the premature termination of some members.†
Management of Hostility
Regardless of its source, the discord, once begun, follows a predictable sequence. The
antagonists develop the belief that they are right and the others are wrong, that they are
good and the others bad. Moreover, although it is not recognized at the time, these beliefs
are characteristically held with equal conviction and certitude by each of the two opposing
parties. Where such a situation of opposing beliefs exists, we have all the ingredients for a
deep and continuing tension, even to the point of impasse.
Generally, a breakdown in communication ensues. The two parties cease to listen to
each other with any understanding. If they were in a social situation, the two opponents
would most likely completely rupture their relationship at this point and never be able to
correct their misunderstandings.
Not only do the opponents stop listening, but they may also unwittingly distort their
perceptions of one another. Perceptions are filtered through a screen of stereotype. The
opponent’s words and behavior are distorted to fit a preconceived view. Contrary evidence
is ignored; conciliatory gestures may be perceived as deceitful tricks. (The analogy to
international relations is all too obvious.) In short, there is a greater investment in
verification of one’s beliefs than in understanding the other.27
Distrust is the basis for this sequence. Opponents view their own actions as honorable
and reasonable, and the behavior of others as scheming and evil. If this sequence, so
common in human events, were permitted to unfold in therapy groups, the group members
would have little opportunity for change or learning. A group climate and group norms
that preclude such a sequence must be established early in the life of the group.
Cohesiveness is the primary prerequisite for the successful management of conflict.
Members must develop a feeling of mutual trust and respect and come to value the group
as an important means of meeting their personal needs. They must understand the
importance of maintaining communication if the group is to survive; all parties must
continue to deal directly with one another, no matter how angry they become.
Furthermore, everyone is to be taken seriously. When a group treats one member as a
“mascot,” someone whose opinions and anger are lightly regarded, the hope of effective
treatment for that individual has all but officially been abandoned. Covert exchanges
between members, sometimes bordering on the “rolling of one’s eyes” in reaction to the
mascotted member’s participation is an ominous sign. Mascotting jeopardizes group
cohesiveness: no one is safe, particularly the next most peripheral member, who will have
reason to fear similar treatment.
The cohesive group in which everyone is taken seriously soon elaborates norms that
obligate members to go beyond name calling. Members must pursue and explore

derogatory labels and be willing to search more deeply within themselves to understand
their antagonism and to make explicit those aspects of others that anger them. Norms must
be established that make it clear that group members are there to understand themselves,
not to defeat or ridicule others. It is particularly useful if members try to reach within
themselves to identify similar trends and impulses. Terence (a second-century B.C. Roman
dramatist) gave us a valuable perspective when he said, “I am human and nothing human
is alien to me.”28
A member who realizes that others accept and are trying to understand finds it less
necessary to hold rigidly to beliefs and may be more willing to explore previously denied
aspects of self. Gradually, such members may recognize that not all of their motives are as
they have proclaimed, and that some of their attitudes and behavior are not so fully
justified as they have been proclaiming. When this breakthrough step has been achieved,
individuals reappraise the situation and realize that the problem can be viewed in more
than one way.
Empathy is an important element in conflict resolution and facilitates humanization of
the struggle. Often, understanding the past plays an important role in the development of
empathy: Once an individual appreciates how aspects of an opponent’s earlier life have
contributed to the current stance, then the opponent’s position not only makes sense but
may even appear right. Tout comprendre, c’est tout pardonner.
Conflict resolution is often impossible in the presence of off-target or oblique hostility:
• Maria began a group session by requesting and obtaining the therapist’s
permission to read a letter she was writing in conjunction with a court hearing on
her impending divorce, which involved complex issues of property settlement and
child custody. The letter reading consumed considerable time and was often
interrupted by the other members, who disputed the contents of the letter. The
sniping by the group and defensive counterattacks by the protagonist continued
until the group atmosphere crackled with irritability. The group made no
constructive headway until the therapist explored with the members the process of
the meeting. The therapist was annoyed with himself for having permitted the letter
to be read and with Maria for having put him in that position. The group members
were angry at the therapist for having given permission and at Maria both for
consuming so much time and for relating to them in the frustrating, impersonal
manner of letter reading. Once the anger had been directed away from the oblique
target of the letter’s contents onto the appropriate targets—the therapist and Maria
—steps toward conflict resolution could begin.
Permanent conflict abolition, let me note, is not the final goal of the therapy group.
Conflict will continually recur in the group despite successful resolution of past conflicts
and despite the presence of considerable mutual respect and warmth. However,
unrestrained expression of rage is not a goal of the therapy group either.
Although some people relish conflict, the vast majority of group members (and
therapists) are highly uncomfortable when expressing or receiving anger. The therapist’s
task is to harness conflict and use it in the service of growth. One important principle is to

find the right level: too much or too little conflict is counterproductive. The leader is
always finetuning the dial of conflict. When there is persistent conflict, when the group
cannot agree on anything, the leader searches for resolution and wonders why the group
denies any commonality; on the other hand, when the group consistently agrees on
everything, the leader searches for diversity and differentiation. Thus, you need to titrate
conflict carefully. Generally, it is unnecessary to evoke conflict deliberately; if the group
members are interacting with one another openly and honestly, conflict will emerge. More
often, the therapist must intervene to keep conflict within constructive bounds.†
Keep in mind that the therapeutic use of conflict, like all other behavior in the here-and-
now, is a two-step process: experience (affect expression) and reflection upon that
experience. You may control conflict by switching the group from the first to the second
stage. Often a simple, direct appeal is effective: for example, “We’ve been expressing
some intense negative feelings here today as well as last week. To protect us from
overload, it might be valuable to stop what we’re doing and try together to understand
what’s been happening and where all these powerful feelings come from.” Group
members will have different capacities to tolerate conflict. One client responded to the
therapist’s “freezing the frame” (shifting the group to a reflective position) by criticizing
the therapist for cooling things off just when things were getting interesting. A comember
immediately commented that she could barely tolerate more tension and was grateful for a
chance to regroup. It may be useful to think of the shift to process as creating a space for
reflection—a space in which members may explore their mutual contributions to the
conflict. The creation of this space for thoughtful reflection may be of great import—
indeed, it may make the difference between therapeutic impasse and therapeutic growth.29
Receiving negative feedback is painful and yet, if accurate and sensitively delivered,
helpful. The therapist can render it more palatable by making the benefits of feedback
clear to the recipient and enlisting that client as an ally in the process. Often you can
facilitate that sequence by remembering the original presenting interpersonal problems
that brought the individual to therapy or by obtaining verbal contracts from group
members early in therapy, which you can refer back to when the member obtains
feedback.
For example, if at the onset of therapy a client comments that her fiancé accuses her of
trying to tear him down, and that she wishes to work on that problem in the group, you
may nail down a contract by a statement such as: “Carolyn, it sounds as though it would
be helpful to you if we could identify similar trends in your relationships to others in the
group. How would you feel if, from now on, we point this out to you as soon as we see it
happen?” Once this contract has been agreed upon, store it in your mind and, when the
occasion arises (for example when the client receives relevant similar feedback from men
in the group), remind the client that, despite the discomfort, this precise feedback may be
exceptionally useful in understanding her relationship with her fiancé.
Almost invariably, two group members who feel considerable mutual antagonism have
the potential to be of great value to each other (see my novel The Schopenhauer Cure for a
dramatic example of this phenomenon). † Each obviously cares about how he is viewed by

the other. Generally, there is much envy or much mutual projection, which offers the
opportunity to uncover hidden parts of themselves. In their anger, each will point out to
the other important (though unpalatable) truths. The self-esteem of the antagonists may be
increased by the conflict. When people become angry at one another, this in itself may be
taken as an indication that they are important to one another and take one another
seriously. Some have aptly referred to such angry relationships as “tough love” (a term
originating in the Synanon groups for addicts). Individuals who truly care nothing for each
other ignore each other. Individuals may learn another important lesson: that others may
respond negatively to some trait, mannerism, or attitude but still value them.
For clients who have been unable to express anger, the group may serve as a testing
ground for taking risks and learning that such behavior is neither dangerous nor
necessarily destructive. In chapter 2, I described incidents cited by group members as
turning points in their therapy. A majority of these critical incidents involved the
expression, for the first time, of strong negative affect. It is also important for clients to
learn that they can withstand attacks and pressure from others. Emotional resilience and
healthy insulation can be products of work involving conflict.†
Overly aggressive individuals may learn some of the interpersonal consequences of
blind outspokenness. Through feedback, they come to appreciate the impact they have on
others and gradually come to terms with the self-defeating pattern of their behavior. For
many, angry confrontations may provide valuable learning opportunities, since group
members learn to remain in mutually useful contact despite their anger.
Clients may be helped to express anger more directly and more fairly. Even in all-out
conflict, there are tacit rules of war, which, if violated, make satisfactory resolution all but
impossible. For example, in therapy groups combatants will occasionally take information
disclosed by the other in a previous spirit of trust and use it to scorn or humiliate that
person. Or they may refuse to examine the conflict because they claim to have so little
regard for the other that they do not wish to waste any further time. These postures require
vigorous intervention by the therapist. When therapists belatedly realize that an earlier or
different intervention would have been helpful, they should acknowledge that—as
Winnicott once said—the difference between good parents and bad parents was not the
number of mistakes made but what they did with them.30
Sometimes in unusually sustained and destructive situations the leader must forcefully
assume control and set limits. The leader cannot leave such situations to the group alone if
doing so gives license to an individual’s destructive behavior. Consider this description of
limit-setting by Ormont:31
Gabriel crackled with ill will toward everybody. He would not let anyone talk
without shouting them down. When the members demanded I get rid of him, I cut
in on him sharply: “Look, Gabriel, I understand how you feel. I might say the same
things, but with a lighter touch. The difference is that you’re out of control. You
have a fertile imagination. But you’re not moving things along in the group—
you’re simply finding fault and hurting feelings.

He seemed to be listening, so I ventured an interpretation. “You’re telling us
Miriam is no good. I get the impression you’re saying you are no good—a no-good
guy. Either you’re going to cooperate or you’re going to get out!” His reaction
astonished us. Without saying a word to me he turned to Miriam and apologized to
her. Later he told us how he felt my ability to set limits reassured him. Somebody
was in control.
One of the most common indirect and self-defeating modes of fighting is the one used
by Jan in the clinical illustration of subgrouping I described earlier in this chapter. This
strategy calls for the client, in one form or another, to injure himself or herself in the hope
of inducing guilt in the other—the “see what you’ve done to me” strategy. Usually, much
therapeutic work is required to change this pattern. It is generally deeply ingrained, with
roots stretching back to earliest childhood (as in the common childhood fantasy of
watching at your own funeral as parents and other grief-stricken tormentors pound their
breasts in guilt).
Group leaders must endeavor to turn the process of disagreeing into something positive
—a learning situation that encourages members to evaluate the sources of their position
and to relinquish those that are irrationally based. Clients must also be helped to
understand that regardless of the source of their anger, their method of expressing it may
be self-defeating. Feedback is instrumental in this process. For example, members may
learn that, unbeknownst to themselves, they characteristically display scorn, irritation, or
disapproval. Human sensitivity to facial gestures and nuances of expression far exceeds
proprioceptive sensitivity.32 Only through feedback do we learn that we communicate
something that is not intended or, for that matter, even consciously experienced. Focusing
attention on the divergence between a client’s intent and actual impact can significantly
enhance self-awareness.†33
The therapist should also attempt to help the conflicting members learn more about their
opponent’s position. Therapists who feel comfortable using structured exercises may find
that role-switching may be a useful intervention. Members are asked to take the part of
their opponent for a few minutes in order to apprehend the other’s reasons and feelings.
Focused anger-management groups have been applied effectively in a range of settings
and clinical populations, stretching from burdened caregivers of family members with
dementia to war veterans suffering posttraumatic stress disorder. These groups usually
combine psychoeducation (focusing on the connections between thoughts, emotions, and
behavior) and skill building.†
Many group members have the opposite problem of suppressing and avoiding angry
feelings. In groups they learn that others in their situation would feel angry; they learn to
read their own body language (“My fists are clenched so I must be angry”); they learn to
magnify rather than suppress the first flickerings of anger; they learn that it is safe,
permissible, and in their best interests to be direct and to feel and express anger. Most
important, their fear of such behavior is extinguished: their fantasized catastrophe does not
occur, their comments do not result in destruction, guilt, rejection, or escalation of anger.
Strong shared affect may enhance the importance of the relationship. In chapter 3, I

described how group cohesiveness is increased when members of a group go through
intense emotional experiences together, regardless of the nature of the emotion. In this
manner, members of a successful therapy group are like members of a closely knit family,
who may battle each other yet derive much support from their family allegiance. A dyadic
relationship, too, that has weathered much stress is likely to be especially rewarding. A
situation in which two individuals in group therapy experience an intense mutual hatred
and then, through some of the mechanisms I have described, resolve the hatred and arrive
at mutual understanding and respect is always of great therapeutic value.
SELF-DISCLOSURE
Self-disclosure, both feared and valued by participants, plays an integral part in all group
therapies. Without exception, group therapists agree that it is important for clients to
reveal personal material in the group—material that the client would rarely disclose to
others. The self-disclosure may involve past or current events in one’s life, fantasy or
dream material, hopes or aspirations, and current feelings toward other individuals. In
group therapy, feelings toward other members often assume such major importance that
the therapist must devote energy and time to creating the preconditions for disclosure:
trust and cohesiveness.†
Risk
Every self-disclosure involves some risk on the part of the discloser—how much risk
depends in part on the nature of what is disclosed. Disclosing material that has previously
been kept secret or that is highly personal and emotionally charged obviously carries
greater risk. First-time disclosure, that is, the first time one has shared certain information
with anyone else, is felt to be particularly risky.
The amount of risk also depends on the audience. Disclosing members, wishing to
avoid shame, humiliation, and rejection, feel safer if they know that the audience is
sensitive and has also previously disclosed highly personal material.†34
Sequence of Self-Disclosure
Self-disclosure has a predictable sequence. If the receiver of the disclosure is involved in a
meaningful relationship with the discloser (and not merely a casual acquaintance at a
cocktail party) the receiver is likely to feel obligated to reciprocate with some personal
disclosure. Now the receiver as well as the original discloser is vulnerable, and the
relationship usually deepens, with the participants continuing to make slightly more open
and intimate disclosures in turn until some optimal level of intimacy is reached. Thus, in

the cohesive group self-disclosure draws more disclosure, ultimately generating a
constructive loop of trust, self-disclosure, feedback, and interpersonal learning.35
Here is an illustrative example:
• Halfway through a thirty-session course of group therapy, Cam, a thirty-year-old
avoidant, socially isolated, engineer, opened a session by announcing that he
wanted to share a secret with the group: for the past several years, he had
frequented strip clubs, befriending the strippers. He had a fantasy that he would
rescue a stripper, who would then, in gratitude, fall in love with him. Cam went on
to describe how he had spent thousands of dollars on his “rescue missions.” The
group members welcomed his disclosure, especially since it was the first
substantially personal disclosure he had made in the group. Cam responded that
time was running out and he wanted to relate to the others in a real way before the
group ended. This encouraged Marie, a recovering alcoholic, to reciprocate with a
major disclosure: many years ago she had worked as an exotic dancer and
prostitute, and she assured Cam that he could expect nothing but disappointment
and exploitation in that environment. She had never disclosed her past for fear of
the group’s judgment, but felt compelled to respond to Cam: She hated to see such
a decent man engaging in self-destructive relationships. The mutual disclosure,
support, and caring accelerated the work in the subsequent meeting for all the
members.
Adaptive Functions of Self-Disclosure
As disclosures proceed in a group, the entire membership gradually increases its
involvement and responsibility to one another. If the timing is right, nothing will commit
an individual to a group more than receiving or revealing some intimate secret material.
There is nothing more exhilarating than for a member to disclose for the first time material
that has been burdensome for years and to be genuinely understood and fully accepted. †
Interpersonalists such as Sullivan and Rogers maintained that self-acceptance must be
preceded by acceptance by others; in other words, to accept oneself, one must gradually
permit others to know one as one really is.
Research evidence validates the importance of self-disclosure in group therapy.36 In
chapter 3, I described the relationship between self-disclosure and popularity in the group.
Popularity (as determined from sociometrics) correlates with therapy outcome.37 Group
members who disclose extensively in the early meetings are often very popular in their
groups.38 People reveal more to individuals they like; conversely, those who reveal
themselves are more likely to be liked by others.39 Several research inquiries have
demonstrated that high disclosure (either naturally occurring or experimentally induced)
increases group cohesiveness.40 But the relationship between liking and self-disclosure is
not linear. One who discloses too much arouses anxiety in others rather than affection.41 In
other words, both the content and process of self-disclosure need to be considered. Self-

disclosure should be viewed as a means and not an end in itself.42
Much research supports the crucial role of self-disclosure in successful therapy
outcome.43 Successfully treated participants in group therapy made almost twice as many
self-disclosing personal statements during the course of therapy as did unsuccessfully
treated clients.44 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles found that in encounter groups, individuals
who had negative outcomes revealed less of themselves than did the other participants.45
The concept of transfer of learning is vital here: not only are clients rewarded by the
other group members for self-disclosure, but the behavior, thus reinforced, is integrated
into their relationships outside the group, where it is similarly rewarded. Often the first
step toward revealing something to a spouse or a potential close friend is the first-time
disclosure in the therapy group.
Hence, to a significant degree, the impact of self-disclosure is shaped by the
relationship context in which the disclosure occurs. What is truly validating to the client is
to reveal oneself and then to be accepted and supported. Once that happens, the client
experiences a genuine sense of connection and of understanding.46 Keep in mind also that
here-and-now disclosure in particular has a far greater effect on cohesion than then-and-
there disclosure.47
Often clients manifest great resistance to self-disclosure. Frequently a client’s dread of
rejection or ridicule from other members coexists with the hope of acceptance and
understanding.48 Group members often entertain some calamitous fantasy about self-
disclosure; to disclose and to have that calamitous fantasy disconfirmed is highly
therapeutic.
In a bold undergraduate teaching experiment, students confidentially shared a deep
secret with the class. Great care was taken to ensure anonymity. Secrets were written on
uniform paper, read by the instructor in a darkened classroom so as to conceal blushing or
other facial expressions of discomfort, and immediately destroyed. The secrets included
various sexual preferences, illegal or immoral acts (including sexual abuse, cheating,
stealing, drug sales), psychological disturbances, abuse suffered in alcoholic families, and
so on. Immediately after the reading of the secrets, there was a powerful response in the
classroom: “a heavy silence … the atmosphere is palpable … the air warm, heavy, and
electric … you could cut the tension with a knife.” Students reported a sense of relief at
hearing their secrets read—as though a weight had been lifted from them. But there was
even greater relief in the subsequent class discussion, in which students shared their
responses to hearing various secrets, exchanged similar experiences, and not uncommonly
chose to identify which secret they wrote. The peer support was invariably positive and
powerfully reassuring.49
Maladaptive Self-Disclosure
Self-disclosure is related to optimal psychological and social adjustment in a curvilinear

fashion: too much or too little self-disclosure signifies maladaptive interpersonal behavior.
Too little self-disclosure usually results in severely limited opportunity for reality
testing. Those who fail to disclose themselves in a relationship generally forfeit the
opportunity to obtain valid feedback. Furthermore, they prevent the relationship from
developing further; without reciprocation, the other party will either desist from further
self-disclosure or else rupture the relationship entirely.
Group members who do not disclose themselves have little chance of genuine
acceptance by the other members and therefore little chance of experiencing a rise in self-
esteem.50 If a member is accepted on the basis of a false image, no enduring boost in self-
esteem occurs; moreover, that person will then be even less likely to engage in valid self-
disclosure because of the added risk of losing the acceptance gained through the false
presentation of self.51
Some individuals dread self-disclosure, not primarily because of shame or fear of
nonacceptance but because they are heavily conflicted in the area of control. To them, self-
disclosure is dangerous because it makes them vulnerable to the control of others. It is
only when several other group members have made themselves vulnerable through self-
disclosure that such a person is willing to reciprocate.
Self-disclosure blockages will impede individual members as well as entire groups.
Members who have an important secret that they dare not reveal to the group may find
participation on any but a superficial level very difficult, because they will have to conceal
not only the secret but all possible avenues to it. In chapter 5, I discussed in detail how, in
the early stages of therapy, the therapist might best approach the individual who has a big
secret. To summarize, it is advisable for the therapist to counsel the client to share the
secret with the group in order to benefit from therapy. The pace and timing are up to the
client, but the therapist may offer to make the act easier in any way the client wishes.
When the long-held secret is finally shared, it is often illuminating to learn what made it
possible to come forward at this point in time. I will often make such statements as
“You’ve been coming to this group for many weeks wanting to tell us about this secret.
What has changed in you or in the group to make it possible to share it today? What has
happened to allow you to trust us more today?Ӡ See The Schopenhauer Cure for a
graphic example.
Therapists sometimes unwittingly discourage self-disclosure. The most terrifying secret
I have known a client to possess was in a newly formed group that I supervised, which
was led by a neophyte therapist. One year earlier, this woman had murdered her two-year-
old child and then attempted suicide. (The court ruled her insane and released her on the
provision that she undergo therapy.) After fourteen weeks of therapy, not only had she told
nothing of herself but by her militant promulgation of denial and suppressive strategies
(such as invoking astrological tables and ancient mystical sects) had impeded the entire
group. Despite his best efforts and much of my supervisory time, the therapist could find
no method to help the client (or the group) move into therapy. I then observed several
sessions of the group through the two-way mirror and noted, to my surprise, that the client
provided the therapist with many opportunities to help her discuss the secret. A productive

supervisory session was devoted to the therapist’s countertransference. His feelings about
his own two-year-old child and his horror (despite himself) at the client’s act colluded with
her guilt to silence her in the group. In the following meeting, the gentlest question by the
therapist was sufficient to free the client’s tongue and to change the entire character of the
group.
In some groups, self-disclosure is discouraged by a general climate of judgmentalism.
Members are reluctant to disclose shameful aspects of themselves for fear that others will
lose respect for them. In training or therapy groups of mental health professionals, this
issue is even more pressing. Since our chief professional instrument is our own person, at
risk is professional as well as personal loss of respect. In a group of psychiatric residents,
for example, one member, Joe, discussed his lack of confidence as a physician and his
panic whenever he was placed in a lifeor-death clinical situation. Ted, an outspoken, burly
member, acknowledged that Joe’s fear of revealing this material was well founded, since
Ted did lose respect for him and doubted whether he would, in the future, refer patients to
Joe. The other members supported Joe and condemned Ted for his judgmentalism and
suggested that they would be reluctant to refer patients to him. An infinite regress of
judgmentalism can easily ensue, and it is incumbent on the therapist at these times to
make a vigorous process intervention.
The therapist must differentiate, too, between a healthy need for privacy and neurotic
compulsive secrecy.† Some people, who seldom find their way into groups, are private in
an adaptive way: they share intimacies with only a few close friends and shudder at the
thought of self-disclosure in a group. Moreover, they enjoy private self-contemplative
activities. This is a very different thing from privacy based on fear, shame, or crippling
social inhibitions. Men appear to have more difficulty in self-disclosure than women: they
tend to view relationships from the perspective of competition and dominance rather from
tenderness and connectedness.52
Too much self-disclosure can be as maladaptive as too little. Indiscriminate self-
disclosure is neither a goal of mental health nor a pathway to it. Some individuals make
the grievous error of reasoning that if self-disclosure is desirable, then total and
continuous self-disclosure must be a very good thing indeed. Urban life would become
unbearably sticky if every contact between two people entailed sharing personal concerns
and secrets. Obviously, the relationship that exists between discloser and receiver should
be the major factor in determining the pattern of self-disclosure. Several studies have
demonstrated this truth experimentally: individuals disclose different types and amounts of
material depending on whether the receiver is a mother, father, best same-sex friend,
opposite-sex friend, work associate, or spouse.53
However, some maladaptive disclosers disregard, and thus jeopardize, their relationship
with the receiver. The self-disclosing individual who fails to discriminate between
intimate friends and distant acquaintances perplexes associates. We have all, I am certain,
experienced confusion or betrayal on learning that supposedly intimate material confided
to us has been shared with many others. Furthermore, a great deal of self-disclosure may
frighten off an unprepared recipient. In a rhythmic, flowing relationship, one party leads

the other in self-disclosures, but never by too great a gap.
In group therapy, members who reveal early and promiscuously will often drop out
soon in the course of therapy. Group members should be encouraged to take risks in the
group; but if they reveal too much too early, they may feel so much shame that any
interpersonal rewards are offset; furthermore, their overabundant self-disclosure may
threaten others who would be willing to support them but are not yet prepared to
reciprocate. 54 High disclosers are then placed in a position of such great vulnerability in
the group that they often choose to flee.
All of these observations suggest that self-disclosure is a complex social act that is
situation and role bound. One does not self-disclose in solitude: time, place, and person
must always be considered. Appropriate self-disclosure in a therapy group, for example,
may be disastrously inappropriate in other situations, and appropriate self-disclosure for
one stage of a therapy group may be inappropriate for another stage.
These points are particularly evident in the case of self-disclosure of feelings toward
other members, or feedback. It is my belief that the therapist should help the members be
guided as much by responsibility to others as by freedom of expression. I have seen
vicious, destructive events occur in groups under the aegis of honesty and self-revelation:
“You told us that we should be honest about expressing our feelings, didn’t you?” But, in
fact, we always selectively reveal our feelings. There are always layers of reactions toward
others that we rarely share—feelings about unchangeable attributes, physical
characteristics, deformity, professional or intellectual mediocrity, social class, lack of
charm, and so on.
For some individuals, disclosure of overt hostile feelings is “easy-honest.” But they find
it more difficult to reveal underlying meta-hostile feelings—feelings of fear, envy, guilt,
sadistic pleasure in vindictive triumph. And how many individuals find it easy to disclose
negative feelings but avoid expressing positive feelings—feelings of admiration, concern,
empathy, physical attraction, love?
A group member who has just disclosed a great deal faces a moment of vulnerability
and requires support from the members and/or the therapist. Regardless of the
circumstances, no client should be attacked for important self-disclosure. A clinical
vignette illustrates this point.
• Five members were present at a meeting of a year-old group. (Two members were
out of town, and one was ill.) Joe, the protagonist of this episode, began the
meeting with a long, rambling statement about feeling uncomfortable in a smaller
group. Since Joe had started the group, his style of speaking had turned members
off. Everyone found it hard to listen to him and longed for him to stop. But no one
had really dealt honestly with these vague, unpleasant feelings about Joe until this
meeting, when, after several minutes, Betsy interrupted him: “I’m going to scream
—or burst! I can’t contain myself any longer! Joe, I wish you’d stop talking. I can’t
bear to listen to you. I don’t know who you’re talking to—maybe the ceiling, maybe
the floor, but I know you’re not talking to me. I care about everyone else in this
group. I think about them. They mean a lot to me. I hate to say this, but for some

reason, Joe, you don’t matter to me.”
Stunned, Joe attempted to understand the reason behind Betsy’s feelings. Other
members agreed with Betsy and suggested that Joe never said anything personal.
It was all filler, all cotton candy—he never revealed anything important about
himself; he never related personally to any of the members of the group. Spurred,
and stung, Joe took it upon himself to go around the group and describe his
personal feelings toward each of the members.
I thought that, even though Joe revealed more than he had before, he still
remained in comfortable, safe territory. I asked, “Joe, if you were to think about
revealing yourself on a ten-point scale, with “one” representing cocktail-party
stuff and “ten” representing the most you could ever imagine revealing about
yourself to another person, how would you rank what you did in the group over the
last ten minutes?” He thought about it for a moment and said he guessed he would
give himself “three” or “four.” I asked, “Joe, what would happen if you were to
move it up a rung or two?”
He deliberated for a moment and then said, “If I were to move it up a couple of
rungs, I would tell the group that I was an alcoholic.”
This was a staggering bit of self-disclosure. Joe had been in the group for a
year, and no one in the group—not even me and my cotherapist—had known of
this. Furthermore, it was vital information. For weeks, for example, Joe had
bemoaned the fact that his wife was pregnant and had decided to have an abortion
rather than have a child by him. The group was baffled by her behavior and over
the weeks became highly critical of his wife—some members even questioned why
Joe stayed in the marriage. The new information that Joe was an alcoholic
provided a crucial missing link. Now his wife’s behavior made sense!
My initial response was one of anger. I recalled all those futile hours Joe had
led the group on a wild-goose chase. I was tempted to exclaim, “Damn it, Joe, all
those wasted meetings talking about your wife! Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
But that is just the time to bite your tongue. The important thing is not that Joe did
not give us this information earlier but that he did tell us today. Rather than being
punished for his previous concealment, he should be reinforced for having made a
breakthrough and been willing to take an enormous risk in the group. The proper
technique consisted of supporting Joe and facilitating further “horizontal”
disclosure, that is, about the experience of disclosure (see chapter 5).†
It is not uncommon for members to withhold information, as Joe did, with the result that
the group spends time inefficiently. Obviously, this has a number of unfortunate
implications, not the least of which is the toll on the self-esteem of the withholding
member who knows he or she is being duplicitous—acting in bad faith toward the other
members. Often group leaders do not know the extent to which a member is withholding,
but (as I discuss in chapter 14) as soon as they begin doing combined therapy (that is,
treating the same individual both in individual and group therapy), they are amazed at how
much new information the client reveals.

In chapter 7, I discussed aspects of group leader self-disclosure. The therapist’s
transparency, particularly within the here-and-now, can be an effective way to encourage
member self-disclosure.† But leader transparency must always be placed in the context of
what is useful to the functioning of a particular group at a particular time. The general
who, after making an important tactical decision, goes around wringing his hands and
expressing his uncertainty will undercut the morale of his entire command. 55 Similarly,
the therapy group leader should obviously not disclose feelings that would undermine the
effectiveness of the group, such as impatience with the group, a preoccupation with a
client or a group seen earlier in the day, or any of a host of other personal concerns.56
TERMINATION
The concluding phase of group therapy is termination, a critically important but frequently
neglected part of treatment.57 Group therapy termination is particularly complex: members
may leave because they have achieved their goals, they may drop out prematurely, the
entire group may end, and the therapist may leave. Furthermore, feelings about
termination must be explored from different perspectives: the individual member, the
therapist, the group as a whole.
Even the word termination has unfavorable connotations; it is often used in such
negative contexts as an unwanted pregnancy or a poorly performing employee.58 In
contrast, a mutual, planned ending to therapy is a positive, integral part of the therapeutic
work that includes review, mourning, and celebration of the commencement of the next
phase of life. The ending should be clear and focused—not a petering out. Confronting the
ending of therapy is a boundary experience, a confrontation with limits.59 It reminds us of
the precious nature of our relationships and the requirement to conclude with as few
regrets as possible about work undone, emotions unexpressed, or feelings unstated.
Termination of the Client
If properly understood and managed, termination can be an important force in the process
of change. Throughout, I have emphasized that group therapy is a highly individual
process. Each client will enter, participate in, use, and experience the group in a uniquely
personal manner. The end of therapy is no exception.
Only general assumptions about the length and overall goals of therapy may be made.
Managed health care decrees that most therapy groups be brief and problem oriented—
and, indeed, as reviewed in chapter 10, there is evidence that brief group approaches may
effectively offer symptomatic relief. There is also evidence, however, that therapy is most
effective when the ending of treatment is collaboratively determined and not arbitrarily
imposed by a third party.60 Managed care is most interested in what will be most useful

for the majority of a large pool of clients. Psychotherapists are less interested in statistics
and aggregates of clients than in the individual distressed client in their office.
How much therapy is enough? That is not an easy question to answer. Although
remoralization and recovery from acute distress often occur quickly, substantial change in
character structure generally requires twelve to twenty-four months, or more, of
therapy.†61
The goals of therapy have never been stated more succinctly than by Freud: “to be able
to love and to work.”62 Freud believed that therapy should end when there is no prospect
for further gains and the individual’s pathology has lost its hold. Some people would add
other goals: the ability to love oneself, to allow oneself to be loved, to be more flexible, to
learn to play, to discover and trust one’s own values, and to achieve greater self-
awareness, greater interpersonal competence, and more mature defenses.63
Some group members may achieve a great deal in a few months, whereas others require
years of group therapy. Some individuals have far more ambitious goals than others; it
would not be an exaggeration to state that some individuals, satisfied with their therapy,
terminate in approximately the same state in which others begin therapy. Some clients
may have highly specific goals in therapy and, because much of their psychopathology is
ego-syntonic, choose to limit the amount of change they are willing to undertake. Others
may be hampered by important external circumstances in their lives. All therapists have
had the experience of helping a client improve to a point at which further change would be
countertherapeutic. For example, a client might, with further change, outgrow, as it were,
his or her spouse; continued therapy would result in the rupture of an irreplaceable
relationship unless concomitant changes occur in the spouse. If that contingency is not
available (if, for example, the spouse adamantly refuses to engage in the change process),
the therapist may be well advised to settle for the positive changes that have occurred,
even though the personal potential for greater growth is clear.
Termination of professional treatment is but a stage in the individual’s career of growth.
Clients continue to change, and one important effect of successful therapy is to enable
individuals to use their psychotherapeutic resources constructively in their personal
environment. Moreover, treatment effects may be time delayed: I have seen many
successful clients in long-term follow-up interviews who have not only continued to
change after termination but who, after they have left the group, recall an observation or
interpretation made by another member or the therapist that only then—months, even
years, later—became meaningful to them.
Setbacks, too, occur after termination: many successfully treated clients will, from time
to time, encounter severe stress and need short-term help. In addition, almost all members
experience anxiety and depression after leaving a group. A period of mourning is an
inevitable part of the termination process. Present loss may evoke memories of earlier
losses, which may be so painful that the client truncates the termination work. Indeed,
some cannot tolerate the process and will withdraw prematurely with a series of excuses.
This must be challenged: the client needs to internalize the positive group experience and
the members and leader; without proper separation, that process will be compromised and

the client’s future growth constricted.64
Some therapists find that termination from group therapy is less problematic than
termination from long-term individual therapy, in which clients often become extremely
dependent on the therapeutic situation. Group therapy participants are usually more aware
that therapy is not a way of life but a process with a beginning, a middle, and an end. In
the open therapy group, there are many living reminders of the therapeutic sequence.
Members see new members enter and improved members graduate; they observe the
therapist beginning the process over and over again to help the beginners through difficult
phases of therapy. Thus, they realize the bittersweet fact that, although the therapist is a
person with whom they have had a real and meaningful relationship, he or she is also a
professional whose attention must shift to others and who will not remain as a permanent
and endless source of gratification for them.
Not infrequently, a group places subtle pressure on a member not to terminate because
the remaining members will miss that person’s presence and contributions. There is no
doubt that members who have worked in a therapy group for many months or years
acquire interpersonal and group skills that make them particularly valuable to the other
members. (This is an important qualitative difference between group therapy and
individual therapy outcome: Group therapy members routinely increase in emotional
intelligence and become expert process diagnosticians and facilitators.)†
• One graduating member pointed out in his final meeting that Al usually started
the meeting, but recently that role had switched over to Donna, who was more
entertaining. After that, he noted that Al, aside from occasional sniping, often
slumped into silence for the rest of the meeting. He also remarked that two other
members never communicated directly to each other; they always used an
intermediary. Another graduating member remarked that she had noted the first
signs of the breakdown of a long-term collusion between two members in which
they had, in effect, agreed never to say anything challenging or unpleasant to the
other. In the same meeting, she chided the members of the group who were asking
for clarification about the groups ground rules about subgrouping: “Answer it for
yourselves. It’s your therapy. You know what you want to get out of the group.
What would it mean to you? Will it get in your way or not?” All of these comments
are sophisticated and interpersonally astute—worthy of any experienced group
therapist.
Therapists may so highly value such a member’s contributions that they also are slow in
encouraging him or her to terminate—of course, there is no justification for such a
posture, and therapists should explore this openly as soon as they become aware of it. I
have, incidentally, noted that a “role suction” operates at such times: once the senior
member leaves, another member begins to exercise skills acquired in the group.
Therapists, like other members, will feel the loss of departing members and by expressing
their feelings openly do some valuable modeling for the group and demonstrate that this
therapy and these relationships matter, not just to the clients but to them as well.
Some socially isolated clients may postpone termination because they have been using

the therapy group for social reasons rather than as a means for developing the skills to
create a social life for themselves in their home environment. The therapist must help
these members focus on transfer of learning and encourage risk taking outside the group.
Others unduly prolong their stay in the group because they hope for some guarantee that
they are indeed safe from future difficulties. They may suggest that they remain in the
group for a few more months, until they start a new job, or get married, or graduate from
college. If the improvement base seems secure, however, these delays are generally
unnecessary. Members must be helped to come to terms with the fact that one can never be
certain; one is always vulnerable.
Not infrequently, clients experience a brief recrudescence of their original
symptomatology shortly before termination. Rather than prolong their stay in the group,
the therapist should help the clients understand this event for what it is: protest against
termination. There are times, however, when this pretermination regression can serve as a
last opportunity to revisit the concerns that led to treatment initially and allow some
relapse prevention work. Ending does not undo good work, but it can profitably revisit the
beginnings of the work.
• One man, three meetings before termination, re-experienced much of the
depression and sense of meaninglessness that had brought him into therapy. The
symptoms rapidly dissipated with the therapist’s interpretation that he was
searching for reasons not to leave the group. That evening, the client dreamed that
the therapist offered him a place in another group in which he would receive
training as a therapist: “I felt that I had duped you into thinking I was better.” The
dream represents an ingenious stratagem to defeat termination and offers two
alternatives: the client goes into another of the therapist’s groups, in which he
receives training as a therapist; or he has duped the therapist and has not really
improved (and thus should continue in the group). Either way, he does not have to
terminate.
Some members improve gradually, subtly, and consistently during their stay in the
group. Others improve in dramatic bursts. I have known many members who, though hard
working and committed to the group, made no apparent progress whatsoever for six,
twelve, even eighteen months and then, suddenly, in a short period of time, seemed to
transform themselves. (What do we tell our students? That change is often slow, that they
should not look for immediate gratification from their clients. If they build solid, deep
therapeutic foundations, change is sure to follow. So often we think of this as just a
platitude designed to bolster neophyte therapists’ morale—we forget that it is true.)
The same staccato pattern of improvement is often true for the group as a whole.
Sometimes groups struggle and lumber on for months with no visible change in any
member, and then suddenly enter a phase in which everyone seems to get well together.
Rutan uses the apt metaphor of building a bridge during a battle.65 The leader labors
mightily to construct the bridge and may, in the early phases, suffer casualties (dropouts).
But once the bridge is in place, it escorts many individuals to a better place.
There are certain clients for whom even a consideration of termination is problematic.

These clients are particularly sensitized to abandonment; their self-regard is so low that
they consider their illness to be their only currency in their traffic with the therapist and
the group. In their minds growth is associated with dread, since improvement would result
in the therapist’s leaving them. Therefore they must minimize or conceal progress. Of
course, it is not until much later that they discover the key to this absurd paradox: Once
they truly improve, they will no longer need the therapist!†
One useful sign suggesting readiness for termination is that the group becomes less
important to the client. One terminating member commented that Mondays (the day of the
group meetings) were now like any other day of the week. When she began in the group,
she lived for Mondays, with the rest of the days inconsequential wadding between
meetings.
I make a practice of recording the first individual interview with a client. Not
infrequently, these tapes are useful in arriving at the termination decision. By listening
many months later to their initial session, clients can obtain a clearer perspective of what
they have accomplished and what remains to be done.
The group members are an invaluable resource in helping one another decide about
termination, and a unilateral decision made by a member without consulting the other
members is often premature. Generally, a well-timed termination decision will be
discussed for a few weeks in the group, during which time the client works through
feelings about leaving. There are times when clients make an abrupt decision to terminate
membership in the group immediately. I have often found that such individuals find it
difficult to express gratitude and positive feeling; hence they attempt to abbreviate the
separation process as much as possible. These clients must be helped to understand and
correct their jarring, unsatisfying method of ending relationships. In fact, for some, the
dread of ending dictates their whole pattern of avoiding connections and avoiding
intimacy. To ignore this phase is to neglect an important area of human relations. Ending
is, after all, a part of almost every relationship, and throughout one’s life one must say
good-bye to important people.
Many terminating members attempt to lessen the shock of departure by creating bridges
to the group that they can use in the future. They seek assurances that they may return,
they collect telephone numbers of the other members, or they arrange social meetings to
keep themselves informed of important events of the group. These efforts are only to be
expected, and yet the therapist must not collude in the denial of termination. On the
contrary, you must help the members explore it to its fullest extent. Clients who complete
individual therapy may return, but clients who leave the group can never return. They are
truly leaving: the group will be irreversibly altered; replacements will enter the group; the
present cannot be frozen; time flows on cruelly and inexorably. These facts are evident to
the remaining members as well—there is no better stimulus than a departing member to
encourage the group to deal with issues about the rush of time, loss, separation, death,
aging, and the contingencies of existence. Termination is thus more than an extraneous
event in the group. It is the microcosmic representation of some of life’s most crucial and
painful issues.

The group members may need some sessions to work on their loss and to deal with
many of these issues. The loss of a member provides an unusual work opportunity for
individuals sensitized to loss and abandonment. Since they have compatriots sharing their
loss, they mourn in a communal setting and witness others encompass the loss and
continue to grow and thrive.66
After a member leaves the group, it is generally wise not to bring in new members
without a hiatus of one or more meetings. A member’s departure is often an appropriate
time for others to take inventory of their own progress in therapy. Members who entered
the group at the same time as the terminating member may feel some pressure to move
more quickly.
Some members may misperceive the member’s leaving as a forced departure and may
feel a need to reaffirm a secure place in the group—by regressive means if necessary.
More competitive members may rush toward termination prematurely. Senior members
may feel envy or react with shame, experiencing the success of the comember as a
reminder of their own selfdeficiency and failing.† In extreme cases, the shame- or envy-
ridden client may seek to devalue and spoil the achievement of the graduating member.
Newer members may feel inspired or awed and left doubting whether they will ever be
able to achieve what they have just witnessed.
Should the group engage in some form of ritual to mark the termination of a member?
Sometimes a member or several members may present a gift to the graduating member or
bring coffee and cake to the meeting—which may be appropriate and meaningful, as long
as, like any event in the group, it can be examined and processed. For example, the group
may examine the meaning of the ritual; who suggests and plans it? Is it intended to avoid
necessary and appropriate sadness?67
We therapists must also look to our own feelings during the termination process,
because occasionally we unaccountably and unnecessarily delay a client’s termination.
Some perfectionist therapists may unrealistically expect too much change and refuse to
accept anything less than total resolution. Moreover, they lack faith in a client’s ability to
continue growth after the termination of formal therapy.68 Other clients bring out
Pygmalion pride in us: we find it difficult to part with someone who is, in part, our own
creation; saying good-bye to some clients is saying good-bye to a part of ourselves.
Furthermore, it is a permanent good-bye. If we have done our job properly, the client no
longer needs us and breaks all contact.
Termination of the Therapist
In training programs, it is common practice for trainees to lead a group for six months to a
year and then pass it on to a new student as their own training takes them elsewhere. This
is generally a difficult period for the group members, and often they respond with repeated
absences and threatened termination. It is a time for the departing therapist to attend to any
unfinished business he or she has with any of the members. Some members feel that this is

their last chance and share hitherto concealed material. Others have a recrudescence of
symptoms, as though to say, “See what your departure has done to me!”69 Therapists must
not avoid any of these concerns: the more complete their ending with the group, the
greater the potential for an effective transfer of leadership. It is an excellent opportunity
for helping members appreciate their own resources.
The same principles apply in situations in which a more established leader needs to end
his leadership due to a move, illness, or professional change. If the group members decide
to continue, it is the leader’s responsibility to secure new leadership. The transition
process takes considerable time and planning, and the new leader must set about as
quickly as possible to take over group leadership. One reported approach is to meet with
all the group members individually in a pregroup format as described in chapter 9, while
the old leader is still meeting with the group. After the first leader concludes, the new one
begins to meet with the group at the set group time or at a mutually agreed-upon new
time.70
Termination of the Group
Groups terminate for various reasons. Brief therapy groups, of course, have a preset
termination date. Often external circumstances dictate the end of a group: for example,
groups in a university mental health clinic usually run for eight to nine months and
disband at the beginning of the summer vacation. Open groups often end only when the
therapist retires or leaves the area (although this is not inevitable; if there is a co-therapist,
he or she may continue the group). Occasionally, a therapist may decide to end a group
because the great majority of its members are ready to terminate at approximately the
same time.
Often a group avoids the difficult and unpleasant work of termination by denying or
ignoring termination, and the therapist must keep the task in focus for them. In fact, as I
discussed in chapter 10, it is essential for the leader of the brief therapy group to remind
the group regularly of the approaching termination and to keep members focused on the
attainment of goals. Groups hate to die, and members generally try to avoid the ending.
They may, for example, pretend that the group will continue in some other setting—for
example, reunions or regularly scheduled social meetings. But the therapist is well advised
to confront the group with reality: the end of a group is a real loss. It never really can be
reconvened, and even if relationships are continued in pairs or small fragments of the
group, the entire group as the members then know it—in this room, in its present form,
with the group leaders—will be gone forever.
The therapist must call attention to maladaptive modes of dealing with the impending
termination. Some individuals have always dealt with the pain of separating from those
they care about by becoming angry or devaluing the others. Some choose to deny and
avoid the issue entirely. If anger or avoidance is extreme—manifested, for example, by
tardiness or increased absence—the therapist must confront the group with this behavior.
Usually with a mature group, the best approach is direct: the members can be reminded

that it is their group, and they must decide how they want to end it. Members who devalue
others or attend irregularly must be helped to understand their behavior. Do they feel their
behavior or their absence makes no difference to the others, or do they so dread expressing
positive feelings toward the group, or perhaps negative feelings toward the therapist for
ending it, that they avoid confrontation?
Pain over the loss of the group is dealt with in part by a sharing of past experiences:
exciting and meaningful past group events are remembered; members remind one another
of the way they were then; personal testimonials are invariably heard in the final meetings.
It is important that the therapist not bury the group too early, or the group will limp
through ineffective lame-duck sessions. You must find a way to hold the issue of
termination before the group and yet help the members keep working until the very last
minute.
Some leaders of effective time-limited groups have sought to continue the benefits of
the group by helping the group move into an ongoing leaderless format. The leader may
help the transition by attending the meetings as a consultant at regular but decreasing
intervals, for example biweekly or monthly. In my experience, it is particularly desirable
to make such arrangements when the group is primarily a support group and constitutes an
important part of the members’ social life—for example, groups of the elderly who,
through the death of friends and acquaintances, are isolated. Others have reported to me
the successful launching of ongoing leaderless groups for men, for women, for AIDS
sufferers, Alzheimer’s caregivers, and the bereaved.
Keep in mind that the therapist, too, experiences the discomfort of termination.
Throughout the final group stage, we must join the discussion. We will facilitate the group
work by disclosing our own feelings. Therapists, as well as members, will miss the group.
We are not impervious to feelings of loss and bereavement. We have grown close to the
members and we will miss them as they miss us. To us as well as to the client, termination
is a jolting reminder of the built-in cruelty of the psychotherapeutic process. Such
openness on the part of the therapist invariably makes it easier for the group members to
make their good-bye more complete. For us, too, the group has been a place of anguish,
conflict, fear, and also great beauty: some of life’s truest and most poignant moments
occur in the small and yet limitless microcosm of the therapy group.

Chapter 13
PROBLEM GROUP MEMBERS
I have yet to encounter the unproblematic client, the one who coasts through the course of
therapy like a newly christened ship gliding smoothly down the ramps into the water. Each
group member must be a problem: the success of therapy depends on each individual’s
encountering and then mastering basic life problems in the here-and-now of the group.
Each problem is complex, overdetermined, and unique. The intent of this book is not to
provide a compendium of solutions to problems but to describe a strategy and set of
techniques that will enable a therapist to adapt to any problem arising in the group.
The term “problem client” is itself problematic. Keep in mind that the problem client
rarely exists in a vacuum but is, instead, an amalgam consisting of several components:
the client’s own psychodynamics, the group’s dynamics, and the client’s interactions with
comembers and the therapist. We generally overestimate the role of the client’s character
while underestimating the role of the interpersonal and social context.1
Certain illustrative behavioral constellations merit particular attention because of their
common occurrence. A questionnaire sent by the American Group Psychotherapy
Association to practicing group therapists inquired about the critical issues necessary for
group therapists to master. Over fifty percent responded, “Working with difficult
patients.”2 Accordingly, in this chapter, we shall turn our attention to difficult clients and
specifically discuss eight problematic clinical types: the monopolist, the silent client, the
boring client, the help-rejecting complainer, the psychotic or bipolar client, the schizoid
client, the borderline client, and the narcissistic client.
THE MONOPOLIST
The bête noire of many group therapists is the habitual monopolist, a person who seems
compelled to chatter on incessantly. These individuals are anxious if they are silent; if
others get the floor, they reinsert themselves with a variety of techniques: rushing in to fill
the briefest silence, responding to every statement in the group, continually addressing the
problems of the speaker with a chorus of “I’m like that, too.”
The monopolist may persist in describing, in endless detail, conversations with others
(often taking several parts in the conversation) or in presenting accounts of newspaper or
magazine stories that may be only slightly relevant to the group issue. Some monopolists
hold the floor by assuming the role of interrogator. One member barraged the group with
so many questions and “observations” that it occluded any opportunity for members to
interact or reflect. Finally, when angrily confronted by comembers about her disruptive
effect, she explained that she dreaded silence because it reminded her of the “quiet before
the storm” in her family—the silence preceding her father’s explosive, violent rages.

Others capture the members’ attention by enticing them with bizarre, puzzling, or sexually
piquant material.
Labile clients who have a dramatic flair may monopolize the group by means of the
crisis method: They regularly present the group with major life upheavals, which always
seem to demand urgent and lengthy attention. Other members are cowed into silence, their
problems seeming trivial in comparison. (“It’s not easy to interrupt Gone with the Wind,”
as one group member put it.)
Effects on the Group
Although a group may, in the initial meeting, welcome and perhaps encourage the
monopolist, the mood soon turns to one of frustration and anger. Other group members are
often disinclined to silence a member for fear that they will thus incur an obligation to fill
the silence. They anticipate the obvious rejoinder of, “All right, I’ll be quiet. You talk.”
And, of course, it is not possible to talk easily in a tense, guarded climate. Members who
are not particularly assertive may not deal directly with the monopolist for some time;
instead, they may smolder quietly or make indirect hostile forays. Generally, oblique
attacks on the monopolist will only aggravate the problem and fuel a vicious circle. The
monopolist’s compulsive speech is an attempt to deal with anxiety; as the client senses the
growing group tension and resentment, his or her anxiety rises, and the tendency to speak
compulsively correspondingly increases. Some monopolists are consciously aware, at
these times, of assembling a smoke screen of words in order to divert the group from
making a direct attack.
Eventually, this source of unresolved tension will have a detrimental effect on
cohesiveness—an effect manifested by such signs of group disruption as indirect, off-
target fighting, absenteeism, dropouts, and subgrouping. When the group does confront
the monopolist, it is often in an explosive, brutal style; the spokesperson for the group
usually receives unanimous support—I have even witnessed a round of applause. The
monopolist may then sulk, be completely silent for a meeting or two (“See what they do
without me”), or leave the group. In any event, little that is therapeutic has been
accomplished for anyone.
Therapeutic Considerations
How can the therapist interrupt the monopolist in a therapeutically effective fashion?
Despite the strongest provocation and temptation to shout the client down or to silence the
client by edict, such an assault has little value (except as a temporary catharsis for the
therapist). The client is not helped: no learning has accrued; the anxiety underlying the
monopolist’s compulsive speech persists and will, without doubt, erupt again in further
monopolistic volleys or, if no outlet is available, will force the client to drop out of the
group. Neither is the group helped. Regardless of the circumstances, the others are

threatened by the therapist’s silencing, in a heavy-handed manner, one of the members. A
seed of caution and fear is implanted in the mind of all the members; they begin to wonder
if a similar fate might befall them.
Nevertheless, the monopolistic behavior must be checked, and generally it is the
therapist’s task to do so. Although often the therapist does well to wait for the group to
handle a group problem, the monopolistic member is one problem that the group, and
especially a young group, often cannot handle. The monopolistic client poses a threat to
its procedural underpinnings: group members are encouraged to speak in a group, yet this
particular member must be silenced. The therapist must prevent the elaboration of therapy-
obstructing norms and at the same time prevent the monopolistic client from committing
social suicide. A twopronged approach is most effective: consider both the monopolizer
and the group that has allowed itself to be monopolized. This approach reduces the hazard
of scapegoating and illuminates the role played by the group in each member’s behavior.
From the standpoint of the group, bear in mind the principle that individual and group
psychology are inextricably interwoven. No monopolistic client exists in a vacuum: The
client always abides in a dynamic equilibrium with a group that permits or encourages
such behavior.3 Hence, the therapist may inquire why the group permits or encourages one
member to carry the burden of the entire meeting. Such an inquiry may startle the
members, who have perceived themselves only as passive victims of the monopolist. After
the initial protestations are worked through, the group members may then, with profit,
examine their exploitation of the monopolist; for example, they may have been relieved by
not having to participate verbally in the group. They may have permitted the monopolist to
do all the self-disclosure, or to appear foolish, or to act as a lightning rod for the group
members’ anger, while they themselves assumed little responsibility for the group’s
therapeutic tasks. Once the members disclose and discuss their reasons for inactivity, their
personal commitment to the therapeutic process is augmented. They may, for example,
discuss their fears of assertiveness, or of harming the monopolist, or of a retaliatory attack
by some specific member or by the therapist; they may wish to avoid seeking the group’s
attention lest their greed be exposed; they may secretly revel in the monopolist’s plight
and enjoy being a member of the victimized and disapproving majority. A disclosure of
any of these issues by a hitherto uninvolved client signifies progress and greater
engagement in therapy.
In one group, for example, a submissive, chronically depressed woman, Sue, exploded
in an uncharacteristic expletive-filled rage at the monopolistic behavior of another
member. As she explored her outburst, Sue quickly recognized that her rage was really
inwardly directed, stemming from her own stifling of her self, her own passivity, her
avoidance of her own emotions. “My outburst was twenty years in the making,” Sue said
as she apologized and thanked her startled “antagonist” for crystallizing this awareness.
The group approach to this problem must be complemented by work with the
monopolistic individual. The basic principle is a simple one: you do not want to silence
the monopolist; you do not want to hear less from the client—you want to hear more. The
seeming contradiction is resolved when we consider that the monopolist uses compulsive

speech for self-concealment. The issues the monopolist presents to the group do not
accurately reflect deeply felt personal concerns but are selected for other reasons: to
entertain, to gain attention, to justify a position, to present grievances, and so on. Thus, the
monopolist sacrifices the opportunity for therapy to an insatiable need for attention and
control. Although each therapist will fashion interventions according to personal style, the
essential message to monopolists must be that, through such compulsive speech, they hold
the group at arm’s length and prevent others from relating meaningfully to them. Thus you
do not reject but instead issue an invitation to engage more fully in the group. If you
harbor only the singular goal of silencing the client, then you have, in effect, abandoned
the therapeutic goal and might as well remove the member from the group.
At times, despite considerable therapist care, the client will continue to hear only the
message, “So you want me to shut up!” Such clients will ultimately leave the group, often
in embarrassment or anger. Although this is an unsettling event, the consequences of
therapist inactivity are far worse. Though the remaining members may express some
regret at the departure of the member, it is not uncommon for them to acknowledge that
they were on the verge of leaving themselves had the therapist not intervened.
In addition to grossly deviant behavior, the social sensory system of monopolists has a
major impairment. They seem peculiarly unaware both of their interpersonal impact and of
the response of others to them. Moreover, they lack the capacity or inclination to
empathize with others.
Data from an exploratory study support this conclusion.4 Clients and student observers
were asked to fill out questionnaires at the end of each group meeting. One of the areas
explored was activity. The participants were asked to rank the group members, including
themselves, for the total number of words uttered during a meeting. There was excellent
reliability in the activity ratings among group members and observers, with two
exceptions: (1) the ratings of the therapist’s activity by the clients showed large
discrepancies (a function of transference; see chapter 7); and (2) monopolistic clients
placed themselves far lower on the activity rankings than did the other members, who
were often unanimous in ranking a monopolist as the most active member in the meeting.
The therapist must, then, help the monopolist be self-observant by encouraging the
group to provide him or her with continual, empathic feedback about his impact on the
others.5 Without this sort of guidance from the leader, the group may provide the feedback
in a disjunctive, explosive manner, which only makes the monopolist defensive. Such a
sequence has little therapeutic value and merely recapitulates a drama and a role that the
client has performed far too often.
• In the initial interview, Matthew, a monopolist, complained about his relationship
with his wife, who, he claimed, often abruptly resorted to such sledgehammer
tactics as publicly humiliating him or accusing him of infidelity in front of his
children. The sledgehammer approach accomplished nothing durable for this man;
once his bruises had healed, he and his wife began the cycle anew. Within the first
few meetings of the group, a similar sequence unfolded in the social microcosm of
the group: because of his monopolistic behavior, judgmentalism, and inability to

hear the members’ response to him, the group pounded harder and harder until
finally, when he was forced to listen, the message sounded cruel and destructive.
Often the therapist must help increase a client’s receptivity to feedback. You may have
to be forceful and directive, saying, for example, “Charlotte, I think it would be best now
for you to stop speaking because I sense there are some important feelings about you in
the group that I think would be very helpful for you to know.” You should also help the
members disclose their responses to Charlotte rather than their interpretations of her
motives. As described earlier in the sections on feedback and interpersonal learning, it is
far more useful and acceptable to offer a statement such as “When you speak in this
fashion I feel …” rather than “You are behaving in this fashion because… . ” The client
may often perceive motivational interpretations as accusatory but finds it more difficult to
reject the validity of others’ subjective responses.†
Too often we confuse or interchange the concepts of interpersonal manifestation,
response, and cause. The cause of monopolistic behavior may vary considerably from
client to client: some individuals speak in order to control others; many so fear being
influenced or penetrated by others that they compulsively defend each of their statements;
others so overvalue their own ideas and observations that they cannot delay and all
thoughts must be immediately expressed. Generally the cause or actual intent of the
monopolist’s behavior is not well understood until much later in therapy, and
interpretation of the cause may offer little help in the early management of disruptive
behavior patterns. It is far more effective to concentrate on the client’s manifestation of
self in the group and on the other members’ response to his or her behavior. Gently but
repeatedly, members must be confronted with the paradox that however much they may
wish to be accepted and respected by others, they persist in behavior that generates only
irritation, rejection, and frustration.
A clinical illustration of many of these issues occurred in a therapy group in a
psychiatric hospital/prison in which sexual offenders were incarcerated:
• Walt, who had been in the group for seven weeks, launched into a familiar,
lengthy tribute to the remarkable improvement he had undergone. He described in
exquisite detail how his chief problem had been that he had not understood the
damaging effects his behavior had on others, and how now, having achieved such
understanding, he was ready to leave the hospital.
The therapist observed that some of the members were restless. One softly
pounded his fist into his palm, while others slumped back in a posture of
indifference and resignation. He stopped the monopolist by asking the group
members how many times they had heard Walt relate this account. All agreed they
had heard it at every meeting—in fact, they had heard Walt speak this way in the
very first meeting. Furthermore, they had never heard him talk about anything else
and knew him only as a story. The members discussed their irritation with Walt,
their reluctance to attack him for fear of seriously injuring him, of losing control of
themselves, or of painful retaliation. Some spoke of their hopelessness about ever
reaching Walt, and of the fact that he related to them only as stick figures without

flesh or depth. Still others spoke of their terror of speaking and revealing
themselves in the group; therefore, they welcomed Walt’s monopolization. A few
members expressed their total lack of interest or faith in therapy and therefore
failed to intercept Walt because of apathy.
Thus the process was overdetermined: A host of interlocking factors resulted in
a dynamic equilibrium called monopolization. By halting the runaway process,
uncovering and working through the underlying factors, the therapist obtained
maximum therapeutic benefit from a potentially crippling group phenomenon.
Each member moved closer to group involvement. Walt was no longer permitted or
encouraged to participate in a fashion that could not possibly be helpful to him or
the group.
It is essential to guide the monopolistic client into the self-reflective process of therapy.
I urge such clients to reflect on the type of response they were originally hoping to receive
from the group and then to compare that with what eventually occurred. How do they
explain that discrepancy? What role did they play in it?
Often monopolistic clients may devalue the importance of the group’s reaction to them.
They may suggest that the group consists of disturbed people or protest, “This is the first
time something like this has ever happened to me.” If the therapist has prevented
scapegoating, then this statement is always untrue: the client is in a particularly familiar
place. What is different in the group is the presence of norms that permit the others to
comment openly on her behavior.
The therapist increases therapeutic leverage by encouraging these clients to examine
and discuss interpersonal difficulties in their life: loneliness, lack of close friends, not
being listened to by others, being shunned without reason—all the reasons for which
therapy was first sought. Once these are made explicit, the therapist can, more
convincingly, demonstrate to monopolistic clients the importance and relevance of
examining their in-group behavior. Good timing is necessary. There is no point in
attempting to do this work with a closed, defensive individual in the midst of a firestorm.
Repeated, gentle, properly timed interventions are required.
THE SILENT CLIENT
The silent member is a less disruptive but often equally challenging problem for the
therapist. Is the silent member always a problem? Perhaps the client profits silently. A
story, probably apocryphal, that has circulated among group therapists for decades tells of
an individual who attended a group for a year without uttering a word. At the end of the
fiftieth meeting, he announced to the group that he would not return; his problems had
been resolved, he was due to get married the following day, and he wished to express his
gratitude to the group for the help they had given him.
Some reticent members may profit from vicariously engaging in treatment through

identifying with active members with similar problems. It is possible that changes in
behavior and in risk taking can gradually occur in such a client’s relationships outside the
group, although the person remains silent and seemingly unchanged in the group. The
encounter group study of Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles indicated that some of the
participants who changed the most seemed to have a particular ability to maximize their
learning opportunities in a short-term group (thirty hours) by engaging vicariously in the
group experience of other members.6
In general, though, the evidence indicates that the more active and influential a member
is in the group matrix, the more likely he or she is to benefit. Research in experiential
groups demonstrates that regardless of what the participants said, the more words they
spoke, the greater the positive change in their picture of themselves.7 Other research
demonstrates that vicarious experience, as contrasted with direct participation, was
ineffective in producing either significant change, emotional engagement, or attraction to
the group process.8
Moreover, there is much clinical consensus that in long-term therapy, silent members do
not profit from the group. Group members who self-disclose very slowly may never catch
up to the rest of the group and at best achieve only minimal gains.9 The greater the verbal
participation, the greater the sense of involvement and the more clients are valued by
others and ultimately by themselves. Self-disclosure is not only essential to the
development of group cohesion, it is directly correlated to positive therapeutic outcome, as
is the client’s “work” in therapy. I would suggest, then, that we not be lulled by the
legendary story of the silent member who got well. A silent client is a problem client and
rarely benefits significantly from the group.†
Clients may be silent for many reasons. Some may experience a pervasive dread of self-
disclosure: every utterance, they feel, may commit them to progressively more disclosure.
Others may feel so conflicted about aggression that they cannot undertake the self-
assertion inherent in speaking. Some are waiting to be activated and brought to life by an
idealized caregiver, not yet having abandoned the childhood wish for magical rescue.
Others who demand nothing short of perfection in themselves never speak for fear of
falling shamefully short, whereas others attempt to maintain distance or control through a
lofty, superior silence. Some clients are especially threatened by a particular member in
the group and habitually speak only in the absence of that member. Others participate only
in smaller meetings or in alternate (leaderless) meetings. Some are silent for fear of being
regarded as weak, insipid, or mawkish. Others may silently sulk to punish others or to
force the group to attend to them.10
Here too, group dynamics may play a role. Group anxiety about potential aggression or
about the availability of emotional supplies in the group may push a vulnerable member
into silence to reduce the tension or competition for attention. Distinguishing between a
transient “state” of silence or a more enduring “trait” of silence is therefore quite useful.
The important point, though, is that silence is never silent; it is behavior and, like all
other behavior in the group, has meaning in the here-and-now as a representative sample

of the client’s way of relating to his or her interpersonal world. The therapeutic task,
therefore, is not only to change the behavior (that is essential if the client is to remain in
the group) but to explore the meaning of the behavior.
Proper management depends in part on the therapist’s understanding of the dynamics of
the silence. A middle course must be steered between placing undue pressure on the client
and allowing the client to slide into an extreme isolate role. The therapist may periodically
include the silent client by commenting on nonverbal behavior: that is, when, by gesture
or demeanor, the client is evincing interest, tension, sadness, boredom, or amusement. Not
infrequently a silent member introduced into an ongoing group will feel awed by the
clarity, directness, and insight of more experienced members. It is often helpful for the
therapist to point out that many of these admired veteran group members also struggled
with silence and self-doubt when they began. Often the therapist may hasten the member’s
participation by encouraging other members to reflect on their own proclivities for
silence.11 Even if repeated prodding or cajoling is necessary, the therapist should
encourage client autonomy and responsibility by repeated process checks. “Is this a
meeting when you want to be prodded?” “How did it feel when Mike put you on the
spot?” “Did he go too far?” “Can you let us know when we make you uncomfortable?”
“What’s the ideal question we could ask you today to help you come into the group?” The
therapist should seize every opportunity to reinforce the client’s activity and underscore
the value of pushing against his fears (pointing out, for example, the feelings of relief and
accomplishment that follow his risk-taking.)12
If a client resists all these efforts and maintains a very limited participation even after
three months of meetings, my experience has been that the prognosis is poor. The group
will grow frustrated and tire of coaxing and encouraging the silent, blocked member. In
the face of the group’s disapprobation, the client becomes more marginalized and less
likely than ever to participate. Concurrent individual sessions may be useful in helping the
client at this time. If this fails, the therapist may need to consider withdrawing the client
from the group. Occasionally, entering a second therapy group later may prove profitable,
since the client is now wellinformed of the hazards of silence.
THE BORING CLIENT
Rarely does anyone seek therapy because of being boring. Yet, in a different garb, thinly
disguised, the complaint is not uncommon. Clients complain that they never have anything
to say to others; that they are left standing alone at parties; that no one ever invites them
out more than once; that others use them only for sex; that they are inhibited, shy, socially
awkward, empty, or bland. Like silence, monopolization, or selfishness, boredom is to be
taken seriously. It is an extremely important problem, whether the client explicitly
identifies it as such or not.
In the social microcosm of the therapy group, boring members re-create these problems

and bore the members of the group—and the therapist. The therapist dreads a small
meeting in which only two or three boring members are present. If they were to terminate,
they would simply glide out of the group, leaving nary a ripple in the pond.
Boredom is a highly individual experience. Not everyone is bored by the same situation,
and it is not easy to make generalizations. In general, though, the boring client in the
therapy group is one who is massively inhibited, who lacks spontaneity, who never takes
risks. Boring patients’ utterances are always “safe” (and, alas, always predictable).
Obsequious and carefully avoiding any sign of aggressivity, they are often masochistic
(rushing into self-flagellation before anyone else can pummel them—or, to use another
metaphor, catching any spears hurled at them in midair and then stabbing themselves with
them). They say what they believe the social press requires—that is, before speaking, they
scan the faces of the other members to determine what is expected of them to say and
squelch any contrary sentiment coming from within. The particular social style of the
individual varies considerably: one may be silent; another stilted and hyperrational;
another timid and self-effacing; still another dependent, demanding, or pleading.
Some boring clients are alexithymic—an expressive difficulty stemming not only from
neurotic inhibition but from cognitive deficits in the ability to identify and communicate
feelings. The alexithymic client is concrete, lacks imaginative capacity, and focuses on
operational details, not emotional experience.13 Individual therapy with such clients can
be excruciatingly slow and arid, similar to work with clients with schizoid personality
disorder. Group therapy alone, or concurrent with individual therapy, may be particularly
helpful in promoting emotional expressiveness through modeling, support, and the
opportunity to experiment with feelings and expressiveness.14
The inability to read their own emotional cues also may make these individuals
vulnerable to medical and psychosomatic illness.15 Group therapy, because of its ability to
increase emotional awareness and expression, can reduce alexithymia and has been shown
to improve medical outcomes, for example in heart disease.16
Group leaders and members often work hard to encourage spontaneity in boring clients.
They ask such clients to share fantasies about members, to scream, to curse—anything to
pry something unpredictable from them.
• One of my clients, Nora, drove the group to despair with her constant clichés and
self-deprecatory remarks. After many months in the group, her outside life began
to change for the better, but each report of success was accompanied by the
inevitable self-derogatory neutralizer. She was accepted by an honorary
professional society (“That is good,” she said, “because it is one club that can’t
kick me out”); she received her graduate degree (“but I should have finished
earlier”); she had gotten all A’s (“but I’m a child for bragging about it”); she
looked better physically (“shows you what a good sunlamp can do”); she had been
asked out by several new men in her life (“must be slim pickings in the market”);
she obtained a good job (“it fell into my lap”); she had had her first vaginal
orgasm (“give the credit to marijuana”).

The group tried to tune Nora in to her self-effacement. An engineer in the group
suggested bringing an electric buzzer to ring each time she knocked herself.
Another member, trying to shake Nora into a more spontaneous state, commented
on her bra, which he felt could be improved. (This was Ed, discussed in chapter 2,
who generally related only to the sexual parts of women.) He said he would bring
her a present, a new bra, next session. Sure enough, the following session he
arrived with a huge box, which Nora said she would prefer to open at home. So
there it sat, looming in the group and, of course, inhibiting any other topic. Nora
was asked at least to guess what it contained, and she ventured, “A pair of
falsies.”
She was finally prevailed upon to open the gift and did so laboriously and with
enormous embarrassment. The box contained nothing but Styrofoam stuffing. Ed
explained that this was his idea for Nora’s new bra: that she should wear no bra at
all. Nora promptly apologized to Ed (for guessing he had given her falsies) and
thanked him for the trouble he had taken. The incident launched much work for
both members. (I shall not here discuss the sequel for Ed.) The group told Nora
that, though Ed had humiliated and embarrassed her, she had responded by
apologizing to him. She had politely thanked someone who had just given her a gift
of precisely nothing! The incident created the first robust spark of self-observation
in Nora. She began the next meeting with: “I’ve just set the world ingratiation
record. Last night I received an obscene phone call and I apologized to the man!”
(She had said, “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.”)
The underlying dynamics of the boring patient vary enormously from individual to
individual. Many have a core dependent position and so dread rejection and abandonment
that they are compulsively compliant, eschewing any aggressive remark that might initiate
retaliation. They mistakenly confuse healthy self-assertion with aggression and by
refusing to acknowledge their own vitality, desires, spontaneity, interests, and opinions,
they bring to pass (by boring others) the very rejection and abandonment they had hoped
to forestall.†17
If you, as the therapist, are bored with a client, that boredom is important data. (The
therapy of all difficult clients necessitates thoughtful attention to your
countertransference).18ad Always assume that if you are bored by the member, so are
others. You must counter your boredom with curiosity. Ask yourself: “What makes the
person boring? When am I most and least bored? How can I find the person—the real, the
lively, spontaneous, creative, person—within this boring shell?” No urgent “breakthrough”
technique is indicated. Since the boring individual is tolerated by the group much better
than the abrasive, narcissistic, or monopolistic client, you have much time.
Lastly, keep in mind that the therapist must take a Socratic posture with these clients.
Our task is not to put something into the individual but quite the opposite, to let something
out that was there all the time. Thus we do not attempt to inspirit boring clients, or inject
color, spontaneity, or richness into them, but instead to identify their squelched creative,
vital, childlike parts and to help remove the obstacles to their free expression.

THE HELP-REJECTING COMPLAINER
The help-rejecting complainer, a variant of the monopolist, was first identified and named
by J. Frank in 1952.19 Since then the behavior pattern has been recognized by many group
clinicians, and the term appears frequently in the psychiatric literature, particularly in the
psychotherapy and psychosomatic areas.20 In this section, I discuss the rare fully
developed help-rejecting complainer; however, this pattern of behavior is not a distinct,
all-or-nothing clinical syndrome. Individuals may arrive at this style of interaction through
various psychological pathways. Some may persistently manifest this behavior in an
extreme degree with no external provocation, whereas others may demonstrate only a
trace of this pattern. Still others may become help-rejecting complainers only at times of
particular stress. Closely associated with help-rejecting complaining is the expression of
emotional distress through somatic complaints. Clients with medically unexplainable
symptoms constitute a large and frustrating primary care burden.21
Description
Help-rejecting complainers (or HRCs) show a distinctive behavioral pattern in the group:
they implicitly or explicitly request help from the group by presenting problems or
complaints and then reject any help offered. HRCs continually present problems in a
manner that makes them to appear insurmountable. In fact, HRCs seems to take pride in
the insolubility of their problems. Often HRCs focus wholly on the therapist in a tireless
campaign to elicit intervention or advice and appear oblivious to the group’s reaction to
them. They seem willing to appear ludicrous so long as they are allowed to persist in the
search for help. They base their relationship to the other members along the singular
dimension of being more in need of aid. HRCs rarely show competitiveness in any area
except when another member makes a bid for the therapist’s or group’s attention by
presenting a problem. Then HRCs often attempt to belittle that person’s complaints by
comparing them unfavorably with their own. They often tend to exaggerate their problems
and to blame others, often authority figures on whom they depend in some fashion. HRCs
seem entirely self-centered, speaking only of themselves and their problems.
When the group and the therapist do respond to the HRC’s plea, the entire bewildering,
configuration takes form as the client rejects the help offered. The rejection is
unmistakable, though it may assume many varied and subtle forms: sometimes the advice
is rejected overtly, sometimes indirectly ; sometimes while accepted verbally, it is never
acted upon; if it is acted upon, it inevitably fails to improve the member’s plight.
Effects on the Group
The effects on the group are obvious: the other members become irritated, frustrated, and

confused. The HRC seems a greedy whirlpool, sucking the group’s energy. Worse yet, no
deceleration of the HRC’s demands is evident. Faith in the group process suffers, as
members experience a sense of impotence and despair of making their own needs
appreciated by the group. Cohesiveness is undermined as absenteeism occurs or as clients
subgroup in an effort to exclude the HRC.
Dynamics
The behavioral pattern of the HRC appears to be an attempt to resolve highly conflicted
feelings about dependency. On the one hand, the HRC feels helpless, insignificant, and
totally dependent on others, especially the therapist, for a sense of personal worth. Any
notice and attention from the therapist temporarily enhance the HRC’s self-esteem. On the
other hand, the HRC’s dependent position is vastly confounded by a pervasive distrust and
enmity toward authority figures. Consumed with need, the HRC turns for help to a figure
he or she anticipates will be unwilling or unable to help. The anticipation of refusal so
colors the style of requesting help that the prophecy is fulfilled, and further evidence is
accumulated for the belief in the malfeasance of the potential caregiver.22 A vicious circle
results, one that has been spinning for much of the client’s life.
Guidelines for Management
A severe HRC is an exceedingly difficult clinical challenge, and many such clients have
won a Pyrrhic victory over therapist and group by failing in therapy. It would thus be
presumptuous and misleading to attempt to prescribe a careful therapeutic plan; however,
certain generalizations may be posited. Surely it is a blunder for the therapist to confuse
the help requested for the help required.†23 The HRC solicits advice not for its potential
value but in order to spurn it. Ultimately, the therapist’s advice, guidance, and treatment
will be rejected or, if used, will prove ineffective or, if effective, will be kept secret. It is
also a blunder for the therapist to express any frustration and resentment. Retaliation
merely completes the vicious circle: the clients’ anticipation of ill treatment and
abandonment is once again realized: They feel justified in their hostile mistrust and are
able to affirm once again that no one can ever really understand them.
What course, then, is available to the therapist? One clinician suggests, perhaps in
desperation, that the therapist interrupt the vicious circle by indicating that he or she “not
only understands but shares the patient’s feelings of hopelessness about the situation,” thus
refusing to perpetuate his or her part in a futile relationship. Two brave co-therapists who
led a group composed only of help-rejecting complainers warn us against investing in a
sympathetic, nurturing relationship with the client. They suggest that therapists sidestep
any expression of optimism, encouragement, or advice and adopt instead a pose of irony
in which they agree with the content of the client’s pessimism while maintaining a
detached affect. Eric Berne, who considers the HRC pattern to be the most common of all
social and psychotherapy group games, labeled it “Why don’t you—yes but.” The use of

such easily accessible descriptive labels often makes the process more transparent to the
group members, but great caution must be exercised when using any bantering approach:
there is a fine line separating therapeutic playful caring from mockery and humiliation.24
In general, the therapist should attempt to mobilize the major therapeutic factors in the
service of the client. When a cohesive group has been formed and the client—through
universality, identification, and catharsis—has come to value membership in the group,
then the therapist can encourage interpersonal learning by continually focusing on
feedback and process in much the same manner as I have described in discussing the
monopolistic client. HRCs are generally not aware of their lack of empathy to others.
Helping them see their interpersonal impact on the other members is a key step in their
coming to examine their characteristic pattern of relationships.
THE PSYCHOTIC OR BIPOLAR CLIENT
Many groups are designed specifically to work with clients with significant Axis I
disturbance. In fact, when one considers groups on psychiatric wards, partial
hospitalization units, veterans’ hospitals, and aftercare programs, the total number of
therapy groups for severely impaired clients likely outnumbers those for higher-
functioning clients. I will discuss groups composed for hospitalized clients in chapter 15
(for more on this topic, see my text Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, Basic Books, 1983)
but for now consider the issue of what happens to the course of an interactive therapy
group of higher-functioning individuals when one member develops a psychotic illness
during treatment.
The fate of the psychotic client, the response of the other members, and the effective
options available to the therapist all depend in part on timing, that is, when in the course of
the group the psychotic illness occurs . In general, in a mature group in which the
psychotic client has long occupied a central, valued role, the group members are more
likely to be tolerant and effective during the crisis.
The Early Phases of a Group
In chapter 8, I emphasized that in the initial screening, the grossly psychotic client should
be excluded from ambulatory interactional group therapy. However, it is common practice
to refer clients with apparently stable bipolar disease to group therapy to address the
interpersonal consequences of their illness.
At times, despite cautious screening, an individual decompensates in the early stages of
therapy, perhaps because of unanticipated stress from life circumstances, or from the
group, or perhaps because of poor adherence to a medication regimen. This is a major
event for the group and always creates substantial problems for the newly formed group

(and, of course, for the client, who is likely to slide into a deviant role in the group and
eventually terminate treatment, often much the worse for the experience).
In this book I have repeatedly stressed that the early stages of the group are a time of
great flux and great importance. The young group is easily influenced, and norms that are
established early are often exceedingly durable. An intense sequence of events unfolds as,
in a few weeks, an aggregate of frightened, distrustful strangers evolves into an intimate,
mutually helpful group. Any event that consumes an inordinate amount of time early on
and diverts energy from the tasks of the developmental sequence is potentially destructive
to the group. Some of the relevant problems are illustrated by the following clinical
example.
• Sandy was a thirty-seven-year-old housewife who had once, many years before,
suffered a major and recalcitrant depression requiring hospitalization and
electroconvulsive therapy. She sought group therapy at the insistence of her
individual therapist, who thought that an understanding of her interpersonal
relationships would help her to improve her relationship with her husband. In the
early meetings of the group, she was an active member who tended to reveal far
more intimate details of her history than did the other members. Occasionally,
Sandy expressed anger toward another member and then engaged in excessively
profuse apologies coupled with self-deprecatory remarks. By the sixth meeting, her
behavior became still more inappropriate. She discoursed at great length on her
son’s urinary problems, for example, describing in intricate detail the surgery that
had been performed to relieve his urethral stricture. At the following meeting, she
noted that the family cat had also developed a blockage of the urinary tract; she
then urged the other members to describe their pets.
In the eighth meeting, Sandy became increasingly manic. She behaved in a
bizarre, irrational manner, insulted members of the group, openly flirted with the
male members to the point of stroking their bodies, and finally lapsed into
punning, clang associations, inappropriate laughter, and tears. One of the
therapists finally escorted her from the room, phoned her husband, and arranged
for immediate psychiatric hospitalization. Sandy remained in the hospital in a
manic, psychotic state for a month and then gradually recovered.
The members were obviously extremely uncomfortable during the meeting, their
feelings ranging from bafflement and fright to annoyance. After Sandy left, some
expressed their guilt for having, in some unknown manner, triggered her behavior.
Others spoke of their fear, and one recalled someone he knew who had acted in a
similar fashion but had also brandished a gun.
During the subsequent meeting, the members discussed many feelings related to
the incident. One member expressed his conviction that no one could be trusted:
even though he had known Sandy for seven weeks, her behavior proved to be
totally unpredictable. Others expressed their relief that they were, in comparison,
psychologically healthy; others, in response to their fears of similarly losing
control, employed considerable denial and veered away from discussing these

problems. Some expressed a fear of Sandy’s returning and making a shambles of
the group. Others expressed their diminished faith in group therapy; one member
asked for hypnosis, and another brought to the meeting an article from a scientific
journal claiming that psychotherapy was ineffective. A loss of faith in the
therapists and their competence was expressed in the dream of one member, in
which the therapist was in the hospital and was rescued by the client.
In the next few meetings, all these themes went underground. The meetings
became listless, shallow, and intellectualized. Attendance dwindled, and the group
seemed resigned to its own impotence. At the fourteenth meeting, the therapists
announced that Sandy was improved and would return the following week. A
vigorous, heated discussion ensued. The members feared that:
1. They would upset her. An intense meeting would make her ill again and, to
avoid that, the group would be forced to move slowly and superficially.
2. Sandy would be unpredictable. At any point she might lose control and
display dangerous, frightening behavior.
3. Sandy would, because of her lack of control, be untrustworthy. Nothing in
the group would remain confidential.
At the same time, the members expressed considerable anxiety and guilt for
wishing to exclude Sandy from the group, and soon tension and a heavy silence
prevailed. The extreme reaction of the group persuaded the therapist to delay
reintroducing Sandy (who was, incidentally, in concurrent individual therapy) for a
few weeks.
When she finally reentered the group, she was treated as a fragile object, and
the entire group interaction was guarded and defensive. By the twentieth meeting,
five of the seven members had dropped out of the group, leaving only Sandy and
one other member.
The therapists reconstituted the group by adding five new members. It is of
interest that, despite the fact that only two of the old members and the therapists
continued in the reconstituted group, the old group culture persisted—a powerful
example of the staying power of norms even in the presence of a limited number of
culture bearers.25 The group dynamics had locked the group and Sandy into
severely restricted roles and functions. Sandy was treated so delicately and
obliquely by the new members that the group moved slowly, floundering in its own
politeness and social conventionality. Only when the therapists openly confronted
this issue and discussed in the group their own fears of upsetting Sandy and
thrusting her into another psychological decompensation were the members able
to deal with their feelings and fears about her. At that point, the group moved
ahead more quickly. Sandy remained in the new group for a year and made
decided improvements in her ability to relate with others and in her self-concept.

Later in the Course of a Group
An entirely different situation may arise when an individual who has been an involved,
active group member for many months decompensates into a psychotic state. Other
members are then primarily concerned for that member rather than for themselves or for
the group. Since they have previously known and understood the now-psychotic member
as a person, they often react with great concern and interest; the client is less likely to be
viewed as a strange and frightening object to be avoided.26ae
Although perceiving similar trends in themselves may enhance the other members’
ability to continue relating to a distressed group member, it also creates a personal
upheaval in some, who begin to fear that they, too, can lose control and slide into a similar
abyss. Hence, the therapist does well to anticipate and express this fear to the others in the
group.
When faced with a psychotic client in a group, many therapists revert to a medical
model and symbolically dismiss the group by intervening forcefully in a one-to-one
fashion. In effect, they say to the group, “This is too serious a problem for you to handle.”
Such a maneuver, however, is often antitherapeutic: the client is frightened and the group
infantilized.
It has been my experience that a mature group is perfectly able to deal with the
psychiatric emergency and, although there may be false starts, to consider every
contingency and take every action that the therapist might have considered. Consider the
following clinical example.
• In the forty-fifth meeting, Rhoda, a forty-three-year-old divorced woman, arrived
a few minutes late in a disheveled, obviously disturbed state. Over the previous few
weeks, she had gradually been sliding into a depression, but now the process had
suddenly accelerated. She was tearful, despondent, and exhibited psychomotor
retardation. During the early part of the meeting, she wept continuously and
expressed feelings of great loneliness and hopelessness as well as an inability to
love, hate, or, for that matter, have any deeply felt emotion. She described her
feeling of great detachment from everyone, including the group, and, when
prompted, discussed suicidal ruminations.
The group members responded to Rhoda with great empathy and concern. They
inquired about events during the past week and helped her discuss two important
occurrences that seemed related to the depressive crisis: (1) for months she had
been saving money for a summer trip to Europe; during the past week, her
seventeen-year-old son had decided to decline a summer camp job and refused to
search for other jobs—a turn of events that, in Rhoda’s eyes, jeopardized her trip;
(2) she had, after months of hesitation, decided to attend a dance for divorced
middle-aged people, which proved to be a disaster: no one had asked her to dance,
and she had ended the evening consumed with feelings of total worthlessness.
The group helped her explore her relationship with her son, and for the first

time, she expressed rage at him for his lack of concern for her. With the group’s
assistance, she attempted to explore and express the limits of her responsibility
toward him. It was difficult for Rhoda to discuss the dance because of the amount
of shame and humiliation she felt. Two other women in the group, one single and
one divorced, empathized deeply with her and shared their experiences and
reactions to the scarcity of suitable males. Rhoda was also reminded by the group
of the many times she had, during sessions, interpreted every minor slight as a
total rejection and condemnation of herself. Finally, after much attention, care,
and warmth had been offered her, one of the members pointed out to Rhoda that
the experience of the dance was being disconfirmed right in the group: several
people who knew her well were deeply concerned and involved with her. Rhoda
rejected this idea by claiming that the group, unlike the dance, was an artificial
situation in which people followed unnatural rules of conduct. The members
quickly pointed out that quite the contrary was true: the dance—the contrived
congregation of strangers, the attractions based on split-second, skin-deep
impressions—was the artificial situation and the group was the real one. It was in
the group that she was more completely known.
Rhoda, suffused with feelings of worthlessness, then berated herself for her
inability to feel reciprocal warmth and involvement with the group members. One
of the members quickly intercepted this maneuver by pointing out that Rhoda had a
familiar and repetitive pattern of experiencing feelings toward the other members,
evidenced by her facial expression and body posture, but then letting her
“shoulds” take over and torture her by insisting that she should feel more warmth
and more love than anyone else. The net effect was that the real feeling she did
have was rapidly extinguished by the winds of her impossible selfdemands.
In essence, what then transpired was Rhoda’s gradual recognition of the
discrepancy between her public and private esteem (described in chapter 3). At the
end of the meeting, Rhoda responded by bursting into tears and crying for several
minutes. The group was reluctant to leave but did so when the members had all
convinced themselves that suicide was no longer a serious consideration.
Throughout the next week, the members maintained an informal vigil, each
phoning Rhoda at least once.
A number of important and far-reaching principles emerge from this illustration. Rather
early in the session, the therapist realized the important dynamics operating in Rhoda’s
depression and, had he chosen, might have made the appropriate interpretations to allow
the client and the group to arrive much more quickly at a cognitive understanding of the
problem—but that would have detracted considerably from the meaningfulness and value
of the meeting to both the protagonist and the other members. For one thing, the group
would have been deprived of an opportunity to experience its own potency; every success
adds to the group’s cohesiveness and enhances the self-regard of each of the members. It
is difficult for some therapists to refrain from interpretation, and yet it is essential to learn
to sit on your wisdom. There are times when it is foolish to be wise and wise to be silent.

At times, as in this clinical episode, the group chooses and performs the appropriate
action; at other times, the group may decide that the therapist must act. But there is a vast
difference between a group’s hasty decision stemming from infantile dependence and
unrealistic appraisal of the therapist’s powers and a decision based on the members’
thorough investigation of the situation and mature appraisal of the therapist’s expertise.
These points lead me to an important principle of group dynamics, one substantiated by
considerable research. A group that reaches an autonomous decision based on a thorough
exploration of the pertinent problems will employ all of its resources in support of its
decision; a group that has a decision thrust upon it is likely to resist that decision and be
even less effective in making valid decisions in the future.
Let me take a slight but relevant tangent here and tell you a story about a well-known
study in group dynamics. The focus of this illustration is a pajama-producing factory in
which periodic changes in jobs and routine were necessitated by advances in technology.
For many years, the employees resisted these changes; with each change, there was an
increase in absenteeism, turnover, and aggression toward the management as well as
decreased efficiency and output.
Researchers designed an experiment to test various methods of overcoming the
employees’ resistance to change. The critical variable to be studied was the degree of
participation of the group members (the employees) in planning the change. The
employees were divided into three groups, and three variations were tested. The first
variation involved no participation by the employees in planning the changes, although
they were given an explanation. The second variation involved participation through
elected representation of the workers in designing the changes to be made in the job. The
third variation consisted of total participation by all the members of the group in designing
the changes. The results showed conclusively that, on all measures studied (aggression
toward management, absenteeism, efficiency, number of employees resigning from the
job), the success of the change was directly proportional to the degree of participation of
the group members.27
The implications for group therapy are apparent: members who personally participate in
planning a course of action will be more committed to the enactment of the plan. They
will, for example, invest themselves more fully in the care of a disturbed member if they
recognize that it is their problem and not the therapist’s alone.
At times, as in the previous clinical example, the entire experience is beneficial to the
development of group cohesiveness. Sharing intense emotional experiences usually
strengthens ties among members. The danger to the group occurs when the psychotic
client consumes a massive amount of energy for a prolonged period. Then other members
may drop out, and the group may deal with the disturbed individual in a cautious,
concealed manner or attempt to ignore him or her. These methods never fail to aggravate
the problem. In such critical situations, one important option always available to the
therapist is to see the disturbed client in individual sessions for the duration of the crisis
(this option will be dealt with more fully in the discussion of combined therapy). Here too,
however, the group should thoroughly explore the implications and share in the decision.

One of the worst calamities that can befall a therapy group is the presence of a manic
member. A client in the midst of a severe hypomanic episode is perhaps the single most
disruptive problem for a group. (In contrast, a full-blown manic episode presents little
problem, since the immediate course of action is clear: hospitalization.)
The client with acute, poorly contained bipolar affective disorder is best managed
pharmacologically and is not a good candidate for interactionally oriented treatment. It is
obviously unwise to allow the group to invest much energy and time in treatment that has
such little likelihood of success. There is mounting evidence, however, for the use of
specific, homogeneous group interventions for clients with bipolar illness. These groups
offer psychoeducation about the illness and stress the importance of pharmacotherapy
adherence and maintenance of healthy lifestyle and self-regulation routines. These groups
are best employed in conjunction with pharmacotherapy in the maintenance phase of this
chronic illness, after any acute disturbances have settled. Substantial benefits from therapy
have been demonstrated, including improved pharmacotherapy adherence; reduced mood
disturbance; fewer illness relapses; less substance abuse; and improved psychosocial
functioning.28
THE CHARACTEROLOGICALLY DIFFICULT CLIENT
The final three types of problem clients in group therapy I shall discuss are the schizoid
client, the borderline client, and the narcissistic client. These clients are often discussed
together in the clinical literature under the rubric of characterologically difficult or Axis II
clients.29 Traditional DSM diagnostic criteria do not do justice to the complexity of these
clients and fail to capture adequately their inner psychological experience.30
Most characterologically difficult clients have in common problems in regulation of
affect, in interpersonal engagement, and in sense of self. Their pathology is thought to be
based on serious problems in the first few years of life. They lack internal soothing or
comforting parental representations, and instead their internal world is peopled by
abandoning, withholding, and disappointing parental representations. They often lack the
ability to integrate ambivalent feelings and interpersonal reactions, splitting the world into
black and white, good and bad, loving and hating, idealizing and devaluing. At any
moment they have little recall of feelings other than the powerful ones felt at that moment.
Prominent difficulties include rage, vulnerability to abandonment and to narcissistic
injury, and a tendency toward projective identification. Such clients also often lack a sense
of their role in their difficulties or of their impact on others.31
Because these difficulties generally manifest in troubled and troubling interpersonal
relationships, group therapy has a prominent role in both ambulatory and partial
hospitalization settings. Group therapy is promising but challenging with these clients, but
the psychological and health care cost-benefit ratios are very encouraging, particularly
when adequate time in treatment is provided.32

Often the characterologically difficult client has experienced traumatic abuse early in
life as well, which further amplifies the challenge in treatment. In some samples the
comorbidity of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and borderline personality disorder
exceeds 50 percent. When the traumatic experiences and consequent symptoms—chiefly
intrusive reexperiencing of the trauma, avoidance of any reminder of the trauma, and
general hyperarousal—have a profound combined impact on the individual, the term
“complex PTSD” is often applied. This term captures the way in which the traumatic
events and psychological reactions to these events shape the individual’s personality.33
Characterologically difficult clients are prevalent in most clinical settings. They are
often referred to groups by an individual therapist when (1) the transference has grown too
intense for dyadic therapy; (2) the client has become so defensively isolated that group
interaction is required to engage the client; (3) therapy has proceeded well but a plateau
has been reached and interactive experience is necessary to produce further gains.
The Schizoid Client
Many years ago, in a previous edition of this book, I began this section with the following
sentence: “The schizoid condition, the malady of our times, perhaps accounts for more
patients entering therapy than does any other psychopathological configuration.” This no
longer rings true. The fashions of mental illness change: Today, clients more commonly
enter treatment because of substance abuse, eating disorders, and sequelae of sexual and
physical abuse. Even though the schizoid condition is no longer the malady of our times,
schizoid individuals are still common visitors to therapy groups. They are emotionally
blocked, isolated, and distant and often seek group therapy out of a vague sense that
something is missing: they cannot feel, cannot love, cannot play, cannot cry. They are
spectators of themselves; they do not inhabit their own bodies; they do not experience
their own experience. Superficially, the schizoid client and the avoidant client resemble
each other. There are, however, clear differences. The avoidant individual is anxiously
inhibited, self-aware, and able to engage when sufficiently reassured that rejection will not
ensue. In contrast, the schizoid client suffers a deficit in key emotional and reflective
capacities.34
No one has described the experiential world of the schizoid individual more vividly
than Sartre in The Age of Reason:
He closed the paper and began to read the special correspondent’s dispatch on the
front page. Fifty dead and three hundred wounded had already been counted, but
that was not the total, there were certainly corpses under the debris. There were
thousands of men in France who had not been able to read their paper that morning
without feeling a clot of anger rise in their throat, thousands of men who had
clenched their fists and muttered: “Swine!” Mathieu clenched his fists and
muttered: “Swine!” and felt himself still more guilty. If at least he had been able to
discover in himself a trifling emotion that was veritably if modestly alive,
conscious of its limits. But no: he was empty, he was confronted by a vast anger, a

desperate anger, he saw it and could almost have touched it. But it was inert—if it
were to live and find expression and suffer, he must lend it his own body. It was
other people’s anger. Swine! He clenched his fists, he strode along, but nothing
came, the anger remained external to himself. Something was on the threshold of
existence, a timorous dawn of anger. At last! But it dwindled and collapsed, he was
left in solitude, walking with the measured and decorous gait of a man in a funeral
procession in Paris. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and he thought:
One can’t force one’s deeper feelings. Yonder was a terrible and tragic state of
affairs that ought to arouse one’s deepest emotions. It’s no use, the moment will
not come.35
Schizoid individuals are often in a similar predicament in the therapy group. In virtually
every group meeting, they have confirmatory evidence that the nature and intensity of
their emotional experience differs considerably from that of the other members. Puzzled at
this discrepancy, they may conclude that the other members are melodramatic, excessively
labile, phony, overly concerned with trivia, or simply of a different temperament.
Eventually, however, schizoid clients, like Sartre’s protagonist, Mathieu, begin to wonder
about themselves, and begin to suspect that somewhere inside themselves is a vast frozen
lake of feeling.
In one way or another, by what they say or do not say, schizoid clients convey this
emotional isolation to the other members. In chapter 2, I described a male client who
could not understand the members’ concern about the therapist’s leaving the group or a
member’s obsessive fears about her boyfriend being killed. He saw people as
interchangeable. He had his need for a minimum daily requirement of affection (without,
it seemed, proper concern about the source of the affection). He was “bugged” by the
departure of the therapist only because it would slow down his therapy, but he did not
share the feeling expressed by the others: grief at the loss of the person who is the
therapist. In his defense, he maintained, “There’s not much sense in having any strong
feelings about the therapist leaving, since there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Another member, chided by the group because of his lack of empathy toward two
highly distressed members, responded, “So, they’re hurting. There are millions of people
hurting all over the world at this instant. If I let myself feel bad for everyone who is
hurting, it would be a full-time occupation.” Most of us get a rush of feelings and then we
sometimes try to comprehend the meaning of the feelings. In schizoid clients, feelings
come later—they are awarded priority according to the dictates of rationality. Feeling must
be justified pragmatically: if they serve no purpose, why have them?
The group is often keenly aware of discrepancies among a member’s words, experience,
and emotional response. One member, who had been criticized for withholding
information from the group about his relationship with a girlfriend, frostily asked, “Would
you like to bring your camera and climb into bed with us?” When questioned, however, he
denied feeling any anger and could not account for the tone of sarcasm.
At other times, the group reads the schizoid member’s emotions from postural or
behavioral cues. Indeed, such individuals may relate to themselves in a similar way and

join in the investigation, commenting, for example, “My heart is beating fast, so I must be
frightened,” or “My fist is clenched, so I must be mad.” In this regard they share a
common difficulty with the alexithymic clients described earlier.
The response of the other members is predictable; it proceeds from curiosity and
puzzlement through disbelief, solicitude, irritation, and frustration. They will repeatedly
inquire, “What do you feel about … ?” and only much later come to realize that they were
demanding that this member quickly learn to speak a foreign language. At first, members
become very active in helping to resolve what appears to be a minor affliction, telling
schizoid clients what to feel and what they would feel if they were in that situation.
Eventually, the group members grow weary; frustration sets in; and then they redouble
their efforts—almost always with no noticeable results. They try harder yet, in an attempt
to force an affective response by increasing the intensity of the stimulus. Ultimately, they
resort to a sledgehammer approach.
The therapist must avoid joining in the quest for a breakthrough. I have never seen a
schizoid client significantly change by virtue of a dramatic incident; change is a prosaic
process of grinding labor, repetitive small steps, and almost imperceptible progress. It is
tempting and often useful to employ some activating, nonverbal, or gestalt techniques to
hasten a client’s movement. These approaches may speed up the client’s recognition and
expression of nascent or repressed feelings, but keep in mind that if you do excessive, one-
to-one directive work, the group may become less potent, less autonomous, and more
dependent and leader centered. (I will discuss these issues at length in chapter 14.)
Furthermore, schizoid clients not only need new skills but, more important, they need a
new internalized experience of the world of relationships—and that takes time, patience,
and perseverance.
In chapter 6, I described several here-and-now activating techniques that are useful in
work with the schizoid client. Work energetically in the here-and-now. Encourage the
client to differentiate among members; despite protestations, the client does not feel
precisely the same way toward everyone in the group. Help such members move into
feelings they pass off as inconsequential. When the client admits, “Well, I may feel
slightly irritated or slightly hurt,” suggest staying with these feelings; no one ever said it
was necessary to discuss only big feelings. “Hold up a magnifying glass to the hurt,” you
might suggest; “describe exactly what it is like.” Invite the client to imagine what others in
the group are feeling. Try to cut off the client’s customary methods of dismissal:
“Somehow, you’ve gotten away from something that seemed important. Can we go back
to where we were five minutes ago? When you were talking to Julie, I thought you looked
near tears. Something was going on inside.Ӡ
Encourage the client to observe his or her body. Often the client may not experience
affect but will be aware of the affective autonomic equivalents: tightness in the stomach,
sweating, throat constriction, flushing, and so on. Gradually the group may help the client
translate those feelings into their psychological meaning. The members may, for example,
note the timing of the client’s reactions in conjunction with some event in the group.
Therapists must beware of assessing events solely according to their own experiential

world. As I have discussed previously, clients may experience the same event in totally
different ways: An event that is seemingly trivial to the therapist or to one member may be
an exceedingly important experience to another member. A slight show of irritation by a
restricted schizoid individual may be a major breakthrough for that person. It may be the
first time in adulthood that he or she has expressed anger and may enable further testing
out of new behavior, both in and out of the group.
In the group, these individuals are high risk and high reward. Those who can manage to
persevere, to continue in the group and not be discouraged by the inability to change their
relationship style quickly, are almost certain to profit considerably from the group therapy
experience.
The Borderline Client
For decades, psychotherapists have known about a large cluster of individuals who are
unusually difficult to treat and who fall between the major diagnostic criteria of severity of
impairment: more disorganized than neurotic clients but more integrated than psychotic
clients. A thin veneer of integration conceals a primitive personality structure. Under
stress, these borderline clients are highly unstable; some develop psychoses that may
resemble schizophrenic psychosis but are circumscribed, short-lived, and episodic.
DSM-IV-TR states that borderline personality disorder is a pervasive pattern of
instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, affects, and control over impulses
requiring at least five of these nine features: frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined
abandonment; unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternation
between extremes of idealization and devaluation; identity disturbance—persistent and
markedly disturbed, distorted, or unstable self-image or sense of self; impulsiveness in
two self-damaging areas, such as substance abuse, spending, sex, binge eating, and
reckless driving; recurrent suicidal threats or behavior, or self-mutilation; affective
instability due to a marked reactivity of mood; chronic feelings of emptiness;
inappropriate intense anger or lack of control of anger; transient, stress-related paranoid
ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.36
In recent years, a great deal more clarity about clients with borderline personality
disorder has emerged, thanks especially to the work of Otto Kernberg, who emphasized
the overriding instability of the borderline client—instability of mood, thought, and
interpersonal involvement.37 Yet the category still lacks precision, has unsatisfactory
reliability,38 and often serves as a catchall for a personality disorder that clinicians cannot
otherwise diagnose. It will, in all likelihood, undergo further transformation in future
classificatory systems.
Although there is considerable debate about the psychodynamics and the developmental
origins of the borderline personality disturbance,39 this debate is tangential to group
therapy practice and need not be discussed here. What is important for the group therapist,
as I have stressed throughout this book, is not the elusive and unanswerable question—

how one got to be the way one is—but rather the nature of the current forces, both
conscious and unconscious, that influence the way the characterologically difficult client
relates to others.
Not only has there been a recent explosion of interest in the diagnosis, the
psychodynamics, and the individual therapy of the borderline client, but also much group
therapy literature has focused on the borderline personality disturbance. Group therapists
have developed an interest in these clients for two major reasons. First, because borderline
personality disorder is difficult to diagnose in a single screening session, many clinicians
unintentionally introduce borderline clients into therapy groups consisting of clients
functioning at a higher level of integration. Second, there is growing evidence that group
therapy is an effective form of treatment. Some of the most impressive research results
emerge from homogeneous and intensive partial hospitalization programs in which
therapy groups offer the borderline individual containment, emotional support, and
interpersonal learning while demanding personal accountability in an environment that
counters regression and unhealthy intensification of transference reactions. Significant and
enduring improvements in mood, psychosocial stability, and self-harm behavior have been
reported.40
The majority of borderline clients, however, are likely to be treated in heterogeneous
ambulatory groups. There is mounting consensus that combined or concurrent individual
and group treatment may be the treatment of choice for the borderline client. Some experts
have arrived at the conclusion that the preferred treatment is combined treatment with two
group meetings and one individual meeting weekly. Furthermore, research evidence
indicates that borderline clients highly value their group therapy experience—often more
than their individual therapy experience.41
Keep in mind that the client’s pathology places great demands on the treating therapist,
who may at times be frustrated by the inability to make secure gains in therapy and may at
other times experience strong wishes to rescue these clients, even to modify the traditional
procedures and boundaries of the therapeutic situation. Keep in mind also that many
therapists suggest group therapy for borderline clients not because these clients work well
or easily in therapy groups but because they are extraordinarily difficult to treat in
individual therapy.
Often, individual therapists find that the borderline client cannot easily tolerate the
intensity and intimacy of the one-to-one treatment setting. Crippling transference and
countertransference problems regularly emerge in therapy. Therapists often find it difficult
to deal with the demands and the primitive anger of the borderline client, particularly since
the client so often acts them out (for example, through absence, lateness, drug abuse, or
self-mutilation). Massive regression often occurs, and many clients are so threatened by
the emergence of painful, primitive affects that they flee therapeutic engagement or cause
the therapist to reject them. Though the evidence suggests that group therapy may be quite
effective for these clients, their primitive affects and highly distorted perceptual tendencies
vastly influence the course of group therapy and severely tax the resources of the group.
The duration of therapy is long: There is considerable clinical consensus that borderline

clients require many years of therapy and will generally stay in a group longer than any of
the other members.
Separation anxiety and the fear of abandonment play a crucial role in the dynamics of
the borderline client. A threatened separation (the therapist’s vacation, for example—and
sometimes even the end of a session) characteristically evokes severe anxiety and triggers
the characteristic defenses of this syndrome: splitting, projective identification,
devaluation, and flight.
The therapy group may assuage separation anxiety in two ways. First, one or
(preferably) two group therapists are introduced into the client’s life, thus shielding the
client from the great dysphoria occurring when the individual therapist is unavailable.
Second, the group itself becomes a stable entity in the client’s life, one that exists even
when some of its members are absent. Repeated loss (that is, the termination of members)
within the secure continued existence of the group helps clients come to terms with their
extreme sensitivity to loss. The therapy group offers a singular opportunity to mourn the
loss of an important relationship in the comforting presence of others who are
simultaneously dealing with the same loss. Real relationships can offset the intense hunger
the borderline client feels, but in a more mutual, less intense fashion.42 Once the
borderline client develops trust in the group, he or she may serve as a major stabilizing
influence. Because borderline clients’ separation anxiety is so great and they are so
anxious to preserve the continued presence of important figures in their environment, they
help keep the group together, often becoming the most faithful attendees and chiding other
members for being absent or tardy.
One of the major advantages a therapy group may have for the treatment of a borderline
client is the powerful reality testing provided by the ongoing stream of feedback and
observations from the members. Thus, regression is far less pronounced. The client may
distort, act out, or express primitive, chaotic needs and fears, but the continuous reminders
of reality in the therapy group keep these feelings muted.
• Marge, forty-two, was referred to the group by her individual therapist, who had
been unable to make headway with her. Marge’s feelings toward her therapist
alternated between great rage at him and hunger for him. The intensity of these
feelings was so great that no work could be done on them and the therapist was on
the verge of discontinuing therapy. Placing her in a therapy group was his last
resort.
Upon entry into the group, Marge refused to talk for several meetings because
she wanted to determine how the group ran. After four meetings in silence, she
suddenly unleashed a ferocious attack on one of the group co-leaders, labeling him
as cold, powerful, and rejecting. She offered no reasons or data for her comments
aside from her gut feeling about him. Furthermore, she expressed contempt for
those members of the group who felt affection for this co-therapist.
Her feelings for the other leader were quite the opposite: she experienced him
as soft, warm, and caring. Other members were startled by her black-and-white
view of the co-therapists and urged her, unsuccessfully, to work on her great

propensity for judgment and anger. Her positive attachment to the one leader
contained her sufficiently to permit her to continue in the group and allowed her to
tolerate the intense hostile feeling toward the other leader and to work on other
issues in the group—though she continued to snipe intermittently at the hated
leader.
A notable change occurred with the “bad” therapist’s vacation. When Marge
expressed a fantasy of wanting to kill him, or at least to see him suffer, members
expressed astonishment at the degree of her rage. Perhaps, one member suggested,
she hated him so much because she badly wanted to be closer to him and was
convinced it would never happen. This feedback had a dramatic impact on Marge.
It touched not only on her feelings about the therapist but also on deep, conflicted
feelings about her mother. Gradually, her anger softened, and she described her
longing for a different kind of relationship with the therapist. She expressed
sadness also at her isolation in the group and described her wish for more
closeness with other members. Some weeks after the return of the “bad” therapist,
her anger had diminished sufficiently to work with him in a softer, more productive
manner.
This example illustrates how, in a number of ways, the group therapy situation can
reduce intense and crippling transference distortions. First, other members offered
different views of the therapist, which ultimately helped Marge correct her distorted
views. Second, borderline clients who develop powerful negative transference reactions
are able to continue working in the group because they so often develop opposite,
balancing feelings toward the co-therapist or toward other members of the group—which
is why many clinicians strongly advise a co-therapy format in the group treatment of
borderline clients.43 It is also possible for a client to rest temporarily, to withdraw, or to
participate in a less intensified fashion in the therapy group. Such respites from intensity
are rarely possible in the one-to-one format.
The work ethic of psychotherapy is often more readily apparent in a group. Individual
therapy with borderline clients may be marked by the absence of a therapeutic alliance.44
Some clients lose sight of the goal of personal change and instead expend their energy in
therapy seeking revenge for inflicted pain or demanding gratification from therapist.
Witnessing other members working on therapy goals in the group often supplies an
important corrective to derailed therapy.
Since the borderline individuals’ core problems lie in the sphere of intimacy, the
therapeutic factor of cohesiveness is often of decisive import. If these clients are able to
accept the reality testing offered by the group, and if their behavior is not so disruptive as
to cast them in a deviant or scapegoat role, then the group may become a holding
environment—an enormously important, supportive refuge from the stresses borderline
clients experience in everyday life. The borderline clients’ sense of belongingness is
augmented by the fact that they are often a great asset to the therapy group. These
individuals have great access to affect, unconscious needs, fantasies, and fears, and they
may loosen up a group and facilitate the therapeutic work, especially the therapy of

schizoid, inhibited, constricted individuals. Of course, this can be a double-edged sword.
Some group members may be negatively affected by the borderline client’s intense rages
and negativity, which can undermine the work of comembers who are victims of abuse or
trauma.45
The borderline client’s vulnerability and tendency to distort are so extreme that
concurrent or combined individual therapy is required. Many therapists suggest that the
most common reason for treatment failure of borderline clients in therapy groups is the
omission of adjunctive individual therapy.46 If conjoint therapy is used, it is particularly
important for the group and the individual therapists to be in ongoing communication. The
dangers of splitting are real, and it is important that the client experience the therapists as a
solid, coherent team.
Despite the heroic efforts of DSM-IV-TR, the borderline personality disorder does not
represent a homogeneous diagnostic category. One borderline client may be markedly
dissimilar clinically to another. The frequently hospitalized chaotic individual is grossly
different (and has a very different course of therapy) from the less severely disabled
individual with an unanchored self.47 Thus, the decision to include a borderline client in a
group depends on the characteristics of the particular individual being screened rather than
on the broad diagnostic category. The therapist has to assess not only a client’s ability to
tolerate the intensity of the therapy group but also the group’s ability to tolerate the
demands of that particular client at that point. Most heterogeneous ambulatory groups can,
at best, tolerate only one or possibly two borderline individuals. The major considerations
influencing the selection process are the same as those described in chapter 8. It is
particularly important to assess the possibility of the client’s becoming a deviant in the
group. Rigidity of behavioral patterns, especially patterns that antagonize other people,
should be carefully scrutinized. Clients who are markedly grandiose, contemptuous, and
disdainful are unlikely to have a bright future in a group. It is necessary for a client to have
the capacity to tolerate minimal amounts of frustration or criticism without serious acting
out. A client with an erratic work record, a history of transitory relationships, or a history
of quickly moving on to a new situation when slightly frustrated in an old one is likely to
respond in the same way in the therapy group.
The Narcissistic Client
The term narcissistic may be used in different ways. It is useful to think about narcissistic
clients representing a range and dimension of concerns rather than a narrow diagnostic
category.48 Although there is a formal diagnosis of narcissistic personality disorder, there
are many more individuals with narcissistic traits who create characteristic interpersonal
problems in the course of group therapy.
The nature of the narcissistic individual’s difficulties is captured comprehensively in the
DSM-IV-TR diagnostic criteria for the personality disorder. A diagnosis of the personality
disorder requires that at least five of nine criteria be met: grandiose sense of self-

importance; preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, love, or brilliance;
a belief that he or she is special and can be understood only by other special, high-status
people; a need for excessive admiration; a sense of entitlement; interpersonally
exploitative behavior; lack of empathy; often envious of others; arrogant, haughty
behaviors or attitudes.49
More commonly, many individuals with narcissistic difficulties present with features of
grandiosity, a need for admiration from others, and a lack of empathy. These individuals
also tend to have a shallow emotional life, derive little enjoyment from life other than
tributes received from others, and tend to depreciate those from whom they expect few
narcissistic supplies. 50 Their self-esteem is brittle and easily diminished, often generating
outrage at the source of insult.
Appropriate narcissism, a healthy love of oneself, is essential to the development of
self-respect and self-confidence. Excessive narcissism takes the form of loving oneself to
the exclusion of others, of losing sight of the fact that others are sentient beings, that
others, too, are constituting egos, each constructing and experiencing a unique world. In
extreme form, narcissists are solipsists who experience the world and other individuals as
existing solely for them.

General Problems. The narcissistic client often has a stormier but more productive course
in group than in individual therapy. In fact, the individual format provides so much
gratification that the core problem emerges much more slowly: the client’s every word is
listened to; every feeling, fantasy, and dream are examined; much is given to and little
demanded from the client.
In the group, however, the client is expected to share time, to understand, to empathize
with and to help others, to form relationships, to be concerned with the feelings of others,
to receive constructive but sometimes critical feedback. Often narcissistic individuals feel
alive when onstage: they judge the group’s usefulness to them on the basis of how many
minutes of the group’s and the therapist’s time they have obtained at a meeting. They
guard their specialness fiercely and often object when anyone points out similarities
between themselves and other members. For the same reason, they also object to being
included with the other members in group-as-a-whole interpretations.
They may have a negative response to some crucial therapeutic factors—for example,
cohesiveness and universality. To belong to a group, to be like others, may be experienced
as a homogenizing and cheapening experience. Hence the group experience readily brings
to light the narcissistic client’s difficulties in relationships. Other members may feel
unsympathetic to the narcissistic member because they rarely see the vulnerability and
fragility that resides beneath the grandiose and exhibitionistic behavior, a vulnerable core
that the narcissistic client often keeps well hidden.51
• One group member, Vicky, was highly critical of the group format and frequently
restated her preference for the one-to-one therapy format. She often supported her

position by citing psychoanalytic literature critical of the group therapy approach.
She felt bitter at having to share time in the group. For example, three-fourths of
the way through a meeting, the therapist remarked that he perceived Vicky and
John to be under much pressure. They both admitted that they needed and wanted
time in the meeting that day. After a moment’s awkwardness, John gave way,
saying he thought his problem could wait until the next session. Vicky consumed
the rest of the meeting and, at the following session, continued where she left off.
When it appeared that she had every intention of using the entire meeting again,
one of the members commented that John had been left hanging in the last session.
But there was no easy transition, since, as the therapist pointed out, only Vicky
could entirely release the group, and she gave no sign of doing so graciously (she
had lapsed into a sulking silence).
Nonetheless, the group turned to John, who was in the midst of a major life
crisis. John presented his situation, but no good work was done. At the very end of
the meeting, Vicky began weeping silently. The group members, thinking that she
wept for John, turned to her. But she wept, she said, for all the time that was
wasted on John—time that she could have used so much better. What Vicky could
not appreciate for at least a year in the group was that this type of incident did not
indicate that she would be better off in individual therapy. Quite the contrary: the
fact that such difficulties arose in the group was precisely the reason that the group
format was especially indicated for her.
Though narcissistic clients are frustrated by their bids for attention being so often
thwarted in the group as well in their outside life, that very enlivening frustration
constitutes a major advantage for the group therapeutic mode. Furthermore, the group is
catalyzed as well: some members profit from having to take assertive stands against the
narcissist’s greediness, and members who are too nonassertive may use aspects of the
narcissistic client’s behavior as modeling.
Another narcissistic patient, Ruth, who sought therapy for her inability to maintain deep
relationships, participated in the group in a highly stylized fashion: she insisted on filling
the members in every week on the minute details of her life and especially on her
relationships with men, her most pressing problem. Many of these details were extraneous,
but she was insistent on a thorough recitation (much like the “watch me” phase of early
childhood). Aside from watching her, there seemed no way the group could relate to Ruth
without making her feel deeply rejected. She insisted that friendship consisted of sharing
intimate details of one’s life, yet we learned through a follow-up interview with a member
who terminated the group that Ruth frequently called her for social evenings—but she
could no longer bear to be with Ruth because of her propensity to use friends in the same
way one might use an analyst: as an ever-patient, eversolicitous, ever-available ear.
Some narcissistic individuals who have a deep sense of specialness and entitlement feel
not only that they deserve maximum group attention but also that it should be forthcoming
without any effort on their part. They expect the group to care for them, to reach out for
them despite the fact that they reach out for no one. They expect gifts, surprises,

compliments, concern, though they give none. They expect to be able to express anger and
scorn but to remain immune from retaliation. They expect to be loved and admired for
simply being there. I have seen this posture especially pronounced in beautiful women
who have been praised all their lives simply by virtue of their appearance and their
presence.
The lack of awareness of, or empathy for, others is obvious in the group. After several
meetings, members begin to note that although the client does personal work in the group,
he or she never questions, supports, or assists others. The narcissistic client may describe
life experiences with great enthusiasm, but is a poor listener and grows bored when others
speak. One narcissistic man often fell asleep in the meeting if the issues discussed were
not immediately relevant to him. When confronted about his sleeping, he would ask for
the group’s forbearance because of his long, hard day (even though he was frequently
unemployed, a phenomenon he attributed to employers’ failure to recognize his unique
skills). There are times when it is useful to point out that there is only one relationship in
life where one individual can constantly receive without reciprocating to the other—the
mother and her young infant.
In chapter 12, in the account of Bill and Jan’s relationship, I described many of Bill’s
narcissistic modes of relating to other people. Much of his failure or inability to view the
world from the position of the other was summed up in a statement he made to the other
woman in the group, Gina, after sixteen months of meetings. He wistfully said that he
regretted that nothing had happened between them. Gina sharply corrected him: “You
mean nothing sexual, but a great deal has happened for me. You tried to seduce me. For
once I refused. I didn’t fall in love with you, and I didn’t go to bed with you. I didn’t
betray myself or my husband. I learned to know you and to care for you very deeply with
all your faults and with all your assets. Is that nothing happening?”
Several months after the end of therapy, I asked Bill in a follow-up interview to recall
some of the most significant events or turning points in therapy. He described a session
late in therapy when the group watched a videotape of the previous session. Bill was
stunned to learn that he had completely forgotten most of the session, remembering only
those few points in which he was centrally involved. His egocentricity was powerfully
brought home to him and affirmed what the group had been trying to tell him for months.
Many therapists distinguish between the overgratified narcissistic individual, like Bill,
and the undergratified narcissistic individual, who tends to be more deprived and enraged,
even explosive. The group behavior of the latter is misunderstood by the other members,
who interpret the anger as an attack on the group rather than as a last-ditch attempt to
defend the otherwise unprotected self. Consequently, these members are given little
nurturance for their unspoken wounds and deficits and are at risk of bolting from the
group. It is essential that therapists maintain an empathic connection to these clients and
focus on their subjective world, particularly when they feel diminished or hurt. At times,
the group leader may even need to serve as an advocate for the understanding of the
emotional experience of these provocative group members.52
A clinical illustration:

• Val, a narcissistic woman, was insulting, unempathic, and highly sensitive to even
the mildest criticism. In one meeting, she lamented at length that she never
received support or compliments from anyone in the group, least of all from the
therapists. In fact, she could remember only three positive comments to her in the
seventy group meetings she had attended. One member responded immediately and
straightforwardly: “Oh, come on, Val, get off it. Last week both of the therapists
supported you a whole lot. In fact, you get more stroking in this group than anyone
else.” Every other member of the group agreed and offered several examples of
positive comments that had been given to Val over the last few meetings.
Later in the same meeting, Val responded to two incidents in a highly
maladaptive fashion. Two members were locked in a painful battle over control.
Both were shaken and extremely threatened by the degree of anger expressed, both
their own and their antagonist’s. Many of the other group members offered
observations and support. Val’s response was that she didn’t know what all the
commotion was about, and that the two were “jerks” for getting themselves so
upset about nothing at all.
A few minutes later, Farrell, a member who had been very concealed and silent,
was pressed to reveal more about herself. With considerable resolve, she disclosed,
for the first time, intimate details about a relationship she had recently entered into
with a man. She talked about her fear that the relationship would collapse because
she desperately wanted children and, once again, had started a relationship with a
man who had made it clear that he did not want children. Many members of the
group responded empathically and supportively to her disclosure. Val was silent,
and when called upon, she stated that she could see Farrell was having a hard
time talking about this, but couldn’t understand why. “It didn’t seem like a big-deal
revelation.” Farrell responded, “Thanks, Val, that makes me feel great—it makes
me want to have nothing to do with you. I’d like to put as much distance as
possible between the two of us.”
The group’s response to Val in both of these incidents was immediate and direct.
The two people she had accused of acting like jerks let her know that they felt
demeaned by her remarks. One commented, “If people talk about some problem
that you don’t have, then you dismiss it as being unimportant or jerky. Look, I don’t
have the problems that you have about not getting enough compliments from the
therapists or other members of the group. It simply is not an issue for me. How
would you feel if I called you a jerk every time you complained about that?”
This meeting illustrates several features of group work with a characterologically
difficult client. Val was inordinately adversarial and had developed an intense and
disabling negative transference in several previous attempts in individual therapy. In this
session, she expressed distorted perceptions of the therapists (that they had given her only
three compliments in seventy sessions when, in fact, they had been strongly supportive of
her). In individual therapy, Val’s distortion might have led to a major impasse because her
transferential distortions were so marked that she did not trust the therapists to provide an

accurate view of reality. Therapy groups have a great advantage in the treatment of such
clients because, as illustrated in this vignette, group therapists do not have to serve as
champions of reality: the other group members assume that role and commonly provide
powerful and accurate reality testing to the client.
Val, like many narcissistic patients, was overly sensitive to criticism. (Such individuals
are like the hemophiliac patient, who bleeds at the slightest injury and lacks the resources
to staunch the flow of blood.)53 The group members were aware that Val was highly
vulnerable and tolerated criticism poorly. Yet they did not hesitate to confront her directly
and consistently. Although Val was wounded in this meeting, as in so many others, she
also heard the larger message: the group members took her seriously and respected her
ability to take responsibility for her actions and to change her behavior. I believe that it is
crucially important that a group assume this stance toward the vulnerable client. It may be
experienced as a powerful affirmation. Once a group begins to ignore, patronize, or
mascot a narcissistic individual, then therapy for that client fails. The group no longer
provides reality testing, and the client assumes the noxious deviant role.
The major task for the group therapist working with all of these problematic clients is
neither precise diagnosis nor a formulation of early causative dynamics. Whether the
diagnosis is schizoid, borderline, or narcissistic personality disorder, the primary issue is
the same: the therapeutic management of the highly vulnerable individual in the therapy
group.

Chapter 14
THE THERAPIST: SPECIALIZED FORMATS AND
PROCEDURAL AIDS
The standard group therapy format in which one therapist meets with six to eight members
is often complicated by other factors: the client may concurrently be in individual therapy;
there may be a co-therapist in the group; the client may be involved in a twelve-step
group; occasionally the group may meet without the therapist. I shall discuss these
variations in this chapter and describe, in addition, some specialized techniques and
approaches that, although not essential, may at times facilitate the course of therapy.
CONCURRENT INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP THERAPY
First, some definitions. Conjoint therapy refers to a treatment format in which the client is
seen by one therapist in individual therapy and a different therapist (or two, if co-
therapists) in group therapy. In combined therapy, the client is treated by the same
therapist simultaneously in individual and group therapy. No systematic data exists about
the comparative effectiveness of these variations. Consequently, guidelines and principles
must be formulated from clinical judgment and from reasoning based on the posited
therapeutic factors.
Whenever we integrate two treatment modalities, we must first consider their
compatibility. More is not always better! Are the different treatments working at cross-
purposes, or do they enhance one another? If compatible, are they complementary,
working together by addressing different aspects of the client’s therapy needs, or are they
facilitative, each supporting and enhancing the work of the other?1
The relative frequencies of the two types of concurrent therapy are unknown, although
it is likely that in private practice combined therapy is more commonly employed than
conjoint therapy.2 The opposite appears to be true in institutional and mental health
treatment settings.3 By no means should one consider conjoint and combined therapy
equivalent. They have exceedingly different features and clinical indications, and I shall
discuss them separately.
Conjoint Therapy
I believe that, with some exceptions, conjoint individual therapy is not essential to the
practice of group therapy. If members are selected with a moderate degree of care, a
therapy group meeting once or (preferably) twice a week is ample therapy and should
benefit the great majority of clients. But there are exceptions. The characterologically

difficult client, as I discussed in chapter 13, frequently needs to be in concurrent therapy—
either combined or conjoint. In fact, the earliest models of concurrent group and individual
therapy developed in response to the needs of these challenging clients.4 Clients with a
history of childhood sexual abuse or for whom issues around shame are significant also
often require concurrent therapy.5
Not infrequently, group members may go through a severe life crisis (for example,
bereavement or a divorce) that requires temporary individual therapy support. Some
clients are so fragile or blocked by anxiety or fearful of aggression that individual therapy
is required to enable them to participate in the group. From time to time, individual
therapy is required to prevent a client from dropping out of the group or to monitor more
closely a suicidal or impulsive client.
• Joan, a young woman with borderline personality disorder participating in her
first group, was considerably threatened by the first few meetings. She had felt
increasingly alienated because her bizarre fantasy and dream world seemed so far
from the experience of the other members. In the fourth meeting, she verbally
attacked one of the members and was, in turn, attacked. For several nights
thereafter, she had terrifying nightmares. In one, her mouth turned to blood, which
appeared related to her fear of being verbally aggressive because of her world-
destructive fantasies. In another, she was walking along the beach when a huge
wave engulfed her—this related to her fear of losing her boundaries and identity in
the group. In a third dream, Joan was held down by several men who guided the
therapist’s hands as he performed an operation on her brain—obviously related to
her fears of therapy and of the therapist being overpowered by the male members.
Her hold on reality grew more tenuous, and it seemed unlikely that she could
continue in the group without added support. Concurrent individual therapy with
another therapist was arranged; it helped her to contain her anxiety and enabled
her to remain in the group.
• Jim was referred to a group by his psychoanalyst, who had treated him for six
years and was now terminating analysis.6 Despite considerable improvement, Jim
still had not mastered the symptom for which he had originally sought treatment:
fear of women. He found it difficult even to dictate to his secretary. In one of his
first group meetings, he was made extremely uncomfortable by a woman in the
group who complimented him. He stared at the floor for the rest of the session, and
afterward called his analyst to say that he wanted to drop out of the group and
reenter analysis. His analyst discussed the situation with the group therapist and
agreed to resume individual treatment on the condition the client return to the
group as well. For the next few months, they had an individual hour after each
group session. The two therapists had frequent consultations, and the group
therapist was able to modulate the noxious stimuli in the group sufficiently to
allow the client to continue in therapy. Within a few months, he was able to reach
out emotionally to women for the first time, and he gradually grew more at ease
with women in the real world.

Thus far, we have considered how individual therapy may facilitate the client’s course
in group therapy. The reverse is also true: group therapy may be used to augment or
facilitate the course of individual therapy.†7 In fact, the majority of clients in conjoint
therapy enter the group through referral by their individual therapist. The individual
therapist might find a client exceptionally restricted and arid and unable to produce the
material necessary for productive work. Often the rich, affective interpersonal interaction
of the group is marvelously evocative and generates ample data for both individual and
group work. At other times, clients have major blind spots that prevent them from
reporting accurately or objectively what actually transpires in their life.
One older man was referred to group therapy by his individual therapist because the
individual therapy was at an impasse due to an intense paternal transference. The male
therapist could say nothing to this client without its being challenged and obsessively
picked apart for its inaccuracy or incompleteness. Although both client and therapist were
aware of the reenactment in the therapy of the relationship between oppressed son and
bullying father, no real progress was made until the client entered the more democratic,
leveled group environment and was able to hear feedback that was disentangled from
paternal authority.
Other clients are referred to a therapy group because they have improved in the safe
setting of the one-to-one therapy hour, yet are unable to transfer the learning to outside
life. The group setting may serve as a valuable way station for the next stage of therapy:
experimentation with behavior in a low-risk environment, which may effectively
disconfirm the client’s fantasies of the calamitous consequences of new behavior.
Sometimes in the individual therapy of characterologically difficult clients, severe,
irreconcilable problems in the transference arise, and the therapy group may be
particularly helpful in diluting transference and facilitating reality testing (see chapter 13).
The individual therapist may also benefit from a deintensification of the
countertransference. The group and the individual therapist may function effectively as
peer consultants and supports in the treatment of particularly taxing clients who use
splitting and projective identification in ways that may be quite overwhelming to the
therapist. In essence, conjoint therapy capitalizes on the presence in treatment of multiple
settings, multiple transferences, multiple observers, multiple interpreters, and multiple
maturational agents.8

Complications. Along with these advantages of conjoint therapy come a number of
complications. When there is a marked difference in the basic approach of the individual
therapist and the group therapist, the two therapies may work at cross-purposes.
If, for example, the individual approach is oriented toward understanding genetic
causality and delves deeply into past experiences while the group focuses primarily on
here-and-now material, the client is likely to become confused and to judge one approach
on the basis of the other. An overarching sense of a synthesis of the group and individual
work is necessary for success.

Not infrequently, clients beginning group therapy are discouraged and frustrated by the
initial group meetings that offer less support and attention than their individual therapy
hours. Sometimes such clients, when attacked or stressed by the group, may defend
themselves by unfavorably comparing their group to their individual therapy experience.
Such an attack on the group invariably results in further deterioration of the situation. It is
not uncommon, however, for clients later in therapy to appreciate the unique offerings of
the group and to reverse their comparative evaluations of the two modes.
Another complication of conjoint therapy arises when clients use individual therapy to
drain off affect from the group. The client may interact like a sponge in the group, taking
in feedback and carrying it away to gnaw on like a bone in the safe respite of the
individual therapy hour. Clients may resist working in the group through the pseudo-
altruistic rationalization, “I will allow the others to have the group time since I have my
own hour.” Another form of resistance is to deal with important material in the opposite
venue—to use the group to address the transference to the individual therapist and to use
the individual therapy to address reactions to group members. When these patterns are
particularly pronounced and resist all other interventions, the group therapist, in
collaboration with the individual therapist, may insist that either the group or the
individual therapy be terminated. I have known several clients whose involvement in the
group dramatically accelerated when their concurrent individual therapy was stopped.
In my experience, the individual and the group therapeutic approaches complement
each other particularly well if two conditions are met. First, there must be a good working
collaboration between the individual and group therapists. They must have the client’s
permission to share all information with each other. It is important that both therapists be
equally committed to the idea of conjoint therapy and in agreement about the rationale for
the referral to group therapy. A referral to a group for conjoint treatment should not be a
cover for the sloughing of clinical responsibility because the individual therapist is paving
the way to terminate the treatment.9 Furthermore, it is essential that the therapists are
mutually respectful—both of the competence and therapeutic approach of the other.
A solid relationship between the individual and group therapists may prove essential in
addressing the inevitable tensions as clients compare their group and individual therapists,
at times idealizing one and devaluing the other. This is a particularly uncomfortable issue
for less experienced group therapists working conjointly with more senior individual
therapists whose invisible glowering presence in the group may inhibit the group therapist
and undermine confidence, stimulating the group therapist’s concern about how they are
being portrayed by the client to the individual therapist.10 These considerations are
especially evident in the treatment of more difficult clients who employ defenses of
splitting. It is exceedingly tough to be the vilified therapist in a conjoint treatment. The
position of the idealized therapist may be easier to bear, but it is only somewhat less
precarious and no less ineffective.
Thus, the first condition for an effective conjoint therapy experience is that the
individual and group therapists have an open, solid, mutually respectful working
relationship. The second condition is that the individual therapy must complement the

group approach—it must be here-and-now oriented and must devote time to an
exploration of the client’s feelings toward the group members and toward incidents and
themes of current meetings. Such an exploration can serve as rehearsal for deeper
involvement in the life of the group.
Individual therapists who are experienced in group methods may significantly help their
client (and the rest of the group) by coaching the client on how to work in the group. I
recently referred a young man I was seeing in individual therapy to a therapy group. He
was characteristically suffused with rage, which he usually expressed in explosions toward
his wife or as road rage (which had gotten him into several dangerous situations).
After a few weeks of group therapy, he reported in his individual hours that he had
varying degrees of anger toward many of the group members. When I raised the question
of his expressing this in the group, he paled: “No one ever confronts anyone directly in
this group—that’s not the way this group works … I would feel awful … I’d devastate the
others … I couldn’t face them again … I’d be drummed out of the group.” We rehearsed
how he might confront his anger in the group. Sometimes I roleplayed how I might talk
about it in the group if I were him. I gave him examples of how to give feedback that
would be unlikely to evoke retaliation. For example, “I’ve a problem I haven’t been able
to discuss here before. I got a lot of anger. I blow up to my wife and kids and have serious
road rage. I’d like help with it here and I’m not sure how to work on it, I wonder if I could
start to tackle it by talking about some flashes of anger I feel sometimes in the group
meeting.” At this point, any group therapist I have ever known would purr with pleasure
and encourage him to try.
He might then continue, I suggested, by saying, “For example, you, John (one of the
other members): I have tremendous admiration toward you in so many ways, your
intelligence, your devotion to the right causes, but nonetheless last week I noted a wave of
irritation when you were speaking toward the end of the meeting about your attitude
toward the women you date—was that all me or did others feel that way?” My client took
notes during our session and followed my lead, and within a few weeks one of the group
therapists told me that not only was this client doing good work, but he had turned the
whole group around and that meetings had become more lively and interactional for
everyone in the group.
The individual therapist also can with great profit focus on transfer of learning, on
helping the client apply what he or she has learned in the group to new situations—for
example, to the relationship with the individual therapist and to other important figures in
the client’s social world.
Although it is more common for group therapy to be added to an ongoing individual
therapy, the opposite may also occur. It may be that the group work catalyzes changes or
evokes memories that evoke great distress warranting time and attention that the group
may not be able to provide. 11 In general, it is best to launch one treatment first and then
add the second if required, rather than start both at once, to avoid confusing or
overwhelming the client.

Combined Therapy
Earlier I said that concurrent therapy is not essential to group therapy. I feel the same way
about combined therapy. Yet I also agree with the many clinicians who find that combined
therapy is an exceptionally productive and powerful therapeutic format. I continue to be
impressed by the results of placing my individual clients into a group: almost invariably,
therapy is accelerated and enriched.
Generally, in clinical practice, combined therapy begins with individual therapy. After
several weeks or months of individual therapy, therapists place a client into one of their
therapy groups—one generally composed entirely of clients who are also in individual
therapy with the leader. Homogeneity in this regard is helpful—that is, that all the
members of the group also be in individual therapy with the group leader—but it is not
essential. The pressures of everyday practice sometimes result in some clients being in
individual therapy with the group leader while one or two are not. Not infrequently issues
of envy may arise in members who do not meet with the group leader individually.
Typically, the client attends one group session and one individual session weekly. Other,
more cost-effective variants have been described, for example, a format in which each
group member meets for one individual session every few weeks.12 Although such a
format has much to offer, it has a different rationale from combined therapy, in that the
occasional meeting is an adjunct to the group: it is designed to facilitate norm formation
and to optimize the members’ use of the group.
In combined therapy, the group is usually open-ended, with clients remaining in both
therapies for months, even years. But combined therapy may also involve a time-limited
group format. I have, on many occasions, formed a six-month group of my long-term
individual clients. After the group terminates, the clients continue individual therapy,
which has been richly fertilized by group-spawned data.

Advantages. There is no doubt that combined therapy (as well as conjoint therapy)
decreases dropouts.†13 My own informal survey of combined therapy groups—my own
and those of supervisees and colleagues—over a period of several years reveals that early
dropouts are exceedingly rare. In fact, of clients who were already established in
individual therapy before entering a group led by their individual therapist, not a single
one dropped out in the first twelve sessions. This, of course, contrasts starkly with the high
dropout rates for group therapy without concurrent individual therapy (see table 8.1). The
reasons are obvious. First, therapists know their individual therapy clients very well and
can be more accurate in the selection process. Second, the therapists in their individual
therapy sessions are able to prevent impending dropouts by addressing and resolving
issues that preclude the client’s work in the group.
• After seven meetings, David, a somewhat prissy, fifty-year-old confirmed
bachelor, was on the verge of dropping out. The group had given him considerable

feedback about several annoying characteristics: his frequent use of euphemisms,
his concealment behind long, boring repetitious anecdotes, and his persistence in
asking distracting cocktail-party questions. Because David seemed uninfluenced
by the feedback, the group ultimately backed away and began to mascot him (to
tolerate him in a good-natured fashion, but not to take him seriously).
In an individual session, he lamented about being “out of the loop” in the group
and questioned whether he should continue. He also mentioned that he had not
been wearing his hearing aid to the group (which I had not noticed) because of his
fear of being ridiculed or stereotyped. Under ordinary circumstances, David would
have dropped out of the group, but, in his individual therapy, I could capitalize on
the group events and explore the meaning of his being “out of the loop.” It turned
out to be a core issue for David. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, he
had felt socially shunned and ultimately resigned himself to it. He became a loner
and entered a profession (freelance computer consultation) that permitted a “lone-
eagle” lifestyle.
At my urging, he reconnected his hearing aid in the group and expressed his
feelings of being out of the loop. His self-disclosure and, even more important, his
examination of his role in putting himself out of the loop were sufficient to reverse
the process and bring him into the group. He remained in combined therapy with
much profit for a year.
This example highlights another advantage of concurrent treatment: the rich and
unpredictable interaction in the group commonly opens up areas in therapy that might
otherwise never have surfaced in the more insular individual format. David never felt “out
of the loop” in his individual therapy—after all, I listened to his every word and strove to
be present with him continually.
• Another example involves Steven, a man who, for years, had many extramarital
encounters but refused to take safer-sex precautions. In individual therapy I
discussed this with him for months from every possible vantage point: his
grandiosity and sense of immunity from biological law, his selfishness, his
concerns about impotence with a condom. I communicated my concern for him, for
his wife, and for his sex partners. I experienced and expressed paternal feelings:
outrage at his selfish behavior, sadness at his self-destructiveness. All to no avail.
When I placed Steven in a therapy group, he did not discuss his sexual risk-taking
behavior, but some relevant experiences occurred.
On a number of occasions, he gave feedback to women members in a cruel,
unfeeling manner. Gradually, the group confronted him on this and reflected on his
uncaring, even vindictive, attitudes to women. Most of his group work centered on
his lack of empathy. Gradually, he learned to enter the experiential world of
others. The group was time limited (six months), and many months later in
individual therapy, when we again focused in depth on Steven’s sexual behavior, he
recalled, with considerable impact, the group members’ accusing him of being
uncaring. Only then was he able to consider his choices in the light of his lack of

loving, and only then did his behavioral pattern yield.

• A third example involves Roger, a young man who for a year in individual
therapy had been continually critical of me. Roger acknowledged that he had made
good gains—but, after all, that was precisely what he had hired me for, and, he
never forgot to add, he was paying me big bucks for my services. Where were his
positive, tender feelings? They never surfaced in individual therapy. When he
entered my six-month combined therapy group, the pattern continued, and the
members perceived him as cold, unfeeling, and often hostile—they called him the
“grenade launcher.” Much to everyone’s surprise, it was Roger who expressed the
strongest regret at the ending of the group. When pressed, he said that he would
miss the group and miss his contact with some of the members. “Which of us in
particular?” the group inquired. Before he could respond, I intervened and asked
if the group could guess. No one had the vaguest idea. When Roger singled out two
members, they were astonished, having had no hint that Roger cared for them.
The two therapies worked together. My experience with Roger in individual
therapy cued me to pursue Roger’s affective block but it was the group members’
reaction—their inability to read him or to know of his feelings for them—that had
a far more powerful impact on Roger. After all, their feelings could not be
rationalized away—it was not part of their job.

• Sam, a man who entered therapy because of his inhibitions and lack of joie de
vivre, encountered his lack of openness and his rigidity far more powerfully in the
therapy group than in the individual format. He kept from the group three
particularly important secrets: that he had been trained as a therapist and
practiced for a few years; that he had retired after inheriting a large fortune; and
that he felt superior and held others in contempt. He rationalized keeping secrets
in the group (as he did in his social life) by believing that self-revelation would
result in greater distance from others: he would be stereotyped in one way or
another, “used,” envied, revered, or hated.
After three months of participation in a newly formed group, he became
painfully aware of how he had re-created in the group the same peripheral
onlooker role that he assumed in his real life. All the members had started
together, all the others had revealed themselves and participated in a personal,
uninhibited manner—he alone had chosen to stay outside.
In our individual work, I urged Sam to reveal himself in the group. Individual
session after session, I felt like a second in a boxing ring exhorting him to take a
chance. In fact, as the group meetings went by, I told him that delay was making
things much worse. If he waited much longer to tell the group he had been a
therapist, he would get a lot of flak when he did. (Sam had been receiving a steady
stream of compliments about his perceptivity and sensitivity.)

Finally, Sam took the plunge and revealed his three secrets. Immediately he and
the other members began to relate in a more genuine fashion. He enabled other
members to work on related issues. A member who was a student therapist
discussed her fear of being judged for superficial comments; another wealthy
member revealed his concerns about others’ envy; another revealed that she was a
closet snob. Still others discussed strong, previously hidden feelings about money
—including their anger at the therapist’s fees. After the group ended, Sam
continued to discuss these interactions in individual therapy and to take new risks
with the therapist. The members’ acceptance of him after his disclosures was a
powerfully affirming experience. Previously, they had accepted him for his helpful
insights, but that acceptance meant little, because it was rooted in bad faith: his
false presentation of himself and his concealment of his training, wealth, and
personal traits.
Sam’s case points out some of the inherent pitfalls in combined therapy. For one thing,
the role of the therapist changes significantly and increases in complexity. There is
something refreshingly simple in leading a group when the leader knows the same thing
about each member as everyone else does. But the combined therapist knows so much that
life gets complicated. A member once referred to my role as that of the Magus: I knew
everything: what members felt toward one another, what they chose to say, and, above all,
what they chose to withhold.
Group therapists who see none of their group clients in individual therapy can be more
freewheeling: they can ask for information, take blind guesses, ask broad, general
questions, call on members to describe their feelings about another member or some group
incident. But the combined therapist knows too much! It becomes awkward to ask
questions of members when you know the answer. Consequently, many therapists find that
they are less active in groups of their own individual clients than when leading other
groups.
Input of group members often opens up rich areas for exploration, areas into which the
individual therapist may enter. For example, Irene, a middle-aged woman, had left her
husband months earlier and was, in a state of great indecision, living in a small rented
apartment. Other group members asked how she had furnished the place, and gradually it
came out that she had done virtually nothing to make her surroundings comfortable or
attractive. An investigation into her need to deprive herself, to wear a hair shirt, proved
enormously valuable to her.
The combined therapist often struggles with the issue of boundaries. (This is also true in
conjoint therapy at times when the group therapist has learned from the individual
therapist about important feelings or events that their mutual client has not yet addressed
in the group.) Is the content of the client’s individual therapy the property of the group? As
a general rule, it is almost always important to urge clients to bring up group-relevant
material in the group. If, for example, in the individual therapy hour, the client brings up
angry feelings toward another member, the therapist must urge the client to bring these
feelings back to the group.

Suppose the client resists? Again, most therapists will pursue the least intrusive options:
first, repeated urging of the client and investigation of the resistance; then focusing on in-
group conflict between the two members, even if the conflict is mild; then sending
knowing glances to the client; and, the final step, asking the client for permission to
introduce the material into the group. Good judgment, of course, must be exercised. No
technical rationale justifies humiliating a client. As noted earlier, a promise of absolute
therapist confidentiality can rarely be provided without negatively constraining the
therapy. Therapists can only promise that they will use their discretion and best
professional judgment. Meanwhile, they must work toward helping the client accept the
responsibility of bringing forward relevant material from one venue to the other.
Combined group and individual therapy may present special problems for neophyte
group therapists. Some find it difficult to see the same client in two formats because they
customarily assume a different role in the two types of therapy: in group, therapists tend to
be more informal, open, and actively engaged with the client; in individual therapy, the
therapist tends to remain somewhat impersonal and distant. Often therapists in training
prefer that clients have a pure treatment experience—that is, solely group therapy without
any concurrent individual therapy with themselves or other therapists—in order to
discover for themselves what to expect from each type of therapy.
COMBINING GROUP THERAPY AND TWELVE-STEP
GROUPS
An increasingly common form of concurrent therapy is the treatment in group
psychotherapy of clients who are also participating in twelve-step groups. Historically, a
certain antipathy has existed between the proponents of these two modalities, with subtle
and at times overt denigration of one another.14 Recently there has been a growing
recognition that substance use disorders are an appropriate focus for the mental health
field. The vast economic costs and psychosocial scope of addiction disorders, the high
comorbidity rates with other psychological problems, and the social and relational context
of addiction make group therapy particularly relevant.†15
Individuals who abuse substances also typically experience substantial interpersonal
disturbance at every stage of their illness: first, they have predisposing interpersonal
difficulties resulting in emotional pain that the individual attempts to abate by substance
use; second, they have relational difficulties resulting from the substance abuse; third, they
have interpersonal difficulties that complicate the maintenance of sobriety. There is good
evidence that group therapy can play an important role in recovery by alcoholics helping
them develop coping skills that sustain sobriety and enhance resilience to relapse.16
There is also strong evidence that twelve-step groups are both effective and valued by
clients.17 (Alcoholics Anonymous is the most prevalent of the twelve-step groups, but

there are over 100 variations, for such conditions as cocaine and other narcotics addiction,
gambling, sexual addiction, and overeating.) It is inevitable that some of the many million
of members of AA attending the thousands of weekly group meetings in the United States
alone will also participate in group psychotherapy. Furthermore, there is emerging
evidence that twelve-step groups and mainstream therapies can be effectively
integrated.†18
Group therapy and AA can complement one another if certain obstacles are removed.
First, group leaders must become informed about the mechanism of twelve-step group
work and learn to appreciate the inherent wisdom in the twelve-step program as well as
the enormous support it offers to those struggling with addiction. Second, there are several
common misconceptions that must be cleared up—misconceptions held by group
therapists and/or by members of AA. These include:19
1. Twelve-step groups are opposed to psychotherapy or medication.
2. Twelve-step groups encourage the abdication of personal responsibility.
3. Twelve-step groups discourage the expression of strong affects.
4. Mainstream group therapy neglects spirituality.
5. Mainstream group therapy is powerful enough to be effective without twelve-step
groups.
6. Mainstream group therapy views the AA relationships and the relationship
between sponsor and sponsee as regressive.
Keep in mind that it is difficult to make blanket statements about AA meetings, because
AA meetings are not all the same: there is much variability from group to group. In
general, however, there are two major differences between the AA approach and the group
therapy approach.
AA relies heavily on the members’ relationship to a higher power, submission to that
power, and understanding of the self in relation to that higher power.
Group therapy encourages member-to-member interaction, especially in the here-and-
now: it is the lifeblood of the group. AA, by contrast, specifically prohibits “crosstalk”—
that is, direct interaction between members during a meeting. “Crosstalk” could be any
direct inquiry, suggestion, advice, feedback, or criticism. (This, too, is a generalization,
however: if one searches, one can find AA groups that engage in considerable interaction.)
The prohibition of “crosstalk” by no means leads to an impersonal meeting, however. AA
members have pointed out to me that the knowledge that there will be no judgment or
criticism is freeing to members and encourages them to self-disclose at deep levels. Since
there is no designated trained group leader to modulate and process here-and-now
interaction, it seems to me that AA’s decision to avoid intensive interpersonal interaction
is a wise and instrumental one.
Therapy group leaders introducing an AA member into their therapy group must keep in
mind that group feedback will be an unfamiliar concept and should take extra time and

care in pregroup preparation sessions to explain the difference between the AA model and
the therapy group model regarding the use of the here-and-now.
I recommend that group leaders attend some AA meetings and thoroughly familiarize
themselves with the twelve steps. Demonstrate your respect for the steps and attempt to
convey to the client that most of the twelve steps have meaning in the context of the
therapy group and, if followed, will enhance the work of therapeutic change.
Table 14.1 lists the twelve steps and suggests related group therapy themes. I do not
suggest a reinterpretation of the twelve steps but a loose translation of ideas in the steps
into related interpersonal group concepts. With this framework, group leaders can readily
employ a common language that covers both approaches and reinforces the idea that
therapy and the recovery process are mutually facilitative.
TABLE 14.1 The Convergence of Twelve-Step and Interpersonal Group Therapy
Approaches
The Twelve Steps Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy
1. We admitted that we were powerless
over alcohol and that our lives had
become unmanageable
Relinquish grandiosity and
counterdependence.
Begin the process of trusting the process
and the power of the group.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater
than ourselves could restore us to sanity
Self-repair through relationships and human
connection.
Reframe “Higher Power” into a source of
soothing, nurturance, and hope that may
replace the reliance on substances.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and
our lives over to the care of God as we
understood Him
Make a leap of trust in the therapy
procedure and the good will of fellow group
members.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral
inventory of ourselves
Self-discovery. Search within. Learn as
much about yourself as possible.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to
another human being the exact nature of
our wrongs
Self-disclosure. Share your inner world with
others—the experiences that fill you with
shame and guilt as well as your dreams and
hopes.
6. Were entirely ready to have God
remove all these defects of character
Explore and illuminate, in the here-and-
now of the treatment, all destructive
interpersonal actions that invite relapses.

The task of the group is to help members
find the resources within themselves to
prepare to take action.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our
shortcomings
Acknowledge interpersonal feelings and
behaviors that hinder satisfying
relationships. Modify these by
experimenting with new behaviors.
Request and accept feedback in order to
broaden your interpersonal repertoire.
Though the group offers the opportunity to
work on issues, it is your responsibility to
do the work.
8. Made a list of all persons we had
harmed, and became willing to make
amends to them all
Identify interpersonal injuries you have
been responsible for; develop empathy for
others’ feelings. Try to appreciate the
impact of your actions on others and
develop the willingness to repair injury.
9. Made direct amends to such people
wherever possible, except when to do so
would injure them or others
Use the group as a testing ground for the
sequence of recognition and repair. Start the
ninth step work by making amends to other
group members whom you have in any
manner impeded or offended.
10. Continued to take personal inventory
and when we were wrong promptly
admit it
Internalize the process of self-reflection,
assumption of responsibility, and self-
revelation. Make these attributes part of
your way of being in the therapy group and
in your outside life.
11. Sought through prayer and
meditation to improve our conscious
contact with God as we understand Him,
praying only for knowledge of His will
for us and the power to carry that out
No direct psychotherapeutic focus, but the
therapy group may support mind-calming
meditation and spiritual exploration.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as
the result of these steps, we tried to carry
this message to other addicts, and to
practice these principles in all our affairs
Become actively concerned for others,
beginning with your fellow group members.
Embracing an altruistic way of being in the
world will raise your love and respect for
yourself.
Adapted from Matano and Yalom.20

CO-THERAPISTS
Some group therapists choose to meet alone with a group, but the great majority prefer to
work with a co-therapist.21 Limited research has been conducted to determine the relative
efficacy of the two methods, although a study of co-therapy in family and marital therapy
demonstrates that that in those modalities co-therapy is at least as effective as single
therapist treatment and in some ways superior.22 Clinicians differ in their opinions. 23 My
own clinical experience has taught me that co-therapy presents both special advantages
and potential hazards.
First, consider the advantages, both for the therapists and the clients. Co-therapists
complement and support each other. Together, they have greater cognitive and
observational range, and with their dual points of view they may generate more hunches
and more strategies. When one therapist, for example, is intensively involved with one
member, the co-therapist may be far more aware of the remaining members’ responses to
the interchange and hence may be in a better position to broaden the range of the
interaction and exploration.
Co-therapists also catalyze transferential reactions and make the nature of distortions
more evident, because clients will differ so much among themselves in their reactions to
each of the co-therapists and to the co-therapists’ relationship. In groups in which strong
therapist countertransference reactions are likely (for example, groups for clients with HIV
or cancer or in trauma groups), the supportive function of co-therapy becomes particularly
important for both clients and therapists.†24
Most co-therapy teams deliberately or, more often, unwittingly split roles: one therapist
assumes a provocative role—much like a Socratic gadfly—while the other is more
nurturing and serves as a harmonizer in the group.† When the co-therapists are male and
female, the roles are usually (but not invariably) assumed accordingly. In well-functioning
co-therapy teams these roles are fluid, not rigid. Each leader should have access to the full
range of therapeutic postures and interventions.
Many clinicians agree that a male-female co-therapist team may have unique
advantages: the image of the group as the primary family may be more strongly evoked;
many fantasies and misconceptions about the relationship between the two therapists arise
and may profitably be explored. Many clients benefit from the model setting of a male-
female pair working together with mutual respect and inclusiveness, without the
destructive competition, mutual derogation, exploitation, or pervasive sexuality they may
associate with male-female pairings. For victims of early trauma and sexual abuse, a male-
female co-therapy team increases the scope of the therapy by providing an opportunity to
address issues of mistrust, abuse of power, and helplessness that are rooted in early
paradigms of male-female relationships. Clients from cultures in which men are dominant
and women are subservient may experience a co-therapy team of a strong, competent
woman and a tender, competent man as uniquely facilitative.25

From my observations of over eighty therapy groups led by neophyte therapists, I
consider the co-therapy format to have special advantages for the beginning therapist.
Many students, in retrospect, consider the co-leader experience one of their most effective
learning experiences. Where else in the training curriculum do two therapists have the
opportunity to participate simultaneously in the same therapy experience and supervision?
26 For one thing, the presence of a co-therapist lessens initial therapist anxiety and permits
therapists to be more objective in their efforts to understand the meeting. In the post-
meeting rehash, the co-therapists can provide valuable feedback about each other’s
behavior. Until therapists obtain sufficient experience to be reasonably clear of their own
self-presentation in the group, such feedback is vital in enabling them to differentiate what
is real and what is transference distortion in clients’ perceptions. Similarly, co-therapists
may aid each other in the identification and working-through of countertransference
reactions toward various members.
It is especially difficult for beginning therapists to maintain objectivity in the face of
massive group pressure. One of the more unpleasant and difficult chores for neophyte
therapists is to weather a group attack on them and to help the group make constructive
use of it. When you are under the gun, you may be too threatened either to clarify the
attack or to encourage further attack without appearing defensive or condescending. There
is nothing more squelching than an individual under fire saying, “It’s really great that
you’re attacking me. Keep it going!” A co-therapist may prove invaluable here in helping
the members continue to express their anger at the other therapist and ultimately to
examine the source and meaning of that anger.
Whether co-therapists should openly express disagreement during a group session is an
issue of some controversy. I have generally found co-therapist disagreement unhelpful to
the group in the first few meetings. The group is not yet stable or cohesive enough to
tolerate such divisiveness in leadership. Later, however, therapist disagreement may
contribute greatly to therapy. In one study, I asked twenty clients who had concluded long-
term group therapy about the effects of therapist disagreement on the course of the group
and on their own therapy.27 They were unanimous in their judgment that it was beneficial.
For many it was a model-setting experience: They observed individuals whom they
respected disagree openly and resolve their differences with dignity and tact.
Consider a clinical example:
• During a group meeting my co-leader, a resident, asked me why I seemed so
quick to jump in with support whenever one of the men, Rob, received feedback.
The question caught me off guard. I commented first that I had not noticed that
until she drew it to my attention. I then invited feedback from others in the group,
who agreed with her observation. It soon became clear to me that I was overly
protective of Rob, and I commented that although he had made substantial gains in
controlling his anger and explosiveness, I still regarded him as fragile and felt I
needed to protect him from overreacting and undoing his success. Rob thanked me
and my co-leader for our openness and added that although he may have needed
extra care in the past, he no longer did at this point. He was correct!

In this way, group members experience therapists as human beings who, despite their
imperfections, are genuinely attempting to help the members. Such a humanization
process is inimical to irrational stereotyping, and clients learn to differentiate others
according to their individual attributes rather than their roles. Unfortunately, co-therapists
take far too little advantage of this wonderful modeling opportunity. Research into
communicational patterns in therapy groups shows exceedingly few therapist-totherapist
remarks.28
Although some clients are made uncomfortable by co-therapists’ disagreement, which
may feel like witnessing parental conflict, for the most part it strengthens the honesty and
the potency of the group. I have observed many stagnant groups spring to life when the
two therapists differentiated themselves as individuals.
The disadvantages of the co-therapy format flow from problems in the relationship
between the two co-therapists. How the co-therapy goes, so will the group. That is one of
the main criticisms of the use of co-therapy outside of training environments.29 Why add
another relationship (and one that drains professional resources) to the already
interpersonally complex group environment?30
Hence, it is important that the co-therapists feel comfortable and open with each other.
They must learn to capitalize on each other’s strengths: one leader may be more able to
nurture and support and the other more able to confront and to tolerate anger. If the co-
therapists are competitive, however, and pursue their own star interpretations rather than
support a line of inquiry the other has begun, the group will be distracted and unsettled.
It is also important that co-therapists speak the same professional language. A survey of
forty-two co-therapy teams revealed that the most common source of co-therapy
dissatisfaction was differing theoretical orientation.31
In some training programs a junior therapist is paired with a senior therapist, a co-
therapy format that which offers much but is fraught with problems. Senior co-therapists
must teach by modeling and encouragement, while junior therapists must learn to
individuate while avoiding both nonassertiveness and destructive competition. Most
important, they must be willing, as equals, to examine their relationship—not only for
themselves but as a model for the members.† The choice of co-therapist is not to be taken
lightly. I have seen many classes of psychotherapists choose co-therapists and have had
the opportunity to follow the progress of these groups, and I am convinced that the
ultimate success or failure of a group depends largely on the correctness of that choice. If
the two therapists are uncomfortable with each other or are closed, rivalrous, or in wide
disagreement about style and strategy (and if these differences are not resolvable through
supervision), there is little likelihood that their group will develop into an effective work
group.32
Differences in temperament and natural rhythm are inevitable. What is not inevitable,
however, is that these differences get locked into place in ways that limit each co-
therapist’s role and function. Sometimes the group’s feedback can be illuminating and lead
to important work, as occurred in a group for male spousal abusers who questioned why

the male co-therapist collected the group fee and the female co-therapist did the
“straightening up.”
When consultants or supervisors are called in to assist with a group that is not
progressing satisfactorily, they can often offer the greatest service by directing their
attention to the relationship between the co-therapists. (This will be fully discussed in
chapter 17.) One study of neophyte group leaders noted that the factor common to all
trainees who reported a disappointing clinical experience was unaddressed and unresolved
cotherapy tensions.33 One frustrated and demoralized co-therapist reported a transparent
dream in supervision, just after her arrogant but incompetent co-therapist withdrew from
the training program. In the dream she was a hockey goalie defending her team’s net, and
one of her own players (guess who?) kept firing the puck at her.
Co-therapist choice should not be made blindly: do not agree to co-lead a group with
someone you do not know well or do not like. Do not make the choice because of work
pressures or an inability to say no to an invitation: it is far too important and too binding a
relationship.af
You are far better off leading a solo group with good supervision than being locked into
an incompatible co-therapy relationship. If, as part of your training, you become a
member of an experiential group, you have an ideal opportunity to gather data about the
group behavior of other students. I always suggest to my students that they delay decisions
about co-therapists until after meeting in such a group. You do well to select a co-therapist
toward whom you feel close but who in personal characteristics is dissimilar to you: such
complementarity enriches the experience of the group.
There are, as I discussed, advantages in a male-female team, but you will also be better
off leading a group with someone compatible of the same sex than with a colleague of the
opposite sex with whom you do not work well. Husbands and wives frequently co-lead
marital couples groups (generally short term and focused on improvement of dyadic
relationships) ; co-leadership of a long-term traditional group, however, requires an
unusually mature and stable marital relationship. I advise therapists who are involved in a
newly formed romantic relationship with each other not to lead a group together; it is
advisable to wait until the relationship has developed stability and permanence. Two
former lovers, now estranged, do not make a good co-therapy team.
Characterologically difficult clients (see chapter 13) who are unable to integrate loving
and hateful feelings may project feelings on the therapists that end up “splitting” the co-
therapy team. One co-therapist may become the focus of the positive part of the split and
is idealized while the other becomes the focus of hateful feelings and is attacked or
shunned. Often client’s overwhelming fears of abandonment or of engulfment trigger this
kind of splitting.
Some groups become split into two factions, each co-therapist having a “team” of
clients with whom he or she has a special relationship. Sometimes this split has its genesis
in the relationship the therapist established with those clients before the group began, in
prior individual therapy or in consultation. (For this reason, it is advisable that both

therapists interview all clients, preferably simultaneously, in the pregroup screening. I
have seen clients continue to feel a special bond throughout their entire group therapy
course with the member of the co-therapy team who first interviewed them.) Other clients
align themselves with one therapist because of his or her personal characteristics, or
because they feel a particular therapist is more intelligent, more senior, or more sexually
attractive than the other or more ethnically or personally similar to themselves. Whatever
the reasons for the subgrouping, the process should be noted and openly discussed.
One essential ingredient of a good co-therapy team is discussion time. The co-therapy
relationship takes time to develop and mature. Co-therapists must set aside time to talk
and tend to their relationship.34 At the very least, they need a few minutes before each
meeting (to talk about the last session and to examine possible agendas for that day’s
meeting) and fifteen to twenty minutes at the end to debrief and to share their reflections
about each other’s behavior. If the group is supervised, it is imperative that both therapists
attend the supervisory session. Many busy HMO clinics, in the name of efficiency and
economy, make the serious mistake not setting aside time for co-therapist discussion.
THE LEADERLESS MEETING
Beginning in the 1950s, some clinicians experimented with leaderless meetings. Groups
would meet without the leader when he was on vacation, or the group might meet more
than once weekly and schedule regular leaderless meetings. Over the past two decades,
however, interest in leaderless meetings has waned. Almost no articles on the subject have
appeared, and my own informal surveys indicate that few contemporary clinicians use
regularly scheduled leaderless meetings in their practice.35
In contemporary practice, therapists occasionally arrange for a leaderless meeting on
the infrequent occasions when they are out of town. This is one option for dealing with the
absence of the therapist. Other options include, of course, canceling the meeting,
rescheduling it, extending the time of the next group, and providing a substitute leader.36
Members generally do not initially welcome the suggestion of the leaderless meeting. It
evokes many unrealistic fears and consequences of the therapist’s absence. In one study, I
asked a series of clients who had been in group therapy for at least eight months what
would have happened in the group if the group therapists were absent.37 (This is another
way of asking what function the group therapists perform in the group.) The replies were
varied. Although a few members stated that they would have welcomed leaderless
meetings, most of the others expressed, in order of frequency, these general concerns:
1. The group would stray from the primary task. A cocktail-hour atmosphere would
prevail; members would avoid discussing problems, there would be long silences,
and the discussions would become increasingly irrelevant: “We would end up in
left field without the doctor to keep us on the track”; “I could never express my

antagonisms without the therapist’s encouragement”; “We need him there to keep
things stirred up”; “Who else would bring in the silent members?”; “Who would
make the rules? We’d spend the entire meeting simply trying to make rules.”
2. The group would lose control of its emotions. Anger would be unrestrained, with
no one there either to rescue the damaged members or to help the aggressive ones
maintain control.
3. The group would be unable to integrate its experiences and to make constructive
use of them: “The therapist is the one who keeps track of loose ends and makes
connections for us. She helps clear the air by pointing out where the group is at a
certain time.” The members viewed the therapist as the time binder—the group
historian who sees patterns of behavior longitudinally and points out that what a
member did today, last week, and last month fits into a coherent pattern. The
members were saying, in effect, that however great the action and involvement
without the therapist, they would be unable to make use of it.
Many of the members’ concerns are clearly unrealistic and reflect a helpless, dependent
posture. It is for this very reason that a leaderless meeting may play an important role in
the therapy process. The alternate meeting helps members experience themselves as
autonomous, responsible, resourceful adults who, though they may profit from the
therapist’s expertise, are nevertheless able to control their emotions, to pursue the primary
task of the group, and to integrate their experience.
The way a group chooses to communicate to the therapist the events of the alternate
meeting is often of great interest. Do the members attempt to conceal or distort
information, or do they compulsively brief the therapist on all details? Sometimes the
ability of a group to withhold information from the therapist is in itself an encouraging
sign of group maturation, although therapists are usually uncomfortable with being
excluded. In the group, as in the family, members must strive for autonomy, and the
leaders must facilitate that striving. Often the leaderless session and subsequent events
allow the therapist to experience and understand his or her own desires for control and
feelings of being threatened as clients become less dependent.
DREAMS
The number and types of dreams that group members bring to therapy are largely a
function of the therapist’s attentiveness to dreams. The therapist’s response to the first
dreams presented by clients will influence the choice of dreams subsequently presented.
The intensive, detailed, personalized investigation of dreams practiced in analytically
oriented individual therapy is hardly feasible in group therapy. For groups that meet once
weekly, such a practice would require that a disproportionate amount of time be spent on
one client; the process is, furthermore, minimally useful to the remaining members, who
become mere bystanders.

What useful role, then, can dreams play in group therapy? In individual analysis or
analytically oriented treatment, therapists are usually presented with many dreams and
dream fragments. They never strive for complete analysis of all dreams (Freud held that a
total dream analysis should be a research, not a therapeutic, endeavor) but, instead, elect to
work on dreams or aspects of dreams that seem pertinent to the current phase of therapy.
Therapists may ignore some dreams and ask for extensive associations to others.† For
example, if a bereaved client brings in a dream full of anger toward her deceased husband
as well as heavily disguised symbols relating to confusion about sexual identity, the
therapist will generally select the former theme for work and ignore or postpone the
second. Moreover, the process is self-reinforcing. It is well known that clients who are
deeply involved in therapy dream or remember dreams compliantly: that is, they produce
dreams that corroborate the current thrust of therapy and reinforce the theoretical
framework of the therapist (“tag-along” dreams, Freud termed them).
Substitute “group work” for “individual work,” and the group therapist may use dreams
in precisely the same fashion. The investigation of certain dreams accelerates group
therapeutic work. Most valuable are group dreams—dreams that involve the group as an
entity—or dreams that reflect the dreamer’s feelings toward one or more members of the
group. Either of these types may elucidate not only the dreamer’s but other members’
concerns that until then have not become fully conscious. Some dreams may introduce, in
disguised form, material that is conscious but that members have been reluctant to discuss
in the group. Hence, inviting the group members to comment on the dream and associate
to it or its impact on them is often productive. It is important also to explore the context of
the disclosure of the dream: why dream or disclose this dream at this particular time?38
• In a meeting just preceding the entry of two new members to the group, one self-
absorbed man, Jeff, reported his first dream to the group after several months of
participation. “I am polishing my new BMW roadster to a high sheen. Then, just
after I clean the car interior to perfection, seven people dressed as clowns arrive,
get into my car carrying all sorts of food and mess it up. I just stand there
watching and fuming.”
Both he and the group members presented associations to the dream around an
old theme for Jeff—his frustrating pursuit of perfection and need to present a
perfect image to the world. The leader’s inquiry about “why this dream now?” led
to more significant insight. Jeff said that over the last few months he had begun to
let the group into his less-than-perfect “interior” world. Perhaps, he said, the
dream reflected his fear that the new members coming the next week would not
take proper care of his interior. He was not alone in this anxiety: Other members
also worried that the new members might spoil the group.
Some illustrative examples of members’ dreams in group therapy may clarify these
points.
At the twentieth meeting, a woman related this dream:
• I am walking with my younger sister. As we walk, she grows smaller and smaller.
Finally I have to carry her. We arrive at the group room, where the members are

sitting around sipping tea. I have to show the group my sister. By this time she is so
small she is in a package. I unwrap the package but all that is left of her is a tiny
bronze head.
The investigation of this dream clarified several previously unconscious concerns of the
client. The dreamer had been extraordinarily lonely and had immediately become deeply
involved in the group—in fact, it was her only important social contact. At the same time,
however, she feared her intense dependence on the group; it had become too important to
her. She modified herself rapidly to meet group expectations and, in so doing, lost sight of
her own needs and identity. The rapidly shrinking sister symbolized herself becoming
more infantile, more undifferentiated, and finally inanimate, as she immolated herself in a
frantic quest for the group’s approval. Perhaps there was anger in the image of the group
“sipping tea.” Did they really care about her? The lifeless, diminutive bronzed head—was
that what they wanted? Dreams may reflect the state of the dreamer’s sense of self. The
dream needs to be treated with great care and respect as an expression of self and not as a
secret message whose code must be aggressively cracked.39
Some of the manifest content of this dream becomes clearer through a consideration of
the content of the meeting preceding the dream: the group had spent considerable time
discussing her body (she was moderately obese). Finally, another woman had offered her a
diet she had recently seen in a magazine. Thus, her concerns about losing her personal
identity took the dream form of shrinking in size.
The following dream illustrates how the therapist may selectively focus on those
aspects that further the group work:
• My husband locks me out of our grocery store. I am very concerned about the
perishables spoiling. He gets a job in another store, where he is busy taking out the
garbage. He is smiling and enjoying this, though it is clear he is being a fool.
There is a young, attractive male clerk there who winks at me, and we go out
dancing together.
This member was the middle-aged woman who was introduced into a group of younger
members, two of whom, Jan and Bill, were involved in a sexual relationship (discussed in
chapter 13). From the standpoint of her personal dynamics, the dream was highly
meaningful. Her husband, distant and work-oriented, locked her out of his life. She had a
strong feeling of her life slipping by unused (the perishables spoiling). Previously in the
group, she had referred to her sexual fantasies as “garbage.” She felt considerable anger
toward her husband, to which she could not give vent (in the dream, she made an absurd
figure of him).
These were tempting dream morsels, yet the therapist instead chose to focus on the
group-relevant themes. The client had many concerns about being excluded from the
group: she felt older, less attractive, and very isolated from the other members.
Accordingly, the therapist focused on the theme of being locked out and on her desire for
more attention from others in the group, especially the men (one of whom resembled the
winking clerk in the dream).

Dreams often reveal unexpressed group concerns or shed light on group blockages and
impasses.40 The following dream illustrates how conscious but avoided group material
may, through dreams, be brought into the group for examination.
• There are two rooms side by side with a mirror in my house. I feel there is a
burglar in the next room. I think I can pull the curtain back and see a person in a
black mask stealing my possessions.
This dream was brought in at the twentieth meeting of a therapy group that was
observed through a one-way mirror by the therapist’s students. Aside from a few
comments in the first meeting, the group members had never expressed their feelings
about the observers. A discussion of the dream led the group into a valuable and much-
needed conversation about the therapist’s relationship to the group and to his students.
Were the observers “stealing” something from the group? Was the therapist’s primary
allegiance toward his students, and were the group members merely a means of presenting
a good show or demonstration for them?
AUDIOVISUAL TECHNOLOGY
The advent of audiovisual technology has elicited enormous interest among group
therapists. Videotaping seems to offer enormous benefits for the practice, teaching, and
understanding of group therapy. After all, do we not wish clients to obtain an accurate
view of their behavior? Do we not search for methods to encourage self-observation and
to make the self-reflective aspect of the here-and-now as salient as the experiencing
aspect? Do we not wish to illuminate the blind spots of clients (and therapists, as well)?41
Audiovisual technology seemed a great boon to the practicing group clinician, and the
professional group therapy literature of the late 1960s and 1970s reflected an initial wave
of tremendous enthusiasm,42 but succeeding years have seen a steep decline in articles and
books about the clinical use of audiovisual technology—and of those that have been
published, the majority focused on populations that are particularly concerned by self-
image issues: for example, adolescents and clients with eating disorders or speech
disorders. The use of audiovisual techniques in teaching and in research, on the other
hand, has been more enduring.
It is hard to explain the diminishing interest in the clinical application of audiovisual
technology. Perhaps it is related to the ethos of efficiency and expediency: the clinical use
of audiovisual equipment is often awkward and time-consuming. Nonetheless I feel that
this technology still has much potential and, at the very least, merits a brief survey of how
it has been used in group therapy.
Some clinicians taped each meeting and used immediate playback (“focused feedback”)
during the session. Obviously, certain portions must be selected by the group members or
by leaders for viewing.43 Some therapists used an auxiliary therapist whose chief task was

to operate the camera and associated gadgetry and to select suitable portions for playback.
Other therapists taped the meeting and devoted the following session to playback of
certain key sections asking the member to react to it.44
Some therapists scheduled an extra playback meeting in which most of the previous
tape is observed; others taped the first half of the meeting and observed the tape during the
second half. Still other therapists used a serial-viewing technique: they videotaped every
session and retained short representative segments of each, which they later played back to
the group.45 Other therapists simply made the tapes available to clients who wished to
come in between meetings to review some segment of the meeting. The tapes were also
made available for absent members to view the meeting they missed.
Client response depends on the timing of the procedure. Clients will respond differently
to the first playback session than to later sessions. In the first playback, clients attend
primarily to their own image and are less attentive to their styles of interacting with others
or to the process of the group. My own experience, and that of others, is that group
members may have a keen interest in videotape viewing early in therapy but, once the
group becomes cohesive and highly interactive, rapidly lose interest in the viewing and
resent time taken away from the live group meeting.46 Thus, any viewing time may have
to be scheduled outside of the regular group meeting.
Often a member’s long-cherished self-image is radically challenged by a first videotape
playback and they may recall, and be more receptive to, previous feedback offered by
other members. Self observation is powerful; nothing is as convincing as information one
discovers for oneself.
Many initial playback reactions are concerned with physical attractiveness and
mannerisms, whereas in subsequent playback sessions, clients note their interactions with
others, withdrawal, self-preoccupation, hostility, or aloofness. They are much more able to
be self-observant and objective than when actually involved in the group interaction.
I have on occasion found video recording to be of great value in crisis situations. For
example, a man in a group for alcoholics arrived at a meeting intoxicated and proceeded to
be monopolistic, insulting, and crude. Heavily intoxicated individuals obviously do not
profit from meetings because they are not capable of retaining and integrating the events
of the session. This meeting was videotaped, however, and a subsequent viewing was
enormously helpful to the client. He had been told but never really apprehended how
destructive his alcohol use was to himself and others.
On another occasion in an alcoholic group, a client arrived heavily intoxicated and soon
lost consciousness and lay stretched out on the sofa while the group, encircling him,
discussed various courses of action. Some time later, the client viewed the tape and was
profoundly affected. People had often told him that he was he was killing himself with
alcohol, but the sight of himself on videotape, laid out as if on a bier, brought to mind his
twin brother, who died of alcoholism.
In another case, a periodically manic client who had never accepted that her behavior
was unusual had an opportunity to view herself in a particularly frenetic, disorganized

state.47 In each of these instances, the videotape provided a powerful self-observatory
experience—a necessary first step in the therapeutic process.
Videotaping has also been used to prepare long-term patients for a transition out of the
hospital. One team reports a structured twelve-session group in which the members
engage in a series of nonthreatening exercises and view videotapes in order to improve
their communicational and social skills.48
Many therapists are reluctant to inflict a video camera on a group. They feel that it will
inhibit the group’s spontaneity and that the group members will resent the intrusion—
though not necessarily overtly. In my experience, the person who often experiences the
most discomfort is the therapist. The fear of being exposed and shamed, particularly in
supervision, is a leading cause of therapist resistance and must be addressed in supervision
(see chapter 17).49
Clients who are to view the playback are usually receptive to the suggestion of
videotaping. Of course, they are concerned about confidentiality and need reassurance on
this issue. If the tape is to be viewed by anyone other than the group members (for
example, students, researchers, or supervisors), the therapist must be explicit about the
purpose of the viewing and the identity of the viewers and must also obtain written
permission from each member with regard to each intended use: clinical, educational, and
research. Clients should be full participants in the decision about the secure storage or
erasure of the videotapes.
Videotaping in Teaching
Video recording has proven its value in the teaching of all forms of psychotherapy.
Students and supervisors are able to view a session with a minimum of distortion.
Important nonverbal aspects of behavior by both students and clients, which may be
completely missed in the traditional supervisory format, become available for study. The
student-therapist has a rich opportunity to observe his or her own presentation of self and
body language. Frequently what gets missed in traditional supervision is not the students’
“mistakes,” but the very effective interventions that they employ intuitively without
conscious awareness. Confusing aspects of the meeting may be viewed several times until
some order appears. Valuable teaching sessions that clearly illustrate basic principles of
therapy may be stored and a teaching videotape library created. This has become a
mainstay of training psychotherapists for both clinical practice and for leading manual-
based groups in clinical trials.†50
Videotaping in Research
The use of videotaping has also advanced the field significantly by allowing researchers to
ensure that the psychotherapy being tested in clinical trials is delivered competently and

adheres to the intent of the study.51 It is no less important in a psychotherapy trial than it is
in a drug therapy trial to monitor the treatment delivery and demonstrate that clients
received the right kind and right amount of treatment. In pharmacotherapy research, blood
level assays are used for this purpose. In psychotherapy research, video recordings are an
excellent monitoring tool for the same purpose.
WRITTEN SUMMARIES
For the past thirty years, I have regularly used the ancillary technique of written
summaries in my group therapy. At the end of each session, I dictate a detailed summary
of the group session.52 The summary is an editorialized narrative that describes the flow of
the session, each member’s contribution, my contributions (not only what I said but what I
wished I had said and what I did say but regretted), and any hunches or questions that
occur to me after the session. This dictation is transcribed either by a typist or via voice
recognition program and mailed to the members the following day. Dictation of the
summaries (two to three single-spaced pages) requires approximately twenty to thirty
minutes of a therapist’s time and is best done immediately after the session. To date, my
students and colleagues and I have written and mailed thousands of group summaries to
group members. It is my strong belief that the procedure greatly facilitates therapy.
But in these days of economically pressured psychotherapy, who can accommodate a
task that requires yet another thirty minutes of therapist time and an hour or two of
secretarial time? For that matter, look back through this chapter: Who has time for setting
up cameras and selecting portions of the videotape to replay to the group? Who has time
for even brief meetings with a co-therapist before and after meetings? Or for conferring
with group members’ individual therapists? The answer, of course, is that harried
therapists must make choices and often, alas, must sacrifice some potentially powerful but
time-consuming adjuncts to therapy in order to meet the demands of the marketplace.
Every therapist is dismayed by the draining off of time and effort in completing mountains
of paperwork.
Managed health care administrators believe that time can be saved by streamlining
therapy—making it slicker, briefer, more uniform. But in psychotherapy, uniformity is not
synonymous with efficiency, let alone with effectiveness. Therapists sacrifice the very
core of therapy if they sacrifice their ingenuity and their ability to respond to unusual
clinical situations with creative measures. Hence, even though the practice is not in wide
clinical use at present, I devote space in this text to such techniques as the written
summary. I believe it is a potent facilitating technique. My experience has been that all
group therapists willing to try it have found that it enhances the course of group
therapy.†53 Moreover, a description of the summary technique raises many issues of great
importance in the education of the young therapist.†54
The written summary may even do double service as a mechanism for documenting the

course of therapy and meeting the requirements of third-party payers, turning the usually
unrewarding and dry process of record keeping into a functional intervention.55 We are
wise to remember that the client’s record belongs to the client and can be accessed by the
client at any point. In all instances, it is appropriate to write notes expecting that they may
be read by the client. Notes should therefore provide a transparent, therapeutic,
depathologizing, considered, and empathic account of the treatment (and not include
group members’ last names).
My first experience with the written summary was in individual therapy. A young
woman, Ginny, had attended a therapy group for six months but had to terminate because
she moved out of town and could not arrange transportation to get to the group on time.
Moreover, her inordinate shyness and inhibition had made it difficult for her to participate
in the group. Ginny was inhibited in her work as well: a gifted writer, she was crippled by
severe writer’s block.
I agreed to treat her in individual therapy but with one unusual proviso: after each
therapy hour, she had to write an impressionistic, freewheeling summary of the
underground of the session, that is, what she was really thinking and feeling but had not
verbally expressed. My hope was that the assignment would help penetrate the writing
block and encourage greater spontaneity. I agreed to write an equally candid summary.
Ginny had a pronounced positive transference. She idealized me in every way, and my
hope was that a written summary conveying my honest feelings—pleasure,
discouragement, puzzlement, fatigue—would permit her to relate more genuinely to me.
For a year and a half, Ginny and I wrote weekly summaries. We handed them, sealed, to
my secretary, and every few months we read each other’s summaries. The experiment
turned out to be highly successful: Ginny did well in therapy, and the summaries
contributed greatly to that success.ag I developed sufficient courage from the venture (and
courage is needed: it is difficult at first for a therapist to be so self-revealing) to think
about adapting the technique to a therapy group. The opportunity soon arose in two groups
of alcoholic clients.56
My co-therapists and I had attempted to lead these groups in an interactional mode. The
groups had gone well in that the members were interacting openly and productively.
However, here-and-now interaction always entails anxiety, and alcoholic clients are
notoriously poor anxiety binders. By the eighth meeting, members who had been dry for
months were drinking again (or threatening to drink again if they “ever had another
meeting like the one last week!”). We hastily sought methods of modulating anxiety:
increased structure, a suggested (written) agenda for each meeting, video playback, and
written summaries distributed after each meeting. The group members considered the
written summary to be the most efficacious method by far, and soon it replaced the others.
I believe that the summaries are most valuable if they are honest and straightforward
about the process of therapy. They are virtually identical to summaries I make for my own
files (which provide most of the clinical material for this book) and are based on the
assumption that the client is a full collaborator in the therapeutic process—that
psychotherapy is strengthened, not weakened, by demystification.

The summary serves several functions: it provides understanding of the events of the
session, takes note of good (or resistive) sessions; comments on client gains; predicts (and,
by doing so, generally prevents) undesirable developments; brings in silent members;
increases cohesiveness (by underscoring similarities and caring in the group, and so on);
invites new behavior and interactions; provides interpretations (either repetition of
interpretations made in the group or new interpretations occurring to the therapist later);
and provides hope to the group members (helping them realize that the group is an orderly
process and that the therapists have some coherent sense of the group’s long-term
development). In fact, the summary may be used to augment every one of the group
leader’s tasks in a group. In the following discussion of the functions of the summary, I
shall cite excerpts from summaries and end the section with an entire summary.
Revivification and Continuity
The summary becomes another group contact during the week. The meeting is revivified
for the members, and the group is more likely to assume continuity. In chapter 5 I stated
that groups assume more power if the work is continuous, if themes begun one week are
not dropped but explored, more deeply, in succeeding meetings. The summary augments
this process. Not infrequently, group members begin a meeting by referring to the previous
summary—either a theme they wish to explore or a statement with which they disagree.
Understanding Process
The summary helps clients reexperience and understand important events of a meeting. In
chapter 6, I described the here-and-now as consisting of two phases: experience and the
understanding of that experience. The summary facilitates the second stage, the
understanding and integration of the affective experience. Sometimes group sessions may
be so threatening or unsettling that members close down and move into a defensive,
survival position. Only later (often with the help of the summary) can they review
significant events and convert them into constructive learning experiences. The therapist’s
interpretations (especially complex ones) delivered in the midst of a melee tend to fall on
deaf ears. Interpretations repeated in the summary are often effective because the client is
able to consider them at length, far from the intensity of engagement.
Shaping Group Norms
The summaries may be used to reinforce norms both implicitly and explicitly. For
example, the following excerpt reinforces the here-and-now norm:
• Phil’s relationship with his boss is very important and difficult for him at this
time, and as such is certainly material for the group. However, the members do not
know the boss, what he is like, what he is thinking and feeling and thus are limited

in offering help. However, they are beginning to know one another and can be
more certain of their own reactions to one another in the group. They can give
more accurate feedback about feelings that occur between them rather than trying
to guess what the boss may be thinking.
Or consider the following excerpt, which encourages the group members to comment
on process and to approach the therapist in an egalitarian manner:
• Jed did something very different in the group today, which was to make an
observation about the bind that Irv [the therapist] was in. He noted, quite
correctly, that Irv was in a bind of not wishing to change the topic from Dinah
because of Irv’s reluctance to stir up any of Dinah’s bad feelings about being
rejected or abandoned in the group, but on the other hand Irv wanted very much to
find out what was happening to Pete, who was obviously hurting today.
Therapeutic Leverage
The therapist may, in the summary, reinforce risk taking and focus clients on their primary
task, their original purpose in coming to therapy. For example:
• Irene felt hurt at Jim’s calling her an observer of life and fell silent for the next
forty-five minutes. Later she said she felt clamped up and thought about leaving
the group. It is important that Irene keep in mind that her main reason for being in
therapy was that she felt estranged from others and unable to create closer,
sustained relationships, especially with men. In that context, it is important for her
to recognize, understand, and eventually overcome her impulse to clamp up and
withdraw as a response to feedback.
Or the therapist may take care to repeat statements by clients that will offer leverage in
the future. For example:
• Nancy began weeping at this point, but when Ed tried to console her, she
snapped, “Stop being so kind. I don’t cry because I’m miserable, I cry when I’m
pissed off. When you console me or let me off the hook because of my tears, you
always stop me from looking at my anger.”
New Thoughts
Often the therapist understands an event after the fact. On other occasions, the timing is
not right for a clarifying remark during a session (there are times when too much cognition
might squelch the emotional experience), or there has simply been no time available in the
meeting, or a member has been so defensive that he or she would reject any efforts at
clarification. The summaries provide the therapist with a second chance to convey
important thoughts. This excerpt communicates a message that emerged in the co-
therapist’s postmeeting discussion. The summary describes and attempts to counteract

undesirable developments in the session—the shaping of countertherapeutic norms and
scapegoating:
• Ellen and Len were particularly vehement today in pointing out several times that
Cynthia had been confrontative and insensitive to Ted and, as Len put it, was very,
very hard on people. Is it possible that what was going on in the group today might
be viewed from another perspective: the perspective of what types of message the
group was giving to the new members about how they would like them to be in the
group? Is it possible that the group was suggesting to Rick and Carla [new
members] that they take pains not to be critical and that open criticism is
something that simply is not done here in this group? It may also be true that, to
some degree, Cynthia was “set up,” that she was made the “fall person” for this
transaction: that is, is it possible that, at some unconscious level, the group
concluded that she was tough enough to take this and they could get a message to
the new members through Cynthia, through a criticism of her behavior?
Transmission of the Therapist’s Temporal Perspective
Far more than any member of the group, the therapist maintains a longrange temporal
perspective and is cognizant of changes occurring over many weeks or months, both in the
group and in each of the members. There are many times when the sharing of these
observations offers hope, support, and meaning for the members. For example:
• Seymour spoke quite openly in the group today about how hurt he was by Jack
and Burt switching the topic off him. We [the co-therapists] were struck by the ease
and forthrightness with which he was able to discuss these feelings. We can clearly
remember his hurt, passive, silence in similar situations in the past, and are
impressed with how markedly he has changed his ability to express his feelings
openly.
The summaries provide temporal perspective in yet another way. Since the clients
almost invariably save and file the reports, they have a comprehensive account of their
progression through the group, an account to which they may, with great profit, refer in
the future.
Therapist Self-Disclosure
Therapists, in the service of the clients’ therapy, may use the summary as a vehicle to
disclose personal here-and-now feelings (of puzzlement, of discouragement, of irritation,
of pleasure) and their views about the theory and rationale underlying their own behavior
in the group. Consider the therapist self-disclosure in these illustrative excerpts:
• Irv and Louise [the co-therapists] both felt considerable strain in the meeting. We
felt caught between our feelings of wanting to continue more with Dinah, but also
being very much aware of Al’s obvious hurting in the meeting. Therefore, even at

the risk of Dinah’s feeling that we were deserting her, we felt strongly about
bringing in Al before the end of the meeting.
• We felt very much in a bind with Seymour. He was silent during the meeting. We
felt very much that we wanted to bring him into the group and help him talk,
especially since we knew that the reason he had dropped out of his previous group
was because of his feeling that people were uninterested in what he had to say. On
the other hand, today we decided to resist the desire to bring him in because we
knew that by continually bringing Seymour into the group, we are infantilizing
him, and it will be much better if, sooner or later, he is able to do it by himself.
• Irv had a definite feeling of dissatisfaction with his own behavior in the meeting
today. He felt he dominated things too much, that he was too active, too directive.
No doubt this is due in large part to his feeling of guilt at having missed the
previous two meetings and wanting to make up for it today by giving as much as
possible.
Filling Gaps
An obvious and important function of the summary is to fill in gaps for members who
miss meetings because of illness, vacation, or any other reason. The summaries keep them
abreast of events and enable them to move more quickly back into the group.
New Group Members
The entrance of a new member may also be facilitated by providing summaries of the
previous few meetings. I routinely ask new members to read such summaries before
attending the first meeting.
General Impressions
I believe that the written summary facilitates therapy. Clients have been unanimous in
their positive evaluation: most read and consider the summaries very seriously; many
reread them several times; almost all file them for future use. The client’s therapeutic
perspective and commitment is deepened; the therapeutic relationship is strengthened; and
no serious transference complications occur. The dialogue and disagreement about
summaries is always helpful and makes this a collaborative process. The intent of the
summary should never be to convey a sense of the “last word” on something.
I have noted no adverse consequences. Many therapists have asked about
confidentiality, but I have encountered no problems in this area. Clients are asked to
regard the summary with the same degree of confidentiality as any event in the group. As
an extra precaution, I use only first names, avoid explicit identification of any particularly

delicate issue (for example, an extramarital affair), and mail it out in a plain envelope with
no return address. E-mail may be another, even more time-efficient vehicle if security can
be assured.
The only serious objection to written summaries I have encountered occurred in a six-
month pilot research group of adult survivors of incest. In that group there was one
member with a history of extreme abuse who slipped in and out of paranoid thinking. She
was convinced that her abusers were still after her and that the summary would somehow
constitute a paper trail leading them to her. She did not want any summaries mailed to her.
Soon two other members expressed discomfort with any written record because of the
extent of their shame around the incest. Consequently, my co-therapist and I announced
that we would discontinue the written summary. However, the other members expressed
so much grumbling disappointment that we ultimately agreed on a compromise: for the
last ten minutes of each session, my co-therapist and I summarized our impressions and
experiences of the meeting. Although the oral summary could not provide everything a
written one did, it nonetheless proved a satisfactory compromise.
Like any event in the group, the summaries generate differential responses. For
example, clients with severe dependency yearnings will cherish every word; those with a
severe counterdependent posture will challenge every word or, occasionally, be unable to
spare the time to read them at all; obsessive clients obsess over the precise meaning of the
words; and paranoid individuals search for hidden meanings. Thus, although the
summaries provide a clarifying force, they do not thwart the formation of the distortions
whose corrections are intrinsic to therapy.
A Summary of a Group’s Twentieth Meeting
The complete summary below is unedited aside from minor stylistic improvements and
change of names. I dictated it on a microcassette recorder in approximately twenty
minutes (driving home after the session). A few weeks are required to learn to dictate
meetings comfortably and quickly, but it is not a difficult feat. My co-therapists, generally
psychiatry residents, do the dictating on alternate weeks, and after only a few weeks the
clients cannot differentiate whether I or my co-leader did the summary. It is essential that
the summary be dictated immediately after a session and, if co-leading, after the postgroup
debriefing with your co-therapist. This is very important! The sequence of events in the
group fades quickly. Do not let even a phone call intervene between the meeting and your
dictation.
I suggest this dictating plan: first try to construct the skeleton of the meeting by
recalling the two to four major issues of the meeting. When that is in place, next try to
recall the transitions between issues. Then go back to each issue and try to describe each
member’s contribution to the discussion of each issue. Pay special attention to your own
role, including what you said (or didn’t say) and what was directed toward you.
Do not be perfectionistic: One cannot recall or remember everything. Do not try to
refresh your memory by listening to a tape of a meeting—that would make the task far too

time-consuming. I mail it out without proofreading it; clients overlook errors and
omissions. Voice-activated computer technology makes the task even simpler and less
time-consuming.
This is a sample summary of a meeting of a long-term open ambulatory group. It is
better written (polished for this text) and more lucid than the great majority of my
summaries. Do not be dissuaded from trying the summary technique after reading this.
Don’t be dismayed, either, by the length of this summary. Because I want to take
advantage of this opportunity to describe a meeting in great detail, I have selected a
summary that is about 25 percent longer than most.
• Terri was absent because of illness. Laura opened the meeting by raising an
important question for her left over from last week. During her interchange with
Edith, she thought that she had seen Paul give Kathy a knowing glance. Paul
assured Laura that that was, indeed, not the case. He had looked at Kathy—but it
was for a different reason entirely: it had been because of his deep concern about
Kathy’s depression last week, hoping to find a way to involve Kathy more in the
group. The matter was dropped there, but it seemed a particularly useful way for
Laura to have used the group. It is not an uncommon experience for individuals to
feel that others exchange glances when they are talking, and it seemed as though
Laura had a certain sense of being excluded or perhaps of Paul dismissing her or
possibly Paul being uninterested in what she and Edith were up to.
The next issue that emerged consumed a considerable portion of the meeting
and, in some ways, was tedious for many of the members but, at the same time, was
an exceptionally valuable piece of work. Paul took the floor and began talking
about certain types of insight he had had during the couple of weeks. He took a
very long time to describe what he had been feeling, and did so in a highly
intelligent but intellectualized and vague fashion. People in the group, at this
point, were either straining to stay with Paul and understand what he was coming
to or, as in the case of Bill and Ted, had begun to tune Paul out. Eventually what
transpired was that Paul communicated to the group that he had some real doubts
about whether or not he, indeed, really wanted to go back to law school, and was
wrestling with those doubts.
During Paul’s entire presentation he seemed, at some level, aware that he was
being unclear and that he was communicating what he had to say in a highly
oblique fashion. He asked, on several occasions, whether the group was following
him and whether he was clear. At the end of his presentation, he puzzled
individuals in the group by commenting that he felt very good about what had
happened in the group and felt that he was in exactly the place he wanted to be in.
Kathy questioned this. She, like others in the group, felt a little puzzled about what
on earth it was that Paul had gotten from the whole sequence.
But apparently what had happened was that Paul had been able to convey to the
group the struggle he was having about this decision and, at the same time,
covertly to make it clear to the group that he did not want any active help with the

content of the decision. When we wondered why Paul couldn’t just come out and
say what it took him a very long time to say in just a sentence or two—that is, “I’m
struggling with the decision to enter law school and I’m not certain if I want to
go”—he said he would have felt extremely frightened had he said that. It seemed,
as we analyzed it, that what he was frightened of was that somehow the group, as
his family had, would take the decision away from him, would rob him of his
autonomy, would leap in and make the decision for him in some fashion.
Then we suggested another approach for Paul. Would it have been possible for
him to have started the meeting by being explicit about the whole process: that is,
“I’m struggling with an important decision. I don’t know if I really want to go to
law school. I want you all to know this and be able to share this with you, but I
don’t want anyone in the group to help me actually make the decision.” Paul
reflected upon this and commented that sounded very possible—something, indeed,
he could have done. We’ll need to keep that in mind for the future: when Paul
becomes intellectualized and vague, we should help him find ways to communicate
his thoughts and needs succinctly and directly. That is, if he wants to get something
from others and, at the same time, not puzzle or discourage them.
At the very end of this, the group seemed to have some difficulty letting Paul go,
and more questions kept being asked of him. Al, in particular, asked Paul several
questions about the content of his decision, until Edith finally commented that
she’d like to change the topic, and it was clear that Paul was more than glad to do
so.
We did not discuss in the group today Al’s questioning of Paul, which is not
dissimilar from some other meetings in the past where Al became intensely
interested in the content of the enterprise. One speculation we have (which will
undoubtedly be rejected outright!) is that Al may be filling the time of the group as
a way to keep the group away from asking him some questions about the pain in
his life.
There was a very brief interchange between Edith and Laura. After their
confrontation last week, Edith said that Laura had come up to her after the
meeting and made it clear to her that Edith should not be upset about what was, at
least in part, Laura’s problem. Edith felt grateful at that and let Laura know that.
At the same time, however, Laura could comment to Edith that when Edith first
started to talk to her in the meeting today, she felt this rush of fear again.
We did not pursue that any further, but we wonder if that’s not an important
event: that is, that it might be important not only to Laura but to Edith as well to
know that Laura has this fear of her—a fear that Paul commented he also shared
at times. The reason this might be important is that Edith stated that she wants to
do some work on the attitude of attack that she often assumes.
The man she is dating has made similar comments to her. Is it possible that the
aspect of Laura’s fear that may be important to Edith is that Laura has been
attacked by Edith on several occasions in the past and that Laura remembers these

and is (understandably) cautious? Edith, on the other hand, has a sense that,
because she has forgotten or dismissed the previous attack, Laura should
therefore, of course, do so also—and that’s where the discrepancy begins to come
in. Indeed, in the previous meeting, Edith seemed rather astonished that Laura
would still continue to feel that fear. This may be an important theme that should
be examined in future meetings. People forget different things at different rates.
Irv attempted to bring Ted into the meeting because everyone has been aware
that Ted has been withdrawn and silent in the meetings, and his participation has
been much missed. Ted talked, once again, about feeling that the group was unsafe
and feeling fearful of talking because he keeps being attacked for almost anything
he says. But not so, the group said! We then talked about the fact that, as Laura
pointed out, when he talked about issues that were personal and close to himself—
like his loneliness or his difficulties making friends—then, indeed, there was no
attack at all.
The group began to try to help differentiate that there are things that Ted may do
that evoke attack, but there are plenty of other ways he could interact in the group
that would, indeed, not culminate in any type of attack. What ways? Ted asked.
Well, Irv pointed out that Ted might make positive comments about people or
focus on some of the things he liked about people in the group, and it was
suggested that he do this. Edith asked him for some positive feedback, and for a
few moments Ted was blocked and then finally commented that Edith had “a
pleasant personality … usually.”
The phrasing of this sentence soon resulted in some antagonistic exchanges, and
soon Ted was back in a very familiar and very unsafe situation in the group. Laura
and others pointed out that he had phrased that compliment in such a way as to
undo it and make it seem less like a compliment and almost more like something
negative. Al and others pointed out how the adding of the word “usually” made it
seem ironical rather than a genuine compliment. Ted defended himself by saying
that he had to be honest and had to be accurate. He also pointed out that, if he
were simply to say that Edith was intelligent or sensitive, she would immediately
conclude that he meant that she was the most intelligent person in the room.
Edith pointed out that, indeed, that was not the case, and she would have been
pleased to hear him give that kind, any kind, of compliment. Ted might have been
in a little less of a bind, as Bill pointed out, had he made a more limited type of
compliment: that is, rather than talk about something as global as personality,
make it somewhat more narrow. For example, Ted might have commented on some
aspect of Edith that he liked, some single act, something she said, even her dress or
her hair or some particular mannerism.
When we questioned Ted about how he had gotten back into this situation in the
group and whether he bore any responsibility for it, Ted was very quick to point out
that, indeed, he had and that he did share a good part of the burden of
responsibility for the position of being attacked that he was in. We attempted to

point out to Ted that feeling the group as unsafe is an extremely important issue for
him to work on because this is very much the way he experiences the world
outside, and the more he can explore ways to live in the group so that it appears
less dangerous, the more he will be able to generalize to his life outside.
In the last few minutes of the group, the focus turned to Bill. Edith and others
commented that they had been missing his participation. Bill stated he’d been
aware of his inactivity and been disappointed that he’d shared so little of himself.
His silence has been somewhat different from Ted’s silence in that he does not
experience the group as unsafe but instead has a sense of letting things pass by. If
he has some questions or opinions, he’s perfectly willing to let them go by without
expressing them. This posture of letting the life in the group go by may be
extremely important for Bill because it reflects how he lives in the world at large—
where he lets much of life go by and often experiences himself more as an observer
than as a participant. Changing that posture in the group would be the first step to
changing that posture in life.
Kathy was rather quiet in the group today, but the comments she did make
earlier in the meeting reflected that she, at least visibly, appears less depressed
and distressed than she was during the previous meeting.
This summary illustrates several of the functions I described earlier. It clarifies process.
A good deal of the meeting was consumed by Paul’s obsessive, confusing monologue
(which was rendered more confusing yet by his comment that he had gotten a great deal
from his recitation). The summary explained the process of that transaction. It also
reinforced norms (by, for example, supporting Laura for checking out surreptitious glances
passing between two members). It increased therapeutic leverage by linking in-group
behavior with out-group problems (two instances of this: Edith’s relationship with her
boyfriend and Bill’s observer posture in life).
It added some afterthoughts (the comment to Al about filling time with questions about
content to keep the group from questioning him). It attempted to identify behavioral and
dynamic patterns (for example, Edith’s narcissistic sense of entitlement—that is, that she
should be able to attack when she was angry and that the others should forget about it
when she felt better). Lastly, it left no one out, reminding each that they were being seen
and cared for.
GROUP THERAPY RECORD KEEPING
Documentation of therapy must protect confidentiality and meet a number of objectives:
to demonstrate that an appropriate standard of care has been provided; to describe the
process and effectiveness of the treatment; to facilitate continuity of care by another
therapist at a later time; to verify that a billable service has been provided at a certain time
and date.

For these purposes many recommend that the group therapist keep a combined record: a
group record and a separate file for each individual member.57 If written group summaries
are used, they should be included in the group record. For students the group record may
also serve as the group process notes that will be reviewed in supervision. The group
record should note attendance, scheduling issues, prominent group themes, the state of
group cohesion, prominent interactions, transference and countertransference, what was
engaged and what was avoided, and anticipations of what will need to be addressed in the
next session. The group therapist should always review this record immediately before the
following meeting.
In addition, a personal chart or record must be kept for each individual client. This
record serves as the client’s personal progress notes, noting initial goals, symptoms; safety
concerns if any; engagement with the psychotherapy process; and achievement of therapy
goals. Whereas the group record should be made after each group meeting, the individual
progress notes can be made at less frequent but regular intervals, with more frequent
entries as the clinical situation warrants.
STRUCTURED EXERCISES
I use the term structured exercise to denote an activity in which a group follows some
specific set of directions. It is an experiment carried out in the group, generally suggested
by the leader but occasionally by some experienced member. The precise rationale of the
structured exercises varies, but in general they are considered accelerating devices. Unlike
some of the more time-consuming techniques described in this chapter, these exercises
may be regarded as efficiency oriented and hence may be of special interest to managed
health care therapists and policymakers.
Structured exercises attempt to speed up the group with warm-up procedures that
bypass the hesitant, uneasy first steps of the group; they speed up interaction by assigning
to interacting individuals tasks that circumvent ritualized, introductory social behavior;
and they speed up each individual member’s work by techniques designed to help
members move quickly to get in touch with suppressed emotions, with unknown parts of
themselves, and with their physical selves.† In some settings and with some clinical
populations, the structured exercise may be the central focus of the meeting. Some
common models include action- and activity-oriented groups for the elderly (such as art,
dance, and movement groups) that aim to reconnect clients to a sense of effectiveness,
competence, and social interaction; structured activity groups for hospitalized psychotic
patients; and body awareness for victims of trauma.58
Mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) groups that teach meditation, deep
breathing, and relaxation and focus awareness on members’ moment-to-moment state of
being are also prominent and have been used to remarkably good effect in the treatment of
medical illnesses and anxiety disorders and in the prevention of relapse in depression.59

These techniques can also be incorporated as smaller components of broader-based group
interventions.
The structured exercise in interactional groups may require only a few minutes, or it
may consume an entire meeting. It may be predominantly verbal or nonverbal. Almost all
nonverbal procedures, however, include a verbal component; generally, the successful
structured exercise will generate data that is subsequently discussed. Such exercises,
common in the encounter groups but far less used in the therapy group, may involve the
entire group as a group (the group may be asked, for example, to build something or to
plan an outing); one member vis-à-vis the group (the “trust fall,” for example, in which
one member stands, eyes closed, in the center and falls, allowing the group to catch,
support, and then cradle and rock the person); the entire group as individuals (members
may be asked in turn to give their initial impressions of everyone else in the group); the
entire group as dyads (the “blind walk,” for example, in which the group is broken into
dyads and each pair takes a walk with one member blindfolded and led by the other); one
designated dyad (two members locked in a struggle may be asked to take turns pushing
the other to the ground and then lifting him or her up again); or one designated member
(“switching chairs”—a member may be asked to give voice to two or more conflicting
inner roles, moving from one chair to another as he or she assumes one or the other role).
Any prescribed exercise that involves physical contact needs to be carefully considered. If
the usual boundaries of therapy are to be crossed, even in the best of faith and with clear
therapeutic intent, it is essential to obtain informed consent from the group members.
Structured exercises were widely used in the T-group and later in the encounter group
(see chapter 16), and their popularity received a boost from gestalt therapy in the 1960s
and 1970s. For a time, such exercises were used to excess by many leaders and training
programs. Some group leader training programs relied heavily on texts of structured
exercises and trained technique-oriented leaders who reach into a grab bag of gimmicks
whenever the proceedings flag. During the 1980s, the general public came to identify
group therapy with structured exercises through large group awareness courses (for
example, est and Lifespring). Such courses consisted entirely of a two-to-four-day
potpourri of structured exercises and didactic and inspirational instruction.60
This injudicious use of structured exercises was a miscarriage of the intent of the
approaches that spawned these techniques. The T-group field formulated exercises that
were designed to demonstrate principles of group dynamics (both between and within
groups) and to accelerate group development. Since the typical T-group met for a sharply
limited period of time, the leaders sought methods to speed the group past the initial
reserve and social ritualized behavior. Their aim was for members to experience as much
as possible of the developmental sequence of the small group.
Gestalt therapy, another major source of structured exercises, is based on existential
roots. Fritz Perls (the founder of gestalt therapy) left many recorded sessions with clients
as well as theoretical essays that demonstrate that he was basically concerned with
problems of existence, self-awareness, responsibility, contingency, and wholeness both
within an individual and within the individual’s social and physical universe.61 Although

Perls’s technical approach was novel, his conception of the human being’s basic dilemma
is one he shares with a long line of philosophers of life, stretching back to the beginning of
recorded thought.
Paradoxically, gestalt therapy has come to be considered by some clinicians as a speedy,
gimmick-oriented therapy, whereas, in fact, it is an ambitious and thoughtful venture. It
attempts to penetrate denial systems and to bring clients to a new perspective on their
position in the world. Although it decries a technical, packaged approach, some gestalt
therapy trainees do not progress past technique, do not grasp the theoretical assumptions
on which all technique must rest.
How has it come about that the substance has so often been mistaken for the essence of
the gestalt approach? The cornerstone for the error was unwittingly laid by Perls himself,
whose creative, technical virtuosity acted in such consort with his flair for showmanship
as to lead many people to mistake the medium for the message. Perls had to do battle with
the hyperintellectualized emphasis of the early analytic movement and often overreacted
and overstated his opposition to theory. “Lose your mind and come to your senses,” Perls
proclaimed. Consequently, he did not write a great deal but taught by illustration, trusting
that his students would discover their own truths through experience rather than through
the intellectual process. Descriptions of the contemporary practice of gestalt therapy
emphasize a more balanced approach, which employs structured exercises (or “therapist-
induced experiments”) in a judicious fashion.62
How useful are structured exercises? What does research tell us about the effects of
these procedures on the process and outcome of the group? Lieberman, Yalom, and
Miles’s encounter group project (see chapter 16) closely studied the impact of the
structured exercise and came to the following conclusions.63 Leaders who used many
exercises were popular with their groups. Immediately at the end of a group, the members
regarded them as more competent, more effective, and more perceptive than leaders who
used these techniques sparingly. Yet the members of groups that used the most exercises
had significantly less favorable outcomes than did the members of groups with the fewest
exercises. (The groups with the most exercises had fewer high changers, fewer total
positive changers, and more negative changers. Moreover, the high changers of the
encounter groups with the most exercises were less likely to maintain change over time.)
In short, the moral of this study is that if your goal is to have your group members think
you’re competent and that you know what you’re doing, then use an abundance of
structured interventions; in doing so, in leading by providing explicit directions, in
assuming total executive function, you fulfill the group’s fantasies of what a leader should
do. However, your group members will not be improved; in fact, excessive reliance on
these techniques renders a group less effective.
The study explored other differences between the groups with the most and the least
exercises. The amount of self-disclosure and the emotional climate of the groups was the
same. But there were differences in the themes emphasized: The groups with more
exercises focused on the expression of positive and negative feelings; those with fewer
exercises had a greater range of thematic concerns: the setting of goals; the selection of

procedural methods; closeness versus distance; trust versus mistrust; genuineness versus
phoniness; affection; and isolation.
It would seem, then, that groups using many structured exercises never deal with
several important group themes. There is no doubt that the structured exercises appear to
plunge the members quickly into a great degree of expressivity, but the group pays a price
for its speed; it circumvents many group developmental tasks and does not develop a
sense of autonomy and potency.
It is not easy for group clinicians to evaluate their own use of structured techniques. In
the encounter group project almost all leaders used some structured exercises. Some of the
more effective leaders attributed their success in large measure to these techniques. To
take one example, many leaders used the “hot seat” technique (a format popularized by
Perls in which one member sits in the central chair, and the leader in particular as well as
the other members focus on that member exclusively and exhaustively for a long period of
time).
However, the approach was as highly valued by the most ineffective leaders as by the
effective ones. Obviously, other aspects of leader behavior accounted for the effective
leaders’ success, but if they erroneously credit their effectiveness to the structured
exercise, then it is given a value it does not deserve (and is unfortunately passed on to
students as the central feature of the process of change).
The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group project also demonstrated that it
was not just the leaders’ interactions with a member that mediated change. Of even greater
importance were many psychosocial forces in the change process: Change was heavily
influenced by an individual’s role in the group (centrality, level of influence, value
congruence, and activity) and by characteristics of the group (cohesiveness, climate of
high intensity and harmoniousness, and norm structure). In other words, the data failed to
support the importance of the leaders’ direct therapeutic interaction with each member.
Though these findings issue from short-term encounter groups, they have much
relevance for the therapy group. First, consider speed: structured exercises do indeed
bypass early, slow stages of group interaction and do indeed plunge members quickly into
an expression of positive and negative feelings. But whether or not they accelerate the
process of therapy is another question entirely.
In short-term groups—T-groups or very brief therapy groups—it is often legitimate to
employ techniques to bypass certain difficult stages, to help the group move on when it is
mired in an impasse. In long-term therapy groups, the process of bypassing is less
germane; the leader more often wishes to guide the group through anxiety, through the
impasse or difficult stages, rather than around them. Resistance, as I have emphasized
throughout this text, is not an impediment to therapy but is the stuff of therapy. The early
psychoanalysts conceived of the analytic procedure in two stages: the analysis of
resistance and then the true analysis (which consists of strip-mining the infantile
unconscious roots of behavior). Later they realized that the analysis of resistance, if
pursued thoroughly, is sufficient unto itself.

Interactional group therapy functions similarly: There is more to be gained by
experiencing and exploring great timidity or suspiciousness or any of a vast number of
dynamics underlying a member’s initial guardedness than by providing the member with a
vehicle that plunges him or her willy-nilly into deep disclosure or expressivity.
Acceleration that results in material being wrenched in an untimely way from individuals
may be counterproductive if the proper context of the material has not been constructed.
Yet another reason for urging caution in the use of multiple structured exercises in
therapy groups is that leaders who do so run the risk of infantilizing the group. Members
of a highly structured, leader-centered group begin to feel that help (all help) emanates
from the leader; they await their turn to work with the leader; they deskill themselves; they
cease to avail themselves of the help and resources available in the group. They divest
themselves of responsibility.
I do not wish to overstate the case against the use of structured exercises. Surely there is
a middle ground between allowing the group, on the one hand, to flounder pointlessly in
some unproductive sequence and, on the other, assuming a frenetically active, overly
structured leadership role. Indeed, that is the conclusion the Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles
study reached.64 The study demonstrated that an active, executive, managerial leadership
style function relates to outcome in a curvilinear fashion: that is, too much structure and
too little structure were negatively correlated with good outcome. Too much structure
created the types of problem discussed above (leader-centered, dependent groups), and too
little (a laissez-faire approach) resulted in plodding, unenergetic, high-attrition groups.
We do not need to look toward any unusual types of groups to find structured exercises
—many of the techniques I described in chapter 5, which the leader employs in norm
setting, in here-and-now activation, and in process-illumination functions, have a
prescriptive quality. (“Who in the group do you feel closest to?” “Can you look at Mary as
you talk to her?” “If you were going to be graded for your work in the group, what grade
would you receive?” And so on.) Therapists also may use a guided-fantasy structured
exercise during a meeting. For example, they might ask members to close their eyes and
then describe to them some relaxing scene (like a barefoot walk on the beach with warm,
gentle waves rippling in), then ask them to imagine meeting one or more of the group
members or leaders and to complete the fantasy. Later, members would be asked to share
and explore their fantasies in the group.
Every experienced group leader employs some structured exercises. For example, if a
group is tense and experiences a silence of a minute or two (a minute’s silence feels very
long in a group), I often ask for a go-around in which each member says, quickly, what he
or she has been feeling or has thought of saying, but did not, during that silence. This
simple exercise usually generates much valuable data.†
What is important in the use of structured exercises are the degree, accent, and purpose
associated with them. If structured interventions are suggested to help mold an
autonomously functioning group, or to steer the group into the here-and-now, or to
explicate process, they may be of value. In a brief group therapy format, they may be
invaluable tools for focusing the group on its task and plunging the group more quickly

into its task. If used, they should be properly timed; nothing is as disconcerting as the right
idea in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is a mistake to use exercises as emotional
space filler—that is, as something interesting to do when the group seems at loose ends.
Nor should a structured exercise be used to generate affect in the group. A properly led
therapy group should not need energizing from outside. If there seems insufficient energy
in the group, if meetings seem listless, if time and time again the therapist feels it
necessary to inject voltage into the group, there is most likely a significant developmental
problem that a reliance on accelerating devices will only compound. What is needed
instead is to explore the obstructions, the norm structure, the members’ passive posture
toward the leader, the relationship of each member to his or her primary task, and so forth.
My experience is that if the therapist prepares clients adequately and actively shapes
expressive, interactional, self-disclosing norms in the manner described in chapter 5, there
will be no paucity of activity and energy in the group.
Structured exercises often play a more important role in brief, specialized therapy
groups than in the long-term general ambulatory group. In the next chapter, I shall
describe uses of structured exercises in a number of specialty therapy groups.

Chapter 15
SPECIALIZED THERAPY GROUPS
Group therapy methods have proved to be so useful in so many different clinical settings
that it is no longer correct to speak of group therapy. Instead, we must refer to the group
therapies. Indeed, as a cursory survey of professional journals would show, the number
and scope of the group therapies are mind-boggling.
There are groups for incest survivors, for people with HIV/AIDS, for clients with eating
disorders or with panic disorder, for the suicidal, the aged, for parents of sexually abused
children, for parents of murdered children, for compulsive gamblers and for sex addicts,
for people with herpes, for women with postpartum depression, for sexually dysfunctional
men, and for sexually dysfunctional gay men. There are groups for people with
hypercholesteremia, for survivors of divorce, for children of people with Alzheimer’s, for
spouses of people with Alzheimer’s, for alcoholics, for children of alcoholics, for male
batterers, for mothers of drug addicts, for families of the mentally ill, for fathers of
delinquent daughters, for depressed older women, for angry adolescent boys, for survivors
of terrorist attacks, for children of Holocaust survivors, for women with breast cancer, for
dialysis patients, for people with multiple sclerosis, leukemia, asthma, sickle-cell anemia,
deafness, agoraphobia, mental retardation. And for transsexuals and people with
borderline personality disorder, gastric dyspepsia, or irritable bowel, for amputees,
paraplegics, insomniacs, kleptomaniacs, asthmatics, nonorgasmic women, college
dropouts, people who have had a myocardial infarction or a stroke, adopting parents, blind
diabetics, clients in crisis, bereaved spouses, bereaved parents, the dying, and many, many
others.†1
Obviously no single text could address each of these specialized groups. Even if that
were possible, it would not constitute an intelligent approach to education. Does any
sensible teacher of zoology, to take one example, undertake to teach vertebrate anatomy
by having the students memorize the structures of each subspecies separately? Of course
not. Instead, the teacher teaches basic and general principles of form, structure, and
function and then proceeds to teach the anatomy of a prototypic primal specimen that
serves as a template for all other vertebrates. Commonly teachers use a representative
amphibian. Remember those frog dissection laboratories?
The extension of this analogy to group therapy is obvious. The student must first master
fundamental group therapy theory and then obtain a deep understanding of a prototypic
therapy group. But which group therapy represents the most archaic common ancestor?
There has been such a luxuriant growth of group therapies that it requires some
perspicacity to find, amid the thicket, the primal trunk of group therapy.
If there is an ancestral group therapy, it is the open, long-term outpatient group therapy
described in this book. It was the first group therapy, and it has been deeply studied, since
its members are sufficiently motivated, cooperative, and stable to have allowed systematic
research. Furthermore, it has stimulated, over the past fifty years, an imposing body of

professional literature containing the observations and conclusions of thoughtful
clinicians.
Now that you have come this far in this text, now that you are familiar with the
fundamental principles and techniques of the prototypical therapy group, you are ready for
the next step: the adaptation of basic group therapy principles to any specialized clinical
situation. That step is the goal of this chapter. First I describe the basic principles that
allow the group therapy fundamentals to be adapted to different clinical situations, and
then I present two distinct clinical illustrations—the adaptation of group therapy for the
acute psychiatric inpatient ward, and the widespread use of groups for clients coping with
medical illness. The chapter ends with a discussion of important developments in group
therapy: the structured group therapies, self-help groups, and online groups.
MODIFICATION OF TRADITIONAL GROUP THERAPY
FOR SPECIALIZED CLINICAL SITUATIONS: BASIC
STEPS
To design a specialized therapy group, I suggest the following three steps: (1) assess the
clinical situation; (2) formulate appropriate clinical goals; and (3) modify traditional
technique to be responsive to these two steps—the new clinical situation and the new set
of clinical goals.
Assessment of the Clinical Situation
It is important to examine carefully all the clinical facts of life that will bear on the therapy
group. Take care to differentiate the intrinsic limiting factors from the extrinsic factors.
The intrinsic factors (for example, mandatory attendance for clients on legal probation,
prescribed duration of group treatment in an HMO clinic, or frequent absences because of
medical hospitalizations in an ambulatory cancer support group) are built into the clinical
situation and cannot be changed.
Then there are extrinsic limiting factors (factors that have become tradition or policy),
which are arbitrary and within the power of the therapist to change—for example, an
inpatient ward that has a policy of rotating the group leadership so that each group
meeting has a different leader, or an incest group that traditionally opens with a long
“check-in” (which may consume most of the meeting) in which each member recounts the
important events of the week.
In a sense, the AA serenity prayer is pertinent here: therapists must accept that which
they cannot change (intrinsic factors), change that which can be changed (extrinsic
factors) and be wise enough to know the difference. Keep in mind, though, that as
therapists gain experience, they often find that more and more of the intrinsic factors are

actually extrinsic and hence mutable. For example, by educating the program’s or
institution’s decision makers about the rationale and effectiveness of group therapy, it is
possible to create a more favorable atmosphere for the therapy group.2
Formulation of Goals
When you have a clear view of the clinical facts of life—number of clients, length of
therapy, duration and frequency of group meetings, type and severity of pathology,
availability of co-leadership—your next step is to construct a reasonable set of clinical
goals.
You may not like the clinical situation, you may feel hampered by the many intrinsic
restraints that prevent you from leading the ideal group, but do not wear yourself out by
protesting an immutable situation. (Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.)
With proper modification of goals and technique, you will always be able to offer some
form of help.
I cannot overemphasize the importance of setting clear and appropriate goals: it may be
the most important step you take in your therapeutic work. Nothing will so inevitably
ensure failure as inappropriate goals. The goals of the long-term outpatient group I
describe in this book are ambitious: to offer symptomatic relief and to change character
structure. If you attempt to apply these same goals to, say, an aftercare group of clients
with chronic schizophrenia you will rapidly become a therapeutic nihilist and stamp
yourself and group therapy as hopelessly ineffective.
It is imperative that you shape a set of goals that is appropriate to the clinical situation
and achievable in the available time frame. The goals must be clear not only to the
therapists but to participants as well. In my discussion of group preparation in chapter 10,
I emphasized the importance of enlisting the client as a full collaborator in treatment. You
facilitate collaboration by making the goals and the group task explicit and by linking the
two: that is, by clarifying for the members how the procedure of the therapy group will
help them attain those goals.
In time-limited specialized groups, the goals must be focused, achievable, and tailored
to the capacity and potential of the group members. It is important that the group be a
success experience: clients enter therapy often feeling defeated and demoralized; the last
thing they need is another failure. In the discussion of the inpatient group in this chapter, I
shall give a detailed example of this process of goal setting.
Modification of Technique
When you are clear about the clinical conditions and have formulated appropriate,
realizable goals, you must next consider the implication these conditions and goals have
for your therapeutic technique. In this step, it is important to consider the therapeutic
factors and to determine which will play the greatest role in the achievement of the goals.

It is a phase of disciplined experimentation in which you alter technique, style, and, if
necessary, the basic form of the group to adapt to the clinical situation and to the new
goals of therapy.
To provide a brief hypothetical example, suppose you are asked to lead a group for
which there is relatively little precedent—say a suicide-prevention center asks you to lead
a twenty-session group of older, hemiparetic, suicidal clients. Your primary and overriding
goal, of course, is to prevent suicide, and all technical modifications must first address that
goal. A suicide during the life of the group would not only be an individual tragedy, it
would also be catastrophic for the successful development of the group.
During your screening interviews, you develop some additional goals: you may
discover that many clients are negligent about taking medication and that all the clients
suffer from severe social isolation, from a pervasive sense of hopelessness and
meaninglessness. So, given the additional goals of working on these issues as well, how
do you modify standard group techniques to achieve them most efficiently?
First, it is clear that the risk is so high that you must assiduously monitor the intensity of
and fluctuations in suicidality. You might, for example, require conjoint individual therapy
and/or ask members to fill in a brief depression scale each week. Or you could begin each
meeting with a brief check-in focused on suicidal feelings. Because of the high risk of
suicide and the extent of social isolation, you may wish to encourage rather than
discourage extragroup contact among the members, perhaps even mandating a certain
number of phone calls or e-mail messages from clients to therapists and between clients
each week. You may decide to encourage an additional coffee hour after the meeting or
between meetings. Or you may address both the isolation and the sense of uselessness by
tapping the therapeutic factor of altruism—for example, by experimenting with a “buddy
system” in which new members are assigned to one of the experienced members. The
experienced member would check in with the new member during the week to make sure
the client is taking his or her medication and to “sponsor” that individual in the meeting—
that is, to make sure the new member gets sufficient time and attention during the meeting.
There is no better antidote to isolation than deep therapeutic engagement in the group,
and thus you must strive to create positive here-and-now interactions in each meeting.
Since instillation of hope is so important, you may decide to include some recovered
clients in the group—clients who are no longer suicidal and have discovered ways to adapt
to their hemiparesis. Shame about physical disability is also an isolating force. The
therapist might wish to counteract shame through physical contact—for example, asking
group members to touch or hold each others’ paralyzed hands and arms, or asking
members to join hands at the end of meetings for a brief guided meditation. In an ideal
situation, you may launch a support group that will evolve, after the group therapy ends,
into a freestanding self-help group for which you act as consultant.
It is clear from this example that therapists must know a good deal about the special
problems of the clients who will be in their group. And that is true for each clinical
population—there is no all-purpose formula. Therapists must do their homework in order
to understand the unique problems and dynamics likely to develop during the course of the

group.
Thus, therapists leading long-term groups of alcoholics must expect to deal with issues
surrounding sobriety, AA attendance, sneak drinking, conning, orality, dependency,
deficiencies in the ability to bind anxiety, and a proneness to act out.
Bereavement groups must often focus on guilt (for not having done more, loved more,
been a better spouse), on loneliness, on major life decisions, on life regrets, on adapting to
a new, unpalatable life role, on feeling like a “fifth wheel” with old friends, on the pain
and the need to “let go” of the dead spouse. Many widows and widowers feel that building
a new life would signify insufficient love and constitute a betrayal of their dead spouse.
Groups must also focus on dating (and the ensuing guilt) and the formation of new
relationships, and, if the therapist is skillful, on personal growth.
Retirement groups must address such themes as recurrent losses, increased dependency,
loss of social role, need for new sources to validate sense of self-worth, diminished
income and expectancies, relinquishment of a sense of continued ascendancy, and shifts in
spousal relationship as a result of more time shared together.3
Groups for burdened family caregivers of people with Alzheimer’s disease often focus
on the experience of loss, on the horrific experience of caring for spouses or parents who
are but a shell of their former self, unable to acknowledge the caregiver’s effort or even to
identify the caregiver by name. They focus also on isolation, on understanding the causes
of dementia and elaborating strategies for coping with the consuming burden, on guilt
about wishing for or achieving some emancipation from the burden.4
Groups of incest survivors are likely to display considerable shame, fear, rage toward
male authorities (and male therapists), and concerns about being believed.
Groups for psychological trauma would likely address a range of concerns, perhaps in a
sequence of different group interventions. Safety, trust, and security would be important at
first. Being together with others who have experienced a similar trauma and receiving
psychoeducation about the impact of trauma on the mind and body can serve to reduce
feelings of isolation and confusion. Later these groups might use structured behavioral
interventions to treat specific trauma symptoms. Next the groups might address how
trauma has altered members’ basic beliefs and assumptions about the world. These groups
would ideally be homogeneous for the earlier work and later a heterogeneous, mixed-
gender group may be necessary to complete the process of the client’s reentry into the
posttrauma world.5
In summary, to develop a specialized therapy group I recommend the following steps:
1. Assessment of the clinical setting. Determine the immutable clinical restraints.
2. Formulation of goals. Develop goals that are appropriate and achievable within the
existing clinical restraints.
3. Modification of traditional technique. Retain the basic principles and therapeutic
factors of group therapy but alter techniques to achieve the specified goals:
therapists must adapt to the clinical situation and the dynamics of the special

clinical population.
Be mindful that all groups, even the most structured ones, also have a group process
that may impact the group. You may determine that it is outside of the scope of the group
to explore directly that process in depth, but you must be able to recognize its presence
and how best to utilize, manage, or contain it.†
These steps are clear but too aseptic to be of immediate clinical usefulness. I shall now
proceed to illustrate the entire sequence in detail by describing in depth the development
of a therapy group for the acute psychiatric inpatient ward.
I have chosen the acute inpatient therapy group for two reasons. First, it offers a
particularly clear opportunity to demonstrate many principles of strategic and technical
adaptation. The clinical challenge is severe: as I shall discuss, the acute inpatient setting is
so inhospitable to group therapy that radical modifications of technique are required.
Second, this particular example may have intrinsic value to many readers since the
inpatient group is the most common specialized group: therapy groups are led on most
acute psychiatric wards in the country and, as a comprehensive survey documents, over 50
percent of clients admitted to acute psychiatric units nationwide participate in group
psychotherapy.6 For many, it is their first group exposure, hence it behooves us to make it
a constructive experience.
THE ACUTE INPATIENT THERAPY GROUP
The Clinical Setting
The outpatient group that I describe throughout this book is freestanding: all important
negotiations occur between the group therapist(s) and the seven or eight group members.
Not so for the inpatient group! When you lead an inpatient group, the first clinical fact of
life you must face is that your group is never an independent, freestanding entity. It always
has a complex relationship to the larger group: the inpatient ward in which it is
ensconced.†7 What unfolds between members in the small therapy group reverberates
unavoidably with what transpires within the large group of the institution.
The inpatient group’s effectiveness, often its very existence, is heavily dependent upon
administrative backing. If the ward medical director and the clinical nursing coordinator
are not convinced that the group therapy approach is effective, they are unlikely to support
the group program and will undermine the prestige of the therapy groups in many ways:
they will not assign staff members to group leader positions on a regular schedule, they
will not provide supervision, nor even schedule group sessions at a convenient, consistent
time. Therapy groups on such wards are rendered ineffective. The group leaders are
untrained and rapidly grow demoralized. Meetings are scheduled irregularly and are often
disrupted by members being yanked out for individual therapy or for a variety of other

hospital appointments.†
Is this state of affairs an intrinsic, immutable problem? Absolutely not! Rather, it is an
extrinsic, attitudinal problem and stems from a number of sources, especially the
professional education of the ward administrators. Many psychiatric training programs and
nursing schools do not offer a comprehensive curriculum in group therapy (and virtually
no programs offer sound instruction in inpatient group psychotherapy). Hence, it is
completely understandable that ward directors will not invest ward resources and energy
in a treatment program about which they have little knowledge or faith. Without a potent
psychosocial therapeutic intervention, inpatient wards rely only on medication and the
work of the staff is reduced to custodial care. But I believe that these attitudes can change:
it is difficult to ignore the research that demonstrates the effectiveness of inpatient group
therapy.8 The ramifications of a foundering group program are great. A well-functioning
group program can permeate and benefit the milieu as a whole, and the small group should
be seen as a resource to the system as a whole.9
Sometimes the debate about the role of group therapy on the inpatient unit has nothing
to do with the effectiveness of the therapy but in actuality is a squabble over professional
territory. For many years, the inpatient therapy group has been organized and led by the
psychiatric nursing profession. But what happens if the ward has a medical director who
does not believe that psychiatric nurses (or occupational therapists, activity therapists, or
recreational therapists) should be practicing psychotherapy? In this instance, the group
therapy program is scuttled, not because it is ineffective but to safeguard professional
territory.
The professional interdisciplinary struggles about psychotherapy—now involving a
number of nonmedical disciplines: psychology, nursing, and master’s-level counselors and
psychologists—need to be resolved in policy committees or staff meetings. The small
therapy group must not be used as a battleground on which professional interests are
contested.
In addition to these extrinsic, programmatic problems, the acute inpatient ward poses
several major intrinsic problems for the group therapist. There are two particularly
staggering problems that must be faced by every inpatient group therapist: the rapid
turnover of patients on inpatient wards and the heterogeneity of psychopathology.

Rapid Client Turnover. The duration of psychiatric hospitalization has inexorably
shortened. On most wards, hospital stays range from a few days to a week or two. This
means, of course, that the composition of the small therapy group will be highly unstable.
I led a daily group on an inpatient unit for five years and rarely had the identical group for
two consecutive meetings—almost never for three.
This appears to be an immutable situation. The group therapist has little influence on
ward admission and discharge policy. In fact, more and more commonly, discharge
decisions are based on fiscal rather than clinical concerns. Nor is there any reason to

suspect that this situation will change in the foreseeable future. The revolving-door
inpatient unit is here to stay, and even as the door whirls ever faster, clinicians must keep
their primary focus on the client’s treatment, doing as much as they can within the
imposed constraints.10

Heterogeneity of Pathology. The typical contemporary psychiatric inpatient unit (often in a
community general hospital) admits patients with a wide spectrum of pathology: acute
schizophrenic psychosis, decompensated borderline or neurotic conditions, substance
abuse, major affective disorders, eating disorders, post-traumatic stress disorders, and
situational reactions.
Not only is there a wide diagnostic spread, but there are also broad differences in
attitudes toward, and capacity for, psychotherapy: many patients may be unmotivated;
they may be psychologically unsophisticated; they may be in the hospital involuntarily or
may not agree that they need help; they often are not paying for therapy; they may have
neither introspective propensity nor inner-directed curiosity about themselves. They seek
relief, not growth.
The presence of these two factors alone—the brief duration of treatment and the range
of psychopathology—makes it evident that a radical modification of technique is required
for the inpatient therapy group.
Consider how these two intrinsic clinical conditions violate some of the necessary
conditions of group therapy I described earlier in this text. In chapter 3, I stressed the
crucial importance of stability of membership. Gradually, over weeks and months, the
sense of cohesiveness—a major therapeutic factor—develops, and participants often
derive enormous benefit from the experience of being a valued member of an ongoing,
stable group. How, then, to lead a whirligig group in which new members come and go
virtually every session?
Similarly, in chapter 9, I stressed the importance of composing a group carefully and of
paying special attention to avoiding deviants and to selecting members with roughly the
same amount of ego strength. How, then, to lead a group in which one has almost no
control over the membership, a group in which there may be floridly psychotic individuals
sitting side by side with better-functioning, integrated members?
In addition to the major confounding factors of rapid patient turnover and the range of
psychopathology, several other intrinsic clinical factors exert significant influence on the
functioning of an inpatient psychotherapy group.

Time. The therapist’s time is very limited. Generally, there is no time to see a patient in a
pregroup interview to establish a relationship and to prepare the person for the group.
There is little time to integrate new members into the group, to work on termination
(someone terminates the group almost every meeting), to work through issues that arise in

the group, or to focus on transfer of learning.

Group Boundaries. The group boundaries are often blurred. Members are generally in
other groups on the ward with some or many of the same members. Extragroup socializing
is, of course, the rule rather than the exception: patients spend their entire day together.
The boundaries of confidentiality are similarly blurred. There can be no true
confidentiality in the small inpatient group: patients often share important small group
events with others on the ward, and staff members freely share information with one
another during rounds, nursing reports, and staff meetings. In fact it is imperative that the
small inpatient group boundary of confidentiality be elastic and encompass the entire ward
rather than being confined to any one group within that ward. Otherwise the small group
becomes disconnected from the unit.†

The Role of the Group Leader. The role of inpatient group leaders is complex since they
may be involved with clients throughout the day in other roles. Their attendance may often
be often erratic. Group leaders are frequently psychiatric nurses who, because of the
necessity of weekend, evening, and night coverage, are on a rotating schedule and often
cannot be present at the group for several consecutive meetings.
Therapist autonomy is limited in other ways as well. For example, therapists have, as I
shall discuss shortly, only limited control over group composition. They often have no
choice about co-therapists, who are usually assigned on the basis of the rotation schedule.
Each client has several therapists at the same time. Inpatient group therapists usually feel
more exposed than their outpatient colleagues. Difficulties in the group will be readily
known by all. Lastly, the pace of the acute inpatient ward is so harried that there is little
opportunity for supervision or even for postmeeting discussion between therapists.
Formulation of Goals
Once you have grasped these clinical facts of life of the inpatient therapy group and
differentiated intrinsic from extrinsic factors, it is time to ask this question: Given the
many confounding intrinsic factors that influence (and hobble) the course of the inpatient
group, what can the group accomplish? What are reasonable goals of therapy—goals that
are attainable by the inpatient clinical population in the available time?
Let us start by noting that the goals of the acute inpatient group are not identical to
those of acute inpatient hospitalization. The goal of the group is not to resolve a psychotic
depression, not to decrease psychotic panic, not to slow down a patient with mania, not to
diminish hallucinations or delusions. Groups can do none of these things. That’s the job of
other aspects of the ward treatment program—primarily of the psychopharmacological
regimen. To set these goals for a therapy group is not only unrealistic but it sentences the

group to failure.
So much for what the inpatient group cannot do. What can it offer? I will describe six
achievable goals:
1. Engaging the patient in the therapeutic process
2. Demonstrating that talking helps
3. Problem spotting
4. Decreasing isolation
5. Being helpful to others
6. Alleviating hospital-related anxiety
1. Engaging the patient in the therapeutic process
The contemporary pattern of acute psychiatric hospitalization—brief but repeated
admissions to psychiatric wards in general hospitals—can be more effective than longer
hospitalization only if hospitalization is followed with adequate aftercare treatment.11
Furthermore, there is persuasive evidence that group therapy aftercare is a particularly
efficacious mode of aftercare treatment—more so than individual aftercare therapy.12
A primary goal of inpatient group therapy emerges from these findings—namely, to
engage the patient in a process that he or she perceives as constructive and supportive and
will wish to continue after discharge from the hospital. Keep in mind that for many
patients, the inpatient psychotherapy experience is their first introduction to therapy. If the
group therapy experience is sufficiently positive and supportive to encourage them to
attend an aftercare group, then—all other factors aside—the inpatient therapy group will
have served a very important function.
2. Demonstrating that talking helps
The inpatient therapy group helps patients learn that talking about their problems is
helpful. They learn that there is relief to be gained in sharing pain and in being heard,
understood, and accepted by others. From listening to others, members also learn that
others suffer from the same type of disabling distress as they do—one is not unique in
one’s suffering. In other words, the inpatient group introduces members to the therapeutic
factors of cohesiveness and universality.
3. Problem spotting
The duration of therapy in the inpatient therapy group is far too brief to allow clients to
work through problems. But the group can efficiently help clients spot problems that they
may, with profit, work on in ongoing individual therapy, both during their hospital stay
and in their post-discharge therapy. By providing a discrete focus for therapy, which
clients value highly,13 inpatient groups increase the efficiency of other therapies.
It is important that the groups identify problems with some therapeutic handle—
problems that the client perceives as circumscribed and malleable (not problems such as
chronic unhappiness, depression, or suicidal inclinations that are too generalized to offer a

discrete handhold for therapy). The group is most adept at helping members identify
problems in their mode of relating to other people. It is the ideal therapy arena in which to
learn about maladaptive interpersonal behavior. Emily’s story is a good illustration of this
point.
• Emily was an extremely isolated young woman who was admitted to the inpatient
unit for depression. She complained that she was always in the position of calling
others for a social engagement. She never received invitations; she had no close
girl friends who sought her out. Her dates with men always turned into one-night
stands. She attempted to please them by going to bed with them, but they never
called for a second date. People seemed to forget her as soon as they met her.
During the three group meetings she attended, the group gave her consistent
feedback about the fact that she was always pleasant and always wore a gracious
smile and always seemed to say what she thought would be pleasing to others. In
this process, however, people soon lost track of who Emily was. What were her
own opinions? What were her own desires and feelings? Her need to be eternally
pleasing had a serious negative consequence: people found her boring and
predictable.
A dramatic example occurred in her second meeting, when I forgot her name
and apologized to her. Her response was, “That’s all right, I don’t mind.” I
suggested that the fact that she didn’t mind was probably one of the reasons I had
forgotten her name. In other words, had she been the type of person who would
have minded or made her needs more overt, then most likely I would not have
forgotten her name. In her three group meetings, Emily identified a major problem
that had far-reaching consequences for her social relationships outside: her
tendency to submerge herself in a desperate but self-defeating attempt to capture
the affection of others.
4. Decreasing isolation
The inpatient group can help break down the isolation that exists between members.
The group is a laboratory exercise intended to sharpen communication skills: the better the
communication, the less the isolation. It helps individuals share with one another and
permits them to obtain feedback about how others perceive them and to discover their
blind spots.
Decreasing isolation between inpatient group members has two distinct payoffs. First,
improved communication skills will help patients in their relationships with others outside
the hospital. Virtually everyone who is admitted in crisis to an inpatient ward suffers from
a breakdown or an absence of important supportive relationships with others. If the patient
is able to transfer communication skills from the group to his or her outside life, then the
group will have fulfilled a very important goal.
A second payoff is evident in the patient’s behavior on the ward: as isolation decreases,
the patient becomes increasingly able to use the therapeutic resources available, including
relationships with other patients.14

5. Being help ful to others
This goal, the therapeutic factor of altruism, is closely related to the previous one.
Clients are not just helped by their peers, they are also helped by the knowledge that they
themselves have been useful to others. Clients generally enter psychiatric hospitals in a
state of profound demoralization. They feel that not only have they no way of helping
themselves but they have nothing to offer others. The experience of being valuable to
other ward members is enormously affirming to one’s sense of self-worth.
6. Alleviating hospital-related anxiety
The process of psychiatric hospitalization can be intensely anxiety provoking. Many
patients experience great shame; they may be concerned about stigmatization and the
effects of hospitalization on their job and friendships. Many patients are distressed by
events on the ward—not only the bizarre and frightening behavior of other patients, but
also the staff tensions.
Many of these secondary sources of tension compound the patient’s primary dysphoria
and must be addressed in therapy. The small therapy groups (as well as the therapeutic
community group) provide a forum in which patients can air these issues and often
achieve reassurance simply from learning that these concerns are shared by other
members. They can learn, for example, that their roommate is not hostile and intentionally
rejecting of them, but rather is preoccupied and fearful.
Modification of Technique
We have now accomplished the first two steps of designing a group for the contemporary
inpatient ward: (1) assessing the clinical setting, including identifying the intrinsic clinical
facts of life, and (2) formulating an appropriate and realistic set of goals. Now we are
ready to turn to the third step: designing (on the basis of intrinsic restraints and goals) a
clinical strategy and technique.15

The Therapist’s Time Frame. In the outpatient therapy group I have described in this text,
the therapist’s time frame is many weeks or months, sometimes years. Therapists must be
patient, must build cohesiveness over many sessions, must work through issues
repetitively from meeting to meeting (they recognize that psychotherapy is often
cyclotherapy, because they must return again and again to the same issues in the
therapeutic work). The inpatient group therapist faces an entirely different situation: the
group composition changes almost every day; the duration of therapy for members is often
very brief—indeed, many attend the group for only a single session.
It is clear that the inpatient group therapist must adopt a radically shortened time frame:
I believe that the inpatient group therapist must consider the life of the group to be only a
single session. Perhaps there will be continuity from one meeting to the next; perhaps

there will be culture bearers who will be present in several consecutive meetings, but do
not count on it. The most constructive attitude to assume is that your group will last for
only a single session and that you must strive to offer something useful for as many
participants as possible during that session.

Efficiency and Activity. The single-session time frame demands efficiency . You have no
time to allow issues to build, to let things develop in the group and slowly work them
through. You have no time to waste; you have only a single opportunity to engage a
patient, and you must not squander it.
Efficiency demands activity on the part of the therapist. There is no place in inpatient
group psychotherapy for the passive, reflective group therapist. A far higher level of
activity is demanded in inpatient than in outpatient groups. You must activate the group
and call on, actively support, and interact personally with members. This increased level
of activity requires a major shift in technique for the therapist who has been trained in
long-term group therapy, but it is an absolutely essential modification of technique.

Support. Keep in mind that one of the major goals of the inpatient therapy group is to
engage clients in a therapeutic process they will wish to continue after leaving the hospital.
Thus, it is imperative that the therapist create in the group an atmosphere that members
experience as supportive, positive, and constructive. Members must feel safe; they must
learn to trust the group and to experience it as a place where they will be understood and
accepted.
The inpatient therapy group is not the place for confrontation, for criticism, for the
expression and examination of intense anger. There will often be patients in the group who
are conning or manipulative and who may need powerful confrontation, but it is far better
to let them pass unchallenged than to run the risk of making the group feel unsafe to the
vast majority of patients. Group leaders need to recognize and incorporate both the needs
of the group and the needs of the individual into their intervention. Consider, for example,
Joe, an angry man with bipolar disorder who arrived at the small group the day after being
forcibly restrained and secluded by unit staff after threatening to harm a nurse who refused
his request for a pass off the ward. Joe pointedly sat silently outside of the circle with his
back to the group members. Addressing Joe’s behavior was essential—it was too
threatening to ignore—but it was also potentially inflammatory to engage Joe against his
manifest wish. The group leader chose to acknowledge Joe’s presence, noting that it likely
was hard for Joe to come to the group after the tensions of the night before. He was
welcome to participate more fully if he chose, but if not, just coming would be viewed as a
step toward his reentry. Joe maintained his silent posture, but the group was liberated and
able to proceed.
In the long-term outpatient group, therapists provide support both directly and
indirectly: direct support by personal engagement, by empathic listening, by

understanding, by accepting glances, nods, and gestures; indirect support by building a
cohesive group that then becomes a powerful agent of support.
Inpatient group therapists must learn to offer support more quickly and directly. Support
is not something that therapists reflexively provide. In fact, many training programs in
psychotherapy unwittingly extinguish a therapist’s natural propensity to support patients.
Therapists are trained to become sniffers of pathology, experts in the detection of
weaknesses. They are often so sensitized to transferential and countertransferential issues
that they hold themselves back from engaging in basically human, supportive behavior
with their clients.
Support may be offered in a myriad of ways.† The most direct, the most valued by
clients, and the most often overlooked by well-trained professional therapists is to
acknowledge openly the members’ efforts, intentions, strengths, positive contributions,
and risks.16 If, to take an obvious example, one member states that he finds another
member in the group very attractive, it is important that this member be supported for the
risk he has taken. You may wonder whether he has previously been able to express his
admiration of another so openly and note, if appropriate, that this is reflective of real
progress for him in the group. Or, suppose you note that several members have been more
self-disclosing after one particular member took a risk and revealed delicate and important
material—then openly comment on it! Do not assume that members automatically realize
that their disclosures have helped others take risks. Identify and reinforce the adaptive
parts of the client’s presentation.17
Try to emphasize the positive rather than the negative aspects of a defensive posture.
Consider, for example, members who persist in playing assistant therapist. Do not
confront them by challenging their refusal to work on personal issues, but offer instead
positive comments about how helpful they have been to others and then gently comment
on their unselfishness and reluctance to ask for something personal from the group. It is
the rare individual who resists the therapist’s suggestion that he or she needs to learn to be
more selfish and to ask for more from others.
The therapist also supports by helping members obtain support from the group. Some
clients, for example, obtain very little support because they characteristically present
themselves in a highly objectionable fashion. A self-centered member who incessantly
ruminates about a somatic condition will rapidly exhaust the patience of any group. When
you identify such behavior, it is important to intervene quickly before animosity and
rejection have time to well up. You may try any number of tactics—for example, directly
instructing the client about other modes of behaving in the group or assigning the client
the task of introducing new members into the group, giving feedback to other members, or
attempting to guess and express what each person’s evaluation of the group is that day.
Consider a woman who talked incessantly about her many surgical procedures.18 It
became clear from listening to this woman’s description of her life situation that she felt
she had given everything to her children and had received nothing in return. She also
described a deep sense of unworthiness and of being inferior to the other members of the
group. I suggested that when she talked about her surgical procedures she was really

saying, “I have some needs, too, but I have trouble asking for them. My preoccupation
with my surgery is a way of asking, ‘Pay some attention to me.’” Eventually, she agreed
with my formulation and to my request for her permission, whenever she talked about her
surgery, to translate that into the real message, “Pay more attention to me.” This client’s
explicit request for help was effective, and the members responded to her positively—
which they never had when she recited her irritating litany of somatic complaints.
Another approach to support is to make certain the group is safe by anticipating and
avoiding conflict whenever possible. If clients are irritable or want to learn to be more
assertive or to challenge others, it is best to channel that work onto yourself: you are, let us
hope, in a far better position to handle criticism than are any of the group members.
If two members are locked in conflict, it is best to intervene quickly and to search for
positive aspects of the conflict. For example, keep in mind that sparks often fly between
two individuals because of the group phenomenon of mirroring: one sees aspects of
oneself (especially negative aspects) in another whom one dislikes because of what one
dislikes in oneself. Thus, you can deflect conflict by asking individuals to discuss the
various ways in which they resemble their adversary.
There are many other conflict-avoiding strategies. Envy is often an integral part of
interpersonal conflict (see chapter 10); it is often constructive to ask adversaries to talk
about those aspects of each other that they admire or envy. Role switching is sometimes a
useful technique: ask adversaries to switch places and present the other’s point of view.
Often it is helpful to remind the group that opponents generally prove to be very helpful to
each other, whereas those who are indifferent rarely help each other grow. Sometimes an
adversarial position is a method of showing that one cares.†
One reason some members experience the group as unsafe is that they fear that things
will go too far, that the group may coerce them to lose control—to say, think, or feel
things that will result in interpersonal catastrophe. You can help these members feel safe in
the group by allowing them to exercise control over their own participation. Check in with
members repeatedly with such questions as: “Do you feel we’re pushing you too hard?”
“Is this too uncomfortable for you?” “Do you think you’ve revealed too much of yourself
today?” “Have I been too intrusive by asking you such direct questions today?”
When you lead groups of severely disturbed, regressed patients, you must provide even
more direct support. Examine the behavior of the severely regressed patients and find in it
some positive aspect. Support the mute patient for staying the whole session; compliment
the patient who leaves early for having stayed twenty minutes; support the member who
arrives late for having shown up; support inactive members for having paid attention
throughout the meeting. If members try to give advice, even inappropriate advice, reward
them for their intention to help. If statements are unintelligible or bizarre, nonetheless
label them as attempts to communicate. One group member, Jake, hospitalized because of
a psychotic decompensation, angrily blurted out in the group that he intended to get Satan
to rain “Hellfire and Brimstone upon this Godforsaken hospital.” Group members
withdrew into silence. The therapist wondered aloud what provoked this angry explosion.
Another member commented that Jake had been agitated since his discharge planning

meeting. Jake then added that he did not want to go to the hostel that was recommended.
He wanted to go back to his boarding house, because it was safer from theft and assault.
That was something all in the group could understand and support. Finding the underlying
and understandable human concern brought Jake and the group members back together—a
far better situation than Jake being isolated because of his bizarre behavior.

Focus of the Inpatient Group: The Here-And-Now. Throughout this text, I have repeatedly
emphasized the importance of here-and-now interaction in the group therapeutic process. I
have stressed that work in the here-and-now is the heart of the group therapeutic process,
the power cell that energizes the therapy group. Yet, whenever I have visited inpatient
wards throughout the country, I have found that groups there rarely focus on here-and-now
interaction. Such avoidance of the here-and-now is, in my opinion, precisely the reason so
many inpatient groups are ineffective.
If the inpatient group does not focus on the here-and-now, what other options are there?
Most inpatient groups adopt a then-and-there focus in which members, following the
therapist’s cues, take turns presenting their “back-home problems”—those that brought
them into the hospital—while the rest of the group attempts to address those problems
with exhortation and advice. This approach to inpatient group therapy is the least effective
way to lead a therapy group and almost invariably sentences the group to failure.
The problems that brought a patient into the hospital are complex and overwhelming.
They have generally foiled the best efforts of skilled mental health professionals and will,
without question, stump the therapy group members. For one thing, distressed patients are
generally unreliable self-reporters: the information they present to the group will
invariably be biased and, given the time constraints, limited. The then-and-there focus has
many other disadvantages as well. For one thing, it results in highly inequitable time
sharing. If much or all of a meeting is devoted to one member, many of the remaining
members will feel cheated or bored. Unlike outpatient group members, they cannot even
bank on the idea that they have credit in the group—that is, that the group owes them time
and attention. Since they will most likely soon be discharged or find themselves in a group
composed of completely different members, patients are left clutching worthless IOUs.
Some inpatient groups focus on ward problems—ward tensions, staffpatient conflict,
housekeeping disputes, and so on. Generally, this is an unsatisfactory mode of using the
small group. The average inpatient ward has approximately twenty patients. In any small
group meeting, only half the members and one or two staff members will be present;
invariably, the patients or staff members discussed will be in the other group. A much
better arena for dealing with ward problems is the therapeutic community meeting, in
which all patients and staff are present.
Other inpatient groups focus on common themes—for example, suicidal ideation,
hallucinations, or drug side effects. Such meetings may be of value to some but rarely all
members. Often such meetings serve primarily to dispense information that could easily
be provided to patients in other formats. It is not the most effective way of using the

inherent power of the small group modality.
The clinical circumstances of the inpatient group do not make the here-and-now focus
any less important or less advisable. In fact, the here-and-now focus is as effective in
inpatient as in outpatient therapy. However, the clinical conditions of inpatient work
(especially the brief duration of treatment and the group members’ severity of illness)
demand modifications in technique. As I mentioned earlier, there is no time for working
through interpersonal issues. Instead, you must help patients spot interpersonal problems
and reinforce interpersonal strengths, while encouraging them to attend aftercare therapy,
where they can pursue and work through the interpersonal issues identified in the group.
The most important point to be made about the use of the here-and-now in inpatient
groups is already implicit in the foregoing discussion of support. I cannot emphasize too
heavily that the here-and-now is not synonymous with conflict, confrontation, and critical
feedback. I am certain that it is because of this erroneous assumption that so few inpatient
group therapists capitalize on the value of here-and-now interaction.
Conflict is only one, and by no means the most important, facet of here-and-now
interaction. The here-and-now focus helps patients learn many invaluable interpersonal
skills: to communicate more clearly, to get closer to others, to express positive feelings, to
become aware of personal mannerisms that push people away, to listen, to offer support, to
reveal oneself, to form friendships.
The inpatient group therapist must pay special attention to the issue of the relevance of
the here-and-now. The members of an inpatient group are in crisis. They are preoccupied
with their life problems and immobilized by dysphoria or confusion. Unlike many
outpatient group members who are interested in self-exploration, in personal growth, and
in improving their ability to cope with crisis, inpatients are closed, in a survival mode, and
unlikely to apprehend the relevance of the here-and-now focus for their problems.
Therefore, you must provide explicit instruction about its relevance. I begin each group
meeting with a brief orientation in which I emphasize that, though individuals may enter
the hospital for different reasons, everyone can benefit from examining how he or she
relates to other people. Everyone can be helped by learning how to get more out of
relationships with others. I stress that I focus on relationships in group therapy because
that is what group therapy does best.† In the group, there are other members and two
mental health experts who are willing to provide feedback about how they see each person
in the group relating to others. I also acknowledge that members have important and
painful problems, other than interpersonal ones, but that these problems need to be
addressed in other therapeutic modalities: in individual therapy, in social service
interviews, in couples or marital therapy, or with medication.
Modes of Structure
Just as there is no place in acute inpatient group work for the inactive therapist, there is no
place for the nondirective group therapist. The great majority of patients on an inpatient

ward are confused, frightened, and disorganized; they crave and require some external
structure and stability. Consider the experience of patients newly admitted to the
psychiatric unit: they are surrounded by other troubled, irrationally behaving patients;
their mental acuity may be obtunded by medication; they are introduced to many staff
members who, because they are on a complex rotating schedule, may not appear to have
consistent patterns of attendance; they are exposed, sometimes for the first time, to a wide
array of therapies and therapists.
Often the first step to acquiring internal structure is exposure to a clearly perceived,
externally imposed structure. Anxiety is relieved when one is provided with clear, firm
expectations for behavior in a new situation.
In a study of debriefing interviews with newly discharged patients, the overwhelming
majority expressed a preference for group leaders who provided an active structure for the
group.19 They appreciated a therapist who started the group meeting and who provided
crystal-clear direction for the procedure of the group. They preferred leaders who actively
invited members to participate, who focused the group’s attention on work, who assured
equal distribution of time, who reminded the group of its basic group task and direction.
The research literature demonstrates that such leaders obtain superior clinical results.20
Group leaders can provide structure for the group in many ways: by orienting members
at the start of each group; by providing a written description of the group in advance of the
meeting, by setting clear spatial and temporal boundaries; by using a lucid, confident
personal style; by following a consistent and coherent group procedure.

Spatial and Temporal Boundaries. The ideal physical arrangement for an inpatient therapy
group, as for any type of group, is a circle of members meeting in an appropriately sized
room with a closed door. Sounds simple, yet the physical plan of many wards makes these
basic requirements difficult to meet. Some units, for example, have only one group room
and yet must schedule two groups to meet at the same time. In this case, one group may
have to meet in a very large, busy general activity room or in an open hallway without
clear spatial demarcation. I believe that the lack of clear spatial boundaries vitiates
intimacy and cohesiveness and compromises the work of the group; it is far preferable to
find some closed space, even if it means meeting off the ward.
Structure is also provided by temporal stability. The ideal meeting begins with all
members present and punctual, and runs with no interruptions until its conclusion. It is
difficult to approximate these conditions in an inpatient setting for several reasons:
disorganized patients arrive late because they forget the time and place of the meeting;
members are called out for some medical or therapy appointment; members with a limited
attention span may ask to leave early; heavily medicated members fall asleep during a
session and interrupt the group flow; agitated or panicked patients may bolt from the
group.
Therapists must intervene in every way possible to provide maximum stability. They

should urge the unit administration to declare the group time inviolable so that group
members cannot be called out of the group for any reason (not because the group is the
most important therapy on the unit, but because these disruptions undermine it, and group
therapy, by its nature, has little logistical flexibility). They may ask the staff members to
remind disorganized patients about the group meeting and escort them into the room. It
should be the ward staff’s responsibility, not the group leaders’ alone, to ensure that
patients attend. And, of course, the group therapists should always model promptness.
The problem of bolters—members who run out of a group meeting—can be approached
in several ways. First, patients are made more anxious if they perceive that they will not
be permitted to leave the room. Therefore, it is best simply to express the hope that they
can stay the whole meeting. If they cannot, suggest that they return the next day, when
they feel more settled. A patient who attempts to leave the room in midsession cannot, of
course, be physically blocked, but there are other options. You may reframe the situation
in a way that provides a rationale for putting up with the discomfort of staying: for
example, in the case of a person who has stated that he or she often flees from
uncomfortable situations and is resolved to change that pattern, you might remind him or
her of that resolution. You may comment: “Eleanor, it’s clear that you’re feeling very
uncomfortable now. I know you want to leave the room, but I remember your saying just
the other day that you’ve always isolated yourself when you felt bad and that you want to
try to find ways to reach out to others. I wonder if this might not be a good time to work
on that by simply trying extra hard to stay in the meeting today?” You may decrease her
anxiety by suggesting that she simply be an observer for the rest of the session, or you
may suggest that she change her seat to a place that feels more comfortable to her—
perhaps next to you.
Groups led for higher-level patients may be made more stable by a policy that prohibits
latecomers from entering the group session. This policy, of course, is only effective with
an optional group. It may present problems for therapists who feel uncomfortable with
being strict gatekeepers; it runs against the grain of traditional clinical training to refuse
admission to clients who want therapy. Of course, this policy creates resentment in clients
who arrive at a meeting only a few minutes late, but it also conveys to them that you value
the group time and work and that you want to get the maximum amount of uninterrupted
work each session. The group may employ a five-minute window for late arrivals with the
door open, but once the door is closed, the meeting should not be interrupted. Debriefing
interviews with recently discharged patients invariably reveal that they resent interruptions
and approve of all the therapists’ efforts to ensure stability.21 Latecomers who are denied
entrance to the group may sulk for an hour or two but generally will be punctual the
following day.

Therapist Style. The therapist also greatly contributes to the sense of structure through
personal style and presence.† Confused or frightened patients are reassured by therapists
who are firm, explicit, and decisive, yet who, at the same time, share with patients the
reasons for their actions. Many long-term outpatient group therapists allow events to run

their course and then encourage the examination and integration of the event. Inpatient
groups, however, are disrupted repeatedly by major events. Members are often too
stressed and vulnerable to deal effectively with such events and are reassured if therapists
act decisively and firmly. If, for example, a manic patient veers out of control and
monopolizes the group’s time, it is best to intervene and prevent the patient from
obstructing the group work in that session. You may, for example, tell the patient that it is
time to be quiet and to work on listening to others, or, if the patient is unable to exercise
any control, you may escort him or her from the room. Generally, it is excellent modeling
for therapists to talk about their ambivalent feelings in such a situation. They may, for
example, share both their conviction that they have made the proper move for the welfare
of the entire group and their great discomfort at assuming an authoritarian pose.
At other times, the group may engage in long discussions that the inpatient therapist
realizes are not effective and do not constitute effective work. Again, the therapist has
options, including waiting and then analyzing the resistance. However, in inpatient groups
it is far more efficient to be direct—for example, to interrupt the group with some explicit
message such as, “I have a sense that this topic is of much interest to several of the people
in the room, but it seems to me that you could easily have this discussion outside the
group. I want to suggest that there might be a more valuable way to use the group time.
Groups are much more helpful if we help members learn more about how they relate and
communicate with others, and I think it would be better if we could get back to … ”—here
you would supply some clear alternative.

Group Session Protocol. One of the most potent ways of providing structure is to build
into each session a consistent, explicit sequence. This is a radical departure from
traditional outpatient group therapy technique, but in specialized groups it makes for the
most efficient use of a limited number of sessions, as we shall see later when we examine
cognitive-behavioral therapy groups. In the inpatient group, a structured protocol for each
session has the advantage not only of efficiency but also of ameliorating anxiety and
confusion in severely ill patients. I recommend that rapid-turnover inpatient groups take
the following form.
1. The first few minutes. This is when the therapist provides explicit structure for the
group and prepares the group members for therapy. (Shortly, I will describe a
model group in which I give a verbatim example of a preparatory statement.)
2. Definition of the task. The therapist attempts in this phase to determine the most
profitable direction for the group to take in a particular session. Do not make the
error of plunging in great depth into the first issue raised by a member, for, in so
doing, you may miss other potentially productive agendas. You may determine the
task in a number of ways. You may, for example, simply listen to get a feel of the
urgent issues present that day, or you may provide some structured exercise that
will permit you to ascertain the most valuable direction for the group to take that
day (I will give a description of this technique later).†

3. Filling the task. Once you have a broad view of the potentially fertile issues for a
session, you attempt, in the main body of the meeting, to address these issues,
involving as many members as possible in the group session.
4. The final few minutes. The last few minutes is the summing-up period. You
indicate that the work phase is over, and you devote the remaining time to review
and analysis of the meeting. This is the self-reflective loop of the here-and-now, in
which you attempt to clarify, in the most lucid possible language, the interaction
that occurred in the session. You may also wish to do some final mopping up: you
may inquire about any jagged edges or ruffled feelings that members may take out
of the session or ask the members, both the active and the silent ones, about their
experience and evaluation of the meeting.
Disadvantages of Structure. Several times in this text, I have remonstrated against
excessive structure. For example, in discussing norm setting, I urged that the therapist
strive to make the group as autonomous as possible and noted that an effective group takes
maximum responsibility for its own functioning. I have also suggested that an excessively
active therapist who structures the group tightly will create a dependent group; surely if
the leader does everything for the members, they will do too little for themselves. As
noted in chapter 14, empirical research demonstrates that leaders who provide excessive
structure may be positively evaluated by their members, but their groups fail to have
positive outcomes. Again, leader behavior that is structuring in nature (total verbal
activity and amount of managerial behavior) is related in curvilinear fashion to positive
outcome (both at the end of the group and at the six-month follow-up).22 In other words,
the rule of the golden mean prevails: too much or too little leader structuring is
detrimental to growth.
Thus, we face a dilemma. In many brief, specialized groups, we must provide structure;
but if we provide too much, our group members will not learn to use their own resources.
This is a major problem for the inpatient group therapist who must, for all the reasons I
have described, structure the group and yet avoid infantilizing its members.
There is a way out of this dilemma—a way so important that it constitutes a
fundamental principle of therapy technique in many specialized groups. The leader must
structure the group so as to encourage each member’s autonomous functioning. If this
principle seems paradoxical wait! The following model of an inpatient group will clarify
it.
The Higher-Level Group: A Working Model
In this section I describe in some detail a format for the higher-level functioning inpatient
group. Keep in mind that my intention here, as throughout this chapter, is not to provide a
blueprint but to illustrate an approach to the modification of group therapy technique. My
hope, thus, is not that you will attempt to apply this model faithfully to your clinical
situation but that it will serve to illustrate the general strategy of modification and will

assist you in designing an effective model for the specific clinical situations you face.23
I suggest that an optional group be held for higher-level clients,ah meeting three to five
times a week for approximately seventy-five minutes. I have experimented with a variety
of models over the years; the model I describe here is the most effective one I have found,
and I have used it for several hundred inpatient group therapy sessions. This is the basic
protocol of the meeting:
1. Orientation and Preparation … 3 to 5 minutes
2. Personal Agenda Setting … 20 to 30 minutes
3. Agenda Filling … 20 to 35 minutes
4. Review … 10 to 20 minutes
Orientation and Preparation. The preparation of patients for the therapy group is no less
important in inpatient than in outpatient group therapy. The time frame, of course, is
radically different. Instead of spending twenty to thirty minutes preparing an individual for
group therapy during an individual session, the inpatient group therapist must accomplish
such preparation in the first few minutes of the inpatient group session. I suggest that the
leader begin every meeting with a simple and brief introductory statement that includes a
description of the ground rules (time and duration of meeting, rules about punctuality), a
clear exposition of the purpose of the group, and an outline of the basic procedure of the
group, including the sequence of the meeting. The following is a typical preparatory
statement:
I’m Irv Yalom and this is Mary Clark. We’ll co-lead this afternoon therapy group,
which meets daily for one hour and fifteen minutes beginning at two o’clock. The
purpose of this group is to help members learn more about the way they
communicate and relate to others. People come into the hospital with many
different kinds of important problems, but one thing that most individuals have in
common here is some unhappiness about the way some of their important
relationships are going.
There are, of course, many other urgent problems that people have, but those are
best worked on in some of your other forms of therapy. What this kind of group
does best of all is to help people understand more about their relationships with
others. One of the ways we can work best is to focus on the relationships that exist
between the people in this room. The better you learn to communicate with each of
the people here, the better it will become with people in your outside life. Other
groups on our unit may emphasize other approaches.
It’s important to know that observers are present almost every day to watch the
group through this one-way mirror. [Here, point toward the mirror and also toward
the microphone if appropriate, in an attempt to orient the patient as clearly as

possible to the spatial surroundings.] The observers are professional mental health
workers, often medical or nursing students, or other members of the ward staff.
We begin our meetings by going around the group and checking with each
person and asking each to say something about the kinds of problems they’re
having in their lives that they’d like to try to work on in the group. That should
take fifteen to thirty minutes. It is very hard to come up with an agenda during
your first meetings. But don’t sweat it. We will help you with it. That’s our job.
After that, we then try to work on as many of these problems as possible. In the
last fifteen minutes of the group, the observers will come into the room and share
their observations with us. Then, in the last few minutes, we check in with
everyone here about how they size up the meeting and about the leftover feelings
that should be looked at before the group ends. We don’t always get to each agenda
fully each meeting, but we will do our best. Hopefully we can pick it up at the next
meeting and you may find also that you can work on it between sessions.
Note the basic components of this preparation: (1) a description of the ground rules; (2)
a statement of the purpose and goals of the group; (3) a description of the procedure of the
group (including the precise structure of the meeting). Some inpatient therapists suggest
that this preparation can be partly communicated to patients outside of the group and
should be even more detailed and explicit by, for example, including a discussion of blind
spots, supportive and constructive feedback (providing illustrative examples), and the
concept of the social microcosm.24

Personal Agenda Setting. The second phase of the group is the elaboration of the task. The
overriding task of the group (from which the various goals of the group emanate) is to
help each member explore and improve his or her interpersonal relationships. An efficient
method of task definition is a structured exercise that asks each member to formulate a
brief personal agenda for the meeting. The agenda must be realistic and doable in the
group that day. It must focus on interpersonal issues and, if possible, on issues that in
some way relate to one or more members in the group.
Formulating an appropriate agenda is a complex task. Patients need considerable
assistance from the therapist, especially in their first couple of meetings. Neophyte
therapists may also find this challenging at first. Each patient is, in effect, asked to make a
personal statement that involves three components: (1) an acknowledgment of the wish to
change (2) in some interpersonal domain (3) that has some here-and-now manifestation.
Think about this as an evolution from the general to the specific, the impersonal to the
personal, and the personal to the interpersonal. “I feel unhappy” evolves into “I feel
unhappy because I am isolated,” which evolves into “I want to be better connected,”
which evolves into “… with another member of the group.” Notwithstanding the many
ways patients can begin their exposition, there are no more than eight to ten basic agendas
that express the vast majority of patient concerns: wanting to be less isolated, more
assertive, a better communicator, less bottled up, closer with others, more effective in

dealing with anger, less mistrustful, or better known to others, or wanting to receive
specific feedback about a characteristic or aspect of behavior. Having these examples in
mind may make it easier for therapists to help patients create a workable focus.
Patients have relatively little difficulty with the first two aspects of the agenda but
require considerable help from the therapist in the third—that is, framing the agenda in the
here-and-now. The third part, however, is less complex than it seems, and the therapist
may move any agenda into the here-and-now by mastering only a few basic guidelines.
Consider the following common agenda: “I want to learn to communicate better with
others.” The patient has already accomplished the first two components of the agenda: (1)
he or she has expressed a desire for change (2) in an interpersonal area. All that remains is
to move the agenda into the here-and-now, a step that the therapist can easily facilitate
with a comment such as: “Please look around the room. With whom in the group do you
communicate well? With whom would you like to improve your communication?”
Another common agenda is the statement, “I’d like to learn to get closer to people.” The
therapist’s procedure is the same: thrust it into the here-and-now by asking, “Who in the
group do you feel close to? With whom would you like to feel closer?” Another common
agenda is: “I want to be able to express my needs and get them met. I keep my needs and
pain hidden inside and keep trying to please everybody.” The therapist can shift that into
the here-and-now by asking: “Would you be willing to try to let us know today what you
need?” or “What kind of pain do you have? What would you like from us?”
Nota bene, the agenda is generally not the reason the patient is in the hospital. But,
often unbeknownst to the patient, the agenda may be an underlying or contributory reason.
The patient may have been hospitalized because of substance abuse, depression, or a
suicide attempt. Underlying such behaviors or events, however, there are almost invariably
important tensions or disruptions in interpersonal relationships.
Note also that the therapist strives for agendas that are gentle, positive, and
nonconfrontational. In the examples just cited of agendas dealing with communication or
closeness, I made sure of inquiring first about the positive end of the scale.
Many patients offer an agenda that directly addresses anger: for example, “I want to be
able to express my rage. The doctors say I turn my anger inward and that causes me to be
depressed.” This agenda must be handled with care. You do not want patients to express
anger at one another, and you must reshape that agenda into a more constructive form.
I have found it helpful to approach the patient in the following manner: “I believe that
anger is often a serious problem because people let it build up to high levels and then are
unable to express it. The release of so much anger would feel like a volcano exploding.
It’s frightening both to you and to others. It’s much more useful in the group to work with
young anger, before it turns into red anger. I’d like to suggest to you that today you focus
on young anger—for example, impatience, frustration, or very minor feelings of
annoyance. Would you be willing to express in the group any minor flickerings of
impatience or annoyance when they first occur—for example, irritation at the way I lead
the group today?”

The agenda exercise has many advantages. For one thing, it is a solution to the paradox
that structure is necessary but, at the same time, growth inhibiting. The agenda exercise
provides structure for the group, but it simultaneously encourages autonomous behavior
on the part of the patient. Members are required to take responsibility for the therapy and
to say, in effect, “Here is what I want to change about myself. Here’s what I choose to
work on in the group today.” Thus, the agenda encourages members to assume a more
active role in their own therapy and to make better use of the group. They learn that
straightforward, explicit agendas involving another member of the group will guarantee
that they do productive work in the session: for example, “I tried to approach Mary earlier
today to talk to her, and I have the feeling that she rejected me, wanted nothing to do with
me, and I’d like to find out why.”
Some patients have great difficulty stating their needs directly and explicitly. In fact,
many enter the hospital because of self-destructive attempts that are indirect methods of
signifying that they need help. The agenda task teaches them to state their needs clearly
and directly and to ask explicitly for help from others. In fact, for many, the agenda
exercise, rather than any subsequent work in the group meeting, is itself the therapy. If
these patients can simply be taught to ask for help verbally rather than through some
nonverbal, self-destructive mode, then the hospitalization will have been very useful.
The agenda exercise also provides a wide-angle view of the group work that may be
done that day. The group leader is quickly able to make an appraisal of what each patient
is willing to do and which patients’ goals may interdigitate with other those of others in
the group.
The agenda exercise is valuable but cannot immediately be installed in a group. Often a
therapy group needs several meetings to catch on to the task and to recognize its
usefulness. Personal agenda setting is not an exercise that the group members can
accomplish on their own: the therapist must be extremely facilitative, persistent, inventive,
and often directive to make it work. If members are extremely resistant, sometimes a
suitable agenda is for them to examine why it is so hard to formulate an agenda.
Profound resistance or demoralization may be expressed by comments such as “What
difference will it make?” “I don’t want to be here at all!” If it is quickly evident that you
have no real therapeutic leverage, you may choose to ally with the resistance rather than
occupy the group’s time in a futile struggle with the resistant member. You may simply
say that it is not uncommon to feel this way on admission to the hospital, and perhaps the
next meeting will feel different. You might add that the patient may choose to participate
at some point in the session. If anything catches his interest, he should speak about it.
Sometimes if a patient cannot articulate an agenda, one can be prescribed that involves
listening and then providing feedback to a member the patient selects. At other times it is
useful to ask other members to suggest a suitable agenda for a given individual.
For example, a nineteen-year-old male offered an unworkable agenda: “My dad treats
me like a kid.” He could not comprehend the agenda concept in his first meeting, and I
asked for suggestions from the other members. There were several excellent ones: “I want
to examine why I’m so scared in here,” or, “I want to be less silent in the group.”

Ultimately, one member suggested a perfect agenda: “I want to learn what I do that makes
my dad treat me like a kid. You guys tell me: do I act like a kid in this group?”
Take note of why this was the perfect agenda. It addressed his stated concern about his
father treating him like a kid, it addressed his behavior in the group that had made it
difficult for him to use the group, and it focused on the here-and-now in a manner that
would undoubtedly result in the group’s being useful to him.

Agenda Filling. Once the personal agenda setting has been completed, the next phase of
the group begins. In many ways, this segment of the group resembles any interactionally
based group therapy meeting in which members explore and attempt to change
maladaptive interpersonal behavior. But there is one major difference: therapists have at
their disposal agendas for each member of the group, which allows them to focus the work
in a more customized and efficient manner. The presumed life span of the inpatient group
is only a single session, and the therapist must be efficient in order to provide the greatest
good for the greatest number of patients.
If the group is large—say, twelve members—and if there are new members who require
a good bit of time to formulate an agenda, then there may be only thirty minutes in which
to fill the twelve agendas. Obviously, work cannot be done on each agenda in the session,
and it is important that patients be aware of this possibility. You may tell members
explicitly that the personal agenda setting does not constitute a promise that each agenda
will be focused on in the group. You may also convey this possibility through conditional
language in the agenda formation phase: “If time permits, what would you like to work on
today?”
Nonetheless, the efficient and active therapist should be able to work on the majority of
agendas in each session. The single most valuable guideline I can offer is try to fit agendas
together so that you work on several at once. If, for example, John’s agenda is that he is
very isolated and would like some feedback from the members about why it’s hard to
approach him, then you can fill several agendas simultaneously by calling for feedback for
John from members with agendas such as: “I want to learn to express my feelings,” “I
want to learn how to communicate better to others,” or, “I want to learn how to state my
opinions clearly.”
Similarly, if there’s a member in the group who is weeping and highly distressed, why
should you, the therapist, but the only one to comfort that individual when you have,
sitting in the group, members with the agenda of: “I want to learn to express my feelings,”
or, “I want to learn how to be closer to other people”? By calling on these members, you
stitch several agendas together.
Generally, during the personal agenda setting, the therapist collects several letters of
credit—commitments from patients about certain work they want to do during the
meeting. If, for example, one member states that she thinks it important to learn to take
risks in the group, it is wise to store this and, at some appropriate time, call on her to take

a risk by, for example, giving feedback or evaluating the meeting. If a member expresses
the wish to open up and share his pain with others, it is facilitative to elicit some discrete
contract—you may even make a contract for only two or three minutes of sharing—and
then make sure that individual gets the time in the group and the opportunity to stop at the
allotted time. It is possible, with such contracts, to increase responsibility assumption by
asking the patient to nominate one or two members to monitor him to ensure he has
fulfilled the contract by a certain time in the session. This kind of “maestro-like
conducting” may feel heavy-handed to the beginning therapist, but it leads to a more
effective inpatient group.

The End-of-Meeting Review. The final phase of the group meeting signals a formal end to
the body of the meeting and consists of review and evaluation. I have often led an
inpatient group on a teaching unit and generally had two to four students observing the
session through a one-way mirror. I prefer to divide the final phase of the group into two
equal segments: a discussion of the meeting by the therapists and observers, and the group
members’ response to this discussion.
In the first segment, therapists and observers form a small circle in the room and
conduct an open analysis of a meeting, just as though there were no patients in the room
listening and watching. (If there are no observers in the meeting that day, the co-therapists
hold a discussion between themselves or invite the group members to contribute to a
discussion in which everyone attempts to review and analyze the meeting.) In this
discussion, leaders and observers review the meeting and focus on the group leadership
and the experience of each of the members. The leaders question what they missed, what
else they might have done in the group, whether they left out certain members. The
discussants take pains to make some comment about each member: the type of agenda
formulated, the work done on that agenda, guesses about a patient’s satisfaction with the
group.
Although this group wrap-up format is unorthodox, it is, in my experience, effective.
For one thing, it makes constructive use of observers. In the traditional teaching format,
student-observers stay invisible and meet with the therapist in a postgroup discussion to
which the members, of course, do not have access. Members generally resent this
observation format and sometimes develop paranoid feelings about being watched. To
bring the observers into the group transforms them from a negative to a positive force. In
fact, group members often express disappointment when no observers are present.
This format requires therapist transparency and is an excellent opportunity to do
invaluable modeling. Co-therapists may discuss their dilemmas or concerns or
puzzlement. They may ask the observers for feedback about their behavior. Did, for
example, the observers think they were too intrusive or that they put too much pressure on
a particular individual? What did the observers think about the relationship between the
two leaders?
In the final segment of the review phase, the discussion is thrown open to the members.

Generally this is a time of great animation, since the therapist-observer discussion
generates considerable data. There are two directions that the final few minutes can take.
First, the members may respond to the therapist-observer discussion: for example, they
may comment on the openness, or lack thereof, of the therapists and observers. They may
react to hearing the therapist express doubt or fallibility. They may agree with or challenge
the observations that have been made about their experience in the group.
The other direction is for the group members to process and evaluate their own meeting.
The therapist may guide a discussion, making such inquiries as: “How did you feel about
the meeting today?” “Did you get what you wanted out of it?” “What were your major
disappointments with this session?” “If we had another half hour to go, how would you
use the time?” The final few minutes are also a time for the therapist to make contact with
the silent members and inquire about their experience: “Were there times when you
wanted to speak in the group?” “What stopped you?” “Had you wanted to be called on, or
were you grateful not to have participated?” “If you had said something, what would it
have been?” (This last question is often remarkably facilitative.)
The final phase of the meeting thus has many functions: review, evaluation, pointing to
future directions. But it is also a time for reflection and tying together loose ends before
the members leave the group session.
In a study that specifically inquired into patients’ reactions to this format, there was
strong consensus among the group members that the final phase of the group was an
integral part of the group session.25 When members were asked what percentage of the
value of the group stemmed from this final segment, they gave it a value that far exceeded
the actual time involved. Some respondents, for example, ascribed to the final twenty
minutes of the meeting a value of 75 percent of the total group value.
GROUPS FOR THE MEDICALLY ILL
Group psychosocial interventions play an increasingly important role in comprehensive
medical care and are likely to proliferate in the future, given their effectiveness and
potential for reducing health care costs.26 Reports of their use and efficacy in a wide range
of ailments abound in the literature. Group therapy interventions have been employed for
all the major medical illnesses, including cardiac disease, obesity, lupus, infertility,
irritable bowel syndrome, inflammatory bowel disease, pregnancy, postpartum depression,
transplantation, arthritis, chronic obstructive lung disease, brain injury, Parkinson’s,
multiple sclerosis, diabetes, HIV/AIDS, and cancer.27
There are many reasons that psychological treatment is important in medical illness.
First, there is the obvious, well-known linkage between psychological distress and medical
illness—namely, that depression, anxiety, and stress reactions are common consequences
of serious medical illness and not only impair quality of life but also amplify the negative

impact of the medical illness.28 We know, for example, that depression after a heart attack
occurs in up to 50 percent of men and significantly elevates the risk of another heart
attack.29 Furthermore, the anxiety and depression accompanying serious medical illness
tend to increase health-compromising behaviors, such as alcohol use and smoking, and
disrupt compliance with recovery regimens of diet, exercise, medication, and stress
reduction.30
Paradoxically, a new source of psychological stress stems from recent advances in
medical technology and treatment. Consider, for example, the many formerly fatal
illnesses that have been transformed into chronic illnesses: for example, fully 4 percent of
Americans are cancer survivors—a state of being that carries with it its own inherent
stress.31 Or consider recent breakthroughs in prevention. Genetic testing now plays an
important role in medical practice: physicians can compute the risk of an individual’s
developing such illnesses as Huntington’s disease or breast, ovarian, and colon cancer.32
That, of course, is undeniably a good thing. Yet this technology comes with a price. Large
numbers of individuals are tormented by momentous, anxiety-laden decisions. When one
learns, for example, of a genetic predisposition to a serious illness, one is forced to face
such questions as: Should I have a prophylactic mastectomy? (or other preventive
surgery?) Is it fair for me to get married? To have children? Do I share this information
with siblings who prefer not to know?
And do not forget the psychological stigma attached to many medical illnesses, for
example, HIV/AIDS, irritable bowel syndrome, and Parkinson’s. At a time when
individuals are in great need of social support, the shame and stigma of illness can cause
social withdrawal and stress-inducing isolation.
Additionally, seriously ill individuals and their families fear uttering anything that
might amplify worry or fear in loved ones. The press for “thinking positive” invites
shallowness in communication, which further increases a sense of isolation.33
More than ever before, we are aware of the psychological importance of patient-doctor
communication in chronic medical disease. Collaborative, trusting communication
between patient and doctor is generally associated with greater well-being and better
decision making.34 Yet many patients, dissatisfied with their relationship with their
physician, feel powerless to improve it.
Medical illness confronts us with our fundamental vulnerability and limits. Illusions
that have sustained us and offered comfort are challenged. We lose, for example, the sense
that life is under our control, that we are special, immune to natural law, that we have
unlimited time, energy, and choice. Serious illness evokes fundamental questions about the
meaning of life, death, transiency, responsibility, and our place in the universe.35
And, of course, the strain of medical illness extends far beyond the person with the
illness. Family members and caregivers may suffer significant stress and dysphoria.36
Groups often play an important role in their support: for example, consider the enormous
growth in groups for caretakers of patients with Alzheimer’s disease.37

General Characteristics
Typically, groups for the medically ill are homogeneous for the illness and time-limited,
meeting four to sixteen times. Groups that help patients with coping and adaptation38ai
may be offered at every step of the individual’s illness and medical treatment.
As I discussed in chapter 10, brief groups require clear structure and high levels of
focused therapist activity. But even in brief, highly structured, manual-guided group
interventions, the group leader must attend to group dynamics and group process, not
necessarily to explore them, but to manage them effectively so that the group does not get
derailed and become counterproductive.39
Although homogeneous groups tend to jell quickly, the leader must be careful to bring
in outliers who resist group involvement. Certain behaviors may need to be tactfully and
empathically reframed into a more workable fashion. Consider, for example, the
bombastic, hostile man in a post–myocardial infarction ten-session group who angrily
complains about the lack of concern and affection he feels from his sons. Since deep
interpersonal work is not part of the group contract, the therapist needs to have
constructive methods of addressing the patient’s concerns without violating the groups
norms. In general, therapists would seek to contain, rather than amplify the client’s
distress, or have it generate a charged negative emotional climate in the group. They
might, for example, take a psychoeducational stance and discuss how anger and hostility
are noxious to one’s cardiac health, or they might address the latent hurt, fear or sadness
that the anger masks, and invite a more direct expression of those primary emotions.
Although these groups do not emphasize interpersonal learning (in fact, the leader
generally avoids here-and-now focus), many of the other therapeutic factors are
particularly potent in group therapy with the medically ill. Universality is highly evident
and serves to diminish stigmatization and isolation. Cohesiveness provides social support
directly. Extragroup contact is often encouraged and viewed as a successful outcome, not
as resistance to the work of the group. Seeing others cope effectively with a shared illness
instills hope, which can take many forms: hope for a cure, for courage, for dignity, for
comfort, for companionship, or for peace of mind. Generally, members learn coping skills
more effectively from the modeling of peers than from experts.40 Imparting of information
(psychoeducation—in particular about one’s illness and in general about health-related
matters) plays a major role in these groups and comes not only from the leaders but from
the exchange of information and advice between members. Altruism is strongly evident
and contributes to well-being through one’s sense of usefulness to others. Existential
factors are also prominent, as the group supports its members in confronting the
fundamental anxieties of life that we conceal from ourselves until we are forcibly
confronted with their presence.†
Clinical Illustration

In this section I describe the formation, the structure, and the usefulness of a specific
therapy group for the medically ill: a group for women with breast cancer.

The Clinical Situation. At the time of the first experimental therapy groups for breast
cancer patients, in the mid-1970s, women with breast cancer were in serious peril. Surgery
was severely deforming and chemotherapy poorly developed. Women whose disease had
metastasized had little hope for survival, were often in great pain, and felt abandoned and
isolated. They were reluctant to discuss their despair with their family and friends lest they
bring them down into despair as well. Moreover, friends and family avoided them, not
knowing how best to speak to them. All this resulted in a bidirectional and ever-increasing
isolation.
Breast cancer patients felt hopeless and powerless: they often felt uncared for and
unheard by their physicians but unable to complain or to seek help elsewhere. Often they
felt guilty: the pop psychology of the day promulgated the belief that they were in some
manner responsible for their own disease.
Finally, there was considerable resistance in the medical field to forming a group
because of the widespread belief that talking openly about cancer and hearing several
women share their pain and fears would only make things worse.aj

Goals for the Therapy Group. The primary goal was reduction of isolation. My colleagues
and I hoped that if we could bring together several individuals facing the same illness and
encourage them to share their experiences and feelings, we could create a supportive
social network, destigmatize the illness, and help the members share resources and coping
strategies. Many of the patients’ closest friends had dropped away, and we committed
ourselves to continued presence: to stay with them—to the death if necessary.

Modification of Group Therapy Technique. After some experimentation with groups of
patients with different types and stages of cancer, we concluded that a homogeneous group
offered the most support: we formed a group of women with metastatic breast cancer that
met weekly for ninety minutes. It was an open group with new women joining the group,
cognizant that others before them had died from the illness.
Support was the most important guiding principle. We wanted each member to
experience “presence”—to know others facing the same situation. As one member put it,
“I know I’m all alone in my little boat, but when I look and see the lights on in all the
other boats in the harbor, I don’t feel so alone.”
In order to increase the members’ sense of personal control, the therapists turned over as
much as possible of the direction of the group to the members. They invited members to
speak, to share their experiences, to express the many dark feelings they could not discuss

elsewhere. They modeled empathy, attempted to clarify confused feelings, and sought to
mobilize the resources available in the membership. For example, if members described
their fear of their physicians and their inability to ask their oncologist questions, the
leaders encouraged other members to share the ways they had dealt with their physicians.
At times the leaders suggested that a member role-play a meeting with her oncologist. Not
infrequently a member invited another group member to accompany her to her medical
appointment. One of the most powerful interventions the women learned was to respond
to a rushed appointment with a doctor with the compellingly simple and effective
statement, “I know that you are rushed, but if you can give me five more minutes of your
time today, it may give me a month’s peace of mind.”
The leaders found that expression of affect, whatever it might be, was a positive
experience—the members had too few opportunities elsewhere to express their feelings.
They talked about everything: all their macabre thoughts, their fear of death and oblivion,
the sense of meaninglessness, the dilemma of what to tell their children, how to plan their
funeral. Such discussions served to detoxify some of these fearsome issues.
The therapists were always supportive, never confrontational. The here-and-now, if
used at all, always focused on positive feelings between members. Members differed
greatly in their coping styles. Some members, for example, wanted to know everything
about their illness, others preferred not to inquire too deeply. Leaders never challenged
behavior that offered comfort, mindful never to tamper with a group member’s coping
style unless they had something far superior to offer. Some groups formed cohesion-
building rituals such as a few minutes of hand-holding meditation at the end of meetings.
The members were encouraged to have extragroup contacts: phone calls, luncheons, and
the like, and even occasional suicide phone vigils, were part of the ongoing process. Some
members delivered eulogies at the funerals of members, fulfilling their pledge never to
abandon one another.
Many members had overcome panic and despair and found something positive
emanating from the confrontation with death. Some spoke of entering a golden period in
which they prized and valued life more vividly. Some reprioritized their life activities and
stopped doing the things they did not wish to do. Instead they turned their attention to the
things that mattered most: loving exchanges with family, the beauty of the passing
seasons, discovering creative parts of themselves. One patient noted wisely, “Cancer cures
psychoneurosis.” The petty things that used to agonize her no longer mattered. More than
one patient said she had become wiser but that it was a pity she had to wait until her body
was riddled with cancer before learning how to live. How much she wished her children
could learn these lessons while they were healthy. These attitudes resulted in their
welcoming rather than resenting student observers. Having learned something valuable
from their encounter with death, they could imbue the final part of life with meaning by
passing their wisdom on to others, to students and to children.
Leading such a group is emotionally moving and highly demanding. Co-therapy and
supervision are highly recommended. Leaders cannot remain distant and objective: the
issues addressed touched leaders as well as members. When it comes to the human

condition, there is no “us and them.” We are all fellow travelers or fellow sufferers facing
the same existential threats.41
This particular group approach, which is now identified as supportive-expressive group
therapy (SEGT), has been described in a series of publications 42 and been taught to a
range of psycho-oncology professionals.43 SEGT has also been used for related
conditions: for women with primary breast cancer, a disease that carries a good prognosis
for the vast majority of women, as well as for women with a strong genetic or familial
predisposition to develop breast cancer. Reports describe effective homogeneous groups
that meet for a course of twelve weekly sessions. The last four meetings may be used as
boosters, meeting once monthly for four months, which extends exposure to the
intervention for six months. In these groups, one’s own death may not be a primary focus,
but coping with life’s uncertainty, prophylactic mastectomy, and shattered illusions of
invulnerability are central concerns. Grief and loss issues related to mothers and family
members who may have died of breast cancer are also prominent.44

Effectiveness. Outcome research over the past fifteen years has demonstrated the
effectiveness of these groups. SEGT for women at risk of breast cancer, women with
primary breast cancer, and women with metastatic disease has been shown to reduce pain,
and improve psychological coping. The medical profession’s apprehension that talking
about death and dying would make women feel worse or cause them to withdraw from the
group has also been disconfirmed.45 Can groups for cancer patients increase survival
time?46 The first controlled study of groups for women with metastatic breast cancer
reported longer survival, but several other studies, have failed to replicate those findings.
All of the studies, however, show significant positive psychological results: although the
group intervention most likely is not life prolonging, there is little doubt that it can be life
altering.47
ADAPTATION OF CBT AND IPT TO GROUP THERAPY
It can be valuable indeed to use a pluralistic approach to psychotherapy—that is, to
integrate into one’s approach helpful aspects of other approaches to therapy. In this section
I explore two widely used current models of group therapy in order to identify methods
that all therapists can effectively incorporate into their work (a far more constructive
stance than to assume a competitive approach that narrows our therapeutic vision).
Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) and interpersonal therapy (IPT) were originally
constructed, described, and empirically tested in individual therapy,48 but both now are
used as brief group therapy interventions. Readers will no doubt find many concepts in
these next pages familiar, although with different terminology attached.†

It is important not to be misled by labels. A recent review of the current literature on
group therapy for women with breast cancer noted that many of the groups identified as
CBT were in fact integrative models that synthesized contributions from multiple
models.49 This important finding is by no means the exception: it is often the case that
effective, well-conducted therapy of purportedly different ideological models shares more
in common than good and bad therapy conducted within the same model. One of the
major conclusions of the encounter group study reported in chapter sixteen was exactly
that: the behavior of the effective therapists resembled one another far more than they
resembled the other (less effective) practitioners of their own ideological school.50
Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy
Group CBT (also referred to as CBT-G) arose from the search for greater clinical
efficiency. Cognitive-behavioral therapists used the group venue to deliver individual CBT
to a large number of clients simultaneously. Note this important and fundamental
difference. CBT therapists were using groups to increase the efficiency of delivering CBT
to individual clients, not to tap the unique benefits inherent in the group arena I have
emphasized throughout this text. At first, cognitive-behavioral therapists had a narrow
focus: they wanted to provide psychoeducation and cognitive and behavioral skill training.
What about peer support, universality, imitative behavior, altruism destigmatization, social
skills training, interpersonal learning? They were considered merely backdrop benefits.
What about the presence of group process, cohesion, or phases of group development?
They represented noise in the system, often interfering with the work of delivering CBT:
in fact, some therapists raised concern that the group format diluted the power of CBT.51
We have passed now into a second generation of more sophisticated CBT group
applications, in which the essential elements of group life are being acknowledged and
productively utilized by CBT group therapists.52 Today the task of the group and the
relationships of the members within the group are not considered antagonistic.
The CBT approach postulates that psychological distress is the result of impaired
information-processing and disruption in patterns of social behavioral reinforcement.53
Although thoughts, feelings, and behaviors were known to be interrelated, the CBT
approach considered one’s thoughts in particular to be central to the process. Often
automatic and flying beneath the radar of one’s awareness, one’s thoughts initiate
alterations in mood and behavior. CBT therapists attempt to access and illuminate these
thoughts through probing, Socratic questioning, and the encouragement of self-
examination and self-monitoring.
Once automatic thoughts that shape behavior, mood, and sense of self are identified, the
therapist initiates an exploration of the client’s conditional beliefs—“if this happens, then
that will follow.” These conditional beliefs are then translated into hypotheses that the
client systematically tests by acquiring actual evidence that refutes or confirms the beliefs.
This testing leads to further identification of the client’s core beliefs, those that reside at

the center of the individual’s view of self.
What type of core beliefs are uncovered? Core beliefs fall into two main categories—
relationships and competence. “Am I worth loving?” and “Can I achieve what I need to
confirm my worth?” Interpersonally oriented therapists have noted that both core beliefs
are strongly interpersonal at their center.54 Once these dysfunctional core beliefs (for
example, “I am entirely unlovable”) are identified, the next objective of treatment is to
restructure them into more adaptive and self-affirming beliefs.
Group CBT has been applied effectively to an array of clinical conditions: acute
depression,55 chronic depression,56 chronic dysthymia,57 depression relapse prevention,58
post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD),59 eating disorders,60 insomnia,61 somatization and
hypochondriasis,62 spousal abuse,63 panic disorder,64 obsessive compulsive disorder,65
generalized anxiety disorder,66 social phobia,67 anger management,68 schizophrenia (both
for negative symptoms such as apathy and withdrawal, and, positive symptoms such as
hallucinations),69 and other conditions, including medical illnesses.
Substantial and durable benefits have been reported in all these applications. Group
CBT has been found to be no less effective than individual CBT, and it does not have a
higher rate of premature termination of therapy. Exposure-based group treatment for
PTSD, however, does have a greater frequency of dropouts. Group members are often so
overwhelmed by exposure to traumatic memories that a brief format is not feasible, and
desensitization must be conducted over a considerable period of time.70
The application of CBT in groups varies according to the particular needs of the clients
in each type of specialty group, but all share certain well-identified features.71 Group CBT
is homogeneous, time limited, and relatively brief, generally with a course of eight to
twelve meetings that last two to three hours.72 Group CBT emphasizes structure, focus,
and acquisition of cognitive and behavioral skills. Therapists make it clear that group
members are each accountable for advancing their therapy, and they assign homework
between sessions. The type of homework is tailored to the concerns of the individual
client. It might involve keeping a log of one’s automatic thoughts and how these thoughts
relate to mood, or it might involve a behavioral task that challenges avoidance.
The review of the homework is a key component of each group meeting and represents
a key difference between group CBT and interactional group therapy, in that it substitutes
“cold processing” of the client’s athome functioning for the “hot processing” that typifies
interactional group therapy.73 In other words, the group focuses on clients’ descriptions of
their back-home functioning rather than on their real-time functioning in the here-and-now
interaction.
Measurement of clients’ distress and progress through self-report questionnaires is
ongoing, providing regular feedback that either supports the therapy or signals the need to
realign therapy.
The group CBT therapist makes use of a set of strategies and techniques, in various
combinations, that clients employ and then discuss together in the group.74 These

interventions deconstruct the clients’ difficulties into workable segments and combat their
tendency to generalize, magnify, and distort. For example, clients are asked to:
• Record automatic thoughts. Make overt what is covert; link thoughts to mood and
behavior. For example, “I will never be able to meet anyone who will find me
attractive.”
• Challenge automatic thoughts. Challenge negative beliefs; identify distortions in
thinking; explore the deeper personal assumptions underlying the automatic
thoughts. For example, “How can I actually meet people if I keep refusing
invitations to go out for drinks after work?”
• Monitor mood. Explore the relationship between mood and thoughts and behaviors;
for example, “I think I started to feel lousy when no one invited me for lunch
today.”
• Create an arousal hierarchy. Rank anxiety-generating situations that are to be
gradually confronted, building from easiest to hardest. For example, a client with
agoraphobia would rank the venues that create anxiety from the easiest to the most
challenging. Going to church on Sunday morning with a spouse might be at the
low end of arousal. Going shopping alone at a new mall at night might be at the
high end of arousal. Ultimately, gradual exposure desensitizes the client and
extinguishes the anxious and avoidant response.
• Monitor activity. Track how time and energy are spent. For example, monitoring
how much time is actually lost to rumination about work competence and how that
in turn interferes with completing required tasks.
• Problem-solve. Find solutions to everyday problems. Therapists challenge clients’
belief in their incompetence by breaking a problem down into instrumental and
workable components.
• Learn relaxation training. Reduce emotional tension by progressive muscle
relaxation, guided imagery, breathing exercises and meditation. Generally a
meeting or two is devoted to training in these techniques.
• Perform a risk appraisal. Identify the source of clients’ sense of threat and the
resources they have to meet these threats. This might include, for example,
examining the client’s belief that his panic attack is actually a heart attack and
reminding him that he can use deep breathing to settle himself effectively.
• Acquire knowledge through psychoeducation. This might include, for example,
education about the physiology of anxiety.
The group CBT treatment of social phobia is representative.75 Each group consists of
five to seven members and meets for twelve sessions of two and a half hours each. An
individual pregroup or postgroup meeting may be used in some instances. Each meeting
has a beginning agenda and check-in, a middle working phase, and an end-of-session
review.

The first two sessions address the clients’ automatic thoughts regarding situations that
evoke anxiety, such as “If I speak up, I will certainly make a fool of myself and be
ridiculed.” Skills are taught to challenge these automatic thoughts and errors in logic. For
example: “You assume the worst outcome possible and yet when you voice your concerns
here, you have been repeatedly told by others in the group that you are clear and
articulate.” Alternative ways of making sense of the situation are encouraged.
The middle sessions address each individual’s target goals, using homework, in-group
role simulations, and behavioral exposure to the source of anxiety. The last few sessions
consolidate gains and identify future situations that could trigger a relapse. Thus the entire
sequence consists of identifying dysfunctional thinking, challenging these thoughts,
restructuring thoughts, and modifying behavior.
Group Interpersonal Therapy
Individual interpersonal therapy (IPT), first described by Klerman and colleagues,76 has
recently been adapted for group use. In the same way that CBT views psychological
dysfunction as a problem of information processing and behavioral reinforcement, IPT
views psychological dysfunction as a problem based in one’s interpersonal relationships.
As the client’s social functioning and interpersonal competence improve, the client’s
disorder—for example, depression or binge eating—also improves. This occurs with little
specific attention to the actual disorder other than psychoeducation about its nature,
course, and impact.†
Group IPT (sometimes referred to as IPT-G) emphasizes the acquisition of interpersonal
skills and strategies for dealing with social and interpersonal problems.77 Group
applications of IPT emerge not only from the drive toward greater efficiency but also from
the recognition of the therapeutic opportunities group members can provide one another in
addressing interpersonal dysfunction. The first group IPT application was developed for
clients with binge eating disorder, but recent applications have addressed depression,
social phobia, and trauma.78 It has been used effectively as a stand-alone treatment and
conjointly with pharmacotherapy, either concurrently or sequentially.79 Its applicability
has also been demonstrated in another culture (in Uganda), and it has the potential to be
taught effectively to trainees who have little psychotherapeutic background.80
Group IPT closely follows the individual IPT model. A positive, supportive, transparent
and collaborative client-therapist relationship is strongly encouraged. Each client’s
interpersonal difficulties are ascertained beforehand in an intensive evaluation of
relationship patterns and categorized into one or two of four main areas: grief, role
disputes, role transitions, or interpersonal deficits. Self-report questionnaires may be used
to refine the client’s focus and to measure progress. The most commonly used self-report
measurements address the client’s chief areas of distress—mood, eating behaviors, or
interpersonal patterns.† One to three goals are identified for each client to help focus the
work and to jump-start the group therapy.

A typical course of therapy consists of one or two preliminary individual meetings and
eight to twenty group meetings of ninety minutes each, with an individual follow-up
session three or four months later; some practitioners use a midgroup individual
evaluation meeting. Group meetings may also be scheduled as booster sessions at regular
intervals in the months following the intensive phase of therapy.
The group therapy consists of an initial introduction and orientation phase, a middle
working phase, and a final consolidation and review segment. 81 Written group summaries
(see chapter 14) may be sent to each group member before the next session.
The first phase of the group, in which members present personal goals, helps to catalyze
cohesion and universality. Psychoeducation, interpersonal problem solving, advice, and
feedback are provided to each client by the group members and the therapist. The ideal
posture for the therapist is one of active concern, support, and encouragement.
Transference issues are managed rather than explored. Clients are encouraged to analyze
and clarify their patterns of communication with figures in their environment but not to
work through member-to-member tensions.
What are the differences between group IPT and the interactional, interpersonal model
described in this text? In the service of briefer therapy and more limited goals, group IPT
generally deemphasizes both the here-and-now and the group’s function as a social
microcosm. These modifications reduce interpersonal tensions and the potential for
disruptive disagreements. (Such conflicts may be instrumental for far-reaching change but
may impede the course of brief therapy.) The group nonetheless becomes an important
social network, through its supportive and modeling functions. In some carefully selected
instances, group here-and-now interaction may be employed and linked to the client’s
focus and goals.
SELF-HELP GROUPS AND INTERNET SUPPORT
GROUPS
A contemporary focus on specialized groups would be incomplete without considering
self-help groups and their youngest offspring—Internet support groups.
Self-Help Groups
The number of participants in self-help groups is staggering. A 1997 study that antedates
Internet support groups reported that 10 million Americans had participated in a self-help
group in the preceding year, and a total of 25 million Americans had participated in a self-
help group sometime in the past. That study focused exclusively on self-help groups that
had no professional leadership. In fact, more than 50 percent of self-help groups have
professional leadership of some sort, which means that a truer measure of participation in

self-help groups is 20 million individuals in the previous year and 50 million overall—
figures that far exceed the number of people receiving professional mental health care.82
Although it is difficult to evaluate the effectiveness of freestanding self-help groups,
given that membership is often anonymous, follow-up is difficult, and no records are kept,
some systematic studies attest to the efficacy of these groups. Members value the groups,
report improved coping and well-being, greater knowledge of their condition, and reduced
use of other health care facilities.83ak
These findings have led some researchers to call for a much more active collaboration
between professional health care providers and the self-help movement. Is there a way that
self-help groups can effectively address the widening gap between societal need and
professional resources?84 One important advance is the number of active self-help
clearinghouses accessible online or by phone that have emerged to guide consumers to the
nearly 500 diverse types of self-help groups in operation. Examples include the American
Self-Help Clearinghouse and the National Mental Health Consumers Self-Help
Clearinghouse.
Self-help groups have such high visibility that it is barely necessary to list their various
forms. One can scarcely conceive of a type of distress, behavioral aberration, or
environmental misfortune for which there is not some corresponding group. The roster, far
larger than the psychopathologies described in DSM-IV-TR, includes widespread groups
such as AA, Recovery, Inc., Compassionate Friends (for bereaved parents), Mended
Hearts (for clients with heart disease), Smoke Enders, Weight Watchers, Overeaters
Anonymous, and highly specialized groups such as Spouses of Head Injury Survivors,
Gay Alcoholics, Late-Deafened Adults, Adolescent Deaf Children of Alcoholics, Moms in
Recovery, Senior Crime Victims, Circle of Friends (friends of someone who has
committed suicide), Parents of Murdered Children, Go-Go Stroke Club (victims of
stroke), Together Expecting a Miracle (adoption support). Some self-help groups
transform into social action and advocacy groups as well, such as MADD (Mothers
Against Drunk Driving).
Although the self-help groups resemble that of the therapy group, there are some
significant differences. The self-help group makes extensive use of almost all the
therapeutic factors—especially altruism, cohesiveness, universality, imitative behavior,
instillation of hope, and catharsis. But there is one important exception: the therapeutic
factor of interpersonal learning plays a far less important role in the self-help group than in
the therapy group.85 It is rare for a group to be able to focus significantly and
constructively on the here-and-now without the participation of a well-trained leader. In
general, self-help groups differ from therapy groups in that they have far fewer personality
interpretations, less confrontation, and far more positive, supportive statements.86
Most self-help groups employ a consistent, sensible cognitive framework that the group
veterans who serve as the group’s unofficial leaders can easily describe to incoming
members. Although members benefit from universality and instillation of hope, those who
actively participate and experience stronger cohesiveness are likely to benefit the most.87

What accounts for the widespread use and apparent efficacy of self-help groups? They
are open and accessible, and they offer psychological support to anyone who shares the
group’s defining characteristics. They emphasize internal rather than external expertise—
in other words, the resources available in the group rather than those available from
external experts. The members’ shared experience make them both peers and credible
experts. Constructive comparisons, even inspiration, can be drawn from one’s peers in a
way that does not happen with external experts. Members are simultaneously providers
and consumers of support, and they profit from both roles—their self-worth is raised
through altruism, and hope is instilled by their contact with others who have surmounted
problems similar to theirs. Pathology is deemphasized and dependency reduced. It is well
known that passive and avoidant coping diminish functional outcomes. Active strategies,
such as those seen in self-help groups, enhance functional outcome.88
Ailments that are not recognized or addressed by the professional health care system are
very likely to generate self-help groups. Because these groups effectively help members
accept and normalize their malady, they are particularly helpful to victims of stigmatizing
ailments.89
Groups for substance use disorders are doubtless the most widely found self-help
groups. More than 100,000 AA groups exist around the world in over 150 countries.90 The
twelve-step model is not only used in AA, but variants of it are used by many other
professional providers and by many other self-help groups, such as Narcotics Anonymous,
Overeaters Anonymous, Sex Addicts Anonymous, and Gamblers Anonymous. Although
some members have misgivings about AA’s spiritual focus, research shows that a lack of a
personal commitment to spirituality does not interfere with treatment effectiveness.91
Although twelve-step groups do not use professional leadership, many other self-help
groups (perhaps more than half) have a professional leader who is active in the meeting or
serves in an advisory or consultant capacity. Occasionally a mental health professional
will help launch a self-help group and then withdraw, turning over the running of the
group to its members.92 Any mental health professional serving as a consultant must be
aware of the potential dangers in too strenuous a demonstration of professional expertise:
the self-help group does better if the expertise resides with the members.
A final note: group therapists should not look at the self-help group movement as a rival
but as a resource. As I have discussed in chapter 14, many clients will benefit from
participation in both types of group experience.
Internet Support Groups
Just a few years ago, the idea of Internet virtual group therapy seemed the stuff of fantasy
and satire. Today, it is the real-life experience of millions of people around the world.
Consider the following data: 165,640,000 Americans are Internet users; 63,000,000 have
sought health information online; 14,907,000 have participated in an online symposium at
some time, and in a recent polling a remarkable 1,656,400 participated in an Internet

support group the preceding day!93
Internet support groups take the form of synchronous, real-time groups (not unlike a
chat line) or asynchronous groups, in which members post messages and comments, like a
bulletin board. Groups may be time limited or of indeterminate duration. In many ways
they are in a state of great flux: it is too early in their evolution for clear structures or
procedures to have been established. Internet support groups may be actively led,
moderated, or run without any peer or professional executive input. If moderators are
used, their responsibility is to coordinate, edit, and post participants’ messages in ways
that maximize therapeutic opportunity and group functioning.94
How can we account for this explosive growth? Internet support group participants and
providers have described many advantages. Many individuals, for example, wish to
participate in a self-help group but are not able to attend face-to-face meetings because of
geographic distance, physical disability, or infirmity. Clients with stigmatizing ailments or
social anxiety may prefer the relative anonymity of an Internet support group. For many
people in search of help, it is the equivalent of putting a toe in the water, in preparation for
full immersion in some therapy endeavor. After all, what other support system is available
24/7 and allows its members time to rehearse, craft, and fine-tune their stories so as to
create an ideal, perhaps larger-than-life narrative?95
A recent experience as a faculty member in a month-long American Group
Psychotherapy Association online training symposium was eyeopening. The program was
an asynchronous (that is, bulletin board model) moderated virtual group for mental health
professionals on the treatment of trauma. More than 2,000 people around the world signed
up, although only a small fraction posted messages. The experience was vital and
meaningful, and the faculty, like many of the participants, thought much about the
postings during the day and eagerly checked each night to read the latest informative or
evocative posting. Although we never met face to face, we indeed became a group that
engaged, worked, and terminated.
Internet support groups have several intrinsic problems. The current technology is still
awkward and lacks reliability and privacy safeguards. Members may, intentionally or
through oversight, post inaccurate messages. Identities and stories may be fictionalized.
Communication of emotional states may be limited or distorted by the absence of
nonverbal cues. Some experts worry that the Internet contact may deflect members from
much-needed professional care or squeeze out actual support in the lives of some
participants.96 Keep in mind, too, that a group is a group and Internet groups do have a
process. They are not immune to destructive norms, antigroup behavior, unhealthy group
pressures, client overstimulation, and scapegoating.97
There are ethical concerns about professional involvement in Internet support groups.al
Professionals who serve as facilitators need to clarify the nature of their contract, how they
will be paid for their services, and the limits of their responsiveness online to any
emergencies. They must obtain informed consent, acknowledge that there are limits to
confidentiality, and provide a platform for secure communication. In addition they must

identify each participant accurately and be certain of how to contact each person, and they
must indicate clearly how they themselves can be reached in an emergency. Keep in mind
geographic limits with regard to licensure and malpractice insurance. A therapist licensed
in one state may not be legally able to treat a client residing in another state.98
Many questions about Internet support groups clamor for attention. Are they effective?
If so, is it the result of a particular intervention approach or of more general social support
and interaction? Can face-to-face group models translate to an online format? What are the
implications for health care costs? What kind of special training do online therapists
require? Can therapists communicate empathy in prose as readily as in face-to-face
interaction?
Although Internet support groups are at an early stage of development, some notable
preliminary findings have emerged. In many ways, such groups lend themselves well to
research. The absence of nonverbal interaction may be a disadvantage clinically, but it is a
boon for the researcher, since everything (100 percent of the interaction) that goes on in
the group is in written form and hence available for analysis.
One team of researchers adapted a loneliness-reducing face-to-face cognitive-
behavioral group intervention99 to a synchronous, therapist-led support group that met for
twelve two-hour sessions. Significant reductions of loneliness in the nineteen subjects
were achieved and sustained at four-month follow-up. The small sample size limits the
validity of the conclusions, but the researchers demonstrated the feasibility of applying a
specific intervention designed for a face-to-face group to an online format.
“Student Bodies” is an Internet support group that is part of a large public health
intervention and research enterprise. It is essentially an asynchronous moderated Internet
support group intended to prevent eating disorders in adolescent and young women.100 On
a secure Web site, it offers participants psychoeducation about eating disorders and
encourages them to journal online about their body, eating, and their responses to the
psychoeducation. They may also post messages through the moderator about personal
challenges and successes in the modification of disordered thinking about eating. This
intervention resulted in improvements in weight, body image concerns, and eating
attitudes and behaviors.101
In a study of sixty college students, researchers added to the “Student Bodies” program
an eight-session, moderated, synchronous (that is, meeting in real time) Internet support
group component. They found that the synchronous online group format expanded client
gains.102
A study of 103 participants in an asynchronous, open-ended peer Internet support group
for depression found that many of the members of the group valued it highly, spending at
least five hours online over the preceding two weeks. More than 80 percent continued to
receive face-to-face care, viewing the online group as a supportive adjunct, not a substitute
for traditional care.103 One participant’s account of her experience describes many of the
unique benefits of the Internet support group:

I find online message boards to be a very supportive community in the absence of
a “real” community support group. I am more likely to interact with the online
community than I am with people face to face. This allows me to be honest and
open about what is really going on with me. There are lots of shame and self-
esteem issues involved in depression, and the anonymity of the online message
board is very effective in relieving some of the anxiety associated with “group
therapy” or even individual therapy. I am not stating that it is a replacement for
professional assistance, but it has been very supportive and helped motivate me to
be more active in my own recovery program.104
CHESS (Comprehensive Health Enhancement Support System), a sophisticated Internet
group program developed at the University of Wisconsin, has provided support for people
with AIDS, cancer, and for caregivers of Alzheimer’s patients. The group program
consists of three elements. First, it provides relevant information and resources through
online access to experts and question-and-answer sessions. Second, a facilitator-mediated
discussion group offers an opportunity for members to obtain social support by sharing
their personal story and reacting to the stories of the other members. Third, it helps clients
formulate and then implement an action plan for constructive change, such as scheduling
time away from caregiving for self-care. Over many years, thousands of participants with
a range of medical concerns have completed questionnaires about the impact of these
interventions. Reported benefits include briefer hospitalizations, improved communication
with health care providers, and an increased sense of personal empowerment.†105
The results of two different Internet support group approaches for women with breast
cancer have been reported. One program evaluated seventy-two women with primary
breast cancer in a twelve-week, moderated, Web-based asynchronous group, structured
according to the supportive-expressive group therapy model described earlier in this
chapter and run in partnership with Bosom Buddies, a peer support network for women
with cancer. The groups reduced depression and cancerrelated stress scores. Women
typically logged on three times a week and used this group experience to launch an
informal support network that has continued long after the twelve-week treatment
ended.106
The second program, a synchronous, sixteen-session group led by trained facilitators
from the Wellness Community (an international, not-for-profit organization supporting the
medically ill) for thirty-two women with primary breast cancer, also reduced depression
and reactions to pain.107
All Internet support groups develop their own specific set of norms and dynamics. An
analysis of text postings in groups for women with breast cancer demonstrated that groups
with a trained moderator were more likely to express distressing emotions, which has the
effect of reducing depression. 108 The moderator’s skill in activating, containing, and
exploring strong emotion appears to be as important in online support groups as in face-to-
face groups.109
We are just at the beginning of the use of electronic technology in the provision of

mental health care. If it does turn out to help us connect meaningfully, it would be a
pleasant and welcome surprise—an all-too-rare instance of technology increasing rather
than decreasing human engagement.

Chapter 16
GROUP THERAPY: ANCESTORS AND COUSINS
During the 1960s and 1970s, the encounter group phenomenon, a heady, robust social
movement, swept through the nation. Huge numbers of individuals participated in small
groups sometimes described as “therapy group for normals.” Today whenever I mention
encounter groups to students I am greeted by quizzical looks that ask, “What’s that?”
Although encounter groups are largely a thing of the past, their influence on group therapy
practice continues today.
There are several reasons the contemporary group therapist should have, at the very
least, some passing knowledge of them.
1. First, as I discuss in chapter seventeen, the proper training of the group therapist
must include some personal group experience. Few training programs offer a
traditional therapy group for trainees; instead they provide some variant of an
encounter group, today often labeled a “process group.” (For the moment, I refer to
all experiential groups as encounter groups, but shortly I will define terms more
precisely.) Thus, many group therapists enter the field through the portals of the
encounter group.
2. Secondly, the form of contemporary group therapy has been vastly influenced by
the encounter group. No historical account of the development and evolution of
group therapy is complete without a description of the cross-fertilization between
the therapy and the encounter traditions.
3. Lastly, and this may seem surprising, the encounter group, or at least the tradition
from which it emerged, has been responsible for developing the best, and the most
sophisticated, small group research technology. In comparison, the early group
therapy research was crude and unimaginative; much of the empirical research I
have cited throughout this text has its roots in the encounter group tradition.
In this chapter I provide a lean overview of the encounter group and then expand on
these three points. Readers who would like more information about the rise, efflorescence,
and decline of this curious social movement may read a more detailed account (the chapter
on encounter groups from the previous edition of this text) on my Web site,
www.yalom.com.
WHAT IS AN ENCOUNTER GROUP?
“Encounter group” is a rough, inexact generic term that encompasses a great variety of
forms and has many aliases: human relations groups, training groups, T-groups, sensitivity
groups, personal growth groups, marathon groups, human potential groups, sensory

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awareness groups, basic encounter groups, and experiential groups.
Although the nominal plumage is dazzling and diverse, all these experiential groups
have several common elements. They range in size from eight to twenty members—large
enough to encourage face-to-face interaction, yet small enough to permit all members to
interact. The groups are time limited and are often compressed into hours or days. They
are referred to as “experiential groups” because they focus to a large extent on their own
experience, that is, the here-and-now. They transcend etiquette and encourage the doffing
of traditional social facades; they value interpersonal honesty, exploration, confrontation,
heightened emotional expressiveness, and self-disclosure. The group goals are often
vague: occasionally they stress merely the provision of an experience—joy, entertainment,
being turned on—but more often they implicitly or explicitly strive for some change—in
behavior, in attitudes, in values, in lifestyle, in self-actualization, in one’s relationship to
others, to the environment, to one’s own body. The participants are considered “seekers”
and “normals,” not “patients” or “clients”; the experience is considered not therapy but
“growth.”
ANTECEDENTS AND EVOLUTION OF THE
ENCOUNTER GROUP
The term “encounter group” became popular in the mid-1960s, but the experiential group
had already existed for twenty years and was most commonly referred to as a “T-
group”—“T” for training (in human relations).
The first T-group, the ancestral experiential group, was held in 1946. Here is the story
of its birth.1 The State of Connecticut had passed the Fair Employment Practices Act and
asked Kurt Lewin, a prominent social psychologist, to train leaders who could deal
effectively with tensions among ethnic groups and thus help to change the racial attitudes
of the public. Kurt Lewin organized a workshop that consisted of groups of ten members
each. These groups were led in the traditional manner of the day; they were basically
discussion groups and analyzed “back-home” problems presented by the group members.
Lewin, a strong believer in the dictum “No research without action; no action without
research,” assigned research observers to record and code the behavioral interactions of
each of the small groups. During evening meetings, the group leaders and the research
observers met and pooled their observations of leaders, members, and group process. Soon
some participants learned of these evening meetings and asked permission to attend. This
was a radical request; the staff hesitated: not only were they reluctant to reveal their own
inadequacies, but they were uncertain about how participants would be affected by hearing
their behavior discussed openly.
Finally they decided to permit members to observe the evening meetings on a trial
basis. Observers who have written about this experience report that the effect on both

participants and staff was “electric.”2 There was something galvanizing about witnessing
an in-depth discussion of one’s own behavior. The format of the evening meetings was
widened to permit the participants to respond to the observations and soon all parties were
involved in the analysis and interpretation of their interaction. Before long, all the
participants were attending the evening meetings, which often ran as long as three hours.
There was widespread agreement that the meetings offered participants a new and rich
understanding of their own behavior.
The staff immediately realized that they had, somewhat serendipitously, discovered a
powerful technique of human relations education—experiential learning. Group members
learn most effectively by studying the interaction of the network in which they themselves
are enmeshed. (By now the reader will have recognized the roots of the “here-and-now” in
contemporary group therapy.) The staff discovered that members profit enormously by
being confronted, in an objective manner, with on-thespot observations of their own
behavior and its effects on others. These observations instruct members about their
interpersonal styles, the responses of others to them, and about group behavior in general.
From this beginning, research was woven into the fabric of the T-group—not only the
formal research conducted but also a research attitude on the part of the leader, who
collaborates with the group members in a research inquiry designed to enable participants
to experience, understand, and change their behavior. This research attitude, together with
the concept of the T-group as a technique of education, gradually changed during the
1950s and 1960s, as Rogerian and Freudian clinicians began participating in human
relations laboratory training and chose to focus ever more heavily on interpersonal
interaction and personal change.
These clinically oriented leaders heavily emphasized the here-and-now and discouraged
discussion of any outside material, including theory, sociological and educational
reflections, or any “there-and-then” material, including “back-home” current problems or
past personal history. I attended and led encounter groups in the 1960s in which leaders
customarily began the group with only one request, “Let’s try to keep all our comments in
the here-and-now.” It sounds impossible, and yet it worked well. Sometimes there was a
long initial silence, and then members might begin describing their different feelings about
the silence. Or often there were differential responses to the leader’s request—anxiety,
puzzlement, impatience, or irritation. These different responses to either the silence or the
leader’s instructions were all that was needed to launch the group, and in a short time it
would be up and running.
In addition to the here-and-now focus, the T-group made many other major technical
innovations destined to exert much influence on the psychotherapy group. Let’s examine
four particularly important contributions: feedback, observant participation, unfreezing,
and cognitive aids.
Feedback

Feedback, a term borrowed from electrical engineering, was first applied to the behavioral
sciences by Lewin (who was teaching at MIT at the time).3 The early group leaders
considered that an important flaw in society was that too little opportunity existed for
individuals to obtain accurate feedback from their “back-home” associates—bosses,
coworkers, husbands, wives, teachers. Feedback, which became an essential ingredient of
all T-groups (and later, of course, all interactional therapy groups) was found to be most
effective when it stemmed from here-and-now observations, when it followed the
generating event as closely as possible, and when the recipient checked it out with other
group members to establish its validity and reduce perceptual distortion.
Observant Participation
The early T-group leaders considered observant participation the optimal method of group
participation. Members must not only engage emotionally in the group, but they must
simultaneously and objectively observe themselves and the group. Often this is a difficult
task to master, and members chafe at the trainer’s attempts to subject the group to
objective analysis. Yet the dual task is essential to learning; alone, either action or
intellectual scrutiny yields little learning. Camus once wrote, “My greatest wish: to remain
lucid in ecstasy.” So, too, the T-group (and the therapy group, as well) is most effective
when its members can couple clarity of vision with emotional experience.
Unfreezing
Unfreezing, also adopted from Lewin’s change theory,4 refers to the process of
disconfirming an individual’s former belief system. Motivation for change must be
generated before change can occur. One must be helped to reexamine many cherished
assumptions about oneself and one’s relations to others. The familiar must be made
strange; thus, many common props, social conventions, status symbols, and ordinary
procedural rules were eliminated from the T-group, and one’s values and beliefs about
oneself were challenged. This was a most uncomfortable state for group participants, a
state tolerable only under certain conditions: Members must experience the group as a safe
refuge within which it is possible to entertain new beliefs and experiment with new
behavior without fear of reprisal. Though “unfreezing” is not a familiar term to clinicians,
the general concept of examining and challenging familiar assumptions is a core part of
the psychotherapeutic process.
Cognitive Aids
Cognitive guides around which T-group participants could organize their experience were
often presented in brief lecturettes by T-group leaders. This practice foreshadowed and
influenced the current widespread use of cognitive aids in contemporary

psychoeducational and cognitive-behavioral group therapy approaches. One example used
in early T-group work (I choose this particular one because it remains useful in the
contemporary therapy group) is the Johari window5 a four-cell personality paradigm that
clarifies the function of feedback and self-disclosure.
Cell A, “Known to self and Known to others,” is the public area of the self; cell B,
“Unknown to self and Known to others,” is the blind area; cell C, “Known to self and
Unknown to others,” is the secret area; cell D, “Unknown to self and Unknown to others,”
is the unconscious self. The goals of the T-group, the leader suggests, are to increase the
size of cell A by decreasing cell B (blind spots) through feedback and cell C (secret area)
through self-disclosure. In traditional T-groups, cell D (the unconscious) was considered
out of bounds.
GROUP THERAPY FOR NORMALS
In the 1960s, the clinically oriented encounter group leaders from the West Coast began
endorsing a model of a T-group as “group therapy for normals.” They emphasized
personal growth,6 and though they still considered the experiential group an instrument of
education, not of therapy, they offered a broader, more humanistically based definition of
education. Education is not, they argued, the process of acquiring interpersonal and
leadership skills, not the understanding of organizational and group functioning; education
is nothing less than comprehensive self-discovery, the development of one’s full potential.
These group leaders worked with normal healthy members of society, indeed with
individuals who, by most objective standards, had achieved considerable success yet still
experienced considerable tension, insecurity, and value conflict. They noted that many of
their group members were consumed by the building of an external facade, a public
image, which they then strove to protect at all costs. Their members swallowed their
doubts about personal adequacy and maintained constant vigilance lest any uncertainty or
discomfort slip into visibility.
This process curtailed communication not only with others but with themselves. The
leaders maintained that in order to eliminate a perpetual state of self-recrimination, the
successful individual gradually comes to believe in the reality of his or her facade and
attempts, through unconscious means, to ward off internal and external attacks on that
self-image. Thus, a state of equilibrium is reached, but at great price: considerable energy
is invested in maintaining intrapersonal and interpersonal separation, energy that might
otherwise be used in the service of self-actualization. These leaders set ambitious goals for

their group—no less than addressing and ameliorating the toxic effects of the highly
competitive American culture.
As the goal of the group shifted from education in a traditional sense to personal
change, the names of the group shifted from T-group (training in human relations) or
sensitivity training group (training in interpersonal sensitivity), to ones more consonant
with the basic thrust of the group. Several labels were advanced: “personal growth” or
“human potential” or “human development” groups. Carl Rogers suggested the term
“encounter group,” which stressed the basic authentic encounter between members and
between leader and members and between the disparate parts of each member. His term
had the most staying power and became the most popular name for the “let it all hang out”
experiential group prevalent in the 1960s and 1970s.
The third force in psychology (third after Freudian analysis and Watsonian-Skinnerian
behaviorism), which emphasized a holistic, humanistic concept of the person, provided
impetus and form to the encounter group from yet another direction. Psychologists such as
A. Maslow, G. Allport, E. Fromm, R. May, F. Perls, C. Rogers, and J. Bugenthal (and the
existential philosophers behind them—Nietzsche, Sartre, Tillich, Jaspers, Heidegger, and
Husserl), rebelled strongly against the mechanistic model of behaviorism, the determinism
and reductionism of analytic theory. Where, they asked, is the person? Where is
consciousness, will, decision, responsibility, and a recognition and concern for the basic
and tragic dimensions of existence?
All of these influences resulted in groups with a much broader, and vaguer, goal—
nothing less than “total enhancement of the individual.” Time in the group was set aside
for reflective silence, for listening to music or poetry. Members were encouraged to give
voice to their deepest concerns—to reexamine these basic life values and the discrepancies
between them and their lifestyles, to encounter their many false selves; to explore the
long-buried parts of themselves (the softer, feminine parts in the case of men, for
example).
Collision with the field of psychotherapy was inevitable. Encounter groups claimed that
they offered therapy for normals, yet also that “normality” was a sham, that everyone was
a patient. The disease? A dehumanized runaway technocracy. The remedy? A return to
grappling with basic problems of the human condition. The vehicle of remedy? The
encounter group! In their view the medical model could no longer be applied to mental
illness. The differentiation between mental illness and health grew as vague as the
distinction between treatment and education. Encounter group leaders claimed that
patienthood is ubiquitous, that therapy is too good to be limited to the sick, and that one
need not be sick to get better.
The Role of the Leader
Despite the encroachment of encounter groups on the domain of psychotherapy, there
were many striking differences in the basic role of group therapist and encounter group
leader. At the time of the emergence of the encounter group, many group therapists

assumed entirely different rules of conduct from the other members. They merely
transferred their individual therapy psychoanalytic style to the group arena and remained
deliberately enigmatic and mystifying. Rarely transparent, they took care to disclose only
a professional front, with the result that members often regarded the therapist’s statements
and actions as powerful and sagacious, regardless of their content.
Encounter group leaders had a very different code of conduct. They were more flexible,
experimental, more self-disclosing, and they earned prestige as a result of their
contributions. The group members regarded encounter group leaders far more realistically
and similar to themselves except for their superior skill and knowledge in a specialized
area. Furthermore, the leaders sought to transmit not only knowledge but also skills,
expecting the group members to learn methods of diagnosing and resolving interpersonal
problems. Often they explicitly behaved as teachers—for example, explicating some point
of theory or introducing some group exercise, verbal or nonverbal, as an experiment for
the group to study. It is interesting, incidentally, to note the reemergence of flexibility and
the experimental attitude displayed by contemporary therapy group leaders in the
construction of cognitive-behavioral group formats addressing a wide number of special
problems and populations.
THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
In its early days the social psychologists involved with T-groups painstakingly researched
their process and outcome. Many of these studies still stand as paradigms of imaginative,
sophisticated research.
The most extensive controlled research inquiry into the effectiveness of groups that
purport to change behavior and personality was conducted by Lieberman, Yalom, and
Miles in 1973. This project has much relevance to group therapy, and since I draw from its
findings often in this book I will describe the methodology and results briefly. (The design
and method are complex, and I refer interested, research-minded readers to the previous
edition’s version of this chapter at www.yalom.com or, for a complete description, to the
monograph on the study, Encounter Groups: First Facts.)7
The Participants
We offered an experiential group as an accredited course at Stanford University. Two
hundred ten participants were randomly assigned to one of eighteen groups, each of which
met for a total of thirty hours over a twelve-week period. Sixty-nine subjects, similar to
the participants but who did not have a group experience, were used as a control
population and completed all the outcome research instruments.

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The Leaders
Since a major aim of the study was to investigate the effect of leader technique on
outcome, we sought to diversify leader style by employing leaders from several
ideological schools. We selected experienced and expert leaders from ten such schools that
were currently popular:
1. Traditional T-groups
2. Encounter groups (personal growth group)
3. Gestalt groups
4. Sensory awareness groups (Esalen group)
5. Transactional analytic (TA) groups
6. Psychodrama groups
7. Synanon groups
8. Psychoanalytically oriented experiential groups
9. Marathon groups
10. Encounter-tapes (leaderless) groups
There were a total of eighteen groups. Of the 210 subjects who started in the eighteen
groups, 40 (19 percent) dropped out before attending half the meetings, and 170 finished
the thirty-hour group experience.
What Did We Measure?
We were most interested in an intensive examination of outcome as well as the
relationship between outcome, leader technique, and group process variables. To evaluate
outcome, an extensive psychological battery of instruments was administered to each
subject three times—before beginning the group, immediately after completing it, and six
months after completion.8
To measure leader style, teams of trained raters observed all meetings and coded all
behavior of the leader in real time. All statements by the leaders were also coded by
analyzing tape recordings and written transcripts of the meetings. Participants also
supplied observations of the leaders through questionnaires. Process data was collected by
the observers and from questionnaires filled out by participants at the end of each meeting.
Results: What Did We Find?
First, the participants rated the groups very highly. At the termination of the group, the
170 subjects who completed the groups considered them “pleasant” (65 percent),

“constructive” (78 percent), and “a good learning experience” (61 percent). Over 90
percent felt that encounter groups should be a regular part of the elective college
curriculum. Six months later, the enthusiasm had waned, but the overall evaluation was
still positive.
So much for testimony. What of the overall, more objective battery of assessment
measures? Each participant’s outcome (judged from all assessment measures) was rated
and placed in one of six categories: high learner, moderate changer, unchanged, negative
changer, casualty (significant, enduring, psychological decompensation that was due to
being in the group), and dropout. The results for all 206 experimental subjects and for the
sixty-nine control subjects are summarized in Table 16.1. (“Short post” is at termination of
group and “long post” is at six-month follow-up.)
TABLE 16.1 Index of Change for All Participant Who Began Strudy

TABLE 16.2 Index of Change for Those Who Completed Group (N = 179 Short Post, 133
Long Post)
SOURCE: Morton A. Lieberman, Irvin D. Yalom, and Matthew B. Miles, Encounter
Groups: First Facts (New York: Basic Books, 1973).
Table 16.1 indicates that approximately one-third of the participants at the termination

of the group and at six-month follow-up had undergone moderate or considerable positive
change. The control population showed much less change, either negative or positive. The
encounter group thus clearly influenced change, but for both better and worse.
Maintenance of change was high: of those who changed positively, 75 percent maintained
their change for at least six months.
To put it in a critical fashion, one might say that Table 16.1 indicates that, of all subjects
who began a thirty-hour encounter group led by an acknowledged expert, approximately
two-thirds found it an unrewarding experience (either dropout, casualty, negative change,
or unchanged).
Viewing the results more generously, one might put it this way. The group experience
was a college course. No one expects that students who drop out will profit. Let us
therefore eliminate the dropouts from the data (see table 16.2). With the dropouts
eliminated, it appears that 39 percent of all students taking a three-month college course
underwent some significant positive personal change that persisted for at least six months.
Not bad for a twelve-week, thirty-hour course! (And of course this perspective on the
results has significance in the contemporary setting of group therapy, where managed care
has mandated briefer therapy groups.)
However, even if we consider the goblet one-third full rather than two-thirds empty, it is
difficult to escape the conclusion that, in this project, encounter groups did not appear to
be a highly potent agent of change. Furthermore, a significant risk factor was involved: 16
(8 percent) of the 210 subjects suffered psychological injury that produced sequelae still
present six months after the end of the group.
Still, caution must be exercised in the interpretation of the results. It would do violence
to the data to conclude that encounter groups per se are ineffective or even dangerous.
First, it is difficult to gauge the degree to which we can generalize these findings to
populations other than an undergraduate college student sample. But, even more
important, we must take note that these are all massed results: the data are handled as
though all subjects were in one encounter group. There was no standard encounter group
experience; there were eighteen different groups, each with a distinct culture, each
offering a different experience, and each with very different outcomes. In some groups,
almost every member underwent some positive change with no one suffering injury; in
other groups, not a single member benefited, and one was fortunate to remain unchanged.
The next obvious question—and one highly relevant to psychotherapy—is: Which type
of leader had the best, and which the worst, results? The T-group leader, the gestalt, the
transactional analytic leader, the psychodrama leader, and so on? However, we soon
learned that the question posed in this form was not meaningful. The behavior of the
leaders when carefully rated by observers varied greatly and did not conform to our
pregroup expectations. The ideological school to which a leader belonged told us little
about that leader’s actual behavior. We found that the behavior of the leader of one school
—for example, gestalt therapy, resembled the behavior of the other gestalt therapy leader
no more closely than that of any of the other seventeen leaders. In other words, the
leaders’ behavior is not predictable from their membership in a particular ideological

school. Yet the effectiveness of a group was, in large part, a function of its leader’s
behavior.
How, then, to answer the question, “Which is the more effective leadership style?”
Ideological schools—what leaders say they do—is of little value. What is needed is a
more accurate, empirically derived method of describing leader behavior. We performed a
factor analysis of a large number of leader behavior variables (as rated by observers) and
derived four important basic leadership functions:
1. Emotional activation (challenging, confronting, modeling by personal risk-taking
and high self-disclosure)
2. Caring (offering support, affection, praise, protection, warmth, acceptance,
genuineness, concern)
3. Meaning attribution (explaining, clarifying, interpreting, providing a cognitive
framework for change; translating feelings and experiences into ideas)
4. Executive function (setting limits, rules, norms, goals; managing time; pacing,
stopping, interceding, suggesting procedures)
These four leadership functions (emotional activation, caring, meaning attribution,
executive function) have great relevance to the group therapy leadership. Moreover, they
had a clear and striking relationship to outcome. Caring and meaning attribution had a
linear relationship to positive outcome: in other words, the higher the caring and the
higher the meaning attribution, the higher the positive outcome.
The other two functions, emotional stimulation and executive function, had a
curvilinear relationship to outcome—the rule of the golden mean applied: in other words,
too much or too little of this leader behavior resulted in lower positive outcome.
Let’s look at leader emotional stimulation: too little leader emotional stimulation
resulted in an unenergetic, devitalized group; too much stimulation (especially with
insufficient meaning attribution) resulted in a highly emotionally charged climate with the
leader pressing for more emotional interaction than the members could integrate.
Now consider leader executive function: too little executive function—a laissez-faire
style—resulted in a bewildered, floundering group; too much executive function resulted
in a highly structured, authoritarian, arrhythmic group that failed to develop a sense of
member autonomy or a freely flowing interactional sequence.
The most successful leaders, then—and this has great relevance for therapy—were
those whose style was moderate in amount of stimulation and in expression of executive
function and high in caring and meaning attribution. Both caring and meaning attribution
seemed necessary: neither alone was sufficient to ensure success.
These findings from encounter groups strongly corroborate the functions of the group
therapist as discussed in chapter 5. Both emotional stimulation and cognitive structuring
are essential. Carl Rogers’s factors of empathy, genuineness, and unconditional positive
regard thus seem incomplete; we must add the cognitive function of the leader. The
research does not tell us what kind of meaning attribution is essential. Several ideological

explanatory vocabularies (for example, interpersonal, psychoanalytic, transactional
analytic, gestalt, Rogerian, and so on) seemed useful. What seems important is the process
of explanation, which, in several ways, enabled participants to integrate their experience,
to generalize from it, and to transport it into other life situations.
The importance of meaning attribution received powerful support from another source.
When members were asked at the end of each session to report the most significant event
of the session and the reason for its significance, we found that those members who gained
from the experience were far more likely to report incidents involving cognitive
integration. (Even so revered an activity as self-disclosure bore little relationship to
change unless it was accompanied by intellectual insight.) The pervasiveness and strength
of this finding was impressive as well as unexpected in that encounter groups had a
fundamental anti-intellectual ethos.
The study had some other conclusions of considerable relevance to the change process
in experiential groups. When outcome (on both group and individual level) was correlated
with the course of events during the life of a group, findings emerged suggesting that a
number of widely accepted experiential group maxims needed to be reformulated, for
example:
1. Feelings not thought should be altered to feelings, only with thought.
2. Let it all hang out is best revised to let more of it hang out than usual, if it feels
right in the group, and if you can give some thought to what it means. In this study,
self-disclosure or emotional expressiveness (of either positive or negative feelings)
was not in itself sufficient for change.
3. Getting out the anger is essential is best revised to getting out the anger may be
okay, but keeping it out there steadily is not. Excessive expression of anger was
counterproductive: it was not associated with a high level of learning, and it
generally increased risk of negative outcome.
4. There is no group, only persons should be revised to group processes make a
difference in learning, whether or not the leader pays attention to them. Learning
was strongly influenced by such group properties as cohesiveness, climate, norms,
and the group role occupied by a particular member.
5. High yield requires high risk should be changed to the risk in encounter groups is
considerable and unrelated to positive gain. The high-risk groups, those that
produced many casualties, did not at the same time produce high learners. The
productive groups were safe ones. The high-yield, high-risk group is, according to
our study, a myth.
6. You may not know what you’ve learned now, but later, when you put it all together,
you’ll come to appreciate how much you’ve learned should be revised to bloom
now, don’t count on later. It is often thought that individuals may be shaken up
during a group experience but that later, after the group is over, they integrate the
experience they had in the group and come out stronger than ever. In our project,
individuals who had a negative outcome at the termination of the group never

moved to the positive side of the ledger at follow-up six months later.
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE ENCOUNTER
GROUP AND THE THERAPY GROUP
Having traced the development of the encounter group to the moment of collision with the
field of group psychotherapy, I now turn to the evolution of the therapy group in order to
clarify the interchange between the two disciplines.
The Evolution of Group Therapy
The history of group therapy has been too thoroughly described in other texts to warrant
repetition here.9 A rapid sweep will reveal the basic trends. Joseph Hersey Pratt, a Boston
internist, is generally acknowledged to be the father of contemporary group therapy. Pratt
treated many patients with advanced tuberculosis, and, recognizing the relationship
between psychological health and the physical course of tuberculosis, Pratt undertook to
treat the person rather than the disease. In 1905, he designed a treatment regimen that
included home visits, diary keeping by patients, and weekly meetings of a tuberculosis
class of approximately twenty-five patients. At these classes, the diaries were inspected,
weight gains were recorded publicly on a blackboard, and testimonials were given by
successful patients. A degree of cohesiveness and mutual support developed that appeared
helpful in combating the depression and isolation so common among patients with
tuberculosis.
During the 1920s and 1930s, several psychiatrists experimented with group methods. In
Europe, Adler used group methods because of his awareness of the social nature of human
problems and his desire to provide psychotherapeutic help to the working classes.10
Lazell, in 1921, met with groups of patients with schizophrenia in St. Elizabeths Hospital
in Washington, D.C., and delivered lectures on schizophrenia.11 Marsh, a few years later,
used groups for a wide range of clinical problems, including psychosis, psychoneurosis,
psychophysiological disorders, and stammering. 12 He employed a variety of techniques,
including didactic methods such as lectures and homework assignments as well as
exercises designed to promote considerable interaction; for example, members were asked
to treat one another; or all were asked to discuss such topics as one’s earliest memory,
ingredients of one’s inferiority complex, night dreams, and daydreams. In the 1930s,
Wender used analytic group methods with hospitalized nonpsychotic patients, and
Burrows and Schilder applied these techniques to the treatment of psychoneurotic
outpatients. Slavson, who worked with groups of disturbed children and young
adolescents, exerted considerable influence in the field through his teaching and writing at
a time when group therapy was not yet considered an effective therapeutic approach.

Moreno, who first used the term group therapy, employed group methods before 1920 but
has been primarily identified with psychodrama, which he introduced into America in
1925.13
These tentative beginnings in the use of group therapy were vastly accelerated by the
Second World War, when the enormous numbers of military psychiatric patients and the
scarcity of trained psychotherapists made individual therapy impractical and catalyzed the
search for more economic modes of treatment.
During the 1950s, the main thrust of group therapy was directed toward using groups in
different clinical settings and with different types of clinical problems. Theoreticians—
Freudian, Sullivanian, Horneyan, Rogerian—explored the application of their conceptual
framework to group therapy theory and practice.
The T-group and the therapy group thus arose from different disciplines; and for many
years, the two disciplines, each generating its own body of theory and technique,
continued as two parallel streams of knowledge, even though a few leaders straddled both
fields and, in different settings, led both T-groups and therapy groups. The T-group
maintained a deep commitment to research and continued to identify with the fields of
social psychology, education, and organizational development.
Therapy Group and Encounter Group: First Interchanges
In the 1960s, there was some constructive interchange between the group therapy and the
sensitivity training fields. Many mental health professionals participated in some form of
encounter group during their training and subsequently led encounter groups or applied
encounter techniques to their psychotherapeutic endeavors. Clinical researchers learned a
great deal from the T-group research methods; T-groups were commonly used in the
training of group therapists14 and in the treatment program of chronically hospitalized
patients.15 Some clinicians referred their individual therapy patients to a T-group for
opening-up (just as, later, in the 1980s, some clinicians referred their patients to large
group awareness training programs, such as est and Lifespring).16
But later, as the T-group evolved into the flamboyant encounter group that claimed to
offer “group therapy for normals” and claimed that “patienthood is ubiquitous,” an
acrimonious relationship developed between the two fields. Disagreements arose about
territorial issues and the true differences in the goals of encounter and therapy groups.
Encounter group leaders grew even more expansive and insisted that their group
participants had a therapeutic experience and that in reality there was no difference
between personal growth and psychotherapy (in the language of the time, between “mind
expansion” and “head shrinking”). Furthermore, it became evident that there was much
overlap: there was much similarity between those seeking psychotherapy and those
seeking encounter experiences. Thus, many encounter group leaders concluded that they
were, indeed, practicing psychotherapy—a superior, more efficient type of psychotherapy
—and advertised their services accordingly.

The traditional mental health field was alarmed. Not only were psychotherapists
threatened by the encroachment on their territory, but they also considered encounter
groups reckless and potentially harmful to participants. They expressed concerns about the
lack of responsibility of the encounter group leaders, their lack of clinical training, and
their unethical advertising that suggested that months, even years of therapy could be
condensed into a single intensive weekend. Polarization increased, and soon mental health
professionals in many areas launched campaigns urging their local governments to pass
legislation to regulate encounter group practice, to keep it out of schools, and to hold
leaders legally responsible for untoward effects.
In part the vigorous response of the mental health profession was an irrational reaction,
but it was also appropriate to certain excesses in some factions of the encounter field.
These excesses issued from a crash-program mentality, successful in such ventures as
space exploration and industrialization, but a reductio ad absurdum in human relations
ventures. If something is good, more must be better. If self-disclosure is good in groups,
then total, immediate, indiscriminate self-disclosure in the nude must be better. If
involvement is good, then prolonged, continuous, marathon involvement must be better. If
expression of feeling is good, then hitting, touching, feeling, kissing, and fornicating must
be better. If a group experience is good, then it is good for everyone—in all stages of the
life cycle, in all life situations. These excesses were often offensive to the public taste and
could, as research has indicated, be dangerous to some participants.
Since that period of acrimony and polarization decades ago, the established fields of
therapy and the usurping encounter group field are no longer the same. Although the
encounter group movement with all its excesses, grandiosity, and extravagant claims has
come and gone,am it has nonetheless influenced contemporary group therapy. The
inventiveness, research attitude and expertise, sophisticated leadership, and training
technology of the pioneer encounter group leaders have left an indelible mark on our field.

Chapter 17
TRAINING THE GROUP THERAPIST
Group therapy is a curious plant in the garden of psychotherapy. It is hardy: the best
available research has established that group therapy is effective, as robust as individual
therapy.1 Yet it needs constant tending; its perennial fate is to be periodically choked by
the same old weeds: “superficial,” “dangerous,” “second-rate—to be used only when
individual therapy is unavailable or unaffordable.”
Clients and many mental health professionals continue to underrate and to fear group
therapy, and unfortunately those very same attitudes adversely influence group therapy
training programs. Group therapy has not often been accorded academic prestige. The
same situation prevails in clinics and hospital administration hierarchies: rarely does the
individual who is most invested in group therapy enjoy a position of professional
authority.
Why? Perhaps because group therapy cannot cleanse itself of the anti-intellectual taint
of the encounter group movement, or because of the intrinsic methodological obstacles to
rigorous, truly meaningful research. Perhaps it is because we therapists share the client’s
wish to be the special and singular object of attention that individual therapy promises.
Perhaps many of us prefer to avoid the anxiety inherent in role of the group leader—
greater public exposure of oneself as a therapist, less sense of control, fear of being
overwhelmed by the group, more clinical material to synthesize. Perhaps it is because
groups evoke for us unpleasant personal memories of earlier peer group experiences.2
Attempts to renew interest in group therapy have always worked—but only for brief
periods. An initial wave of renewed enthusiasm for group therapy is followed by neglect,
and soon all the old weeds crowd in once again. The moment demands a whole new
generation of well-trained gardeners, and it behooves us to pay careful attention to the
education of beginning group therapists and to our own continuing professional
development.
In this chapter, I present my views about group therapy training, not only in specific
recommendations for a training curriculum but also in the form of general considerations
concerning an underlying philosophy of training. The approach to therapy described in
this book is based on both clinical experience and an appraisal of the best available
research evidence. Similarly, in the educational process, a clinical and a research
orientation are closely interrelated: the acquisition of an inquiring attitude to one’s own
work and to the work of others is necessary in the development of the mature therapist.
Many training programs for mental health professionals are based on the individual
therapy model and either do not provide group therapy training or offer it as an elective
part of the program. Despite clear acknowledgment that the practice of group therapy will
continue to grow, recent surveys show that most academic training programs fall short in
the actual provision of group training. In fact, it is not unusual for students to be given

excellent intensive individual therapy supervision and then, early in their program, to be
asked to lead therapy groups with no specialized guidance whatsoever. Many program
directors apparently expect, naively, that students will be able somehow to translate their
individual therapy training into group therapy skills without meaningful group experiential
or clinical exposure. This not only provides inadequate leadership but causes students to
devalue the group therapy enterprise.3 It is essential that mental health training programs
appreciate the need for rigorous, well-organized group training programs and offer
programs that match the needs of trainees. Both the American Group Psychotherapy
Association (AGPA) and the American Counseling Association have established training
standards for group therapy certification that can serve as a template for training. For
example, the AGPA’s National Registry of Certified Group Psychotherapists requires a
minimum of 12 hours of didactic training, 300 hours of group therapy leadership, and 75
hours of group therapy supervision with a group therapist who has met the standards of
certification.4
The crisis in medical economics and the growth of managed health care force us to
recognize that one-to-one psychotherapy cannot possibly suffice to meet the pressing
mental health needs of the public. Managed care leaders also forecast rapid growth in the
use of group therapy, particularly in structured and time-limited groups.5 It is abundantly
clear that, as time passes, we will rely on group approaches ever more heavily. I believe
that any psychotherapy training program that does not acknowledge this and does not
expect students to become as fully proficient in group as in individual therapy is failing to
meet its responsibilities to the field.
Every program has its own unique needs and resources. While I cannot hope to offer a
blueprint for a universal training program, I shall, in the following section, discuss the four
major components that I consider essential to a comprehensive training program beyond
the didactic: (1) observation of experienced group therapists at work, (2) close clinical
supervision of students’ maiden groups, (3) a personal group experience, and (4) personal
psychotherapeutic work.
OBSERVATION OF EXPERIENCED CLINICIANS
Student therapists derive enormous benefit from watching an experienced group
practitioner at work.† It is exceedingly uncommon for students to observe a senior
clinician doing individual therapy. The more public nature of group therapy makes it often
the only form of psychotherapy that trainees will ever be able to observe directly. At first,
experienced clinicians may feel considerable discomfort while being observed; but once
they have taken the plunge, the process becomes comfortable as well as rewarding for all
parties: students, therapists, and group members.
The format of observation depends, of course, on the physical facilities. I prefer having
my students observe my group work through a one-way mirror, but if students’ schedules

do not permit them to be present for a ninety-minute group and a postgroup discussion, I
videotape the meeting and replay segments in a shorter seminar with the students. This
procedure requires a greater time investment for the therapist and greater discomfort for
the members because of the presence of the camera. If there are only one or two observers,
they may sit in the group room without unduly distracting the members, but I strongly
recommend that they sit silently outside the group circle and decline to respond to
questions that group members may pose to them.
Regardless of the format used, the group members must be fully informed about the
presence of observers and their purpose. I remind clients that observation is necessary for
training, that I was trained in that fashion, and that their willingness to permit observers
will ultimately be beneficial to clients the student observers will treat in the future. I add
another point: the observations of the students offered to me in our postgroup discussion
are frequently of value to the process of therapy. There are formats (to be described
shortly) in which clients attend the postgroup observer-therapist discussion and generally
profit considerably from the discussion.
The total length of students’ observation time is generally determined by service and
training rotations. If there is sufficient program flexibility, I would suggest that
observation continue for at least six to ten sessions, which generally provides a sufficient
period of time for changes to occur in group development, in interactional patterns, and in
perceivable intrapersonal growth. If their schedules preclude regular and consistent
attendance, I distribute a detailed summary of the group to the students before the next
meeting (see chapter 14).
A postmeeting discussion is an absolute necessity in training, and there is no better time
for the group leader/teacher to meet with student observers than immediately after the
meeting. I prefer to meet for thirty to forty-five minutes, and I use the time in a variety of
ways: obtaining the students’ observations, answering their questions about underlying
reasons for my interventions, and using the clinical material as a springboard for
discussion of fundamental principles of group therapy. Other instructors prefer to delay the
discussion and assign the students the task of writing a description of the meeting,
focusing primarily on process (that is, the interpersonal relationships among the members
of the group and group dynamics). The students may be asked to exchange their
summaries and meet later in the week for an analysis of the meeting.6 Although some
introductory didactic sessions are useful, I find that much of the material presented in this
book can be best discussed with students around appropriate clinical material that arises
over several sessions of an observed group.7 Theory becomes so much more alive when it
is immediately relevant.
The relationship between observers, the group, and the group therapists is important.
There will be times when an inordinate amount of carping (“Why didn’t you … ?”) creates
discomfort for the therapists and impairs their efficiency. Not infrequently, observers
complain of boredom, and therapists may feel some pressure to increase the group’s
entertainment quotient. My experience is that, in general, boredom is inversely related to
experience; as students gain in experience and sophistication, they come increasingly to

appreciate the many subtle, fascinating layers underlying every transaction. The
observation group has a process of its own as well. Observers may identify with the
therapist, or with certain characteristics of the clients, which, if explored in the debriefing
session, may provide an opportunity to explore empathy, countertransference, and
projective identification. At times, observers may express the wish that they were in the
group as participants and develop strong attachments to group members. In every instance,
observers should be held to the same standard of professionalism regarding confidentiality
and ethical conduct as are the therapists.8
Group members respond differently to being observed by students. Like any group
event, the different responses are grist for the therapeutic mill. If all members face the
same situation (that is, being observed by students), why do some respond with anger,
others with suspicion, and still others with pleasure, even exhilaration? Why such different
responses to a common stimulus? The answer, of course, is that each member has a
different inner world, and the differing responses facilitation examination of each inner
world.
Nonetheless, for the majority of clients, traditional observation is an intrusion.
Sometimes the observers may serve as a lightning rod for anxiety arising from other
concerns. For example, one group that had been regularly observed suddenly became
preoccupied with the observers and grew convinced that they were mocking and ridiculing
the members. One group member reported encountering a person in the washroom before
the group, whom he was convinced was an observer, and this person smirked at him. The
group members demanded that the observers be brought into the group room to account
for themselves. The power of the group’s reaction was intense and caused me to wonder if
there had been some breach of trust. As we continued to examine where this heat was
coming from, it became more apparent that the group was in fact projecting onto the
observers their apprehension about impending changes in the group—two senior members
of the group had left and two new additions to the group were imminent. The real issue for
the group was whether the new additions would value the group or deride the process and
the members.
Though the most a leader can generally expect from clients is a grudging acceptance
and dimming awareness of the observers’ presence, there are methods of turning the
students’ observation to therapeutic advantage. I remind the group that the observers’
perspectives are valuable to me as the leader and, if appropriate, I cite some helpful
comments observers made after the previous meeting. I also let the group know that I
often incorporate some of the observers’ comments into the written summary.
Another, more daring, strategy is to invite the group members to be present at the
observers’ postmeeting discussion. In chapter 15, I discussed a model of an inpatient
group that regularly included a ten-minute observers’ discussion that the group members
observed.9 I have used a similar format for outpatient groups: I invite members and
observers to switch rooms at the end of a meeting so that the clients observe through the
one-way mirror the observers’ and co-therapists’ postgroup discussion. My only proviso is
that the entire group elect to attend: if only some members attend, the process may be

divisive and retard the development of cohesiveness. A significant time commitment is
required: forty-five minutes of postgroup discussion after a ninety-minute group therapy
session make for a long afternoon or evening.
This format has interesting implications for teaching. It teaches students how to be
constructively transparent, and it conveys a sense of respect for the client as a full ally in
the therapeutic process. It also demystifies therapy: it is a statement that therapy is a
potent, rational, collaborative process requiring no part of Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor’s
triumvirate—magic, mystery, and authority.
If clients do observe the postgroup discussion, then there must be an additional teaching
seminar just after the observation period or later, perhaps just before the next group
meeting. Additional teaching time is required, because the postmeeting discussions that
the clients observe differ from the typical postgroup rehash. The postgroup discussion
becomes part of the therapy itself as the observers’ and therapists’ comments evoke
feelings from the group members. Hence, in this format less time is available for formal
instruction of basic theory or strategic principles. Furthermore, the students tend to be
inhibited in their questions and comments, and there is less free-ranging discussion of
transference and countertransference. A benefit is that boredom in the observation room
absolutely vanishes: students, knowing they will later take part in the meeting, become
more engaged in the process.
A useful adjunct teaching tool may be a group videotape especially designed to
illustrate important aspects of leader technique and group dynamics. I have produced two
videotape programs—one for outpatient groups and one for inpatients—around which
group therapy courses may be constructed.10
SUPERVISION
A supervised clinical experience is a sine qua non in the education of the group therapist.
This book posits a general approach to therapy, delineates broad principles of technique,
and, especially when discussing the opening and closing stages of therapy, suggests
specific tactics. But the laborious working-through process that constitutes the bulk of
therapy cannot be thoroughly depicted in a text. An infinite number of situations arise,
each of which may require a rich, imaginative approach. It is precisely at these points that
a supervisor makes a valuable and unique contribution to a student therapist’s education.
Because of its central importance in training, supervision has become a major focus of
attention in the psychotherapy literature, although there is a paucity of empirical research
on the subject.11
What are the characteristics of effective supervision? Supervision first requires the
establishment of a supervisory alliance that conveys to the student the ambiance and value
of the therapeutic alliance. Supervision not only conveys technical expertise and
theoretical knowledge, it also models the profession’s values and ethics. Accordingly,

supervisors must strive for congruence: they should treat their students with the same
respect and care that the student should provide to clients. If we want our trainees to treat
their clients with respect, compassion, and dignity, that is how we must treat our
trainees.12
The supervisor should focus on the professional and clinical development of the trainee
and be alert to any blocks—either from lack of knowledge or from countertransference—
that the trainee encounters. A fine balance must be maintained between training and
therapy. Alonso suggests that the supervisor should listen like a clinician but speak like a
teacher.13
The most effective supervisors are able to tune in to the trainee, track the trainee’s
central concerns, capture the essence of the trainee’s narrative, guide the trainee through
clinical dilemmas, and demonstrate personal concern and support. Supervision that is
unduly critical, shaming, or closed to the trainee’s principal concerns will not only fail
educationally, it will also dispirit the trainee.14
How personal and transparent should the supervisor be? Probably the more the better!
By revealing their own experiences and clinical challenges, supervisors reduce the power
hierarchy and help the trainee see that there is no shame in not having all the answers.
What’s more, such a revealing and nondefensive stance will influence the type of clinical
material the trainee will bring to supervision.15
The neophyte therapist’s first group is a highly threatening experience. Even conducting
psychoeducational groups, with their clear content and structure, can be inordinately
challenging to the neophyte.16 In a study of neophyte trainees, researchers compared
trainees who had positive and those who had negative group therapy training experiences.
Both groups reported high degrees of apprehension and frankly unpleasant emotional
reactions early in the work. One variable distinguished the two groups: the quality of the
supervision. Those with high-quality supervision were far more likely to feel positive
about group therapy.17
In another study, my colleagues and I examined twelve nonprofessionally trained
leaders who led groups in a psychiatric hospital. Half received ongoing supervision as
well as an intensive training course in group leadership; the others received neither.
Observers who did not know which therapists received supervision rated the therapists at
the beginning of their groups and again six months later. The results indicated that not
only did the trained therapists improve but the untrained therapists, at the end of six
months, were less skilled than at the beginning.18 Sheer experience, apparently, is not
enough. Without ongoing supervision and evaluation, original errors may be reinforced by
simple repetition. Supervision may be even more important for the neophyte group
therapist than the budding individual therapist because of the inherent stress in the group
leader role: I have had many trainees report anxiety dreams filled with images about being
out of control or confronting some threatening group situation just before commencing
their first group experience.
In many ways, group therapy supervision is more taxing than individual therapy

supervision. For one thing, mastering the cast of characters is in itself a formidable task.
Furthermore, there is such an abundance of data that both student and supervisor must
often be highly selective in their focus.
A few practical recommendations may be helpful. First, supervision should be well
established before the first group, both to attend to the selection and preparation tasks of
group leadership and to address therapist apprehension about starting the group. One
supervisory hour per group therapy session is, in my experience, the optimal ratio. It is
wise to hold the supervisory session soon after the group session, preferably the following
day. Some supervisors observe the last thirty minutes of each meeting and hold the
supervisory session immediately thereafter. At the very least, the supervisor must observe
one or two sessions at the beginning of supervision and, if possible, an occasional session
throughout the year: it permits the supervisor to affix names to faces and also to sample
the affective climate of the group. Videotapes may serve this purpose also (audiotapes,
too, though far less satisfactorily).
If much time elapses between the group meeting and the supervisory session, the events
of the group fade; in this case students are well advised to make detailed postgroup notes.
Therapists develop their own style of note taking. My preference is to record the major
themes of each session—generally, from one to three: for example: (1) John’s distress at
losing his job and the group’s efforts to offer support; (2) Sharon’s anger at the men in the
group; (3) Annabelle’s feeling inferior and unaccepted by the group.
Once this basic skeleton is in place, I fill in the other vital data: the transition between
themes; each member’s contribution to each of the themes; my interventions and feelings
about the meeting as a whole and toward each of the members. Other supervisors suggest
that students pay special attention to choice points—a series of critical points in the
meeting where action is required of the therapist.19 Still others make use of clients’
feedback obtained from questionnaires distributed at the end of a group session.20
A ninety-minute group session provides a wealth of material. If trainees present a
narrative of the meeting, discuss each member’s verbal and nonverbal contribution as well
as their own participation, and explore in depth their countertransference and realistically
based feelings toward each of the members and toward their co-therapist, there should be
more than enough important material to occupy the supervisory hour. If not, if the trainee
quickly runs out of material, if the supervisor has to scratch hard to learn the events of the
meeting, something has gone seriously wrong in the supervisory process. At such times
supervisors would do well to examine their relationship with the trainee(s). Are the
students guarded, distrustful, or fearful of exposing themselves to scrutiny? Are they
cautious lest the supervisor pressure them to operate in the group in a manner that feels
alien or beyond them?
The supervisory session is no less a microcosm than is the therapy group, and the
supervisor should be able to obtain much information about the therapist’s behavior in a
therapy group by attending to the therapist’s behavior in supervision. (Sometimes this
phenomenon is referred to as the “parallel process” in supervision.)21

If students lead groups as co-therapy teams (and, as chapter 14 explains, I recommend
that format for neophyte therapists), a process focus in the supervisory hour is particularly
rich. It is likely that the relationship of the two co-therapists in the supervisory hour
parallels their relationship during the therapy group meetings. Supervisors should attend to
such issues as the degree of openness and trust during the supervisory hour. Who reports
the events of the meeting? Who defers to whom? Do the co-leaders report two
bewilderingly different views of the group? Is there much competition for the supervisor’s
attention?
The relationship between co-therapists is of crucial importance for the therapy group,
and the supervisor may often be maximally effective by focusing attention on this
relationship. For example, I recall supervising two residents whose personal relationship
was strained. In the supervisory session, each vied for my attention; there was a
dysrhythmic quality to the hour, since neither pursued the other’s lead but instead brought
up different material, or the same material from an entirely different aspect. Supervision
was a microcosm of the group: in the therapy sessions they competed intensely with each
other to make star interpretations and to enlist members onto their respective teams. They
never complemented each other’s work by pursuing a theme the other had brought up;
instead, each remained silent, waiting for an opportunity to introduce a different line of
inquiry. The group paid the price for the therapists’ poor working relationship: no good
work was done, absenteeism was high, and demoralization evident.
Supervision in this instance focused almost entirely on the co-therapy relationship and
took on many of the characteristics of couples therapy, as we examined the therapists’
competition and their wish to impress me. One had just transferred from another residency
and felt strongly pressed to prove her competence. The other felt that he had made a great
mistake in blindly accepting a co-therapist and felt trapped in a dysfunctional relationship.
We considered a “divorce”—dissolving the co-therapy team—but decided that such a
move would be countertherapeutic. What chance do we have of persuading our clients to
work on their relationships if we therapists refuse to do the same? If co-therapists can
successfully work on their relationship, there is a double payoff: therapy is served (the
group works better with an improved inter-leader relationship), and training is served
(trainees learn firsthand some of the basic principles of conflict resolution).
In the ongoing work the supervisor must explore the student’s verbal and nonverbal
interventions and check that they help establish useful group norms. At the same time, the
supervisor must avoid making the student so self-conscious that spontaneity is stunted.
Groups are not so fragile that a single statement markedly influences their direction; it is
the therapist’s overall posture that counts.
Most supervisors will at times tell a supervisee what they themselves would have said at
some juncture of the group. It is not uncommon, however, for student therapists to mimic
the supervisor’s comments at an inappropriate spot in the following group meeting and
then begin the next supervisory session with: “I did what you said, but …” Thus, when I
tell a student what I might have said, I preface my comments: “Don’t say this at the next
meeting, but here’s one way you might have responded …” Here too, a delicate balance

needs to be maintained. Supervision should rarely be prescriptive and never heavy-
handed. But there are times when suggesting a particular approach or intervention is
essential and much welcomed.
Many teachers have, to good effect, expanded the supervisory hour into a continuous
case seminar for several student therapists, with the group leaders taking turns presenting
their group to the entire supervision group. Since it takes time to assimilate data about all
the members of a group, I prefer that one group be presented for several weeks before
moving on to another. In this format, three to four groups can be followed throughout the
year.
There are several benefits to providing group therapy supervision in a group format. For
one thing, it may be possible for a skillful supervisor to focus on the interaction and the
group dynamics of the supervisory group. The learning opportunities may be further
enhanced by asking supervisees to describe and record their experiences in the supervision
group. Another benefit of group supervision is the presence of peer support. Furthermore,
accounts of colleagues’ experiences, conceptualizations, and techniques exposes trainees
to a greater range of group therapy phenomena and broadens their empathic awareness.
Trainees also have the opportunity to think like a supervisor or consultant, a skill that will
be useful at other points in their career.22 Feedback about one’s clinical work is often a
delicate process. Supervision groups demand and model metacommunication—ways to
communicate authentically, respectfully, and empathically.
A group supervision format may also encourage subsequent participation in a peer
supervision group by demonstrating the value of peer supervision, consultation, and
support.23 The supervision group should not, however, transform itself into a personal
growth or therapy group—that group experience comes with a substantially different set of
norms and expectations.
Some recent supervision innovations have made good use of the Internet to offer
supervision to practitioners living in isolated or distant locales. Students and supervisor
may begin with a few face-to-face meetings and then continue contact through an
electronic bulletin board or a facilitated online supervision group.24
A GROUP EXPERIENCE FOR TRAINEES
A personal group experience has become widely accepted as an integral part of training
and continuing professional development. Such an experience may offer many types of
learning not available elsewhere. You are able to learn at an emotional level what you may
previously have known only intellectually. You experience the power of the group—power
both to wound and to heal. You learn how important it is to be accepted by the group;
what self-disclosure really entails; how difficult it is to reveal your secret world, your
fantasies, feelings of vulnerability, hostility, and tenderness. You learn to appreciate your
own strengths as well as your weaknesses. You learn about your own preferred role in the

group, about your habitual countertransference responses and about group-as-a-whole and
system issues that lurk in the background of the meetings. Perhaps most striking of all,
you learn about the role of the leader by becoming aware of your own dependency and
your own, often unrealistic, appraisal of the leader’s power and knowledge.
Even experienced practitioners who are being trained in a new model of group therapy
profit greatly when an experiential affective component is added to their didactic training.
Personal participation is the most vital way to teach and to learn group process.25
Surveys indicate that one-half to two-thirds of group therapy training programs offer
some type of personal group experience.26 Some programs offer a simulated group in
which one or two trainees are appointed co-therapists and the rest role-play the group
members. The most common model (which will be discussed in detail shortly) is a group
composed of other trainees and referred to by any number of terms (T-group, support
group, process group, experiential training group, and so on). This group may be short-
term, lasting maybe a dozen sessions, or it may consist of an intensive one- or two-day
experience; but the model I prefer is a weekly process group that meets for sixty to ninety
minutes throughout the entire year.
I have led groups of psychology interns and psychiatric residents for over thirty years
and, without exception, have found the use of such groups to be a highly valuable teaching
technique. Indeed, many psychotherapy students, when reviewing their entire training
program, have rated their group as the single most valuable experience in their curriculum.
A group experience with one’s peers has a great deal to recommend it: not only do the
members reap the benefits of a group experience but also, if the group is led properly,
members may improve relationships and communication within the trainee class and, thus,
enrich the entire educational experience. Students always learn a great deal from their
peers, and any efforts that potentiate that process increase the value of the program.
Are there also disadvantages to a group experience? One often hears storm warnings
about the possible destructive effects of staff or trainee experiential groups. These
warnings are, I believe, based on irrational premises: for example, that enormous amounts
of destructive hostility would ensue once a group unlocks suppressive floodgates, or that a
group would constitute an enormous invasion of privacy as forced confessionals are
wrung one by one from each of the hapless trainees. We know now that responsibly led
groups that are clear about norms and boundaries facilitate communication and
constructive working relationships.
Should Training Groups Be Voluntary?
An experiential group is always more effective if the participants engage voluntarily and
view it not only as a training exercise but as an opportunity for personal growth. Indeed, I
prefer that trainees begin such a group with an explicit formulation of what they want to
obtain from the experience personally as well as professionally. To this end, it is important
that the group be introduced and described to the trainees in such a way that they consider

it to be consonant with their personal and professional goals. I prefer to frame the group
within the students’ training career by asking them to project themselves into the field of
the future. It is, after all, highly probable that mental health practitioners will spend an
increasing amount of their time in groups—as members and leaders of treatment teams. To
be effective in this role, clinicians of the future will simply have to know their way around
groups. They will have to learn how groups work and how they themselves work in
groups.
Once an experiential group is introduced as a regular part of a training program, and
once the faculty develops confidence in the group as a valuable training adjunct, there is
little difficulty in selling it to incoming trainees. Still, programs differ on whether to make
the group optional or mandatory. My experience is that if a group is presented properly,
the trainees not only look forward to it with anticipation but experience strong
disappointment if for some reason the opportunity for a group experience is withheld.
If a student steadfastly refuses to enter the training group or any other type of
experiential group, it is my opinion that some investigation of such resistance is
warranted. Occasionally, such a refusal stems from misconceptions about groups in
general or is a reflection of some respected senior faculty member’s negative bias toward
groups. But if the refusal is based on a pervasive dread or distrust of group situations, and
if the student does not have the flexibility to work on this resistance in individual therapy,
in a supportive training group, or in a bona fide therapy group, I believe it may well be
unwise for that student to pursue the career of psychotherapist.
Who Should Lead Student Experiential Groups?
Directors of training programs should select the leader with great care. For one thing, the
group experience is an extraordinarily influential event in the students’ training career; the
leader will often serve as an important role model for the trainees and therefore should
have extensive clinical and group experience and the highest possible professional
standards. The overriding criteria are, of course, the personal qualities and the skill of the
leader: a secondary consideration is the leader’s professional discipline (whether it be, for
example, in counseling, clinical psychology, social work, or psychiatry).
I believe that a training group model led by a leader skilled in the interactional group
therapy model provides the best educational experience. 27 Supporting this view is a study
of 434 professionals who participated in two-day American Group Psychotherapy
Association training groups. Process-oriented groups that emphasized here-and-now
interaction resulted in significantly greater learning about leadership and peer relations
than groups that were more didactic or structured. The members felt they profited most
from an atmosphere in which leaders supported participants, demonstrated techniques, and
facilitated an atmosphere in which members supported one another, revealed personal
feelings, took risks, and enjoyed the group.28
Another reason the leader should be selected with great care is that it is extremely

difficult to lead groups of mental health professionals who will continue to work together
throughout their training. The pace is slow; intellectualization is common; and self-
disclosure and risk taking are minimal. The chief instrument in psychotherapy is the
therapist’s own person. Realizing this truth, the neophyte therapist feels doubly vulnerable
in self-disclosure: at stake are both personal and professional competence.
Should the Leader be a Staff or a Faculty Member of the Training Program?
A leader who wears two hats (group leader and member of training staff) compounds the
problem for the group members who feel restricted by the presence of someone who may
in the future play an evaluative role in their careers. Mere reassurance to the group that the
leader will maintain strictest confidentiality or neutrality is insufficient to deal with this
very real concern of the members.
I have on many occasions been placed in this double role and have approached the
problem in various ways but with only limited success. One approach is to confront the
problem energetically with the group. I affirm the reality that I do have a dual role, and
that, although I will attempt in every way to be merely a group leader and will remove
myself from any administrative or evaluative duties, I may not be able to free myself from
all unconscious vestiges of the second role. I thus address myself uncompromisingly to the
dilemma facing the group. But, as the group proceeds, I also address myself to the fact that
each member must deal with the “two-hat” problem. Similar dilemmas occur throughout
the practice of group therapy and are best embraced rather than avoided or denied.29 What
can we learn through this dilemma? Each member may respond to it very differently:
some may so distrust me that they choose to remain hidden in silence; some curry my
favor; some trust me completely and participate with full abandon in the group; others
persistently challenge me. All of these stances toward a leader reflect basic attitudes
toward authority and are good grist for the mill, provided there is at least a modicum of
willingness to work.
Another approach I often take when in this “two-hat” position is to be unusually self-
disclosing—in effect, to give the members more on me than I have on them. In so doing, I
model openness and demonstrate both the universality of human problems and how
unlikely it would be for me to adopt a judgmental stance toward them. In other words,
leader transparency offered in the service of training lowers the perceived stakes for the
participants by normalizing their concerns.
My experience has been that, even using the best techniques, leaders who are also
administrators labor under a severe handicap, and their groups are likely to be restricted
and guarded. The group becomes a far more effective vehicle for personal growth and
training if led by a leader from outside the institution who will play no role in student
evaluation. It facilitates the work of a group if, at the outset, the leader makes explicit his
or her unwillingness under any circumstances ever to contribute letters of reference—
either favorable or unfavorable—for the members. All these issues—group goals,
confidentiality, and participation should be made explicit at the beginning of the group

experience.
Is the Training Groupa Therapy Group?
This is a vexing question. In training groups of professionals, no other issue is so often
used in the service of group resistance. It is wise for leaders to present their views about
training versus therapy at the outset of the group. I begin by asking that the members make
certain commitments to the group. Each member should be aware of the requirements for
membership: a willingness to invest oneself emotionally in the group, to disclose feelings
about oneself and the other members, and to explore areas in which one would like to
make personal changes.
There is a useful distinction to be made between a therapy group and a therapeutic
group. A training group, though it is not a therapy group, is therapeutic in that it offers the
opportunity to do therapeutic work. By no means, though, is each member expected to do
extensive therapeutic work.
The basic contract of the group, in fact, its raison d’être, is training, not therapy. To a
great extent, these goals overlap: a leader can offer no better group therapy training than
that of an effective therapeutic group. Furthermore, every intensive group experience
contains within it great therapeutic potential: members cannot engage in effective
interaction, cannot fully assume the role of a group member, cannot get feedback about
their interpersonal style and their blind spots without some therapeutic spin-off. Yet that is
different from a therapy group that assembles for the purpose of accomplishing extensive
therapeutic change for each member of the group.
In a therapy group, the intensive group experience, the expression and integration of
affect, the recognition of here-and-now process are all essential but secondary
considerations to the primary goal of individual therapeutic change. In a training group of
mental health professionals, the reverse is true. There will be many times when the T-
group leader will seize an opportunity for explication and teaching that a group therapist
would seize for deeper emotional exploration.
Leader Technique
The leader of a training group of mental health professionals has a demanding task: he or
she not only provides a role model by shaping and conducting an effective group but must
also make certain modifications in technique to deal with the specific educational needs of
the group members.
The basic approach, however, does not deviate from the guidelines I outlined earlier in
this book. For example, the leader is well advised to retain an interactional, here-and-now
focus. It is an error, in my opinion, to allow the group to move into a supervisory format
where members describe problems they confront in their clinical work: such discussion
should be the province of the supervisory hour. Whenever a group is engaged in discourse

that can be held equally well in another formal setting, it is failing to use its unique
properties and full potential. Instead, members can discuss these work-related problems in
more profitable group-relevant ways: for example, they might discuss how it would feel to
be the client of a particular member. The group is also an excellent place for two members
who happen to work together in therapy groups, or in marital or family therapy, to work
on their relationship.
There are many ways for a leader to use the members’ professional experience in the
service of the group work. For example, I have often made statements to the training
group in the following vein: “The group has been very slow moving today. When I
inquired, you told me that you felt ‘lazy’ or that it was too soon after lunch to work. If you
were the leader of a group and heard this, what would you make of it? What would you
do?” Or: “Not only are John and Stewart refusing to work on their differences but others
are lining up behind them. What are the options available to me as a leader today?” In a
training group, I am inclined, much more than in a therapy group, to explicate group
process. In therapy groups, if there is no therapeutic advantage in clarifying group process,
I see no reason to do so. In training groups, there is always the superordinate goal of
education.
Often process commentary combined with a view from the leader’s seat is particularly
useful. For example:
Let me tell you what I felt today as a group leader. A half hour ago I felt
uncomfortable with the massive encouragement and support everyone was giving
Tom. This has happened before, and though it was reassuring, I haven’t felt it was
really helpful to Tom. I was tempted to intervene by inquiring about Tom’s
tendency to pull this behavior from the group, but I chose not to—partly because
I’ve gotten so much flak lately for being nonsupportive. So I remained silent. I
think I made the right choice, since it seems to me that the meeting developed into
a very productive one, with some of you getting deeply into your feelings of
needing care and support. How do the rest of you see what’s happened today?
In a particularly helpful essay, Aveline, an experienced group leader of student groups,
suggests that the leader has five main tasks:
1. Containment of anxiety (through exploration of sources of anxiety in the group and
provision of anxiety-relieving group structure)
2. Establishment of a therapeutic atmosphere in the group by shaping norms of
support, acceptance, and group autonomy
3. Establishing appropriate goals that can be addressed in the time available
4. Moderating the pace so that the group moves neither too fast nor too slow and that
members engage in no forced or damaging self-disclosure
5. Ending well30

PERSONAL PSYCHOTHERAPY
A training group rarely suffices to provide all the personal self-exploration a student
therapist requires. Few would dispute that personal psychotherapy is necessary for the
maturation of the group therapist. A substantial number of training programs require a
personal therapy experience.31 A large survey of 318 practicing psychologists indicated
that 70 percent had entered therapy during their training—often more than one type of
therapy: 63 percent in individual therapy (mean = 100 hours); 24 percent in group therapy
(mean = 76 hours); 36 percent in couples therapy (mean = 37 hours). This survey
determined that over their lifetime, 18 percent of practicing psychologists never entered
therapy.
What factors influenced the decision to enter therapy? Psychologists were more likely
to engage in therapy if they had an earlier therapy experience in their training, if they were
dynamically oriented in their practice, and if they conducted many hours of therapy during
the week.32 In another survey, over half of psychotherapists entered personal
psychotherapy after their training, and over 90 percent reported considerable personal and
professional benefit from the experience.33
Without doubt, the training environment influences the students’ decision to pursue
personal therapy. In the past, psychiatry training programs had very high participation
rates. Although a few still do, the trend is downward and, regrettably, fewer residents
choose to enter therapy.34
I consider my personal psychotherapy experience, a five-times-a-week analysis during
my entire three-year residency, the most important part of my training as a therapist.35 I
urge every student entering the field not only to seek out personal therapy but to do so
more than once during their career—different life stages evoke different issues to be
explored. The emergence of personal discomfort is an opportunity for greater self-
exploration that will ultimately make us better therapists.36
Our knowledge of self plays an instrumental role in every aspect of the therapy. An
inability to perceive our countertransference responses, to recognize our personal
distortions and blind spots, or to use our own feelings and fantasies in our work will
severely limit our effectiveness. If you lack insight into your own motivations, you may,
for example, avoid conflict in the group because of your proclivity to mute your feelings;
or you may unduly encourage confrontation in a search for aliveness in yourself. You may
be overeager to prove yourself or to make consistently brilliant interpretations, and
thereby disempower the group. You may fear intimacy and prevent open expression of
feelings by premature interpretations—or do the opposite: overemphasize feelings, make
too few explanatory comments, and overstimulate clients so that they are left in agitated
turmoil. You may so need acceptance that you are unable to challenge the group and, like
the members, be swept along by the prevailing group current. You may be so devastated
by an attack on yourself and so unclear about your presentation of self as to be unable to
distinguish the realistic from the transference aspects of the attack.

Several training programs—for example, the British Group Analytic Institute and the
Canadian Group Psychotherapy Association—recommend that their candidates participate
as bona fide members in a therapy group led by a senior clinician and composed of
nonprofessionals seeking personal therapy.37 Advocates of such programs point out the
many advantages to being a real member of a therapy group. There is less sibling rivalry
than in a group of one’s peers, less need to perform, less defensiveness, less concern about
being judged. The anticipated pitfalls are surmountable. If a trainee attempts to play
assistant therapist or in some other way avoids genuine therapeutic engagement, a
competent group leader will be able to provide the proper direction.
Experience as a full member of a bona fide therapy group is invaluable, and I encourage
any trainee to seek such therapy. Unfortunately, the right group can be hard to find.
Advocates of personal group therapy as a part of training hail from large metropolitan
areas (London, New York, Toronto, Geneva). But in smaller urban areas, the availability
of personal group therapy is limited. There are simply not enough groups that meet the
proper criteria—that is, an ongoing high-functioning group led by a senior clinician with
an eclectic dynamic approach (who, incidentally, is neither a personal nor professional
associate of the trainee).
There is one other method of obtaining both group therapy training and personal
psychotherapy. For several years, I led a therapy group for practicing psychotherapists. It
is a straightforward therapy group, not a training group. Admission to the group is
predicated on the need and the wish for personal therapy, and members are charged
standard therapy group fees. Naturally, in the course of their therapy, the members—most
but not all of whom are also group therapists—learn a great deal about the group therapy
process.
Since every training community has some experienced group therapists, this format
makes group therapy available to large numbers of mental health professionals. The
composition of the group is generally more compatible for the student group therapist in
that there is great homogeneity of ego strength. The group is a stranger group; members
are all professionals but do not work together (though I have seen therapists with some
informal affiliation—for example, sharing the same office suite—participate without
complication in the same group). This eliminates many of the competitive problems that
occur in groups of students in the same training program. Members are highly motivated,
psychologically minded, and generally verbally active. The highly experienced group
therapist will find that such groups are not difficult to lead. Occasionally, members may
test, judge, or compete with the leader, but the great majority are there for nononsense
work and apply their own knowledge of psychotherapy to help the group become
maximally effective.
SUMMARY

The training experiences I have described—observation of an experienced clinician, group
therapy supervision, experiential group participation, and personal therapy—constitute, in
my view, the minimum essential components of a program to train group therapists. (I
assume that the trainee has had (or is in the midst of) training in general clinical areas:
interviewing, psychopathology, personality theory, and other forms of psychotherapy.) The
sequence of the group therapy training experiences may depend on the structural
characteristics of a particular training institute. I recommend that observation, personal
therapy, and the experiential group begin very early in the training program, to be
followed in a few months by the formation of a group and ongoing supervision. I feel it is
wise for trainees to have a clinical experience in which they deal with basic group and
interactional dynamics in an open-ended group of nonpsychotic, highly motivated clients
before they begin to work with goal-limited groups of highly specialized client
populations or with one of the new specialized therapy approaches.
Training is, of course, a lifelong process. It is important that clinicians maintain contact
with colleagues, either informally or through professional organizations such as the
American Group Psychotherapy Association or the Association for Specialists in Group
Work. For growth to continue, continual input is required. Many formats for continued
education exist, including reading, working with different co-therapists, teaching,
participating in professional workshops, and having informal discussions with colleagues.
Postgraduate personal group experiences are a regenerative process for many. The
American Group Psychotherapy Association offers a two-day experiential group, led by
highly experienced group leaders, at their annual institute, which regularly precedes their
annual meeting. Follow-up surveys attest to the value—both professional and personal—
of these groups.38
Another format is for practicing professionals to form leaderless support groups.
Although such groups date back to Freud, until recently there has been little in the
literature on support groups of mental health professionals. I can personally attest to their
value. For over fifteen years I have profited enormously from membership in a group of
eleven therapists of my own age and level of experience that meets for ninety minutes
every other week. Several members of the group share the same office suite and over the
years had observed, somewhat helplessly, as several colleagues suffered, and sometimes
fell victim to, severe personal and professional stress. Their unanimous response to the
support group has been: “Why on earth didn’t we do this twenty-five years ago?” Such
groups not only offer personal and professional support but also remind therapists of the
power of the small group and permit a view of the group therapeutic process from the
members’ seat. Like all groups, they benefit from a clear consensus of expectations, goals,
and norms to ensure that they stay on track and are able to address their own group
process.39
BEYOND TECHNIQUE

The group therapy training program has the task of teaching students not only how to do
but also how to learn. What clinical educators must not convey is a rigid certainty in either
our techniques or in our underlying assumptions about therapeutic change: the field is far
too complex and pluralistic for disciples of unwavering faith. To this end, I believe it is
most important that we teach and model a basic research orientation to continuing
education in the field. By research orientation, I refer not to a steel-spectacled chi-square
efficiency but instead to an open, self-critical, inquiring attitude toward clinical and
research evidence and conclusions—a posture toward experience that is consistent with a
sensitive and humanistic clinical approach.
Recent developments in psychotherapy research underscore this principle. For a while
there was a fantasy that we could greatly abbreviate clinical training and eliminate
variability in therapy outcome by having therapists adhering to a therapy manual. This
remains an unrealized fantasy: therapy manualization has not improved clinical outcomes.
Ultimately it is the therapist more than the model that produces benefits. Adherence to the
nuts and bolts of a psychotherapy manual is a far cry from the skillful, competent delivery
of psychotherapy. Many practitioners feel that manuals restrict their natural
responsiveness and result in a “herky-jerky” ineffective therapeutic process. Therapist
effectiveness has much to do with the capacity to improvise as the context demands it,
drawing on both new knowledge and accrued wisdom. Manuals on psychotherapy do not
provide that.40
We need to help students critically evaluate their own work and maintain sufficient
technical and attitudinal flexibility to be responsive to their own observations. Mature
therapists continually evolve: they regard each client, each group—indeed, their whole
career—as a learning experience. It is equally important to train students to evaluate group
therapy research and, if appropriate, to adapt the research conclusions to their clinical
work. The inclusion of readings and seminars in clinical research methodology is thus
highly desirable. Although only a few clinicians will ever have the time, funding, and
institutional backing to engage in largescale research, many can engage in intensive
single-person or single-group research, and all clinicians must evaluate published clinical
research. If the group therapy field is to develop coherently, it must embrace responsible,
well-executed, relevant, and credible research; otherwise, group therapy will follow its
capricious, helter-skelter course, and research will become a futile, effete exercise.
Consider how the student may be introduced to a major research problem: outcome
assessment. Seminars may be devoted to a consideration of the voluminous literature on
the problems of outcome research. (Excellent recent reviews may serve to anchor these
discussions.)41 In addition to seminars, each student may engage in a research practicum
by interviewing clients who have recently terminated group therapy.
Once having engaged even to a limited extent in an assessment of change, the student
becomes more sensitive and more constructively critical toward outcome research. The
problem, as the student soon recognizes, is that conventional research continues to
perpetuate the error of extensive design, of failing to individualize outcome assessment.
Clinicians fail to heed or even to believe research in which outcome is measured by

before-and-after changes on standardized instruments—and with good reason. Abundant
clinical and research evidence indicates that change means something different to each
client. Some clients need to experience less anxiety or hostility; for others, improvement
would be accompanied by greater anxiety or hostility. Even self-esteem changes need to
be individualized. It has been demonstrated that a high self-esteem score on traditional
self-administered questionnaires can reflect either a genuinely healthy regard of self or a
defensive posture in which the individual maintains a high self-esteem at the expense of
self-awareness.42 These latter individuals would, as a result of successful treatment, have
lower (but more accurate) self-esteem as measured by questionnaires.
Hence, not only must the general strategy of outcome assessment be altered, but also
the criteria for outcome must be reformulated. It may be an error to use, in group therapy
research, criteria originally designed for individual therapy outcome. I suspect that
although group and individual therapies are equivalent in overall effectiveness, each
modality may affect different variables and have a different type of outcome. For example,
group therapy graduates may become more interpersonally skilled, more inclined to be
affiliative in times of stress, more capable of sustaining meaningful relationships, or more
empathic, whereas individual therapy clients may be more self-sufficient, introspective,
and attuned to inner processes.43
For years, group therapists have considered therapy a multidimensional laboratory for
living, and it is time to acknowledge this factor in outcome research. As a result of
therapy, some clients alter their hierarchy of life values and grow to place more
importance on humanistic or aesthetic goals; others may make major decisions that will
influence the course of their lives; others may be more interpersonally sensitive and more
able to communicate their feelings; still others may become less petty and more elevated
in their life concerns; some may have a greater sense of commitment to other people or
projects; others may experience greater energy; others may come to meaningful terms with
their own mortality; and still others may find themselves more adventuresome, more
receptive to new concepts and experiences. Complicating matters even more is the fact
that many of these changes may be orthogonal to relief of presenting symptoms or to
attainment of greater comfort.44
A research orientation demands that, throughout your career as a therapist, you remain
flexible and responsive to new evidence and that you live with a degree of uncertainty—
no small task. Uncertainty that stems from the absence of a definitive treatment system
begets anxiety.
Many practitioners seek solace by embracing the Loreleis of orthodox belief systems:
they commit themselves to one of the many ideological schools that not only offer a
comprehensive system of explanation but also screen out discrepant facts and discount
new evidence. This commitment usually entails a lengthy apprenticeship and initiation.
Once within the system, students find it difficult to get out: first, they have usually
undergone such a lengthy apprenticeship that abandonment of the school is equivalent to
denouncing a part of oneself; and second, it is extremely difficult to abandon a position of
certainty for one of uncertainty. Clearly, however, such a position of certainty is

antithetical to growth and is particularly stunting to the development of the student
therapist.
On the other hand, there are potential dangers in the abrogation of certainty. Anxious
and uncertain therapists may be less effective. Deep uncertainty may engender therapeutic
nihilism, and the student may resist mastering any organized technique of therapy.
Teachers, by personal example, must offer an alternative model, demonstrating that they
believe, in accordance with the best evidence available, that a particular approach is
effective, but expect to alter that approach as new information becomes available.
Furthermore, the teachers must make clear to their students the pride they derive from
being part of a field that attempts to progress and is honest enough to know its own
limitations.
Practitioners who lack a research orientation with which to evaluate new developments
are in a difficult position. How can they, for example, react to the myriad recent
innovations in the field—for example, the proliferation of brief, structured group
approaches? Unfortunately, the adoption of a new method is generally a function of the
vigor, the persuasiveness, or the charisma of its proponent, and some new therapeutic
approaches have been extraordinarily successful in rapidly obtaining both visibility and
adherents. Many therapists who do not apply a consistent and critical approach to
evidence have found themselves either unreasonably unreceptive to all new approaches or
swept along with some current fad and then, dissatisfied with its limitations, moving on to
yet another.
The critical problem facing group psychotherapy, then, is one of balance. A traditional,
conservative sector is less receptive to change than is optimal; the innovative, challenging
sector is less receptive to stability than is optimal. The field is swayed by fashion, whereas
it should be influenced by evidence. Psychotherapy is a science as well as an art, and there
is no place in science for uncritical orthodoxy or for innovation for its own sake.
Orthodoxy offers safety for adherents but leads to stagnation; the field becomes insensitive
to the zeitgeist and is left behind as the public goes elsewhere. Innovation provides zest
and a readily apparent creative outlet for proponents but, if unevaluated, results in a
kaleidoscopic field without substance—a field that “rides off madly in all directions.”45

Appendix
Information and Guidelines for Participation in Group Therapy
Group therapy has a long, proven record as a highly effective and useful form of
psychotherapy. It is as helpful as, and in some cases more helpful than, individual therapy,
particularly when social support and learning about interpersonal relationships are
important objectives of treatment. The vast majority of individuals who participate in
group therapy benefit from it substantially. Although group therapy is generally highly
supportive, you may at times find it stressful.
SOME GOALS OF GROUP PSYCHOTHERAPY
Many individuals seeking therapy feel isolated and dissatisfied in their particular life
situation. They may have difficulties establishing and maintaining close, mutually
gratifying, and meaningful relationships with others. Frequently they are interested in
learning more about how they relate to others.
Group therapy offers an opportunity to:
• Receive and offer support and feedback
• Improve interpersonal relationships and communication
• Experiment with new interpersonal behaviors
• Talk honestly and directly about feelings
• Gain insight and understanding into one’s own thoughts, feelings, and behaviors by
looking at relationship patterns both inside and outside the group
• Gain understanding of other peoples’ thoughts, feelings, and behaviors
• Improve self-confidence, self-image, and self-esteem
• Undergo personal change inside the group with the expectation of carrying that
learning over into one’s outside life
CONFIDENTIALITY
All statements by participants in psychotherapy must be treated with the utmost respect
and confidentiality. It is an essential part of ethical, professional conduct.

a) Therapists
Group therapists are pledged to maintain complete confidentiality except in one situation:
when there is an immediate risk of serious harm to a group member or to someone else.
If you are in concurrent individual treatment, we request your permission to
communicate with your individual therapist at regular intervals. Your therapists are your
allies and it is important for your therapy that they communicate with one another.
b) Group Members
Confidentiality is similarly expected of all group members. Group members must maintain
confidentiality to create a safe environment for the work of therapy and to develop trust
within the group. Most individuals in therapy prefer to keep the therapy a private place
and refrain from any discussions about it with others. If, however, in discussions with
friends or family, you wish at some point to refer to your group therapy, you should speak
only about your own experience, not about any other member’s experience. Never
mention any other member’s name or say anything that might inadvertently identify any
group members.
WHAT DO YOU DO IN THE GROUP?
HOW ARE YOU EXPECTED TO BEHAVE?
There will not be a prescribed agenda for each session. Participants are encouraged to talk
about any personal or relationship issues relevant to the problems and goals that led them
to therapy.
Participants are encouraged to offer support, to ask questions, to wonder about things
said or not said, to share associations and thoughts. Much emphasis will be placed on
examining the relations between members—that is, the “here-and-now.” Members will
often be asked to share their impressions of one another—their thoughts, fears, and
positive feelings. The more we work in the here-and-now of the group, the more effective
we will be.
Disclosure about oneself is necessary for one to profit from group therapy, but members
should choose to disclose at their own pace. We never pressure members for confessions.
In order to construct a therapeutic group environment, we ask that members always try
to say things to other members in a way that is constructive. Helpful feedback focuses on
what is happening in the here-and-now, does not blame, is relevant, and connects the
member receiving the feedback with the member offering the feedback. This kind of direct
feedback and engagement is novel: rarely in our culture do individuals speak so honestly

and directly. Hence, it may at first feel risky, but it may also feel deeply engaging and
meaningful.
Direct advice-giving from group members and therapists is not generally useful. Neither
are general discussions of such topics as sports or politics helpful unless there is
something about a current event that has particular relevance to one’s personal or
interpersonal issues.
The therapy group is not a place to make friends. Rather, it is a social laboratory—a
place in which one acquires the skills to develop meaningful and satisfying relationships.
In fact, therapy groups (unlike support or social groups) do not encourage social contact
with other members outside the group. Why? Because an outside relationship with another
member or members generally impedes therapy!
How is therapy impeded? To explain this we need first to emphasize that your primary
task in the therapy group is to explore fully your relationships with each and every
member of the group. At first, that may seem puzzling or unrelated to the reasons you
sought therapy.
Yet it begins to make sense when you consider the fact that the group is a social
microcosm—that is, the problems you experience in your social life will emerge also in
your relationships within the group. Therefore, by exploring and understanding all aspects
of your relationships with other members and then transferring this knowledge to your
outside life you begin the process of developing more satisfying relationships.
If, however, you develop a close relationship with another member (or members)
outside the group, you may be disinclined to share all your feelings about that relationship
within the group. Why? Because that friendship may mean so much that you may be
reluctant to say anything that might jeopardize it in any way. What happens in a therapy
group when openness and honesty are compromised? Therapy grinds to a halt!
Therefore, it is best that members who meet outside the group (by chance or design)
share all relevant information with the group. Any type of secrecy about relationships
slows down the work of therapy. At times members develop strong feelings toward other
members. We encourage that these feelings be discussed, both positive feelings as well as
other feelings such as irritation or disappointment. Group members are expected to talk
about feelings without acting on their feelings.
Group Therapists
Your group therapists are not going to “run the show.” Their role is more that of a
participant/facilitator rather than of an instructor. Therapy is most productive when it is a
collaborative and a shared enterprise. Keep in mind that the input from other members
may often be as important as, or even more important than, the leaders’ comments. The
therapists may make observations about group interactions and behavior, or about what
particular individuals say or do in the group. They might also comment on progress or

obstructions within the group.
When you have something to say to the group therapists, we hope that, as much as
possible, you do so in the group sessions. However, if there is something urgent you must
discuss with the group therapists outside of group, between sessions, this can be arranged.
But it is useful to bring up in the next group meeting what was discussed with the
therapists. Even relevant material from your individual or couples therapy with another
therapist should be shared. We hope that there will be really no issues that you cannot talk
about within the group. At the same time, we recognize that trust develops only over time
and that some personal disclosures will be made only when you feel sufficiently safe in
the group.
INITIAL LENGTH OF TRIAL PERIOD OR
COMMITMENT
Group therapy does not generally show immediate positive benefit to its participants.
Because of this fact, participants sometimes find themselves wanting to leave therapy
early on if it becomes stressful for them. We ask that you suspend your early judgment of
the group’s possible benefits and continue to attend and to talk about the stresses involved
and your doubts about group therapy.
We ask that you make an initial commitment to attend and participate in your therapy
group for at least 12 sessions. By then you will have a clearer sense of the potential
helpfulness of the group.
ATTENDANCE AND GROUP COHESION
The group works most effectively if it is cohesive, reliable, and predictable. Regular
attendance is a key part of that, so we request that you make it a priority in your schedule.
Group therapy progresses best when each member values and respects the commitment
and work of each participant. Regular attendance and active participation in the meetings
is an important way to demonstrate that respect and valuing. Similarly, arriving on time to
each session is important. If you know that you are going to be late or absent, we ask that
you call the group therapists as far ahead of time as possible so that they can let the group
know at the beginning of the session.
If you know a week or more ahead of time of a necessary lateness or absence, inform
the group at an earlier session. We ask that you also inform the group of your vacation
plans well ahead of time if possible. The group therapists will do the same.
There may be times when the group is the last place you want to be, because of
uncomfortable feelings. These times may in fact be unusually productive opportunities to

do the work of psychotherapy. In the same vein, you can anticipate that some of the
difficulties that you have experienced in your life will express themselves in the group.
Don’t be discouraged by this. It is in fact a great opportunity, because it means that you
and the group members are tackling the important issues that concern you.
You have decided, by agreeing to participate in group therapy, to begin a process of
giving and receiving support and working toward needed changes in your personal and
interpersonal life. We look forward to the opportunity of working together with you in this
group.

Notes
Additional reference information and suggested readings of relevant articles can be found
at www.yalom.com. Where specific references exist at www.yalom.com, a † has been
added to the text in this book.

http://www.yalom.com

http://www.yalom.com

CHAPTER 1
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11 A. Goldstein, Therapist-Patient Expectancies in Psychotherapy (New York: Pergamon
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12 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”
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13 A. Leuchter, I. Cook, E. Witte, M. Morgan, and M. Abrams, “Changes in Brain
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14 D. Spiegel and C. Classen, Group Therapy for Cancer Patients (New York: Basic
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15 Goldstein, Therapist-Patient Expectancies, 35–53. Kaul and Bednar, “Experiential
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16 Lieberman and Borman, Self-Help Groups.
17 K. Lorig et al., “Evidence Suggesting That a Chronic Disease Self-Management
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18 F. Fawzy, N. Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats: An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):
81–89. A. Bandura, Self-Efficacy: The Exercise of Control (New York: Freeman, 1997).
19 J. Moreno, “Group Treatment for Eating Disorders,” in Fuhriman and Burlingame,
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20 S. Gold-Steinberg and M. Buttenheim, “‘Telling One’s Story’ in an Incest Survivors’
Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 173–89. F. Mennen and
D. Meadow, “Process to Recovery: In Support of Long-Term Groups for Sexual Abuse
Survivors,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 29–44. M. Schadler,
“Brief Group Therapy with Adult Survivors of Incest,” in Focal Group Therapy, ed. M.
McKay and K. Paleg (Oakland, Calif.: New Harbinger Publications, 1992), 292–322.
21 J. Kelly, “Group Therapy Approaches for Patients with HIV and AIDS,” International
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Rubenstein, “Group Interventions for Widowed Survivors of Suicide,” Suicide and Life-
Threatening Behavior 31 (2001): 428–41.
22 P. Tsui and G. Schultz, “Ethnic Factors in Group Process,” American Journal of
Orthopsychiatry 58 (1988): 136–42.
23 N. Hansen, F. Pepitone-Arreola-Rockwell, and A. Greene, “Multicultural Competence:
Criteria and Case Examples,” Professional Psychology: Research and Practice 31 (2000):
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Ethical, and Conceptual Issues,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 69
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24 M. Jones, “Group Treatment with Particular Reference to Group Projection Methods,”
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25 L. Marsh, “Group Therapy and the Psychiatric Clinic,” Journal of Nervous and Mental
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26 M. Galanter, “Zealous Self-Help Groups as Adjuncts to Psychiatric Treatment: A Study
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27 P. Murray, “Recovery, Inc., as an Adjunct to Treatment in an Era of Managed Care,”

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28 A. Low, Mental Health Through Will Training (Boston: Christopher Publishing House,
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29 Lieberman and Borman, Self-Help Groups, 194–234. G. Goodman and M. Jacobs,
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30 H. Fensterheim and B. Wiegand, “Group Treatment of the Hyperventilation
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31 S. Tenzer, “Fat Acceptance Therapy: A Non-Dieting Group Approach to Physical
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32 Moreno, “Group Treatment for Eating Disorders.”J. Mitchell et al., “A Comparison
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33 M. Kalb, “The Effects of Biography on the Divorce Adjustment Process,” Sexual and
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34 S. Drob and H. Bernard, “Time-Limited Group Treatment of Genital Herpes,”
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35 D. Ornish, Dr. Dean Ornish’s Program for Reversing Heart Disease (New York:
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36 B. Mara and M. Winton, “Sexual Abuse Intervention: A Support Group for Parents
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37 T. Poynter, “An Evaluation of a Group Program for Male Perpetrators of Domestic
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38 I. Yalom and S. Vinogradov, “Bereavement Groups: Techniques and Themes,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 419–46.

39 S. Levine et al., “Group Psychotherapy for HIV-Seropositive Patients with Major
Depression,” American Journal of Psychotherapy 55 (1991): 413–25. G. Tunnell,
“Complication in Group Psychotherapy with AIDS Patients,” International Journal of
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ARC and AIDS in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
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40 S. Price, A. Heinrich, and J. Golden, “Structured Group Treatment of Couples
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41 L. Gallese and E. Treuting, “Help for Rape Victims Through Group Therapy,” Journal
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42 R. Kris and H. Kramer, “Efficacy of Group Therapy with Postmastectomy Self-
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44 S. Abbey and S. Farrow, “Group Therapy and Organ Transplantation,” International
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47 V. Helgeson, S. Cohen, R. Schulz, and J. Yasko, “Education and Peer Discussion
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52 J. Rubin and K. Locasio, “A Model for Communication Skills Group Using Structured
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(1985): 569–84.

53 J. Flowers, “The Differential Outcome Effects of Simple Advice, Alternatives, and
Instructions in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 29
(1979): 305–15.
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Therapy,” International Journal of Group Therapy 41 (1991): 365–78.

CHAPTER 2
1 R. Baumeister and M. Leary, “The Need to Belong: Desire for Interpersonal
Attachments as a Fundamental Human Motivation,” Psychology Bulletin 117 (1995): 497–
529.
2 J. Bowlby, Attachment and Loss, vol. 3, Loss: Sadness and Depression (New York:
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3 D. Winnicott, Through Pediatrics to Psychoanalysis (London: Hogarth Press, 1978;
orig. published 1952).
4 S. Mitchell, Relational Concepts in Psychoanalysis (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1988).
5 W. James, The Principles of Psychology, vol. 1 (New York: Henry Holt, 1890), 293.
6 L. Syme, Social Support and Health (Orlando, Fla.: Academic Press, 1985). J. Hartog, J.
Audy, and Y. Cohen, eds., The Anatomy of Loneliness (New York: International
Universities Press, 1980). J. Lynch, The Broken Heart: The Medical Consequences of
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7 J. House, K. Landis, and D. Umberson, “Social Relationships and Health,” Science 241
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8 E. Maunsell, J. Brisson, and L. Deschenes, “Social Support and Survival Among
Women with Breast Cancer,” Cancer 76 (1995): 631–37. M. Price et al., “The Role of
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Stressors, Social Support, Defense Style, and Emotional Control and Their Interactions,”
Cancer 91 (2001): 686–97. J. Leserman et al., “Impact of Stressful Life Events,
Depression, Social Support, Coping, and Cortisol on Progression to AIDS,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 157 (2000): 1221–28.
9 V. Schermer, “Contributions of Object Relations Theory and Self Psychology to
Relational Psychology, Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 199–212.
10 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993).
11 H. Sullivan, The Interpersonal Theory of Psychiatry (New York: Norton, 1953). H.
Sullivan, Conceptions of Modern Psychiatry (New York: Norton, 1940).
12 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: Wiley,
1996).
13 P. Mullahy, “Harry Stack Sullivan,” in Comprehensive Textbook of Psychiatry, ed. H.
Kaplan, A. Freedman, and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1980): 152–55. P.
Mullahy, The Contributions of Harry Stack Sullivan (New York: Hermitage House, 1952).

14 J. McCullough Jr., Treatment for Chronic Depression: Cognitive Behavioral Analysis
System of Psychotherapy (CBASP) (New York: Guilford Press, 2000). D. Hellerstein et al.,
“Adding Group Psychotherapy to Medication Treatment in Dysthymia: A Randomized
Prospective Pilot Study,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10 (2002): 93–
103. J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy (New York: Basic
Books, 1990).
15 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory.
16 Mullahy, Contributions, 22.
17 H. Grunebaum and L. Solomon, “Peer Relationships, Self-Esteem, and the Self,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 475–513.
18 M. Leszcz, “Integrated Group Psychotherapy for the Treatment of Depression in the
Elderly,” Group 21 (1997): 89–113.
19 P. Fonagy, “The Process of Change and the Change of Processes: What Can Change in
a ‘Good Analysis’,” keynote address to the spring meeting of Division 39 of the American
Psychological Association, New York, April 16, 1999.
20 Bowlby, Attachment and Loss.
21 Safran and Segal, Interpersonal Process. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory.
22 H. Strupp and J. Binder, Psychotherapy in a New Key (New York: Basic Books, 1984).
R. Giesler and W. Swann, “Striving for Confirmation: The Role of Self-Verification in
Depression, in The Interactional Nature of Depression, ed. T. Joiner and J. Coyne
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1999), 189–217.
23 Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory. Kiesler describes this interpersonal
vicious circle as a maladaptive transaction cycle (MTC). Current research emphasizes
interpersonal complementarity—the idea that specific behavior elicits specific responses
from others—as the mechanism that initiates and maintains vicious circles of maladaptive
interactions. Consider, for example, two dimensions of behavior much used in
interpersonal research: agency and affiliation. Agency (that is, self definition, assertion and
initiative) ranges from domination to subordination. Complementarity in agency means
that dominating behaviors pull reciprocal counter responses of submission; submissive
behavior in turn will reciprocally pull forth dominating forms of responses. Affiliation
(that is, one’s attitude to interpersonal connection) ranges from hostility to friendliness and
pulls for similarity and agreement: hostility draws further hostility, and friendliness pulls
for friendliness back). Anticipating and understanding specific types of interpersonal pulls
informs the group leader about clients’ actual and potential maladaptive transactions in
therapy. Moreover, this information can be used to help group therapists maintain a
therapeutic perspective in the presence of the strong interpersonal pulls affecting others or
themselves. Once therapists recognize the interpersonal impact of each client’s behavior,
they more readily understand their own countertransference and can provide more
accurate and useful feedback.
24 Mullahy, Contributions, 10.

25 L. Horowitz and J. Vitkis, “The Interpersonal Basis of Psychiatric Symptomatology,”
Clinical Psychology Review 6 (1986): 443–69.
26 Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory.
27 Sullivan, Conceptions, 207.
28 Ibid., 237.
29 B. Grenyer and L. Luborsky, “Dynamic Change in Psychotherapy: Mastery of
Interpersonal Conflicts,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 64 (1996): 411–
16.
30 S. Hemphill and L. Littlefield, “Evaluation of a Short-Term Group Therapy Program
for Children with Behavior Problems and Their Parents,” Behavior Research and Therapy
39 (2001): 823–41. S. Scott, Q. Spender, M. Doolan, B. Jacobs, and H. Espland, “Multi-
Center Controlled Trial of Parenting Groups for Childhood Antisocial Behavior in Clinical
Practice,” British Medical Journal 323 (2001): 194–97.
31 D. Wilfley, K. MacKenzie, V. Ayers, R. Welch, and M. Weissman, Interpersonal
Psychotherapy for Group (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
32 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400.
33 E. Kübler-Ross, On Death and Dying (New York: Macmillan, 1969).
34 F. Alexander and T. French, Psychoanalytic Therapy: Principles and Applications
(New York: Ronald Press, 1946). For a more contemporary psychoanalytic view of the
corrective emotional experience, see T. Jacobs, “The Corrective Emotional Experience: Its
Place in Current Technique,” Psychoanalytic Inquiry 10 (1990): 433–545.
35 F. Alexander, “Unexplored Areas in Psychoanalytic Theory and Treatment,” in New
Perspectives in Psychoanalysis, Sandor Rado Lectures 1957–1963, ed. G. Daniels (New
York: Grune & Stratton, 1965), 75.
36 P. Fonagy, G. Moran, R. Edgcumbe, H. Kennedy, and M. Target, “The Roles of Mental
Representations and Mental Processes in Therapeutic Action,” The Psychoanalytic Study
of the Child 48 (1993): 9–48. J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique
(New York: Guilford Press, 1993).
37 P. Fretter, W. Bucci, J. Broitman, G. Silberschatz, and J. Curtis, “How the Patient’s
Plan Relates to the Concept of Transference,” Psychotherapy Research 4 (1994): 58–72.
38 Alexander, “Unexplored Areas,” 79–80.
39 J. Frank and E. Ascher, “The Corrective Emotional Experience in Group Therapy,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 108 (1951): 126–31.
40 J. Breuer and S. Freud, Studies on Hysteria, in S. Freud, The Standard Edition of the
Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 2 (London: Hogarth Press, 1955).
41 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:

Basic Books, 1973).
42 Ibid.
43 A. Alonso and J. Rutan, “Character Change in Group Therapy,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy, 43, 4 (1993): 439–51.
44 B. Cohen, “Intersubjectivity and Narcissism in Group Psychotherapy: How Feedback
Works,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 163–79.
45 R. Stolorow, B. Brandschaft, and G. Atwood, Psychoanalytic Treatment: An
Intersubjective Approach (Hillsdale, N.J.: Analytic Press, 1987).
46 J. Kleinberg, “Beyond Emotional Intelligence at Work: Adding Insight to Injury
Through Group Psychotherapy,” Group 24 (2000): 261–78.
47 Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory. J. Muran and J. Safran, “A Relational
Approach to Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Handbook of Psychotherapy, ed. F.
Kaslow, vol. 1, Psychodynamic/Object Relations, ed. J. Magnavita (New York: Wiley,
2002), 253–81.
48 M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis
der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69.
49 N. Jacobson et al., “A Component Analysis of Cognitive-Behavioral Treatment for
Depression,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 64 (1996): 295–304.
50 R. Dies, “Group Psychotherapies,” in Essential Psychotherapies: Theory and Practice,
ed. A. Gurman and S. Messer (New York: Guilford Publications, 1998): 488-522. E.
Crouch and S. Bloch, “Therapeutic Factors: Interpersonal and Intrapersonal Mechanisms,”
in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York:
Wiley, 1994), 25–87. R. Dies, “Clinical Implications of Research on Leadership in Short-
Term Group Psychotherapy,” in Advances in Group Psychotherapy, ed. R. Dies and K.
MacKenzie (New York: International Universities Press, 1983), 27–79. J. Frank, “Some
Values of Conflict in Therapeutic Groups,” Group Psychotherapy 8 (1955): 142–51. J.
Kaye, “Group Interaction and Interpersonal Learning,” Small Group Behavior 4 (1973):
424–48. A. German and J. Gustafson, “Patients’ Perceptions of the Therapeutic
Relationship and Group Therapy Outcome,” American Journal of Psychiatry 133 (1976):
1290–94. J. Hodgson, “Cognitive Versus Behavioral-Interpersonal Approaches to the
Group Treatment of Depressed College Students,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 28
(1981): 243–49.
51 J. Donovan, J. Bennett, and C. McElroy, “The Crisis Group: An Outcome Study,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 136 (1979): 906–10.
52 L. Kohl, D. Rinks, and J. Snarey, “Childhood Development as a Predictor of
Adaptation in Adulthood,” Genetic Psychology Monographs 110 (1984): 97–172. K.
Kindler et al., “The Family History Method: Whose Psychiatric History Is Measured?”
American Journal of Psychiatry 148 (1991): 1501–4. P. Chodoff, “A Critique of the
Freudian Theory of Infantile Sexuality,” American Journal of Psychiatry 123 (1966): 507–
18. J. Kagan, “Perspectives on Continuity,” in Constancy and Change in Human

Development, ed. J. Kagan and O. Brim (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1980). J. Kagan, The Nature of the Child (New York: Basic Books, 1984), 99–111.
53 E. Kandel, “A New Intellectual Framework for Psychiatry,” American Journal of
Psychiatry 155 (1998): 457–69.
54 P. Fonagy, H. Kachele, R. Krause, E. Jones, R. Perron, and L. Lopez, “An Open Door
Review of Outcome Studies in Psychoanalysis.” London: International Psychoanalytical
Association, 1999.

CHAPTER 3
1 C. McRoberts, G. Burlingame, and M. Hoag, “Comparative Efficacy of Individual and
Group Psychotherapy: A Meta-analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research,
and Practice 2 (1998): 101–17. W. McDermut, I. Miller, and R. Brown, “The Efficacy of
Group Psychotherapy for Depression: A Meta-Analysis and Review of Empirical
Research,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 8 (2001): 98–116. G. Burlingame,
K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for Effectiveness and
Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley, 2004), 647–96. L.
Luborsky, P. Crits-Christoph, J. Mintz, and A. Auerbach, Who Will Benefit from
Psychotherapy? (New York: Basic Books, 1988). H. Bachrach, R. Galantzer-Levy, A.
Skolnikoff, and S. Waldron, “On the Efficacy of Psychoanalysis,” Journal of the American
Psychoanalytic Association 39 (1991): 871–916. L. Luborsky, L. Diguer, E. Luborsky, B.
Singer, D. Dickter, and K. Schmidt, “The Efficacy of Dynamic Psychotherapy: Is It True
That Everyone Has Won and All Must Have Prizes?” Psychodynamic Treatment Research:
A Handbook for Clinical Practice (New York: Basic Books, 1993): 497–518. M. Lambert
and A. Bergin, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New
York: Wiley, 1994), 143–89. M. Smith, G. Glass, and T. Miller, The Benefits of
Psychotherapy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980). A. Bergin and M.
Lambert, “The Evaluation of Therapeutic Outcomes,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 2nd ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New
York: Wiley, 1978), 139–83. R. Bednar and T. Kaul, “Experiential Group Research: Can
the Canon Fire?” in Garfield and Bergin, Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral
Change, 4th ed., 631–63. C. Tillitski, “A Meta-Analysis of Estimated Effect Sizes for
Group Versus Individual Versus Control Treatments,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 215–24. R. Toseland and M. Siporin, “When to Recommend
Group Therapy: A Review of the Clinical and Research Literature,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 171–201.
2 W. McFarlane et al., “Multiple-Family Groups in Psychoeducation in the Treatment of
Schizophrenia,” Archives of General Psychiatry 52 (1996): 679–87. M. Galanter and D.
Brook, “Network Therapy for Addiction: Bringing Family and Peer Support into Office
Practice,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 101–23. F. Fawzy, N.
Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a Psychoeducational
Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus Individual Formats: An
Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996): 81–89.
3 H. Strupp, S. Hadley, and B. Gomes-Schwartz, Psychotherapy for Better or Worse: The
Problem of Negative Effects (New York: Jason Aronson, 1977). Lambert and Bergin,
“Effectiveness of Psychotherapy,” 176–80. Luborsky et al. raise a dissenting voice: In

their study they found little evidence of negative psychotherapy effects. See Who Will
Benefit from Psychotherapy? M. Lambert and B. Ogles, “The Efficacy and Effectiveness
of Psychotherapy,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior
Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley, 2004): 139–93.
4 D. Martin, J. Garske, and M. Davis, “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome
and Other Variables: A Meta-Analytic Review,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 68 (2000): 438–50. A. Horvath, L. Gaston, and L. Luborsky, “The Therapeutic
Alliance and Its Measures,” in Dynamic Psychotherapy Research, ed. N. Miller, L.
Luborsky, and J. Docherty (New York: Basic Books, 1993): 297–373. L. Gaston, “The
Concept of the Alliance and Its Role in Psychotherapy: Theoretical and Empirical
Considerations,” Psychiatry 27 (1990): 143–53.
5 J. Krupnick et al., “The Role of the Therapeutic Alliance in Psychotherapy and
Pharmacotherapy Outcome: Findings in the National Institute of Mental Health
Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 64
(1996): 532–39. D. Orlinsky and K. Howard, “The Relation of Process to Outcome in
Psychotherapy,” in Garfield and Bergin, Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral
Change, 4th ed., 308–76. H. Strupp, R. Fox, and K. Lessler, Patients View Their
Psychotherapy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1969). P. Martin and A.
Sterne, “Post-Hospital Adjustment as Related to Therapists’ In-Therapy Behavior,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 13 (1976): 267–73. P. Buckley et al.,
“Psychodynamic Variables as Predictors of Psychotherapy Outcome,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 141 (1984): 742–48.
6 W. Meissner, “The Concept of the Therapeutic Alliance,” Journal of the American
Psychoanalytic Association 40 (1992): 1059–87. “Therapeutic alliance” is a term first
used by Zetsel to describe the client’s capacity to collaborate with her psychoanalyst in the
tasks of psychoanalysis. The client’s objectivity and commitment to explore and work
through the thoughts and feelings generated in the treatment are key aspects in this early
definition. Contemporary views of the therapeutic alliance define it more specifically as
the understanding shared between the client and therapist regarding the therapy’s goals
and the therapy’s tasks, along with the mutuality of trust, respect, and positive regard that
characterize a successful therapy experience. (Bordin; Safran and Muran) Wolfe and
Goldfried view the therapeutic alliance as “the quintessential integrative variable.” It lies
at the heart of every effective mental health treatment, regardless of model or therapist
orientation. E. Zetsel, “The Concept of the Transference,” in The Capacity for Emotional
Growth (New York: International Universities Press, 1956), 168–81. E. Bordin, “The
Generalizability of the Psychoanalytic Concept of the Therapeutic Alliance,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 16 (1979): 252–60. J. Safran and J.
Muran, Negotiating the Therapeutic Alliance: A Relational Treatment Guide (New York:
Guilford Press, 2003). B. Wolfe and M. Goldfried, “Research on Psychotherapy
Integration: Recommendations and Conclusions from an NIMH Workshop,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 56 (1988): 448–51.
7 A. Horvath and B. Symonds, “Relation Between Working Alliance and Outcome in

Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analysis,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 38 (1991): 139–49.
F. Fiedler, “A Comparison of Therapeutic Relationships in Psychoanalytic, Non-directive,
and Adlerian Therapy,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 14 (1950): 436–45. M.
Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York: Basic
Books, 1973).
8 R. DeRubeis and M. Feeley, “Determinants of Change in Cognitive Therapy for
Depression,” Cognitive Therapy and Research 14 (1990): 469–80. B. Rounsaville et al.,
“The Relation Between Specific and General Dimension: The Psychotherapy Process in
Interpersonal Therapy of Depression,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 55
(1987): 379–84. M. Salvio, L. Beutler, J. Wood, and D. Engle, “The Strength of the
Therapeutic Alliance in Three Treatments for Depression,” Psychotherapy Research 2
(1992): 31–36. N. Rector, D. Zuroff, and Z. Segal, “Cognitive Change and the Therapeutic
Alliance: The Role of Technical and Non-technical Factors in Cognitive Therapy,”
Psychotherapy 36 (1999): 320–28.
9 J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Validity of Controlled Clinical Trials of Psychotherapy: Findings
from the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 159 (2002): 775–83.
10 L. Castonguay, M. Goldfried, S. Wiser, P. Raus, and A. Hayes, “Predicting the Effect of
Cognitive Therapy for Depression: A Study of Common and Unique Factors,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 65 (1996): 588–98. Rector et al., “Cognitive Change
and the Therapeutic Alliance.”
11 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy,” in A
Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships that Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002). E. Smith, J. Murphy, and S. Coats, “Attachment to
Groups: Theory and Measurement,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77
(1999): 94–110. D. Forsyth, “The Social Psychology of Groups and Group Psychotherapy:
One View of the Next Century,” Group 24 (2000): 147–55.
12 Bednar and Kaul, “Experiential Group Research.”
13 S. Bloch and E. Crouch, Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1985), 99–103. N. Evans and P. Jarvis, “Group Cohesion: A
Review and Reevaluation,” Small Group Behavior 2 (1980): 359–70. S. Drescher, G.
Burlingame, and A. Fuhriman, “Cohesion: An Odyssey in Empirical Understanding,”
Small Group Behavior 16 (1985): 3–30. G. Burlingame, J. Kircher, and S. Taylor,
“Methodological Considerations in Group Therapy Research: Past, Present, and Future
Practices,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame
(New York: Wiley, 1994): 41–82. G. Burlingame, J. Johnson, and K. MacKenzie, “We
Know It When We See It, But Can We Measure? Therapeutic Relationship in Group,”
presented at the annual meeting of the American Group Psychotherapy Association, New
Orleans, 2002.
14 D. Cartwright and A. Zander, eds., Group Dynamics: Research and Theory (Evanston,
Ill.: Row, Peterson, 1962), 74.

15 J. Frank, “Some Determinants, Manifestations, and Effects of Cohesion in Therapy
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 53–62.
16 Bloch and Crouch, “Therapeutic Factors.”
17 Researchers either have had to depend on members’ subjective ratings of attraction to
the group or critical incidents or, more recently, have striven for greater precision by
relying entirely on raters’ evaluations of global climate or such variables as fragmentation
versus cohesiveness, withdrawal versus involvement, mistrust versus trust, disruption
versus cooperation, abusiveness versus expressed caring, unfocused versus focused. See S.
Budman et al., “Preliminary Findings on a New Instrument to Measure Cohesion in Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 75–94.
18 D. Kivlighan and D. Mullison, “Participants’ Perceptions of Therapeutic Factors in
Group Counseling,” Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 452–68. L. Braaten, “The Different
Patterns of Group Climate: Critical Incidents in High and Low Cohesion Sessions of
Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 477–93.
19 D. Kivlighan and R. Lilly, “Developmental Changes in Group Climate as They Relate
to Therapeutic Gain,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 208–
21. L. Castonguay, A. Pincus, W. Agras, and C. Hines, “The Role of Emotion in Group
Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy for Binge Eating Disorder: When Things Have to Feel
Worse Before They Get Better,” Psychotherapy Research 8 (1998): 225–38.
20 R. MacKenzie and V. Tschuschke, “Relatedness, Group Work, and Outcome in Long-
Term Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research
2 (1993): 147–56.
21 G. Tasca, C. Flynn, and H. Bissada, “Comparison of Group Climate in an Eating
Disorders Partial Hospital Group and a Psychiatric Partial Hospital Group,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 419–30.
22 R. Segalla, “Hatred in Group Therapy: A Rewarding Challenge,” Group 25 (2001):
121–32.
23 A. Roarck and H. Sharah, “Factors Related to Group Cohesiveness,” Small Group
Behavior 20 (1989): 62–69.
24 Frank, “Some Determinants.” C. Marmarosh and J. Corazzini, “Putting the Group in
Your Pocket: Using Collective Identity to Enhance Personal and Collective Self-Esteem,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 65–74.
25 H. Grunebaum and L. Solomon, “Peer Relationships, Self-Esteem, and the Self,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 475–513.
26 Frank, “Some Determinants.” Braaten, “The Different Patterns of Group Climate.”
27 K. Dion, “Group Cohesion: From ‘Field of Forces’ to Multidimensional Construct,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 4 (2000): 7–26.
28 K. MacKenzie, “The Clinical Application of a Group Measure,” in Advances in Group
Psychotherapy: Integrating Research and Practice, ed. R. Dies and K. MacKenzie (New

York: International Universities Press, 1983), 159–70. Tasca et al., “Comparison of Group
Climate.”
29 E. Marziali, H. Munroe-Blum, and L. McCleary, “The Contribution of Group Cohesion
and Group Alliance to the Outcome of Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 475–99. J. Gillaspy, A. Wright, C. Campbell, S. Stokes,
and B. Adinoff, “Group Alliance and Cohesion as Predictors of Drug and Alcohol Abuse
Treatment Outcomes,” Psychotherapy Research 12 (2002): 213–29. G. Burlingame and
colleagues have completed a comprehensive review of the current group relationship
measures, describing the strengths and limitations of the available rating measures. See
Burlingame et al., “We Know It When We See It.”
30 H. Spitz, Group Psychotherapy and Managed Mental Health Care: A Clinical Guide
for Providers (New York: Brunner Mazel, 1996). H. Spitz, “Group Psychotherapy of
Substance Abuse in the Era of Managed Mental Health Care,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 21–41.
31 H. Dickoff and M. Lakin, “Patients’ Views of Group Psychotherapy: Retrospections
and Interpretations,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 13 (1963): 61–73.
Twenty-eight patients who had been in either clinic or private outpatient groups were
studied. The chief limitation of this exploratory inquiry is that the group therapy
experience was of brief duration (the mean number of meetings attended was eleven).
32 I. Yalom, The Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy, 1st ed. (New York: Basic
Books, 1970).
33 R. Cabral, J. Best, and A. Paton, “Patients’ and Observers’ Assessments of Process and
Outcome in Group Therapy,” American Journal of Psychiatry 132 (1975): 1052–54.
34 F. Kapp et al., “Group Participation and Self-Perceived Personality Change,” Journal
of Nervous Mental Disorders 139 (1964): 255–65.
35 I. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement in Group Therapy,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68. Three measures of outcome (symptoms, functioning, and
relationships) were assessed both in a psychiatric interview by a team of raters and in a
self-assessment scale.
36 Cohesiveness was measured by a postgroup questionnaire filled out by each client at
the seventh and the twelfth meetings, with each question answered on a 5-point scale:
1. How often do you think your group should meet?
2. How well do you like the group you are in?
3. If most of the members of your group decided to dissolve the group by leaving,
would you like an opportunity to dissuade them?
4. Do you feel that working with the group you are in will enable you to attain most
of your goals in therapy?
5. If you could replace members of your group with other ideal group members, how
many would you exchange (exclusive of group therapists)?

6. To what degree do you feel that you are included by the group in the group’s
activities?
7. How do you feel about your participation in, and contribution to, the group work?
8. What do you feel about the length of the group meeting?
9. How do you feel about the group therapist(s)?
10. Are you ashamed of being in group therapy?
11. Compared with other therapy groups, how well would you imagine your group
works together?
37 I. Falloon, “Interpersonal Variables in Behavioral Group Therapy,” British Journal of
Medical Psychology 54 (1981): 133–41.
38 J. Clark and S. Culbert, “Mutually Therapeutic Perception and Self-Awareness in a T-
Group,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 180–94.
39 Outcome was measured by a well-validated rating scale (designed by A. Walker, R.
Rablen, and C. Rogers, “Development of a Scale to Measure Process Changes in
Psychotherapy,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 16 [1960]: 79–85) that measured change
in one’s ability to relate to others, to construe one’s experience, to approach one’s affective
life, and to confront and cope with one’s chief problem areas. Samples of each member’s
speech were independently rated on this scale by trained naive judges from taped excerpts
early and late in the course of the group. Intermember relationships were measured by the
Barrett-Lennard Relationship Inventory (G. Barrett-Lennard, “Dimensions of Therapist
Response as Causal Factors in Therapeutic Change,” Psychological Monographs 76, [43,
Whole No. 562] [1962]), which provided a measure of how each member viewed each
other member (and the therapist) in terms of “unconditional, positive regard, empathic
understanding, and congruence.”
40 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
41 First, a critical incident questionnaire was used to ask each member, after each meeting,
to describe the most significant event of that meeting. All events pertaining to group
attraction, communion, belongingness, and so on were tabulated. Second, a cohesiveness
questionnaire similar to the one described earlier (Yalom et al., “Prediction of
Improvement”) was administered early and late in the course of the group.
42 J. Hurley, “Affiliativeness and Outcome in Interpersonal Groups: Member and Leader
Perspectives,” Psychotherapy 26 (1989): 520–23.
43 MacKenzie and Tschuschke, “Relatedness, Group Work, and Outcome.”
44 Budman et al., “Preliminary Findings on a New Instrument.” Although this scale is
based on the assumption that cohesiveness is multidimensional, results of a well-designed
study of time-limited (fifteen sessions) therapy groups in fact supported cohesiveness as a
single factor. Furthermore, an attempt to distinguish cohesiveness from alliance was also
unsuccessful. The authors suggest that it may be especially critical for group leaders to
attempt to develop a strong working alliance between group members during the first half

hour of each group. S. Budman, S. Soldz, A. Demby, M. Feldstein, T. Springer, and M.
Davis, “Cohesion, Alliance, and Outcome in Group Psychotherapy, Psychiatry 52 (1989):
339–50.
45 Marziali et al., “The Contribution of Group Cohesion.”
46 Budman et al., “Preliminary Findings on a New Instrument.”
47 D. Hope, R. Heimberg, H. Juster, and C. Turk, Managing Social Anxiety: A Cognitive-
Behavioral Therapy Approach (San Antonio: Psychological Corp., 2001).
48 S. Woody and R. Adesky, “Therapeutic Alliance, Group Cohesion, and Homework
Compliance During Cognitive-Behavioral Group Treatment of Social Phobia,” Behavior
Therapy 33 (2002): 5–27.
49 H. Sexton, “Exploring a Psychotherapeutic Change Sequence: Relating Process to
Intersessional and Posttreatment Outcome,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 61 (1993): 128–36.
50 K. MacKenzie, R. Dies, E. Coche, J. Rutan, and W. Stone, “An Analysis of AGPA
Institute Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 55–74.
51 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term Inpatient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
185–208.
52 Horvath and Symonds, “Relation Between Working Alliance and Outcome.” Martin et
al., “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome.”
53 C. Rogers, “A Theory of Therapy, Personality, and Interpersonal Relationships,” in
Psychology: A Study of a Science, vol. 3, ed. S. Koch (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1959),
184–256.
54 F. Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathrusta, trans. R. Hollingsdale (New York: Penguin
Books, 1969).
55 K. Horney, Neurosis and Human Growth (New York: Norton, 1950), 15.
56 J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique (New York: Guilford
Press, 1993).
57 Rector et al., “Cognitive Change and the Therapeutic Alliance.”
58 C. Truax, “The Process of Group Therapy: Relationships Between Hypothesized
Therapeutic Conditions and Intrapersonal Exploration,” Psychological Monographs 75
(5111 [1961]).
59 A. Walker, R. Rablen, and C. Rogers, “Development of a Scale to Measure Process
Changes in Psychotherapy,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 16 (1960): 79–85.
60 Roarck and Sharah, “Factors Related to Group Cohesiveness.” Tschuschke and Dies,
“Intensive Analysis.”
61 A. Bandura, Social Foundations of Thought and Action (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.:

Prentice Hall, 1986).
62 C. Rogers, personal communication, April 1967.
63 C. Rogers, “The Process of the Basic Encounter Group,” unpublished mimeograph,
Western Behavioral Science Institute, La Jolla, Calif., 1966.
64 P. Schlachet, “The Once and Future Group: Vicissitudes of Belonging,” Group 24
(2000): 123–32.
65 I. Rubin, “The Reduction of Prejudice Through Laboratory Training,” Journal of
Applied Behavioral Science 3 (1967): 29–50. E. Fromm, The Art of Loving (New York:
Bantam Books, 1956).
66 M. Leszcz, E. Feigenbaum, J. Sadavoy, and A. Robinson, “A Men’s Group:
Psychotherapy with Elderly Males,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35
(1985): 177–96.
67 D. Miller, “The Study of Social Relationships: Situation, Identity, and Social
Interaction,” in Koch, Psychology: A Study of a Science 3 (1983): 639–737.
68 H. Sullivan, Conceptions of Modern Psychiatry (London: Tavistock, 1955), 22.
69 Smith et al., “Attachment to Groups.”
70 Miller, “Study of Social Relationships,” 696.
71 E. Murray, “A Content Analysis for Study in Psychotherapy,” Psychological
Monographs 70 (13 [1956]).
72 R. DeRubeis and M. Feeley, “Determinants of Change in Cognitive Therapy for
Depression,” Cognitive Therapy and Research 14 (1990): 469–80. Rounsaville et al., “The
Relation Between Specific and General Dimensions.” J. Safran and L. Wallner, “The
Relative Predictive Validity of Two Therapeutic Alliance Measures in Cognitive Therapy,”
Psychological Assessment 3 (1991): 188–95. Rector et al., “Cognitive Change.”
73 Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works. P. Fretter, W. Bucci, J. Broitman, G. Silberschatz,
and J. T. Curtis, “How the Patient’s Plan Relates to the Concept of Transference,”
Psychotherapy Research 4 (1994): 58–72.
74 D. Lundgren and D. Miller, “Identity and Behavioral Change in Training Groups,”
Human Relations Training News 9 (Spring 1965).
75 Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement.”
76 Before beginning therapy, the patients completed a modified Jourard self-disclosure
questionnaire (S. Jourard, “Self-Disclosure Patterns in British and American College
Females,” Journal of Social Psychology 54 [1961]: 315–20). Individuals who had
previously disclosed much of themselves (relevant to the other group members) to close
friends or to groups of individuals were destined to become popular in their groups.
Hurley demonstrated, in a ten-week counseling group, that popularity was correlated with
self-disclosure in the group as well as prior to group therapy (S. Hurley, “Self-Disclosure
in Small Counseling Groups,” Ph.D. diss., Michigan State University, 1967).

77 Measured by the FIRO-B questionnaire (see chapter 10).
78 J. Connelly et al., “Premature Termination in Group Psychotherapy: Pretherapy and
Early Therapy Predictors,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986):
145–52.
79 Ibid.
80 P. Costa and R. McCrae, Revised NEO Personality Inventory and Five-Factor
Inventory Professional Manual (Odessa, Fla.: Psychological Assessment Services, 1992).
The NEO-PI assesses five personality dimensions: extraversion, agreeableness,
conscientiousness, neuroticism, and openness to experience.
81 C. Anderson, O. John, D. Keltner, and A. Kring, “Who Attains Social Status? Effects
of Personality and Physical Attractiveness in Social Groups,” Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology 81 (2001): 116–32.
82 R. Depue, “A Neurobiological Framework for the Structure of Personality and
Emotion: Implications for Personality Disorders,” in Major Theories of Personality
Disorders, ed. J. Clarkin and M. Lenzenweger (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), 342–90.
83 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
84 G. Homans, The Human Group (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1950).
85 Anderson et al., “Who Attains Social Status?”
86 Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement.” I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy
Drop-Outs,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14 (1966): 393–414.
87 E. Nash et al., “Some Factors Related to Patients Remaining in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 264–75.
88 Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Drop-Outs.”
89 I. Yalom and K. Rand, “Compatibility and Cohesiveness in Therapy Groups,” Archives
of General Psychiatry 13 (1966): 267–76. P. Sagi, D. Olmstead, and F. Atalsek,
“Predicting Maintenance of Membership in Small Groups,” Journal of Abnormal Social
Psychology 51 (1955): 308–11. In this study of twenty-three college student organizations,
a significant correlation was noted between attendance and group cohesiveness. Yalom
and Rand, “Compatibility and Cohesiveness.” This study of cohesiveness, among forty
members of five therapy groups found that the members who experienced little cohesion
terminated within the first twelve meetings. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement.” J.
Connelly et al., “Premature Termination.” This study of sixty-six clients revealed that the
twenty-two dropouts had less cohesiveness—they were less engaged, they perceived the
group as less compatible and less supportive, and they were viewed less positively by
other members. H. Roback and M. Smith, “Patient Attrition in Dynamically Oriented
Treatment Groups,” American Journal of Psychiatry 144 (1987): 165–77. Dropouts in this
study reported that they felt less mutual understanding within the group. H. Roback,
“Adverse Outcomes in Group Psychotherapy: Risk Factors, Prevention, and Research
Directions,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9 (2000): 113–22.

90 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
91 I. Yalom, J. Tinklenberg, and M. Gilula, “Curative Factors in Group Therapy,”
unpublished study, Department of Psychiatry, Stanford University, 1968.
92 Braaten, “The Different Patterns of Group Climate.” K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited
Theory and Technique,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H.
Swiller (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1993).
93 M. Sherif et al., Intergroup Conflict and Cooperation: The Robbers’ Cave Experiment
(Norman: University of Oklahoma Book Exchange, 1961).
94 R. Baumeister and M. Leary, “The Need to Belong: Desire for Interpersonal
attachments as a Fundamental Human Motivation,” Psychology Bulletin 117 (1995): 497–
529.
95 P. Evanson and R. Bednar, “Effects of Specific Cognitive and Behavioral Structure on
Early Group Behavior and Atmosphere,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 77 (1978):
258–62. F. Lee and R. Bednar, “Effects of Group Structure and Risk-Taking Disposition
on Group Behavior, Attitudes, and Atmosphere,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 24
(1977): 191–99. J. Stokes, “Toward an Understanding of Cohesion in Personal Change
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 449–67.
96 A. Cota, C. Evans, K. Dion, L. Kilik, and R. Longman, “The Structure of Group
Cohesion,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 21 (1995): 572–80. N. Evans and
P. Jarvis, “Group Cohesion: A Review and Evaluation,” Small Group Behavior 11 (1980):
357–70. S. Budge, “Group Cohesiveness Reexamined,” Group 5 (1981): 10–18. Bednar
and Kaul, “Experiential Group Research.” E. Crouch, S. Bloch, and J. Wanless,
“Therapeutic Factors: Intrapersonal and Interpersonal Mechanisms,” in Handbook of
Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994):
269–317.
97 Castonguay et al., “The Role of Emotion.”
98 J. Frank, “Some Values of Conflict in Therapeutic Groups,” Group Psychotherapy 8
(1955): 142–151.
99 I. Yalom The Schopenhauer Cure, (New York: HarperCollins, 2005) 175ff.
100 A study by Pepitone and Reichling offers experimental corroboration. Paid college
students were divided into thirteen high-cohesion and thirteen low-cohesion laboratory
task groups. Cohesion was created in the usual experimental manner: members of high-
cohesion groups were told before their first meeting that their group had been composed
of individuals who had been carefully matched from psychological questionnaires to
ensure maximum compatibility. The members of low-cohesion groups were given the
opposite treatment and were told the matching was unsuccessful and they would probably
not get along well together. The groups, while waiting for the experiment to begin, were
systematically insulted by a member of the research team. After he had left, the members
of the high-cohesive groups were significantly more able to express open and intense
hostility about the authority figure (A. Pepitone and G. Reichling, “Group Cohesiveness

and the Expression of Hostility,” Human Relations 8 [1955]: 327–37).
101 S. Schiedlinger, “On Scapegoating in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 131–43.
102 T. Postmes, R. Spears, and S. Cihangir, “Quality of Decision Making and Group
Norms,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 80 (2001): 918–30.
103 I. Janis, Groupthink: Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascoes, 2d ed.
(Boston: Houghton Muffin, 1982), 9.
104 Postmes et al., “Quality of Decision Making.”
105 G. Hodson and R. Sorrentino, “Groupthink and Uncertainty Orientation: Personality
Differences in Reactivity to the Group Situation,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research,
and Practice 1 (1997): 144–55.
106 These findings are strongly correlative—that is, cohesion and the reported group
variables increase together at the same time. Although this does not establish a clear
causeand-effect relationship, it underscores the important relationship between cohesion
and a large number of desired outcomes. Research on the therapeutic alliance in individual
psychotherapy is relevant: there is a strong, enduring positive relationship between
therapeutic alliance and outcome. This is a genuine finding; it is not an artifact of clients
who endorse therapy strongly because of early change in their target symptoms. See
Martin et al., “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome.”
107 A. Goldstein, K. Heller, and L. Sechrest, Psychotherapy and the Psychology of
Behavior Change (New York: Wiley, 1966).
108 Cartwright and Zander, “Group Cohesiveness: Introduction,” in Group Dynamics, 69–
74.
109 K. Back, “Influence Through Social Communication,” Journal of Abnormal Social
Psychology 46 (1951): 398–405.
110 G. Rasmussen and A. Zander, “Group Membership and Self-Evaluation,” Human
Relations 7 (1954): 239–51.
111 S. Seashore, “Group Cohesiveness in the Industrial Work Group,” Monograph, Ann
Arbor, Mich., Institute for Social Research, 1954.
112 Rasmussen and Zander, “Group Membership and Self-Evaluation.” Goldstein et al.,
Psychology of Behavior Change, 329.
113 R. Kirschner, R. Dies, and R. Brown, “Effects of Experiential Manipulation of Self-
Disclosure on Group Cohesiveness,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 46
(1978): 1171–77.
114 S. Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection, and Communication,” Journal of Abnormal
Social Psychology 46 (1951): 190–207. A. Zander and A. Havelin, “Social Comparison
and Intergroup Attraction,” cited in Cartwright and Zander, Group Dynamics, 94. A. Rich,
“An Experimental Study of the Nature of Communication to a Deviate in High and Low

Cohesive Groups,” Dissertation Abstracts 29 (1968): 1976.
115 Goldstein et al., Psychology of Behavior Change. Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection,
and Communication.” These findings stem from experimentally composed groups and
situations. As an illustration of the methodology used in these studies, consider an
experiment by Schachter, who organized groups of paid volunteers to discuss a social
problem—the correctional treatment of a juvenile delinquent with a long history of
recidivism. In the manner described previously, several groups of low and high
cohesiveness were formed, and paid confederates were introduced into each group who
deliberately assumed an extreme position on the topic under discussion. The content of the
discussion, sociometric data, and other postgroup questionnaires were analyzed to
determine, for example, the intensity of the efforts to influence the deviant and the degree
of rejection of the deviant.
116 A. Fuerher and C. Keys, “Group Development in Self-Help Groups for College
Students,” Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 325–41.

CHAPTER 4
1 B. Brown, T. Hedinger, G. Mieling, “A Homogeneous Group Approach to Social Skills
Training for Individuals with Learning Disabilities,” Journal for Specialists in Group
Work 20 (1995): 98–107. D. Randall, “Curative Factor Rankings for Female Incest
Survivor Groups: A Summary of Three Studies,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20
(1995): 232–39. K. Card and L. Schmider, “Group Work with Members Who Have
Hearing Impairments,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 83–90. K.
Kobak, A. Rock, and J. Greist, “Group Behavior Therapy for Obsessive-Compulsive
Disorder,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 26–32. G. Price, P. Dinas, C.
Dunn, and C. Winterowd, “Group Work with Clients Experiencing Grieving: Moving
from Theory to Practice,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 159–67. J.
DeLucia-Waack, “Multiculturalism Is Inherent in All Group Work,” Journal for
Specialists in Group Work 21 (1996): 218–23. J. McLeod and A. Ryan, “Therapeutic
Factors Experienced by Members of an Outpatient Therapy Group for Older Women,”
British Journal of Guidance and Counseling 21 (1993): 64–72. I. Johnson, T. Torres, V.
Coleman, and M. Smith, “Issues and Strategies in Leading Culturally Diverse Counseling
Groups,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 143–50. S. Bloch and E.
Crouch, Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1985). E. Crouch, S. Bloch, and J. Wanless, “Therapeutic Factors: Intrapersonal and
Interpersonal Mechanisms,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and
G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 269–312. R. Rugel, “Addictions Treatment in
Groups: A Review of Therapeutic Factors,” Small Group Research 22 (1991): 475–91. W.
Fawcett Hill, “Further Consideration of Therapeutic Mechanisms in Group Therapy,”
Small Group Behavior 6 (1975): 421–29. A. Fuhriman and T. Butler, “Curative Factors in
Group Therapy: A Review of the Recent Literature,” Small Group Behavior 14 (1983):
131–42. K. MacKenzie, “Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy: A Contemporary
View,” Group 11 (1987): 26–34. S. Bloch, R. Crouch, and J. Reibstein, “Therapeutic
Factors in Group Psychotherapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 38 (1981): 519–26.
2 An alternative method of assessing therapeutic factors is the “critical incident” approach
used by my colleagues and me in a large encounter group study (M. Lieberman, I. Yalom,
and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts [New York: Basic Books, 1973]) and by
Bloch and Crouch (Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy). In this method, clients
are asked to recall the most critical event of the therapy session, and the responses are then
coded by trained raters into appropriate categories. The following are examples of studies
using critical incident methodology:R. Cabral, J. Best, and A. Paton, “Patients’ and
Observers’ Assessments of Process and Outcome in Group Therapy: A Follow-up Study,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 132 (1975): 1052–54. R. Cabral and A. Paton,
“Evaluation of Group Therapy: Correlations Between Clients’ and Observers’
Assessments,” British Journal of Psychiatry 126 (1975): 475–77. S. Bloch and J.
Reibstein, “Perceptions by Patients and Therapists of Therapeutic Factors in Group

Psychotherapy,” British Journal of Psychiatry 137 (1980): 274–78. D. Kivlighan and D.
Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors in Group Counseling: The Role
of Interpersonal Style and Stage of Group Development,” Small Group Behavior 19
(1988): 452–68. D. Kivlighan and D. Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors as a
Function of Stage of Group Development and Participant Interpersonal Attitudes,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 38 (1991): 150–58. G. Mushet, G. Whalan, and R.
Power, “In-patients’ Views of the Helpful Aspects of Group Psychotherapy: Impact of
Therapeutic Style and Treatment Setting,” British Journal of Medical Psychology 62
(1989): 135–41.
3 K. Lese, R. McNair-Semands, “The Therapeutic Factor Inventory Development of a
Scale,” Group 24 (2000): 303–17.
4 R. Bednar and T. Kaul, “Experiential Group Research: Can the Canon Fire?” in
Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed.
S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 631–63.
5 H. Roback, “Experimental Comparison of Outcome in Insight and Non-Insight-Oriented
Therapy Groups,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 38 (1972): 411–17. J. Lomont et al.,
“Group Assertion Training and Group Insight Therapies,” Psychological Reports 25
(1969): 463–70. S. Abramowitz and C. Abramowitz, “Psychological-Mindedness and
Benefit from Insight-Oriented Group Therapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 30 (1974):
610–15. S. Abramowitz and C. Jackson, “Comparative Effectiveness of There-and-Then
Versus Here-and-Now Therapist Interpretations in Group Psychotherapy,” Journal of
Counseling Psychology 21 (1974): 288–94.
6 W. Piper, A. Joyce, M. McCallum, and H. Azim, “Interpretive and Supportive Forms of
Psychotherapy and Patient Personality Variables,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 66 (1998): 558–67. R. Wing and R. Jeffery, “Benefits of Recruiting
Participants with Friends and Increasing Social Support for Weight Loss and
Maintenance,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 132–38.
7 B. Berzon, C. Pious, and R. Parson, “The Therapeutic Event in Group Psychotherapy: A
Study of Subjective Reports by Group Members,” Journal of Individual Psychology 19
(1963): 204–12. H. Dickoff and M. Lakin, “Patients’ Views of Group Psychotherapy:
Retrospections and Interpretations,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 13
(1963): 61–73.
8 J. Reddon, L. Payne, and K. Starzyk, “Therapeutic Factors in Group Treatment
Evaluated by Sex Offenders: A Consumers Report,” Journal of Offender Rehabilitation 28
(1999): 91–101. A. Nerenberg, “The Value of Group Psychotherapy for Sexual Addicts,”
Sexual Addiction and Compulsivity 7 (2000): 197–200). R. Morgan and C. Winterowd,
“Interpersonal Process-Oriented Group Psychotherapy with Offender Populations,”
International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology 46 (2002): 466–
82.
9 K. Lese and R. McNair-Semands, “The Therapeutic Factors Inventory: Development of
a Scale,” Group 24 (2000): 303–17. I. Yalom, J. Tinklenberg, and M. Gilula, “Curative

Factors in Group Therapy,” unpublished study, Department of Psychiatry, Stanford
University, 1968.
10 Spurred by the large data pool of the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative
Research Program, individual psychotherapy researchers have used a method similar to
the Q-sort discussed in detail in this chapter: they developed a 100-item scale, the
Psychotherapy Process Q Set (PQS), which is completed by trained raters evaluating
session recordings at sessions 4 and 12 of a sixteen-session treatment. The PQS evaluates
the therapy, therapist, and therapy relationship on a range of process criteria. Analysis of
the 100 items produces a core of therapeutic factors. Successful therapies, both
interpersonal therapy and cognitive-behavioral therapy, were similar in that in both
treatments created a relationship in which clients developed a positive sense of self and
very strong positive regard for their therapist (J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Psychotherapy
Process in the National Institute of Mental Health Treatment of Depression Collaborative
Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 64–75).
Lese and McNair-Semands (“The Therapeutic Factors Inventory”) developed the group
therapy Therapeutic Factors Inventory (TFI), a self-report instrument. The TFI, which
builds on the original therapeutic factor Q-sort, demonstrates promise as a research tool
with empirically acceptable levels of internal consistency and test-retest reliability.
11 Yalom et al., “Curative Factors in Group Therapy.”
12 There were four checks to ensure that our sample was a successfully treated one: (1)
the therapists’ evaluation; (2) length of treatment (previous research in the same clinic
demonstrated that group members who remained in therapy for that length of time had an
extremely high rate of improvement [I. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement in Group
Therapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 158–68]); (3) the investigators’
independent interview ratings of improvement on a 13-point scale in four areas:
symptoms, functioning, interpersonal relationships, and self-concept; and (4) the
members’ self-rating on the same scale.
13 S Freeman and J. Hurley, “Perceptions of Helpfulness and Behavior in Groups,” Group
4 (1980): 51–58. M. Rohrbaugh and B. Bartels, “Participants’ Perceptions of ‘Curative
Factors’ in Therapy and Growth Groups,” Small Group Behavior 6 (1975): 430–56. B.
Corder, L. Whiteside, and T. Haizlip, “A Study of Curative Factors in Group
Psychotherapy with Adolescents,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 31
(1981): 345–54. P. Sullivan and S. Sawilowsky, “Yalom Factor Research: Threats to
Internal Validity,” presented at the American Group Psychotherapy Convention, San
Diego, Calif., February 1993. M. Stone, C. Lewis, and A. Beck, “The Structure of Yalom’s
Curative Factor Scale,” presented at the American Psychological Association Convention,
Washington, D.C., 1992.
14 The number in each of the seven piles thus approaches a normal distribution curve and
facilitates statistical assessment. For more about the Q-sort technique, see J. Block, The Q-
Sort Method in Personality Assessment and Psychiatric Research (Springfield, Ill.:
Charles C. Thomas, 1961).
15 Freedman and Hurley (“Perceptions of Helpfulness”) studied twenty-eight subjects in

three fifty-hour sensitivity-training groups. Seven of the ten items selected as most helpful
by these subjects were among the ten I listed. The subjects in Freedman and Hurley’s
study placed three new items (21, 23, and 24 in table 4.1) into the top ten. These items are
all interpersonal output items, and it is entirely consistent that members of a sensitivity
group that explicitly focused on modifying interpersonal behavior should value these
items. B. Corder, L. Whiteside, and T. Haizlip (“A Study of Curative Factors in Group
Psychotherapy”) studied sixteen adolescents from four different groups in different
clinical settings, both outpatient and inpatient. The youths did not highly value the adults’
top ranked item (insight), but their next four highest items were identical to those the
adults had chosen. Overall, they valued the therapeutic factors of universality and
cohesiveness more highly than did adults. R. Marcovitz and J. Smith (“Patients’
Perceptions of Curative Factors in Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 [1983]: 21–37) studied thirty high-functioning
inpatients who attended group psychotherapy in a psychiatric hospital. Only three of the
top ten items in their study corresponded to our results, but their method was different:
they asked patients to rate items from 1 to 60, rather than the Q-sort technique of sorting
into piles from most helpful to least helpful. Their subjects’ top selected item was item 60
(Ultimately taking responsibility for my own life). When condensed into the rankings of
overall therapeutic factors, their results were quite similar to ours, with five of the top six
factors the same; their subjects ranked altruism third, notably higher than the outpatient
sample did. M. Rohrbaugh and B. Bartels (“Participants’ Perceptions of ‘Curative
Factors’”) studied seventy-two individuals in both psychiatric settings and growth groups.
Their results were also consistent with our original Q-sort study: interpersonal learning
(both input and output), catharsis, cohesiveness, and insight were the most valued factors,
and guidance, family reenactment, and identification were least valued.
16 M. Weiner, “Genetic Versus Interpersonal Insight,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 24 (1974): 230–37. Rohrbaugh and Bartels, “Participants’ Perceptions.” T.
Butler and A. Fuhriman, “Patient Perspective on the Curative Process: A Comparison of
Day Treatment and Outpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Small Group Behavior 11 (1980):
371–88. T. Butler and A. Fuhriman, “Level of Functioning and Length of Time in
Treatment: Variables Influencing Patients’ Therapeutic Experience in Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 489–504. L. Long and C. Cope,
“Curative Factors in a Male Felony Offender Group,” Small Group Behavior 11 (1980):
389–98. Kivlighan and Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors.” S.
Colijn, E. Hoencamp, H. Snijders, M. Van Der Spek, and H. Duivenvoorden, “A
Comparison of Curative Factors in Different Types of Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 365–78. V. Brabender, E.
Albrecht, J. Sillitti, J. Cooper, and E. Kramer, “A Study of Curative Factors in Short-Term
Group Therapy,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 34 (1993): 643–44. M. Hobbs, S.
Birtchnall, A. Harte, and H. Lacey, “Therapeutic Factors in Short-Term Group Therapy for
Women with Bulimia,” International Journal of Eating Disorders 8 (1989): 623–33. R.
Kapur, K. Miller, and G. Mitchell, “Therapeutic Factors Within Inpatient and Outpatient
Psychotherapy Groups,” British Journal of Psychiatry 152 (1988): 229–33. I. Wheeler, K.
O’Malley, M. Waldo, and J. Murphy, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors in

Groups for Incest Survivors,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 17 (1992): 89–95.
Many of these studies (and the personal-growth therapeutic factor studies and inpatient
group studies discussed later) do not use the sixty-item Q-sort but use instead an
abbreviated instrument based on it. Generally, the instrument consists of twelve
statements, each describing one of the therapeutic factors, which patients are asked to
rank-order. Some studies use the critical incident method described in note 2. In the
Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group study (Encounter Groups), the most
important factors involved expression of a feeling (both positive and negative) to another
person, attainment of insight, vicarious therapy, and responding with strong positive
and/or negative feelings. In the Bloch and Reibstein study (“Perceptions by Patients and
Therapists”), the most valued factors were self-understanding, self-disclosure (which
includes some elements of catharsis and interpersonal learning on other tests), and
learning from interpersonal actions. Although the structure of the categories is different,
the findings of these projects are consistent with the studies of the therapeutic factor in the
abbreviated Q-sort.
17 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups. S. Freedman and J. Hurley,
“Maslow’s Needs: Individuals’ Perceptions of Helpful Factors in Growth Groups,” Small
Group Behavior 10 (1979): 355–67. Freedman and Hurley, “Perceptions of Helpfulness.”
Kivlighan and Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors.”
18 MacKenzie, “Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy.”
19 Stone et al., “The Structure of Yalom’s Curative Factor Scale.”
20 S. Holmes and D. Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors in Group and
Individual Treatment Process,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 47 (2000): 478–84.
21 A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame, “Consistency of Matter: A Comparison Analysis of
Individual and Group Process Variables,” Counseling Psychologist 18 (1990): 6–63.
Holmes and Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors.”
22 J. Breuer and S. Freud, Studies on Hysteria (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
23 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
24 Bloch and Crouch suggest “purifying” the factor of catharsis. They separate out the
acquisition of the skill of being emotionally expressive and include it in another
therapeutic factor, “learning from interpersonal action.” Furthermore, they split off the
expression of bothersome ideas into a separate category, “self-disclosure.” Cleared of
these, catharsis is left with only “emotional release,” which I think has the advantage of
greater consistency yet becomes separated from any clinical reality, since emotional
expression in the group cannot help but have far-reaching interpersonal ramifications. See
Crouch, Bloch and Wauless, “Therapeutic Factors: Intrapersonal and Interpersonal
Mechanisms.”
25 Freedman and Hurley, “Perceptions of Helpfulness.”
26 M. McCallum, W. Piper, and H. Morin, “Affect and Outcome in Short-Term Group
Therapy for Loss,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 303–19.

27 A. Stanton et al., “Emotionally Expressive Coping Predicts Psychological and Physical
Adjustment to Breast Cancer,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 68 (2000):
875–72.
28 J. Bower, M. Kemeny, S. Taylor, and J. Fahey, “Cognitive Processing, Discovery of
Meaning, CD4 Decline, and AIDS-Related Mortality Among Bereaved HIV-Seropositive
Men,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 66 (1998): 979–86.
29 Rohrbaugh and Bartels, “Participants’ Perceptions.”
30 J. Flowers and C. Booraem, “The Frequency and Effect on Outcome of Different Types
of Interpretation in Psychodynamic and Cognitive-Behavioral Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40: 203–14.
31 A. Maslow, “The Need to Know and the Fear of Knowing,” Journal of General
Psychology 68 (1963): 111–25.
32 J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique (New York: Guilford
Press, 1993).
33 A. Maslow, Motivation and Personality (New York: Harper, 1954).
34 D. Hellerstein, R. Rosenthal, H. Pinsker, L. Samstag, J. Muran, and A. Winston, “A
Randomized Prospective Study Comparing Supportive and Dynamic Therapies: Outcome
and Alliance,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 261–71.
35 Maslow, “The Need to Know.”
36 R. White, “Motivation Reconsidered: The Concept of Competence,” Psychological
Review 66 (1959): 297–333.
37 Dibner exposed forty psychiatric patients to a psychiatric interview after dividing them
into two experimental conditions. Half were prepared for the interview and given cues
about how they should, in a general way, conduct themselves; the other half were given no
such cues (a high-ambiguity situation). During the interview, the subjects in the high-
ambiguity situation experienced far greater anxiety as measured by subjective, objective,
and physiological techniques (A. Dibner, “Ambiguity and Anxiety,” Journal of Abnormal
Social Psychology 56 [1958]: 165–74).
38 L. Postman and J. Brunner, “Perception Under Stress,” Psychological Review 55
(1948): 314–23.
39 S. Korchin et al., “Experience of Perceptual Distortion as a Source of Anxiety,”
Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry 80 (1958): 98–113.
40 Maslow, “The Need to Know.”
41 B. McEwen, “Protective and Damaging Effects of Stress Mediators,” New England
Journal of Medicine 38 (1998): 171–79. B. McEwen and T. Seeman, “Protective and
Damaging Effects of Mediators of Stress: Elaborating and Testing the Concepts of
Allostasis and Allostatic Load,” Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 896 (1999):
30–47.

42 F. Fawzy, N. Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats: An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):
81–89. K. Lorig et al., “Evidence Suggesting That a Chronic Disease Self-Management
Program Can Improve Health Status While Reducing Hospitalization: A Randomized
Trial,” Medical Care 37 (1999): 5–14.
43 F. Wright, “Being Seen, Moved, Disrupted, and Reconfigured: Group Leadership from
a Relational Perspective,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 235–
50.
44 J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Psychotherapy Process in the National Institute of Mental
Health Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting
and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 64–75. D. Rosenthal, “Changes in Some Moral Values
Following Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 19 (1955): 431–36.
45 Colijn et al., “A Comparison of Curative Factors.”
46 D. Randall, “Curative Factor Ratings for Female Incest Survivor Groups: A Summary
of Three Studies,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 232–39.
47 Reddon et al., “Therapeutic Factors in Group Treatment.
48 M. Leszcz, I. Yalom, and M. Norden, “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy
and Therapeutic Process: Patients’ Perceptions,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 331–54. R. Rugal and D. Barry, “Overcoming Denial Through
the Group,” Small Group Research 21 (1990): 45–58. G. Steinfeld and J. Mabli,
“Perceived Curative Factors in Group Therapy by Residents of a Therapeutic
Community,” Criminal Justice and Behavior 1 (1974): 278–88. Butler and Fuhriman,
“Patient Perspective on the Curative Process.” J. Schaffer and S. Dreyer, “Staff and
Inpatient Perceptions of Change Mechanisms in Group Psychotherapy,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 139 (1982): 127–28. Kapur et al., “Therapeutic Factors Within Inpatient and
Outpatient Psychotherapy Groups.” J. MacDevitt and C. Sanislow, “Curative Factors in
Offenders’ Groups,” Small Group Behavior 18 (1987): 72–81.
49 M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group Psychotherapy
for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–74. M. Greenstein and W. Breitbart, “Cancer and the
Experience of Meaning: A Group Psychotherapy Program for People with Cancer,”
American Journal of Psychotherapy 54 (2000): 486–500. D. Spiegel and C. Classen,
Group Therapy for Cancer Patients (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
50 McLeod and Ryan, “Therapeutic Factors Experienced by Members.”
51 L. Lovett and J. Lovett, “Group Therapeutic Factors on an Alcohol In-patient Unit,”
British Journal of Psychiatry 159 (1991): 365–70.
52 R. Morgan, S. Ferrell, and C. Winterowd, “Therapist Perceptions of Important
Therapeutic Factors in Psychotherapy of Therapy Groups for Male Inmates in State
Correctional Facilities,” Small Group Research 30 (1999): 712–29.

53 J. Prochaska and J. Norcross, “Contemporary Psychotherapists: A National Survey of
Characteristics, Practices, Orientations, and Attitudes,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
and Practice 20 (1983): 161–73.
54 R. Dies, “Models of Group Therapy: Sifting Through Confusion,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
55 It is noteworthy that my book, The Gift of Therapy, (New York: HarperCollins, 2002)
which offers eighty-five existential tips for therapy had a wide readership stemming from
all the various therapy ideological schools.
56 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993). S.
Mitchell and M. Black, Freud and Beyond: A History of Modern Psychoanalytic Thought
(New York: Basic Books, 1995).
57 E. Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud, vol. 1 (New York: Basic Books, 1953),
40.
58 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
59 I. Yalom, Love’s Executioner (New York: Basic Books, 1989).
60 I. Yalom, When Nietzsche Wept (New York: Basic Books, 1992).
61 I. Yalom, The Gift of Therapy (New York: HarperCollins, 2002).
62 I. Yalom, Momma and the Meaning of Life (New York: Basic Books, 1999).
63 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005).
64 R. Tedeschi, L. Calhoun, “The Posttraumatic Growth Inventory: Measuring the
Positive Legacy of Trauma,” Journal of Traumatic Stress 9 (1996): 455–71.
65 M. Antoni et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Stress Management Intervention Decreases
Prevalence of Depression and Enhances Benefit Finding Among Women Under Treatment
for Early-Stage Breast Cancer,” Health Psychology 20 (2001): 20–32.
66 D. Cruess et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Stress Management Reduces Serum Cortisol by
Enhancing Benefit Finding Among Women Treated for Early Stage Breast Cancer,”
Psychosomatic Medicine 62 (2000): 304–8.
67 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400. Bower et al., “Cognitive Processing, Discovery of
Meaning, CD4 Decline.” P. Goodwin et al., “The Effect of Group Psychosocial Support on
Survival in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” New England Journal of Medicine 345 (2001):
1719–26.
68 E. Fromm, Escape from Freedom (New York: Henry Holt, 1995).
69 M. Heidegger, Being and Time (New York: Harper & Row, 1962), 210–24.
70 J. Sartre, Being and Nothingness, trans. Hazel Barnes (New York: Philosophical
Library, 1956), 633.
71 K. Jaspers, cited in J. Choron, Death and Western Thought (New York: Collier Books,

1963), 226.
72 Yalom and Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill.”
73 Bower et al., “Cognitive Processing, Discovery of Meaning, CD4 Decline.”
74 F. Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols (London: Penguin Books, 1968), 33. Yalom, The Gift
of Therapy.
75 D. Spiegel, J. Bloom, and I. Yalom, “Group Support for Patients with Metastatic
Cancer,” Archives of General Psychiatry 38 (May 1981): 527–34. I. Yalom, Existential
Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980), 36–37.
76 A. Schopenhauer, in Complete Essays of Schopenhauer, trans. T. Saunders, Book 5
(New York: Wiley, 1942), 18.
77 In a widely cited report, R. Corsini and B. Rosenberg (“Mechanisms of Group
Psychotherapy: Processes and Dynamics,” Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 51
[1955]: 406–11) abstracted the therapeutic factors from 300 pre-1955 group therapy
articles; 175 factors were clustered into nine major categories, which show considerable
overlap with the factors I have described. Their categories, and my analogous categories in
parentheses, are:
1. Acceptance (group cohesiveness)
2. Universalization (universality)
3. Reality testing (includes elements of recapitulation of the primary family and of
interpersonal learning)
4. Altruism
5. Transference (includes elements of interpersonal learning, group cohesiveness, and
imitative behavior)
6. Spectator therapy (imitative behavior)
7. Interaction (includes elements of interpersonal learning and cohesiveness)
8. Intellectualization (includes elements of imparting information)
9. Ventilation (catharsis)
W. Hill, in 1957, interviewed nineteen group therapists and offered these therapeutic
factors: catharsis, feelings of belongingness, spectator therapy, insight, peer agency (that
is, universality), and socialization (W. Hill, “Analysis of Interviews of Group Therapists’
Papers,” Provo Papers 1 [1957], and “Further Consideration of Therapeutic Mechanisms
in Group Therapy,” Small Group Behavior 6 [1975]: 421–29).
78 Fiedler’s study, described in chapter 3, indicates that experts, regardless of their school
of conviction, closely resemble one another in the nature of their relationship with patients
(F. Fiedler, “A Comparison of Therapeutic Relationships in Psychoanalytic, Nondirective,
and Adlerian Therapy,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 14 (1950): 436–45. Truax and
Carkhuff’s work, also discussed in chapter 3 (C. Truax and R. Carkhuff, Toward Effective

Counseling and Psychotherapy [Chicago: Aldine, 1967]), and the Ablon and Jones
analysis of the NIMH depression trial provide further evidence that effective therapists
operate similarly in that they establish a warm, accepting, understanding relationship with
their clients (Ablon and Jones, “Psychotherapy Process in the National Institute of Mental
Health,” and J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Validity of Controlled Clinical Trials of
Psychotherapy: Findings from the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research
Program,” American Journal of Psychiatry 159 [2002]: 775–83). Strupp, Fox, and Lessler,
in a study of 166 patients in individual therapy, reached a similar conclusion: successful
patients underscored the fact that their therapists were attentive, warm, respectful, and,
above all, human (H. Strupp, R. Fox, and K. Lessler, Patients View Their Psychotherapy
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1969). A comprehensive review of the
rapidly accumulating research in this area reveals that therapist qualities of acceptance,
nonpossessive warmth, and positive regard are strongly associated with successful
outcomes. See H. Conte, R. Ratto, K. Clutz, and T. Karasu, “Determinants of Outpatients’
Satisfactions with Therapists: Relation to Outcome,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice
and Research 4 (1995): 43–51; L. Alexander, J. Barber, L. Luborsky, P. Crits-Christoph,
and A. Auerbach, “On What Bases Do Patients Choose Their Therapists,” Journal of
Psychotherapy Practice and Research 2 (1993): 135–46; S. Garfield, “Research on Client
Variables in Psychotherapy,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 4th
ed., ed. A. Bergin and S. Garfield (New York: Wiley, 1994), 190–228; M. Lambert, “The
Individual Therapist’s Contribution to Psychotherapy Process and Outcome,” Clinical
Psychology Review 9 (1989): 469–85; S. Butler, L. Flather, and H. Strupp,
“Countertransference and Qualities of the Psychotherapist,” in Psychodynamic Treatment
Research: A Handbook for Clinical Practice, ed. N. Miller, L. Luborsky, J. Barber, and J.
Docherty (New York: Basic Books, 1993), 342–60; and S. Van Wagoner, C. Gelso, T.
Hayes, and R. Diemer, “Countertransference and the Reputedly Excellent Therapist,”
Psychotherapy 28 (1991): 411–21. Furthermore, as reviewed in chapter 3, the link
between a positive therapeutic bond and favorable outcome is one of the most consistent
and certain findings in all of psychotherapy research. These conclusions regarding
therapist contributions to successful psychotherapy are so well established that they have
been incorporated in professional practice psychotherapy guidelines (K. MacKenzie et al.,
“Guidelines for the Psychotherapies in Comprehensive Psychiatric Care: A Discussion
Paper,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 44 (suppl 1) (1999): 4S–17S).
79 Schaffer and Dreyer, “Staff and Inpatient Perceptions.”
80 Lovett and Lovett, “Group Therapeutic Factors.”
81 M. Lee, L. Cohen, S. Hadley, and F. Goodwin, “Cognitive Behavioral Group Therapy
with Medication for Depressed Gay Men with AIDS or Symptomatic HIV Infection,”
Psychiatric Services 58 (1999): 948–52.
82 R. Morgan and C. Winterowd, “Interpersonal Process-Oriented Group Psychotherapy
with Offender Populations,” International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative
Criminology 46 (2002): 466–82. Morgan et al., “Therapist Perceptions of Important
Therapeutic Factors.”J. MacDevitt and C. Sanislow, “Curative Factors in Offenders’

Groups,” Small Group Behavior 18 (1987): 72–81.
83 D. Randall, “Curative Factor Rankings for Female Incest Survivor Groups: A Summary
of Three Studies,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 232–39.
84 H. Feifel and J. Eells, “Patients and Therapists Assess the Same Psychotherapy,”
Journal of Consulting Psychology 27 (1963): 310–18.
85 I. Yalom and G. Elkin, Every Day Gets a Little Closer: A Twice-Told Therapy (New
York: Basic Books, 1975; reissued 1992).
86 D. Orlinsky, K. Grawe, and B. Parks, “Process and Outcome in Psychotherapy,” in
Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed.
S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 270–370. D. Martin, J. Garske, and
M. Davis, “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome and Other Variables: A
Meta-Analytic Review,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 68 (2000): 438–
50.
87 Colijn et al., “A Comparison of Curative Factors.” M. Kahn, P. Webster, and M. Storck,
“Curative Factors in Two Types of Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 579–85. Kapur et al., “Therapeutic Factors
Within Inpatient and Outpatient Psychotherapy Groups.” V. Tschuschke and R. Dies,
“Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic and Outcome in Long-Term Inpatient Groups,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 185–208. J. Maxmen and N.
Hannover, “Group Therapy as Viewed by Hospitalized Patients,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 28 (1973): 404–8. Steinfeld and Mabli, “Perceived Curative Factors.” Butler
and Fuhriman, “Patient Perspective on the Curative Process.” N. Macaskill, “Therapeutic
Factors in Group Therapy with Borderline Patients,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 61–73. Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy.” Marcovitz and Smith, “Patients’ Perceptions of Curative Factors.”
Schaffer and Dreyer, “Staff and Inpatient Perceptions.”Mushet et al., “In-patients’ Views
of the Helpful Aspects.”
88 Marcovitz and Smith, “Patients’ Perceptions of Curative Factors.”
89 J. Falk-Kessler, C. Momich, and S. Perel, “Therapeutic Factors in Occupational
Therapy Groups,” American Journal of Occupational Therapy 45 (1991): 59–66.
90 P. Kellerman, “Participants’ Perceptions of Therapeutic Factors in Psychodrama,”
Journal of Group Psychotherapy, Psychodrama, and Sociometry 38 (1985): 123–32.
91 M. Lieberman and L. Borman, Self-Help Groups for Coping with Crisis (San
Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1979), 202–5.
92 S. Horowitz, S. Passik, and M. Malkin, “In Sickness and in Health: A Group
Intervention for Spouses Caring for Patients with Brain Tumors,” Journal of Psychosocial
Oncology 14 (1996): 43–56.
93 P. Chadwick, S. Sambrooke, S. Rasch, and E. Davies, “Challenging the Omnipotence
of Voices: Group Cognitive Behavior Therapy for Voices,” Behavior Research and
Therapy 38 (2000): 993–1003.

94 E. Pence and M. Paymar, Power and Control: Tactics of Men Who Batter, rev. ed.
(Duluth: Minnesota Program Development, 1990).
95 F. Mishna, “In Their Own Words: Therapeutic Factors for Adolescents Who Have
Learning Disabilities,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 265–72.
96 McLeod and Ryan, “Therapeutic Factors Experienced by Members.”
97 H. Riess, “Integrative Time-Limited Group Therapy for Bulimia Nervosa,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 1–26.
98 Kivlighan, Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factor.”
99 Tschuschke and Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome.”V.
Tschuchke, K. MacKenzie, B. Nasser, and G. Janke, “Self-Disclosure, Feedback, and
Outcome in Long-Term Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Journal of Psychotherapy
Practice and Research 5 (1996): 35–44.
100 Fuhriman and Butler, “Curative Factors in Group Therapy.”
101 Kivlighan and Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors.”
102 Kivlighan and Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors.”
103 J. Schwartz and M. Waldo, “Therapeutic Factors in Spouse-Abuse Group Treatment,”
Journal for Specialists in Group Work 24 (1999): 197–207.
104 Mushet et al., “In-patients’ Views of the Helpful Aspects.”
105 Yalom et al., “Curative Factors in Group Therapy.”
106 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
107 Butler and Fuhriman, “Level of Functioning and Length of Time in Treatment.”
108 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.”
109 Encounter group “high learners” valued vicarious learning: they had the ability to
learn from the work of others (Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups). Clients
who are dominant interpersonally discount interpersonal feedback and altruism and are
less open to group influence, and clients who are overly responsible appear to discount
cohesion and value altruism, suggesting that they feel burdened by others’ needs yet
compelled to help (R. MacNair-Semands and K. Lese, “Interpersonal Problem and the
Perception of Therapeutic Factors in Group Therapy,” Small Group Research 31 [2002]:
158–79). High self/other acceptors tended to value deeper insight into their interpersonal
relations and into their family structure, whereas low self/other acceptors placed more
value on universality and advice/guidance from members and leaders. Highly affiliative
students in time-limited counseling groups gained more through self-understanding,
whereas the nonaffiliative members benefited more from interpersonal learning, self-
disclosure, and altruism (Kivlighan and Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic
Factors”; Kivlighan and Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors”).

CHAPTER 5
1 T. Postmes, R. Spears, S. Cihangir, “Quality of Decision Making and Group Norms.”
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 80(2001): 918–30.
2 D. Shapiro and L. Birk, “Group Therapy in Experimental Perspective,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 211–24.
3 E. Coche, R. Dies, and K. Goettelman, “Process Variables Mediating Change in
Intensive Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41
(1991): 379–97.
4 D. Kivlighan, J. Tarrant, “Does Group Climate Mediate the Group Leadership–Group
Member Outcome Relationship? A Test of Yalom’s Hypothesis About Leadership
Priorities,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 3 (2001): 220–34.
5 D. Strassberg, H. Roback, K. Anchor, S. Abramowitz, “Self-Disclosure in Group
Therapy with Schizophrenics,” Archives of General Psychiatry 32 (1975): 1259–61.
6 Shapiro and Birk, “Group Therapy in Experimental Perspective.” See also R. Nye, The
Legacy of B. F. Skinner (Pacific Grove, Calif.: Brooks Cole, 1992).
7 I. Goldfarb, “A Behavioral Analytic Interpretation of the Therapeutic Relationship,”
Psychological Record 42 (1992): 341–54. R. Kohlenberg, “Functional Analytic
Psychotherapy,” in Psychotherapists in Clinical Practice: Cognitive and Behavioral
Perspectives, ed. N. Jacobson (New York: Guilford Press, 1987), 388–443. D. Powell,
“Spontaneous Insights and the Process of Behavior Therapy: Cases in Support of
Integrative Psychotherapy,” Psychiatric Annals 18 (1988): 288–94.
8 R. Heckel, S. Wiggins, and H. Salzberg, “Conditioning Against Silences in Group
Therapy,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 18 (1962): 216–17.
9 M. Dinoff et al., “Conditioning the Verbal Behavior of a Psychiatric Population in a
Group Therapy–Like Situation,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 16 (1960): 371–72.
10 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy,” in A
Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships That Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002).
11 A. Bandura, “Modelling Approaches to the Modification of Phobic Disorders,”
presented at the Ciba Foundation Symposium, “The Role of Learning in Psychotherapy,”
London, May 1968. A. Bandura, J. Grusec, and F. Menlove, “Vicarious Extinction of
Avoidance Behavior,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 5 (1967): 16–23.
12 A. Bandura, D. Ross, and J. Ross, “Imitation of Film Mediated Aggressive Models,”
Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 66 (1963): 3–11.
13 J. McCullough, Treatment for Chronic Depression: Cognitive Behavioral Analysis

System of Psychotherapy (CBASP) (New York: Guilford Press, 2000).
14 D. Morran, R. Stockton, J. Cline, and C. Teed, “Facilitating Feedback Exchange in
Groups: Leader Interventions,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 23 (1998): 257–60.
15 A. Schwartz and H. Hawkins, “Patient Models and Affect Statements in Group
Therapy,” presented at the American Psychological Association Meetings, Chicago,
September 1965.
16 A. Goldstein et al., “The Use of Planted Patients in Group Psychotherapy,” American
Journal of Psychotherapy 21 (1967): 767–74.
17 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “The Experience of the Neophyte
Group Therapist,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 46 (1996): 543–52.
18 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), 213.
19 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980), 178–87.
20 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), 214–20.
21 S. Gold-Steinberg and M. Buttenheim, “‘Telling One’s Story’ in an Incest Survivors
Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 173–89.

CHAPTER 6
1 L. Mangione and R. Forti, “The Use of the Here and Now in Short-Term Group
Psychotherapy,” in Innovation in Clinical Practice: A Source Book, ed. L. VandeCreeke
and T. Jackson (Sarasota: Professional Resources Press, 2001), 241–56.
2 R. Dies, “Models of Group Therapy: Sifting Through Confusion,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
3 J. Flowers and C. Booraem, “The Effects of Different Types of Interpretation on
Outcome in Group Therapy,” Group 14 (1990): 81–88. This small (N = 24 clients),
intensive study also indicated that here-and-now interpretations that focused on patterns of
behavior were most effective in producing positive outcomes, followed by interpretations
of impact of behavior on others, and then by historical interpretations. Interpretations of
motivation were often countertherapeutic.
4 N. Brown, “Conceptualizing process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 53
(2003): 225–47. M. Ettin, “From Identified Patient to Identifiable Group: The Alchemy of
the Group as a Whole,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 137–62.
5 M. Miles, “On Naming the Here-and-Now,” unpublished essay, Columbia University,
1970.
6 B. Cohen, M. Ettin, and J. Fidler, “Conceptions of Leadership: The ‘Analytic Stance’ of
the Group Psychotherapist,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 2 (1998):
118–31.
7 Y. Agazarian, “Contemporary Theories of Group Psychotherapy: A Systems Approach,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 177–202.
8 D. Morran, R. Stockton, J. Cline, C. Teed, “Facilitating Feedback Exchange in Groups:
Leader Interventions,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 23 (1998): 257–60.
9 J. McCullough, Treatment for Chronic Depression: Cognitive Behavioral Analysis
System of Psychotherapy (CBASP) (New York: Guilford Press, 2000). S. Knox, S. Hess,
D. Petersen, and C. Hill, “A Qualitative Analysis of Client Perceptions of the Effects of
Helpful Therapist Self-Disclosure in Long-Term Therapy,” Journal of Counseling
Psychology 44 (1997): 274–83. M. Barrett and J. Berman, “Is Psychotherapy More
Effective When Therapists Disclose Information About Themselves?” Journal of
Consulting Clinical Psychology 69 (2001): 597–603.
10 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973). Group research offers corroborative evidence. In one group project,
the activating techniques (structured exercises) of sixteen different leaders were studied
and correlated with outcome. There were two important relevant findings: (1) the more
structured exercises the leader used, the more competent did members (at the end of the

thirty-hour group) deem the leader to be; (2) the more structured exercises used by the
leader, the less positive were the results (measured at a six-month follow-up). In other
words, members desire leaders who lead, who offer considerable structure and guidance.
They equate a large number of structured exercises with competence. Yet this is a
confusion of form and substance: having too much structure or too many activating
techniques is counterproductive.
11 L. Ormont, “The Leader’s Role in Resolving Resistances to Intimacy in the Group
Setting,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 29–47.
12 D. Kiesler, “Therapist Countertransference: In Search of Common Themes and
Empirical Referents,” Journal of Clinical Psychology/In Session 57 (2001): 1023–63.
13 D. Marcus and W. Holahan, “Interpersonal Perception in Group Therapy: A Social
Relations Analysis,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 62 (1994): 776–82.
14 G. Brown and G. Burlingame, “Pushing the Quality Envelope: A New Outcome
Management System,” Psychiatric Services 52 (2001): 925–34.
15 M. Leszcz, “Geriatric Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Textbook of Geriatric
Psychiatry, 3rd ed., ed. J. Sadavoy, L. Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Myers (New York:
Norton, 2004), 1023–54.
16 Kiesler “Therapist Countertransference.”
17 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach, 2nd
ed. (Baltimore: Penguin, 1965), 153.
18 Ormont, “The Leader’s Role in Resolving Resistances.”
19 D. Martin, J. Garske, and M. Davis, “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with
Outcome and Other Variables: A Meta-Analytic Review,” Journal of Consulting and
Clinical Psychology 68 (2000): 438–50.
20 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: Wiley,
1996). McCullough, Treatment for Chronic Depression. J. Muran and J. Safran, “A
Relational Approach to Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Handbook of Psychotherapy,
ed. F. Kaslow, vol. 1, Psychodynamic/Object Relations, ed. J. Magnavita (New York:
Wiley, 2002), 253–81. S. Stuart and M. Robertson, Interpersonal Psychotherapy: A
Clinical Guide (London: Arnold Press, 2003).
21 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “The Experience of the Neophyte
Group Therapist,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 543–52.
22 Interpreting motivations tends to be unhelpful. Flowers and Booraem have
demonstrated that here-and-now comments (about patterns of behavior or impact of
behavior) were positively correlated with group therapy outcome, whereas motivational
interpretations were correlated with negative outcome (Flowers and Booraem, “The
Effects of Different Types of Interpretation”).
23 M. Keller et al. “A Comparison of Nefazodone, Cognitive Behavioral-Analysis System
of Psychotherapy, and Their Combination for the Treatment of Chronic Depression,” New

England Journal of Medicine 342 (2000): 1462–70.
24 O. Rank, Will Therapy and Truth and Reality (New York: Knopf, 1950). R. May, Love
and Will (New York: Norton, 1969). S. Arieti, The Will to Be Human (New York:
Quadrangle Books, 1972). L. Farber, The Ways of the Will (New York: Basic Books,
1966). A. Wheelis, “Will and Psychoanalysis,” Journal of the Psychoanalytic Association
4 (1956): 285–303. I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
25 Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy, 286–350.
26 Farber, Ways of the Will.
27 Psychological treatments for addictions and eating disorders have particularly benefited
from an appreciation of the role of the client’s will in the process of change. Several
research teams have employed five stages of motivation and then match therapy
interventions to the client’s stage of motivation or “change readiness.” The five stages are:
1. The precontemplation stage (no recognition that a problem exists)
2. The contemplation stage (some recognition of the problem but with ambivalence
about doing something about it)
3. The preparation stage (a desire to change but a lack of knowledge about how to do
so)
4. The action stage (actual behavioral shifts)
5. The maintenance stage (consolidating gains and preventing regression or relapse)
J. Prochaska, C. DiClemente, and J. Norcross, “In Search of How People Change:
Applications to Addictive Behaviors,” American Psychologist 47 (1992): 1102–14. R.
Feld, D. Woodside, A. Kaplan, M. Olmstead, J. Carter, “Pre-treatment of Motivational
Enhancement Therapy for Eating Disorders,” International Journal of Eating Disorders
29 (2001): 393–400. W. Miller and S. Rollnick, Motivational Interviewing: Preparing
People To Change Addictive Behavior (New York: Guilford Press, 2002).
28 T. Aquinas, quoted in P. Edwards, ed., The Encyclopedia of Philosophy, vol. 7 (New
York: Free Press, 1967), 112.
29 Keep in mind that explanatory systems benefit therapists as well as clients: It provides
therapists with focus, stability, confidence and tenacity. B. Wampold, The Great
Psychotherapy Debate: Models, Methods and Findings (Mahwah, N.J.: Erlbaum, 2001).
G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for
Effectiveness and Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley and
Sons, 2004), 647–96.
30 J. Frank and J. Frank, Persuasion and Healing: A Comparative Study of
Psychotherapy, 3rd ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991), 21–51.
31 D. Spence, Narrative Truth and Historical Truth (New York: Norton, 1982).
32 Sandra Blakeslee, “Brain-Updating Machinery May Explain False Memories,” New

York Times, September 19, 2000.
33 See Dies, “Models of Group Therapy.”
34 B. Slife and J. Lanyon, “Accounting for the Power of the Here and Now: A Theoretical
Revolution,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35 (1991): 225–38.
35 J. S. Rutan and W. M. Stone, Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapy, 3rd ed. (New
York: Guilford Press, 2001).
36 J. Lichtenberg, F. Lachmann, and J. Fossaghe, Self and Motivational Systems
(Hillsdale, N.J.: Analytic Press, 1992). J. Sandler and A. Sandler, “The Past Unconscious,
the Present Unconscious, and Interpretation of Transference,” Psychoanalytic Inquiry 4
(1984): 367–99.
37 Frank and Frank, Persuasion and Healing.
38 J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique (New York: Guilford
Press, 1993).
39 C. Rycroft, Psychoanalysis Observed (London: Constable, 1966), 18.
40 W. Bion, Experiences in Groups and Other Papers (New York: Basic Books, 1959).
For more information about Bion’s contributions, see an earler edition of this text or go to
my Web site, www.yalom.com.
41 M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International Journal of Group Therapy 50
(2000): 455-472.
42 M. Klein, cited in J. Strachey, “The Nature of the Therapeutic Action of
Psychoanalysis,” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 15 (1934): 127–59.

http://www.yalom.com

CHAPTER 7
1 J. Breuer and S. Freud, Studies on Hysteria, in S. Freud, The Standard Edition of the
Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud [hereafter Standard Edition], vol. 2
(London: Hogarth Press, 1955): 253–305.
2 S. Freud, Five Lectures on Psycho-Analysis, in Standard Edition, vol. 11 (London:
Hogarth Press, 1957): 3–62.
3 In contemporary psychotherapy the client’s schema describes the core beliefs the client
holds about both himself and his relationship with his interpersonal world, along with the
interpersonal behaviors that arise from these beliefs and cognitions. The schema also
encompasses the client’s usual way of perceiving his environment and processing
information. See J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy (New
York: Basic Books, 1990).
4 N. Miller, L. Luborsky, J. Barber, and J. Docherty, Psychodynamic Treatment Research
(New York: Basic Books, 1993).
5 J. Marmor, “The Future of Psychoanalytic Therapy,” American Journal of Psychiatry
130 (1973): 1197–1202.
6 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993), 25.
7 V. Schermer, “Contributions of Object Relations Theory and Self Psychology to
Relational Psychology and Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 199–212. F. Wright, “The Use of Self in Group Leadership: A
Relational Perspective, ” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 181–
98. F. Wright, “Introduction to the Special Section on Contemporary Theoretical
Developments and the Implications for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 445–48.
8 P. Cohen, “The Practice of Modern Group Psychotherapy: Working with Past Trauma in
the Present,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 489–503.
9 M. Khan, “Outrageous, Complaining, and Authenticity,” Contemporary Psychoanalysis
22 (1986): 629–50.
10 O. Kernberg, “Love in the Analytic Setting,” Journal of the American Psychoanalytic
Association 42 (1994): 1137–58.
11 R. Greenson, The Technique and Practice of Psychoanalysis (New York: International
Universities Press, 1967).
12 A. Cooper, cited in G. Gabbard, Psychodynamic Psychiatry in Clinical Practice
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1987).
13 M. West and J. Livesley, “Therapist Transparency and the Frame for Group Therapy,”

International Journal of Psychoanalysis 36 (1986): 5–20.
14 L. Horwitz, “Discussion of ‘Group as a Whole’,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 143–48.
15 H. Durkin and H. Glatzer, “Transference Neurosis in Group Psychotherapy: The
Concept and the Reality,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 183–
99. Reprinted from: H. Durkin and H. Glatzer, “Transference Neurosis in Group
Psychotherapy: The Concept and the Reality,” in Group Therapy 1973: An Overview, ed.
L. Wolberg and E. Schwartz (New York: Intercontinental Book Corp., 1973). P. Kauff,
“Transference and Regression in and Beyond Analytic Group Psychotherapy: Revisiting
Some Timeless Thoughts,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997):
201–10.
16 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in Standard Edition, vol. 18
(London: Hogarth Press, 1955): 62–143.
17 G. Gabbard, “Advances in Psychoanalytic Therapy,” presented to the Department of
Psychiatry, University of Toronto, May 13, 1998.
18 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego.
19 E. Fromm, Escape from Freedom (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1941), 21.
20 L. Horwitz, “Narcissistic Leadership in Psychotherapy Groups,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 219–35. M. Leszcz, “Reflections on the Abuse of
Power, Control, and Status in Group Therapy and Group Therapy Training,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 389–400. I. Harwood, “Distinguishing
Between the Facilitating and Self-Serving Charismatic Group Leader,” Group 27 (2004):
121–29.
21 S. Scheidlinger, “Freud’s Group Psychology Revisited: An Opportunity Missed,”
Psychoanalytic Psychology 20 (2003): 389–92. Scheidlinger underscores that Freud
relished his power as the leader of the psychoanalytic study group. He was relentlessly
authoritarian and demanded total acceptance of his theories. Scheidlinger comments that
Freud could have made an even larger contribution to group psychology and group
psychotherapy had he not abandoned his work in this area because of a falling out with
Trigant Burrow. Burrow, a former associate of Freud and early president of the American
Psychoanalytic Association developed a model of group analysis that Freud felt
challenged some of his own ideas. He ended his relationship with Burrow and gave no
further thought in writing to groups.
22 L. Tolstoy, War and Peace (New York: Modern Library, Random House, 1931; orig.
published 1865–69), 231.
23 Ibid., 245.
24 M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 455–72.
25 M. Levy, “A Helpful Way to Conceptualize and Understand Re-Enactments,” Journal

of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 227–38.
26 S. Freud, The Future of an Illusion, in Standard Edition, vol. 21 (London: Hogarth
Press, 1961), 1–56.
27 G. Thorne, When It Was Dark, cited by S. Freud in Group Psychology and the Analysis
of the Ego.
28 S. Knox, S. Hess, D. Petersen, and C. Hill, “A Qualitative Analysis of Client
Perceptions of the Effects of Helpful Therapist Self-Disclosure in Long-Term Therapy,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 44 (1997): 274–83. B. Cohen and V. Schermer,
“Therapist Self-Disclosure in Group Psychotherapy from an Intersubjective and Self-
Psychological Standpoint,” Group 25 (2001): 41–57.
29 R. Dies, “Models of Group Therapy: Sifting Through Confusion,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
30 I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1983). E. Berne,
“Staff Patient Conferences,” American Journal of Psychiatry 125 (1968): 286–88.
31 A. Rachman, Sandor Ferenczi, The Psychotherapist of Tenderness and Passion (New
York: Jason Aronson, 1996).
32 J. Rutan, “Sandor Ferenczi’s Contributions to Psychodynamic Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 53 (2003): 375–84.
33 S. Ferenczi, quoted in Interpersonal Analysis: The Selected Papers of Clara M.
Thompson, ed. M. Green (New York: Basic Books, 1964), 70. For a brief period, Ferenczi
conducted the ultimate experiment in therapist transparency: mutual analysis. He and the
analysand alternated roles: one hour he analyzed the client, and the next hour the client
analyzed him. Eventually he dropped this impractical format, but he was not convinced
that the transparency impeded therapy (S. Ferenczi, The Clinical Diaries of S. Ferenczi
[Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1993]).
34 S. Foulkes, “A Memorandum on Group Therapy,” British Military Memorandum,
ADM, July, 1945.
35 I. Yalom, Love’s Executioner (New York: Basic Books, 1990). I. Yalom, Lying on the
Couch (New York: Basic Books, 1996). I. Yalom, Momma and the Meaning of Life (New
York: Basic Books, 1999). I. Yalom, When Nietzsche Wept (New York: Basic Books,
1992).
36 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005).
37 D. Fromm, G. Dickey, J. Shaefer, “Group Modification of Affective Verbalization:
Reinforcements and Therapist Style Effects,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 39 (1983):
893–900. R. Dies, “Therapist Variables in Group Psychotherapy Research,” in Handbook
of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994):
114–54. R. Dies, “Research in Group Psychotherapy: Overview and Clinical
Applications,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1993): 473–518.

38 M. Nichols and R. Schwartz, Family Therapy: Concepts and Methods (Needham
Heights, Mass.: Allyn and Bacon, 1991), 265.
39 S. Wiser and M. Goldfried, “Therapist Interventions and Client Emotional
Experiencing in Expert Psychodynamic-Interpersonal and Cognitive-Behavioral
Therapies,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 66 (1998): 634–40. T. Eels,
“What Do We Know About Master Therapists?” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 67 (1999): 314–17.
40 F. Wright, “Being Seen, Moved, Disrupted, and Reconfigured: Group Leadership from
a Relational Perspective,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 235–
50.
41 S. Foreman, “The Significance of Turning Passive into Active in Control Mastery
Theory,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 106–21.
42 S. Knox, S. Hess, D. Peterson, and C. Hill, “A Qualitative Analysis of Client
Perceptions of the Effects of Helpful Therapist Self-Disclosure in Long-Term Therapy,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 49 (1997): 274–83.
43 M. Allan, “An Investigation of Therapist and Patient Self-Help Disclosure in
Outpatient Therapy Groups,” Dissertation Abstracts International 41 (1980), no. 8021155.
44 H. Conte, R. Ratto, K. Clutz, and T. Karasu, “Determinants of Outpatients’
Satisfactions with Therapists: Relation to Outcome,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice
and Research 4 (1995): 43–51.
45 S. Wilkinson and G. Gabbard, “Therapeutic Self-Disclosure with Borderline Patients,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 2 (1993): 282–95.
46 K. Ullman, “Unwitting Exposure of the Therapist Transferential and
Countertransferential Dilemmas,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10
(2001): 14–21.
47 T. Gutheil and G. Gabbard, “The Concepts of Boundaries in Clinical Practice:
Theoretical and Risk-Management Dimensions,” American Journal of Psychiatry 150
(1993): 188–96.
48 T. Gutheil and G. Gabbard, “Misuses and Misunderstandings of Boundary Theory in
Clinical and Regulatory Settings,” American Journal of Psychiatry 155 (1998): 409–14.
A. Elfant, “Group Psychotherapist Self-Disclosure: Why, When, and How?” presented at
the annual meeting of the American Group Psychotherapy Association, New Orleans,
February 21, 2003.
49 Self-disclosure was carried to extreme in the time-extended marathon groups popular
in the 1970s (see chapter 10), which met from twenty-four to forty-eight consecutive
hours and placed paramount emphasis on total self-disclosure of the group as well as the
group leader. The sheer physical fatigue wore down defenses and abetted maximal
disclosure. Then there is the ultimate in self-disclosure: group therapy in the nude. In the
late 1960s and early 1970s, the mass media (for example, Time magazine) gave
considerable coverage to nude marathons in Southern California (Time, February 23,

1968, 42). Many of the wilder innovations in therapy have sprung from Southern
California. It brings to mind Saul Bellow’s fanciful notion in Seize the Day (New York:
Viking Press, 1956) of someone tilting a large, flat map of the United States and observing
that “everything that wasn’t bolted or screwed down slid into Southern California.”
50 D. Kivlighan and J. Tarrant, ”Does Group Climate Mediate the Group Leadership-
Group Member Outcome Relationship? A Test of Yalom’s Hypothesis About Leadership
Priorities,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 3 (2001): 220–34.
51 M. Parloff, “Discussion of Accelerated Interaction: A Time-Limited Approach Based
on the Brief Intensive Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 28 (1968):
239–44.
52 Ferenczi, quoted in M. Green, Interpersonal Analysis.
53 R. Dies, “Leadership in Short-Term Groups,” in Advances in Group Psychotherapy, ed.
R. Dies and R. MacKenzie (New York: International Universities Press, 1983), 27–78. R.
Dies, “Group Therapist Transparency: A Critique of Theory and Research,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 27 (1977): 177–200. R. Dies and L. Cohen, “Content
Considerations in Group Therapist Self-Disclosure,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 26 (1976): 71–88.
54 S. McNary and R. Dies, “Co-Therapist Modeling in Group Psychotherapy: Fact or
Fantasy,” Group 17 (1993): 131–42.
55 E. O’Neill, The Iceman Cometh (New York: Random House, 1957).
56 H. Ibsen, The Wild Duck (New York: Avon Press, 1965; orig. published 1884).
57 V. Frankl, personal communication, 1975.

CHAPTER 8
1 W. Piper, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Patient Personality
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 525–52. R. Kadden, M. Litt, N. Cooney, E. Kabela, H.
Getter, “Prospective Matching of Alcoholic Clients to Cognitive-Behavioral or
Interactional Group Therapy,” Journal of Studies on Alcohol May (2001): 359–69.
2 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Mosier, “The Differential Effectiveness of Group
Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and
Practice 7 (2003): 3–12. G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group
Treatment: Evidence for Effectiveness and Mechanism of Change,” in Bergin and
Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert
(New York: Wiley, 2004), 647–96.
3 R. Toseland and M. Siporin, “When to Recommend Group Treatment: A Review of the
Clinical and the Research Literature,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36
(1986): 171–201.
4 C. McRoberts, G. Burlingame, and M. Hoag, “Comparative Efficacy of Individual and
Group Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Research, and Practice 2 (1998): 101–17.
5 K. MacKenzie, “Where Is Here and When Is Now? The Adaptational Challenge of
Mental Health Reform for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 407–28. M. Parloff and R. Dies, “Group Psychotherapy
Outcome Research,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 27 (1977): 281–322.
W. Piper and A. Joyce, “A Consideration of Factors Influencing the Utilization of Time-
Limited, Short-Term Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46
(1996): 311–28.
6 K. Graham, H. Annis, P. Brett, P. Venesoen, and R. Clifton, “A Controlled Field Trial of
Group Versus Individual Cognitive-Behavioral Training for Relapse Prevention,”
Addiction 91 (1996): 1127–39.
7 D. Renjilian, M. Peri, A. Nezu, W. McKelvey, R. Shermer, and S. Anton, “Individual
Versus Group Therapy for Obesity: Effects of Matching Participants to the Treatment
Preferences,” Journal of Consulting Clinical Psychology 69 (2001): 717–21.
8 F. Fawzy, N. Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats: An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):
81–89.
9 E. Westbury and L. Tutty, “The Efficacy of Group Treatment for Survivors of Childhood
Abuse,” Child Abuse and Neglect 23 (1999): 31–44.

10 K. MacKenzie, “Where Is Here and When Is Now? The Adaptational Challenge of
Mental Health Reform for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 407–28.
11 S. Holmes and D. Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors in Group and
Individual Treatment Processes,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 47 (2000): 478–84.
12 G. Gazda, “Discussion of When to Recommend Group Treatment: A Review of the
Clinical and the Research Literature,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36
(1986): 203–6. F. de Carufel and W. Piper, “Group Psychotherapy or Individual
Psychotherapy: Patient Characteristics As Predictive Factors,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 169–88.
13 E. Nash et al., “Some Factors Related to Patients Remaining in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 264–75. J. Johnson, Group
Psychotherapy: A Practical Approach (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1963). E. Fried, “Basic
Concepts in Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Group Therapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B.
Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1971), 50–51.
14 L. Horwitz, “Indications and Contraindications for Group Psychotherapy,” Bulletin of
the Menninger Clinic 40 (1976): 505–7.
15 S. Slavson, “Criteria for Selection and Rejection of Patients for Various Kinds of
Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (1955): 3–30. S.
Adrian, “A Systematic Approach to Selecting Group Participants,” Journal of Psychiatric
Nursing 18 (1980): 37–41.
16 Nash et al., “Some Factors.” Johnson, Group Psychotherapy. Fried, “Basic Concepts.”
R. MacNair-Semands, “Predicting Attendance and Expectations for Group Therapy,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 6 (2002): 219–28.
17 M. Weiner, “Group Therapy in a Public Sector Psychiatric Clinic,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 355–65. M. Rosenbaum and E. Hartley, “A
Summary Review of Current Practices of Ninety-Two Group Therapists,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 12 (1962): 194–98. W. Friedman, “Referring Patients for
Group Therapy: Some Guidelines,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 27 (1976): 121–
23. A. Frances, J. Clarkin, and J. Marachi, “Selection Criteria for Outpatient Group
Psychotherapy,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 31 (1980): 245–49. M. Woods and J.
Melnick, “A Review of Group Therapy Selection Criteria,” Small Group Behavior 10
(1979): 155–75.
18 R. Morgan and C. Winterowd, “Interpersonal Process-Oriented Group Psychotherapy
with Offender Populations,” International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative
Criminology 46 (2002): 466–82. Toseland and Siporin, “When to Recommend Group
Treatment.”I. Yalom, “Group Therapy of Incarcerated Sexual Deviants,” Journal of
Nervous Mental Disorders 132 (1961): 158–70.
19 Friedman, “Referring Patients.” Woods and Melnick, “Group Therapy Selection
Criteria.” Frances, Clarkin, and Marachi, “Selection Criteria.” Horwitz, “Indications and

Contraindications.”
20 Horwitz, “Indications and Contraindications.” Friedman, “Referring Patients.” H.
Grunebaum and W. Kates, “Whom to Refer for Group Psychotherapy,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 130–33.
21 M. Linehan, “Dialectical Behavior Therapy for Borderline Personality Disorder: A
Cognitive Behavioral Approach to Parasuicide,” Journal of Personality Disorders 1
(1987): 328–33. M. Linehan, “Naturalistic Follow-Up of a Behavioral Treatment for
Chronically Parasuicidal Borderline Patients,” Archives of General Psychiatry 50 (1993):
971–74. E. Marziali and H. Munroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy for
Borderline Personality Disorder (New York: Basic Books, 1994).
22 I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14
(1966): 393–414.
23 M. Wierzbicki and G. Pekarik, “A Meta-Analysis of Psychotherapy Dropouts,”
Professional Psychology: Research and Practice 24 (1993): 190–95.
24 W. Stone and J. Rutan, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34(1984): 93–109. M. Leszcz, “Guidelines for the
Practice of Group Psychotherapy,” in Guidelines and Standards for the Psychotherapies,
ed. P. Cameron, J. Ennis and J. Deadman (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998),
199–227. H. Roback, “Adverse Outcomes in Group Psychotherapy: Risk Factors,
Prevention, and Research Directions,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9
(2000): 113–22.
25 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1972).
26 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”
American Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
27 W. Piper, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and H. Azim, “Psychological Mindedness, Work and
Outcome in Day Treatment,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
291–311; M. McCallum, W. Piper, and A. Joyce, “Dropping Out from Short-Term Group
Therapy,” Psychotherapy 29 (1992): 206–13. In a study of 109 patients with prolonged or
pathological grief in brief (twelve-week), analytically oriented group therapy, the 33
dropouts were found to be significantly less psychologically minded than continuers. They
also tended to have greater psychiatric symptomatology and greater intensity of target
symptoms. S. Rosenzweig and R. Folman, “Patient and Therapist Variables Affecting
Premature Termination in Group Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research and
Practice 11 (1974): 76–79. In a study of thirteen dropouts from V.A. outpatient clinic
groups a battery of psychological tests did not distinguish between the continuers and the
dropouts, but the therapists’ pretherapy judgments about their ability to empathize with the
clients, their clients’ ability to form a therapeutic relationship, and the therapists’ overall
liking of a client were significantly predictive of premature termination. B. Kotkov and A.
Meadow, “Rorschach Criteria for Continuing Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 2 (1952): 324–31. A study of Veterans Administration

ambulatory groups found that dropouts had less capacity to withstand stress, less desire for
empathy, less ability to achieve emotional rapport, a lower Wechsler verbal scale IQ, and
came from a lower socioeconomic class. (Many other studies have reported that dropouts
[from any psychotherapeutic format] are disproportionately high among the lower
socioeconomic class.) R. Klein and R. Carroll, “Patient Characteristics and Attendance
Patterns in Outpatient Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36
(1986): 115–32; H. Roback and M. Smith, “Patient Attrition in Dynamically Oriented
Treatment Groups,” American Journal of Psychiatry 144 (1987): 426–43; L. Gliedman et
al., “Incentives for Treatment Related to Remaining or Improving in Psychotherapy,”
American Journal of Psychotherapy 11 (1957): 589–98. M. Grotjahn, “Learning from
Dropout Patients: A Clinical View of Patients who Discontinued Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 22 (1972): 306–19. Grotjahn studied his
long-term analytic groups and noted that, over a six-year period, forty-three group
members (35 percent) dropped out within the first twelve months of therapy. He felt that,
in retrospect, approximately 40 percent of the dropouts were predictable and fell into three
categories: (1) clients with diagnoses of manifest or threatening psychotic breakdowns; (2)
clients who used the group for crisis resolution and dropped out when the emergency had
passed; (3) highly schizoid, sensitive, isolated individuals who needed more careful,
intensive preparation for group therapy. Nash et al., “Some Factors.” Nash and his co-
workers studied thirty group therapy clients in a university outpatient clinic. The
seventeen dropouts (three or fewer meetings) differed significantly from the thirteen
continuers in several respects: they were more socially ineffective, experienced their
illness as progressive and urgent or were high deniers who terminated therapy as their
denial crumbled in the face of confrontation by the group. R. MacNair and J. Corazzini,
“Clinical Factors Influencing Group Therapy Dropout,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice and Training 31 (1994): 352–61. MacNair and colleagues also studied two large
groupings of clients treated at a university counseling service in 16 session interactional
interpersonal group therapy. This study of 155 and 310 clients respectively over several
years employed The Group Therapy Questionnaire (GTQ) to evaluate the group members.
Dropouts and poor attenders could be predicted by the following characteristics: anger,
hostility and argumentativeness; social inhibition; substance abuse; and somatization. In
contrast, prior experience in some form of psychotherapy was a protective variable. (R.
MacNair-Semands, “Predicting Attendance and Expectations for Group Therapy,” Group
Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 6 [2002]: 219–28.) This latter finding echoes an
earlier report that demonstrated that dropouts were much more likely to be individuals for
whom group therapy was their first experience in psychotherapy. W. Stone and J. Rutan,
“Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 93–109. G. Tasca et al., “Treatment Completion and Outcome
in a Partial Hospitalization Program: Interaction Among Patient Variables,”
Psychotherapy Research 9 (1999): 232–47. Tasca and colleagues studied 102 clients in an
intensive group therapy day hospital program and reported that dropouts were predicted
by the combined presence of reduced psychological-mindedness and chronicity of
problems. High degrees of psychological-mindedness offset the negative impact of illness
chronicity on treatment completion. M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A.

Joyce, “Early Process and Dropping Out from Group Therapy for Conplicated Grief,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 6 (2002): 243–54. Dropout rates for 139
clients participating in 12 session group therapy for complicated grief were 23%
(regardless whether they were in an interpretive or a supportive model of group therapy).
Dropouts experienced far less positive emotion in the early sessions and were less
compatible with, and less important to the group. The therapists reported they had less
emotional investment in these clients from the outset of therapy. The phenomenon of very
early therapist divestment and antipathy to the clients who ultimately drop out has been
reported by others as well. (L. Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout
Phenomenon Revisited,” American Journal of Psychiatry 135 [1978]: 1492–95; O.
Stiwne, “Group Psychotherapy with Borderline Patients: Contrasting Remainers and
Dropouts,” Group 18 [1994]: 37–45. T. Oei and T. Kazmierczak, “Factors Associated with
Dropout in a Group Cognitive Behavior Therapy for Mood Disorders,” Behavior,
Research and Therapy 35 [1997]: 1025–30.) In a study of 131 clients in CBT groups for
depression, 63 clients (48%) dropped out prematurely. Pretherapy variables, including
degree of depression did not predict dropouts. In contrast however, lack of participation in
the group activities and exercises was predictive. Race and ethnicity are also important
considerations. A number of recent studies have shown that visible minorities may
terminate prematurely, feeling a lack of universality, comfort and familiarity within the
group. (S. Sue, D. Hu, D. Takevch, and N. Zane, “Community Mental Health Services for
Ethnic Minority Groups: A Test of the Cultural Responsiveness Hypothesis,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 59 [1991]: 533–40; K. Organista, “Latinos,” in
Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for Specific Problems and Populations, ed. J. White
and A. Freeman [Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 2000], 281–303; H.
Chang and D. Sunders, “Predictors of Attrition in Two Types of Group Programs for Men
Who Batter,” Journal of Family Violence 17 [2002]: 273–92.) Clients’ negative
expectations built upon negative experiences in society also play an important role. (C.
Taft, C. Murphy, J. Elliott, and T. Morrel, “Attendance Enhancing Procedures in Group
Counseling for Domestic Abusers,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 48 [2001]: 51–60.)
28 Notes for Table 8.1:
a R. Klein and R. Carroll, “Patient Characteristics and Attendance Patterns in Outpatient
Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 115–32.
b M. McCallum and W. Piper, “A Controlled Study for Effectiveness and Patient
Suitability for Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 431–52.
c M. McCallum, W. Piper, and A. Joyce, “Dropping Out from Short-Term Group
Therapy,” Psychotherapy 29 (1992): 206–13.
d Nash et al., “Some Factors.”
e B. Kotkov, “The Effects of Individual Psychotherapy on Group Attendance,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (1955): 280–85.

f S. Rosenzweig and R. Folman, “Patient and Therapist Variable Affecting Premature
Termination in Group Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research and Practice 11
(1974): 76–79.
g Yalom, “Group Therapy Dropouts.”
h E. Berne, “Group Attendance: Clinical and Theoretical Considerations,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (1955): 392–403.
i Johnson, Group Psychotherapy.
j M. Grotjahn, “Learning from Dropout Patients: A Clinical View of Patients Who
Discontinued Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 22
(1972): 306–19.
k L. Koran and R. Costell, “Early Termination from Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 24 (1973): 346–59.
l S. Budman, A. Demby, and M. Randall, “Short-Term Group Psychotherapy: Who
Succeeds, Who Fails,” Group 4 (1980): 3–16.
m M. Weiner, “Outcome of Psychoanalytically Oriented Group Therapy,” Group 8
(1984): 3–12.
n W. Piper, E. Debbane, J. Blenvenu et al., “A Comparative Study of Four Forms of
Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52 (1984): 268–79.
o W. Stone and S. Rutan, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 93–109.
p K. Christiansen, K. Valbak, and A. Weeke, “Premature Termination in Analytic Group
Therapy,” Nordisk-Psykiatrisk-Tidsskrift 45 (1991): 377–82.
q R. MacNair and J. Corazzini, “Clinical Factors Influencing Group Therapy Dropouts,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice and Training 31 (1994): 352-61.
r M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Early Process and Dropping
Out.”
s T. Oei and T. Kazmierczak, “Factors Associated with Dropout in a Group Cognitive
Behavior Therapy for Mood Disorders,” Behaviour Research and Therapy 35 (1997):
1025-30.
29 Yalom, “Group Therapy Dropouts.”
30 W. Piper, M. McCallum, and H. Azim, Adaption to Loss Through Short-Term Group
Psychotherapy (New York: Guilford Press, 1992).
31 McCallum et al., “Early Process and Dropping Out.”
32 W. Stone, “Group Psychotherapy with the Chronically Mentally Ill,” in Comprehensive
Group Psychotherapy, eds. M. Kaplan and B. Sadock. (Baltimore: Williams and Wilkins,

1993), 419–29.
33 M. Horowitz, “The Recall of Interrupted Group Tasks: An Experimental Study of
Individual Motivation in Relation to Group Goals,” In Group Dynamics: Research and
Theory, ed. D. Cartwright and A. Zander (New York: Row, Peterson, 1962), 370–94.
34 L. Coch and J. French Jr., “Overcoming Resistance to Change,” in Cartwright and
Zander, Group Dynamics, 31–41. E. Stotland, “Determinants of Attraction to Groups,”
Journal of Social Psychology 49 (1959): 71–80.
35 D. Lundgren and D. Miller, “Identity and Behavioral Changes in Training Groups,”
Human Relations Training News (Spring 1965).
36 Lieberman, Yalom, Miles, Encounter Groups, p. 324.
37 I. Yalom and P. Houts, unpublished data, 1966.
38 S. Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection, and Communication,” in Cartwright and Zander,
Group Dynamics, 260–85.
39 H. Leavitt, “Group Structure and Process: Some Effects of Certain Communication
Patterns on Group Performance,” in Readings in Social Psychology, eds. E. Maccoby, T.
Newcomb, E. Hartley (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1958), 175–83.
40 J. Jackson, “Reference Group Processes in a Formal Organization,” in Cartwright and
Zander, Group Dynamics, 120–40.
41 L. Festinger, S. Schachter, and K. Back, “The Operation of Group Standards,” in
Cartwright and Zander, Group Dynamics, 241–59.
42 C. Anderson, O. John, D. Kelter, and A. Kring, “Who Attains Social Status? Effects of
Personality and Physical Attractiveness in Social Groups,” Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology 8 (2001): 116–32.
43 M. Sherif, “Group Influences Upon the Formation of Norms and Attitudes,” in
Maccoby et al., Readings in Social Psychology, 219–32.
44 S. Asch, “Interpersonal Influence: Effects of Group Pressure Upon the Modification
and Distortion of Judgments,” in Maccoby et al., Readings in Social Psychology, 175–83.
45 P. Leiderman, “Attention and Verbalization: Differentiated Responsivity of
Cardiovascular and Electrodermo Systems,” Journal of Psychosomatic Research 15
(1971): 323–28.
46 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
47 Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection, and Communication.”
48 McCallum et al., “Early Process and Dropping Out.”
49 R. Harrison and B. Lubin, “Personal Style, Group Composition, and Learning—Part I,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 286–94.
50 Similar findings were reported in the NIMH trial of the treatment of depression. Clients
with poor interpersonal functioning could not utilize interpersonal therapy effectively. (S.

Sotsky et al., “Patient Predictors of Response to Psychotherapy and Pharmacotherapy:
Findings in the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 148 (1991): 997–1008.)
51 R. Lee, M. Draper, and S. Lee, “Social Connectedness, Dysfunctional Interpersonal
Behaviors, and Psychological Distress: Testing a Mediator Model,” Journal of Counseling
Psychology 48 (2001): 310–18.
52 Clients do well with intensive psychotherapies if they have mature relationship
capacities (measured by the Quality of Object Relations Scale (QOR) (H. Azim et al.,
“The Quality of Object Relations Scale,” Bulletin of the Menninger Clinic 55 (1991): 323–
43). Clients with less mature QOR scores do poorly with intensive therapy, often
experiencing interpretations as hurtful criticisms. These clients do much better with the
more supportive therapies. (A. Joyce, M. McCallum, W. Piper, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Role
Behavior Expectancies and Alliance Change in Short-Term Individual Psychotherapy,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9 (2000): 213–25.) Higher
psychological-mindedness, not surprisingly, is a general predictor of positive outcome for
all psychotherapies. (Joyce et al., ibid; Piper et al., “Patient Personality and Time-Limited
Group.”)
53 M. Pines, “The Self as a Group: The Group as a Self,” in Self-Experiences in Group:
Objective and Self-Psychological Pathways to Human Understanding, ed. I. Harwood and
M. Pines (Philadelphia: Taylor & Francis, 1998): 24–29. A. Gray, “Difficult Terminations
in Group Therapy: A Self-Psychologically Informed Perspective,” Group 25 (2001): 27–
39.
54 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 311–35.
55 Nash et al., “Some Factors.”
56 H. Bernard and S. Drob, “Premature Termination: A Clinical Study,” Group 13 (1989):
11–22.
57 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy.”
58 L. Bellak, “On Some Limitations of Dyadic Psychotherapy and the Role of the Group
Modalities,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 7–21. J. Rutan and
A. Alonso, “Group Therapy, Individual Therapy, or Both?” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 267–82.
59 Grunebaum and Kates, “Whom to Refer.”
60 Frances, Clarkin, and Marachi, “Selection Criteria,” 245.
61 H. Swiller, “Alexithymia: Treatment Utilizing Combined Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 47–61.
62 L. Horowitz and J. Vitkis, “The Interpersonal Basis of Psychiatric Symptomatology,”
Clinical Psychology Review 6 (1986): 443–69.
63 P. Crits-Christoph and M. Connolly, “Patient Pretreatment Predictors of Outcome,” in

Psychodynamic Treatment Research, ed. N. Miller, L. Luborsky, J. Barber, and J. Docherty
(New York: Basic Books, 1993), 185.
64 I. Yalom, P. Houts, S. Zimerberg, and K. Rand, “Predictions of Improvement in Group
Therapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68.
65 The forty clients studied were adult, middle class, well educated, psychologically
sophisticated outpatients who suffered from neurotic or characterological problems.
Outcome was evaluated by a team of raters who, on the basis of a structured interview,
evaluated (with excellent reliability) change in symptoms, functioning, and relationships.
The clients also independently rated their own outcome, using the same scale.
Psychological-mindedness was measured by subscale of the California Personality
Inventory and by the therapists after an initial screening interview. The therapists rated
each client on a seven-point scale after the initial interview for how well they thought he
or she would do in therapy. Previous self-disclosure was measured by a modification of
the Jourard Self-Disclosure Questionnaire (S. Jourard, “Self-Disclosure Patterns in British
and American College Females,” Journal of Social Psychology 54 (1961): 315–20). The
clients’ attraction to group therapy and their general popularity in the group were
measured by a group cohesiveness questionnaire and a sociometric questionnaire.
66 C. Anderson, “Who Attains Social Status?”
67 Using a comprehensive personality inventory researchers found, unsurprisingly, that
the Extraversion factor (exemplified by individuals who are energetic, sociable, assertive,
and display positive emotionality) is strongly associated with popularity. (R. McCrae and
R. Costa, “The NEO Personality Inventory: Using the Five-Factor Model in Counseling,”
Journal of Counseling and Development 69 (1991): 367–72.) These individuals draw
others to them because their ready and warm responsiveness rewards and encourages
overtures for engagement. (R. Depue, “A Neurobiological Framework for the Structure of
Personality and Emotion: Implications for Personality Disorders,” in Major Theories of
Personality Disorders, ed. J. Clarkin and M. Lenzenweger [New York: Guilford Press,
1996], 342–90.)
68 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
69 J. Melnick and G. Rose, “Expectancy and Risk-Taking Propensity,” Small Group
Behavior 10 (1979): 389–401. Scales: Jackson Risk-Taking inventory and the Hill
Interactional Matrix. Sociometric assessment: Depth of Involvement Scale (Evensen and
Bednar), Moos and Humphrey Group Environment Scale.
70 J. Frank and J. Frank, Persuasion and Healing: A Comparative Study of Psychotherapy
, 3rd ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991), pp. 132–53. W. Piper, “Client
Variables,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame
(New York: Wiley, 1994): 83–113.
71 Joyce et al., “Role Behavior Expectancies and Alliance Change.” J. Rooney and R.
Hanson, “Predicting Attrition from Treatment Programs for Abusive Men,” Journal of
Family Violence 16 (2001): 131–49.

72 Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout Phenomenon.” McCallum et al., “Early
Process and Dropping Out.”
73 J. Frank, “Some Determinants, Manifestations, and Effects of Cohesiveness in Therapy
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 53–63.
74 Oei and Kazmierczak, “Factors Associated with Dropout.”
75 The amount of “group work” accomplished (as reported by the client, comembers, and
the group therapist) predicts outcome. (Piper et al., “Psychological Mindedness, Work, and
Outcome.”) Piper and colleagues define “group work” in clear terms: “to work in therapy
means that you are trying to explain a problem that you are facing by exploring your own
contributions to it.” It involves taking responsibility for one’s role in one’s difficulties and
helping other members do the same. (M. McCallum, W. Piper, and J. O’Kelly, “Predicting
Patient Benefit from a Group-Oriented Evening Treatment Program,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 291–314, 300.)
76 M. Parloff, “Therapist-Patient Relationships and Outcome of Psychotherapy,” Journal
of Consulting Psychology 25 (1961): 29–38.
77 R. Heslin and D. Dunphy, “Three Dimensions of Member Satisfaction in Small
Groups,” Human Relations 17 (1964): 99–112.
78 Frank, “Some Determinants.”E. Ends and C. Page, “Group Psychotherapy and
Psychological Changes,” Psychological Monographs 73 (1959): 480.

CHAPTER 9
1 D. Waltman and D. Zimpfer, “Composition, Structure, and the Duration of Treatment,”
Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 171–84.
2 P. Costa and R. McCrae, “Revised NEO Personality Inventory (NEO PI-R) and NEO
Five-Factor Inventory (NEO-FFI),” Professional Manual (Odessa, Fla.: Psychological
Assessment Resources, 1992).
3 M. First et al., “DSM-IV and Behavioral Assessment,” Behavioral Assessment 14
(1992): 297–306. J. Shedler and D. Westen, “Refining Personality Disorder Diagnosis:
Integrating Science and Practice,” American Journal of Psychiatry 161 (2004): 1350–65.
The chief architect of the DSM, Robert Spitzer, chronicles the challenges of developing
the DSM in an interview with Alix Spiegel in the January 3, 2005, issue of The New
Yorker.
4 P. Crits-Christoph and M. Connolly Gibbon, “Review of W. Piper, A. Joyce, M.
McCallum, H. Azim, and J. Ogrodniczuk, Interpersonal and Supportive Psychotherapies:
Matching Therapy and Patient Personality,” Psychotherapy Research 13 (2003): 117–19.
5 W. Piper, “Client Variables,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman
and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 83–113.
6 W. Piper and M. Marrache, “Selecting Suitable Patients: Pretraining for Group Therapy
as a Method for Group Selection,” Small Group Behavior 12 (1981): 459–74. Group
behavior was measured by the Hill Interaction Matrix, W. Hill, Hill Interactional Matrix
(Los Angeles: Youth Studies Center, University of Southern California, 1965).
7 As DSM-IV-TR states, “A common misconception is that a classification of mental
disorders classifies people, when actually what are being classified are disorders that
people have” (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th ed., rev.
American Psychiatric Association, 2000, xxxi).
8 A. Camus, The Fall (New York: Knopf, 1956).
9 J. Deer and A. Silver, “Predicting Participation and Behavior in Group Therapy from
Test Protocols,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 18 (1962): 322–25. C. Zimet, “Character
Defense Preference and Group Therapy Interaction,” Archives of General Psychiatry 3
(1960): 168–75. E. Borgatta and A. Esclenbach, “Factor Analysis of Rorschach Variable
and Behavior Observation,” Psychological Reports 3 (1955): 129–36.
10 T. Miller, “The Psychotherapeutic Utility of the Five-Factor Model of Personality: A
Clinician’s Experience,” Journal of Personality Assessment 57 (1991): 415–33.
11 K. Menninger, M. Mayman, and P. Pruyser, The Vital Balance (New York: Viking
Press, 1963).
12 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”

American Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
13 L. Beutler, “Predictors of Differential Response to Cognitive, Experiential, and Self-
Directed Psychotherapeutic Procedures,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology
59 (1991): 333–40.
14 H. Hoberman, P. Lewinson, and M. Tilson, “Group Treatment of Depression:
Individual Predictors of Outcome,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 56
(1988): 393–98.
15 S. Joure et al., “Differential Change Among Sensitivity-Training Participants as a
Function of Dogmatism,” Journal of Psychology 80 (1972): 151–56.
16 R. Harrison and B. Lubin, “Personal Style, Group Composition, and Learning: Part 2,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 294–301.
17 C. Crews and J. Melnick, “The Use of Initial and Delayed Structure in Facilitating
Group Development,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 23 (1976): 92–98.
18 P. Kilmann and R. Howell, “The Effects of Structure of Marathon Group Therapy and
Locus of Control on Therapeutic Outcome,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 42 (1974): 912.
19 R. Robinson, “The Relationship of Dimension of Interpersonal Trust with Group
Cohesiveness, Group Status, and Immediate Outcome in Short-Term Group Counseling,”
Dissertation Abstracts 40 (1980): 5016-B.
20 J. Melnick and G. Rose, “Expectancy and Risk-Taking Propensity: Predictors of Group
Performance,” Small Group Behavior 10 (1979): 389–401. Melnick and Rose
demonstrated, in a well-designed experiment involving five undergraduate student
experiential groups, that social risk-taking propensity was significantly predictive of
therapeutically appropriate self-disclosure, risk-taking behavior, and high verbal activity in
the group sessions.
21 K. Horney, Neurosis and Human Growth (New York: Norton, 1950).
22 J. Bowlby, Attachment and Loss, vol. 1, Attachment (New York: Basic Books, 1969);
vol. 2, Separation (1973); vol. 3, Loss (1980). C. George, N. Kaplan, and M. Main, Adult
Attachment Interview, 3rd ed. Unpublished manuscript, University of California at
Berkeley, 1996. J. Cassidy ad J. Mohr, “Unsolvable Fear, Trauma, and Psychopathology:
Theory, Research, and Clinical Considerations Related to Disorganized Attachment
Across the Life Span,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 8 (2001): 275–98.
23 R. Maunder and J. Hunter, “An Integrated Approach to the Formulation and
Psychotherapy of Medically Unexplained Symptoms: Meaning and Attachment-Based
Intervention,” American Journal of Psychotherapy 58 (2004): 17–33. E. Chen and B.
Mallinckrodt, “Attachment, Group Attraction, and Self-Other Agreement in Interpersonal
Circumplex Problems and Perceptions of Group Members,” Group Dynamics: Therapy,
Research and Practice 6 (2002): 311–24.
24 C. Tyrrell, M. Dozier, G. Teague, and R. Fallot, “Effective Treatment Relationships for

Persons with Serious Psychiatric Disorders: The Importance of Attachment States of
Mind,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 725–33. E. Smith, J.
Murphy, and S. Coats, “Attachment and Group Theory and Measurement,” Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology 77 (1999): 94–110.
25 L. Horwitz, S. Rosenberg, B. Baer, G. Ureno, and V. Villasenor, “Inventory of
Interpersonal Problems: Psychometric Properties and Clinical Applications,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 56 (1988): 885–92. K. MacKenzie and A. Grabovac,
“Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group (IPT-G) for Depression,” Journal of Psychotherapy
Practice and Research 10 (2001): 46–51.
26 Contemporary interpersonal circumplex methodology is built on Leary’s original
interpersonal circle (T. Leary, Interpersonal Diagnosis of Personality [New York: Ronald
Press, 1957]) and bears some similarity to Schutz’s FIRO (Fundamental Interpersonal
Relations Inventory) FIRO-B: Interpersonal Underworld (Palo Alto, Calif.: Science and
Behavior Books, 1966). See M. Gutman and J. Balakrishnan, “Circular Measurement
Redux: The Analytical Interpretation of Interpersonal Circle Profile,” Clinical Psychology
Science and Practice 5 (1998): 344–60. This approach provides a visual schema of the
individual’s interpersonal style that synthesizes two key interpersonal dimensions:
affiliation (ranging from hostile to friendly) and agency or control (ranging from dominant
to submissive). Individuals can be described along the lines of hostile, hostile-dominant,
hostile-submissive, hostile or friendly, friendly-dominant, friendly-submissive,
submissive, respectively.
27 Chen and Mallinckrodt, “Attachment, Group Attraction, and Self-Other Agreement.”
R. MacNair-Semands and K. Lese, “Interpersonal Problems and the Perception of
Therapeutic Factors in Group Therapy,” Small Group Research 31 (2000): 158–74.
28 J. Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, A. Joyce, M. McCallum, and J. Rosie, “NEO–Five Factor
Personality Traits as Predictors of Response to Two Forms of Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 53 (2003): 417–43.
29 P. Costa and R. McCrae, “Normal Personality Assessment in Clinical Practice: The
NEO Personality Inventory,” Psychological Assessment 4 (1992): 5–13. The NEO
Personality Inventory (NEO-PI) and its shorter version, the NEO-FFI, are self-report
inventories that are easy to administer, reliable, and well validated across cultures. Five
personality variables are evaluated: Neuroticism (distress, vulnerability to stress and
propensity for shame); Extraversion (verbal, eager to engage, and enthusiastic);
Conscientiousness (hard working, committed, able to delay gratification); Openness
(embraces the novel and unfamiliar with creativity and imagination); and Agreeableness
(trusting, cooperative, altruistic).
30 W. Piper, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and H. Azim, “Psychological Mindedness, Work and
Outcome in Day Treatment,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
291–311. M. McCallum, W. Piper, and J. Kelly, “Predicting Patient Benefit from a Group-
Oriented Evening Treatment Program,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47
(1997): 291–314. W. Piper, A. Joyce, M. McCallum, H. Azim, and J. Ogrodniczuk,
Interpersonal and Supportive Psychotherapies: Matching Therapy and Patient

Personality (Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 2001). W. Piper, J.
Ogrodniczuk, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, and J. Rosie, “Expression of Affect as a Mediator
of the Relationship Between Quality of Object Relations and Group Therapy Outcome for
Patients with Complicated Grief,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 71
(2003): 664–71. M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Relationships
Among Psychological Mindedness, Alexithymia, and Outcome in Four Forms of Short-
Term Psychotherapy,” Psychology and Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 76
(2003): 133–44.
31 Piper, Joyce, Rosie, and Azim, “Psychological Mindedness.”
32 W. Piper et al., “Expression of Affect as a Mediator.” McCallum et al., “Relationships
Among Psychological Mindedness, Alexithymia, and Outcome.” M. McCallum, W. Piper,
and J. Kelly, “Predicting Patient Benefit from a Group-Oriented Evening Treatment
Program,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 291–314.
33 Piper et al., “Expression of Affect as a Mediator.” J. Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, M.
McCallum, A. Joyce, and J. Rosie, “Interpersonal Predictors of Group Therapy Outcome
for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 511–
35.
34 S. Sotsky et al., “Patient Predictors of Response to Psychotherapy and
Pharmacotherapy: Findings in the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research
Program,” American Journal of Psychiatry 148 (1991): 997–1008. S. Blatt, D. Quinlan, P.
Pilkonis, and M. Shea, “Impact of Perfectionism and Need for Approval on the Brief
Treatment of Depression: The National Institute of Mental Health Treatment of
Depression Collaborative Research Program Revisited,” Journal of Consulting and
Clinical Psychology 63 (1995): 125–32.
35 A. Goldstein, K. Heller, and L. Sechrest, Psychotherapy and the Psychology of
Behavior Change (New York: Wiley, 1966), 329.
36 R. Moos and S. Clemes, “A Multivariate Study of the Patient-Therapist System,”
Journal of Consulting Psychology 31 (1967): 119–30. C. Zimet, “Character Defense
Preference and Group Therapy Interaction,” Archives of General Psychiatry 3 (1960):
168–75. F. Giedt, “Predicting Suitability for Group Therapy,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 15 (1961): 582–91.
37 Moos and Clemes, “A Multivariate Study.”
38 G. McEvoy and R. Beatty, “Assessment Centers and Subordinate Appraisals of
Managers: A Seven-Year Examination of Predictive Validity,” Personnel Psychology 42
(1989): 37–52. H. Fields, “The Group Interview Test: Its Strength,” Public Personnel
Review 11 (1950): 39–46. Z. Shechtman, “A Group Assessment Procedure as a Predictor
of On-the-Job Performance of Teachers,” Journal of Applied Psychology 77 (1992): 383–
87. R. Baker, “Knowing What You’re Looking For: An Outcome-Based Approach to
Hiring,” Leadership Abstracts 13 (2000), Worldwide Web Edition.
39 E. Borgatta and R. Bales, “Interaction of Individuals in Reconstituted Groups,”

Sociometry 16 (1953): 302–20.
40 E. Borgatta and R. Bales, “Task and Accumulation of Experience as Factors in the
Interaction of Small Groups,” Sociometry 16 (1953): 239–52. B. Bass, Leadership,
Psychology, and Organizational Behavior (New York: Harper & Row, 1960).
41 V. Cerbin, “Individual Behavior in Social Situations: Its Relation to Anxiety,
Neuroticism, and Group Solidarity,” Journal of Experimental Psychology 51 (1956): 161–
68.
42 Ibid.
43 R. Cattell, D. Saunders, and G. Stice, “The Dimensions of Syntality in Small Groups,”
Journal of Social Psychology 28 (1948): 57–78.
44 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach
(Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957). G. Bach, Intensive Group Therapy (New
York: Ronald Press, 1954).
45 W. Stone, M. Parloff, and J. Frank, “The Use of Diagnostic Groups in a Group Therapy
Program,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 4 (1954): 274–84.
46 W. Stone and E. Klein, “The Waiting-List Group,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 417–28.
47 E. Klein, W. Stone, D. Reynolds, and J. Hartman, “A Systems Analysis of the
Effectiveness of Waiting List Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 417–23.
48 W. Piper and M. Marrache, “Selecting Suitable Patients: Pretraining for Group Therapy
as a Method for Group Selection,” Small Group Behavior 12 (1981): 459–74.
49 J. Connelly and W. Piper, “An Analysis of Pretraining Work Behavior as a
Composition Variable in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 173–89.
50 H. Sullivan, The Psychiatric Interview (New York: Norton, 1954).
51 G. Klerman, M. Weissman, B. Rounsaville, and E. Chevron, Interpersonal
Psychotherapy of Depression (New York: Basic Books, 1984). McCullough, Treatment for
Chronic Depression.
52 F. Powdermaker and J. Frank, Group Psychotherapy (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1953), 553–64.
53 This framework is a central component of a number of contemporary psychotherapy
approaches. It may be alternately identified as the client’s “plan” (J. Weiss, How
Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique [New York: Guilford Press, 1993]) or
“cognitive-interpersonal schema” (J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in
Cognitive Therapy [New York: Basic Books, 1990]). M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The
Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed.
V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69. D. Kiesler, Contemporary

Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: Wiley, 1996).
54 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy,” in A
Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships and Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002): 71–88.
55 M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 455–72.
56 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1972).
57 A. Francis, J. Clarkin, and J. Morachi, “Selection Criteria for Outpatient Group
Psychotherapy,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 31 (1980): 245–250. J. Best, P.
Jones, and A. Paton, “The Psychotherapeutic Value of a More Homogeneous Group
Composition,” International Journal of Social Psychiatry 27 (1981): 43–46. J. Melnick
and M. Woods, “Analysis of Group Composition Research and Theory for
Psychotherapeutic and Growth Oriented Groups,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science
12 (1976): 493–513.
58 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy.”
59 M. Siebert and W. Dorfman, “Group Composition and Its Impact on Effective Group
Treatment of HIV and AIDS Patients,” Journal of Developmental and Physical
Disabilities 7 (1995): 317–34.
60 M. Esplen et al., “A Multi-Centre Phase II Study of Supportive-Expressive Group
Therapy for Women with BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations,” Cancer (2004): 2237–2342.
61 Foulkes and Anthony, Group Psychotherapy, 94.
62 I. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement in Group Therapy,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68. I. Yalom et al., “Preparation of Patients for Group Therapy:
A Controlled Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 416–27. A. Sklar et al.,
“Time-Extended Group Therapy: A Controlled Study,” Comparative Group Studies
(1970): 373–86. I. Yalom and K. Rand, “Compatibility and Cohesiveness in Therapy
Groups,” Archives of General Psychiatry 13 (1966): 267–76.
63 F. Rabinowitz, “Group Therapy for Men,” in The New Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Counseling with Men: A Comprehensive Guide to Settings, Problems, and Treatment
Approaches, vol. 2, ed. G. Brooks and G. Good (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2001), 603–
21. L. Holmes, “Women in Groups and Women’s Groups,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 171–88.
64 Ibid. F. Wright and L. Gould, “Research on Gender-Linked Aspects of Group
Behaviors: Implications for Group Psychotherapy,” in Women and Group Psychotherapy:
Theory and Practice, ed. B. DeChant (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), 333–50. J.
Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, and A. Joyce, “Differences in Men’s and Women’s Responses to
Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy Research 14 (2004): 231–43.
65 T. Newcomb, “The Prediction of Interpersonal Attraction,” American Psychology 11

(1956): 575–86.
66 M. Lieberman, “The Relationship of Group Climate to Individual Change,” Ph.D. diss.,
University of Chicago, 1958.
67 C. Fairbairn et al., “Psychotherapy and Bulimia Nervosa,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 50 (1993): 419–28. D. Wilfley et al., “Group Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy
and Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for the Nonpurging Bulimic Individual: A
Controlled Comparison,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 296–
305.

CHAPTER 1 0
1 N. Taylor, G. Burlingame, K. Kristensen, A. Fuhriman, J. Johansen, and D. Dahl, “A
Survey of Mental Health Care Providers’ and Managed Care Organization Attitudes
Toward Familiarity With, and Use of Group Interventions,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 243–63. S. Rosenberg and C. Zimet, “Brief Group
Treatment and Managed Health Care,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45
(1995): 367–79. P. Cox, F. Ilfeld, B. Ilfeld, and C. Brennan, “Group Therapy Program
Development: Clinician-Administrator Collaborations in New Practice Settings,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 3–24.
2 S. Green and S. Bloch, “Working in a Flawed Mental Health Care System: An Ethical
Challenge,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (2001): 1378–83.
3 K. Long, L. Pendleton, B. Winter, “Effects of Therapist Termination on Group Process”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 38 (1988): 211–22.
4 B. Donovan, A. Padin-Rivera, and S. Kowaliw, “Transcend: Initial Outcomes from a
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder/Substance Abuse Treatment Program,” Journal of
Traumatic Stress 14 (2001): 757–72. S. Lash, G. Petersen, E. O’Connor, and L. Lahmann,
“Social Reinforcement of Substance Abuse Aftercare Group Therapy Attendance,”
Journal of Substance Abuse Treatment 20 (2001): 3–8. M. Leszcz, “Geriatric Group
Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Textbook of Geriatric Psychiatry, ed. J. Sadavoy, L.
Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Meyers (New York: Norton, 2004), 1023–54.
5 K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 41–60.
6 S. Budman, Treating Time Effectively (New York: Guilford Press, 1994).
7 R. Weigel, “The Marathon Encounter Group: Vision or Reality: Exhuming the Body for
a Last Look,” Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research 54 (2002): 186–
298.
8 F. Stoller, “Accelerated Interaction: A Time-Limited Approach Based on the Brief
Intensive Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 18 (1968): 220–35.
9 G. Bach, “Marathon Group Dynamics,” Psychological Reports 20 (1967): 1147–58.
10 A. Rachman, “Marathon Group Psychotherapy,” Journal of Group Psychoanalysis and
Process 2 (1969): 57–74.
11 F. Stoller, “Marathon Group Therapy,” in Innovations to Group Psychotherapy, ed. G.
Gazda (Springfield, Ill.: Charles C. Thomas, 1968), 71.
12 G. Bach and F. Stoller, “The Marathon Group,” cited in N. Dinges and R. Weigel, “The
Marathon Group: A Review of Practice and Research,” Comparative Group Studies 2
(1971): 339–458.

13 M. Gendron, “Effectiveness of the Intensive Group Process–Retreat Model in the
Treatment of Bulimia,” Group 16 (1992): 69–78.
14 C. Edmonds, G. Lockwood, and A. Cunningham, “Psychological Response to Long-
Term Group Therapy: A Randomized Trial with Metastatic Breast Cancer Patients,”
Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 74–91. Weigel, “The Marathon Encounter.”
15 S. Asch, “Effects of Group Pressure upon the Modification and Distortion of
Judgments,” in Group Dynamics: Research and Theory, ed. D. Cartwright and A. Zander
(New York: Harper and Row, 1960): 189–201.
16 T. Loomis, “Marathon vs. Spaced Groups: Skin Conductance and the Effects of Time
Distribution on Encounter Group Learning,” Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 516–27.
17 C. Winnick and A. Levine, “Marathon Therapy: Treating Rape Survivors in a
Therapeutic Community,” Journal of Psychoactive Drugs 24 (1992): 49–56.
18 R. Page, B. Richmond, and M. de La Serna, “Marathon Group Counseling with Illicit
Drug Abusers: Effects on Self-Perceptions,” Small Group Behavior 14 (1987): 483–97. N.
Dinges and R. Weigel, “The Marathon Group: A Review of Practice and Research,”
Comparative Group Studies 2 (1971): 220–35. P. Kilmann and W. Sotile, “The Marathon
Encounter Group: A Review of the Outcome Literature,” Psychological Bulletin 83
(1976): 827–50.
19 A. Sklar et al., “Time-Extended Group Therapy: A Controlled Study,” Comparative
Group Studies 1 (1970): 373–86.
20 Thus, during their first sixteen meetings, each group had one six-hour session and
fifteen meetings of conventional length (ninety minutes). Tape recordings of the second,
sixth, tenth, twelfth, and sixteenth meetings were analyzed to classify the verbal
interaction. Postgroup questionnaires measuring members’ involvement with the group
and with each other were obtained at these same meetings. The Hill Interaction Matrix
method of scoring interaction was used. The middle thirty minutes of the meeting were
systematically evaluated by two trained raters who were naive about the design of the
study. (The six-hour meeting itself was not analyzed, since we were interested primarily in
studying its effect on the subsequent course of therapy.) (W. Hill, HIM: Hill Interaction
Matrix [Los Angeles: Youth Study Center, University of Southern California, 1965].)
21 B. Jones reports similar findings in a study of three ongoing therapy groups, two of
which had weekend marathons (B. Jones, “The Effect of a Marathon Experience upon
Ongoing Group Therapy,” Dissertation Abstracts [1977]: 3887-B).
22 I. Yalom et al., “The Impact of a Weekend Group Experience on Individual Therapy,”
Archives of General Psychiatry 34 (1977): 399–415.
23 I. Yalom et al., ibid.
24 Taylor et al., “A Survey of Mental Health Care Providers.”
25 M. Koss and J. Butchner, “Research on Brief Therapy,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy
and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 3rd ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin

(New York: Wiley, 1986), 626.
26 K. MacKenzie, “Where Is Here and When Is Now? The Adaptational Challenges of
Mental Health Reform for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 407–20. D. Wilfley, K. MacKenzie, R. Welch, V. Ayres, and M.
Weissman, Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Group (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
27 S. Budman and A. Gurman, Theory and Practice of Brief Therapy (New York:
Guilford Press, 1988), 248.
28 S. Budman, Treating Time Effectively.
29 K. Howard, S. Kopta, and M. Krause, “The Dose-Effect Relationship in
Psychotherapy,” American Psychologist 41 (1986): 159–64.
30 S. Kopta, K. Howard, J. Lowry, and L. Beutler, “Patterns of Symptomatic Recovery in
Time-Limited Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting Clinical Psychology 62 (1994):
1009–16. S. Kadera, M. Lambert, and A. Andrew, “How Much Therapy Is Really
Enough? A Session-By-Session Analysis of the Psychotherapy Dose-Effect Relationship,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 132–51.
31 N. Doidge, B. Simon, L. Gillies, and R. Ruskin, “Characteristics of Psychoanalytic
Patients Under a Nationalized Health Plan: DSM-III-R Diagnoses, Previous Treatment,
and Childhood Trauma,” American Journal of Psychiatry 151 (1994): 586–90.
32 R. Klein, “Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group
Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993),
257–70. K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy.”
33 S. Budman, S. Cooley, A. Demby, G. Koppenaal, J. Koslof, and T. Powers, “A Model
of Time-Effective Group Psychotherapy for Patients with Personality Disorders,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 315–24. K. MacKenzie, “Where
Is Here and When Is Now?” K. MacKenzie, Time-Managed Group Psychotherapy:
Effective Clinical Applications (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1997).
34 Budman and Gurman, Theory and Practice of Brief Therapy.
35 J. Mann and R. Goldman, A Casebook in Time-limited Psychotherapy (Washington,
D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1987).
36 Budman and Gurman, Theory and Practice of Brief Therapy.
37 Wilfley et al., Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Group.
38 In an HMO setting, Budman employs the pregroup individual session primarily for
screening and reframing the patient’s problems to facilitate the client’s working in a brief
time frame. Much of the group preparation is held in a large-group (approximately twelve
patients) ninety-minute workshop that is both didactic and experiential. This preparatory
model has also proved highly effective in reducing dropouts. (Budman and Gurman,
Theory and Practice.)
39 K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy.” K. MacKenzie, Time-Managed

Group Psychotherapy. K. MacKenzie and A. Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy
Group (IPT-G) for Depression,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10
(2001): 46–51. S. Budman, P. Simeone, R. Reilly, and A. Demby, “Progress in Short-Term
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy: Evidence and Implications,” in Handbook of
Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994):
319–39.
40 M. Esplen et al., “A Supportive-Expressive Group Intervention for Women with a
Family History of Breast Cancer: Results of a Phase II Study,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000):
243–52.
41 J. Hardy and C. Lewis, “Bridging the Gap Between Long- and Short-Term Therapy: A
Viable Model,” Group 16 (1992): 5–17.
42 W. McDermut, I. Miller, and R. Brown, “The Efficacy of Group Psychotherapy for
Depression: A Meta-Analysis and a Review of Empirical Research,” Clinical Psychology:
Science and Practice 8 (2001): 98–104.
43 MacKenzie and Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group.” A. Ravindran et al.,
“Treatment of Primary Dysthymia with Group Cognitive Therapy and Pharmacotherapy:
Clinical Symptoms and Functional Impairments,” American Journal of Psychiatry 156
(1999): 1608–17.
44 W. Piper, M. McCallum, and A. Hassan, Adaptation to Loss Through Short-Term
Group Psychotherapy (New York: Guilford Press, 1992).
45 W. Piper, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Patient Personality
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 525–52.
46 E. Marziali and H. Munroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy for Borderline
Personality Disorder (New York: Basic Books, 1994).
47 A. Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease, Part
I: Effects on Psychosocial and Functional Outcomes at Different Phases of Illness,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 29–82.
48 W. Piper, E. Debbane, J. Bienvenue, and J. Garant, “A Comparative Study of Four
Forms of Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52 (1984): 268–
79.
49 S. Budman et al., “Comparative Outcome in Time-Limited Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 63–86.
50 M. Koss and J. Shiang, “Research in Brief Psychotherapy,” in Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed. S. Garfield
and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 664–700.
51 I. Elkin, “Perspectives on the NIMH Collaborative Treatment of Depression Study,”
presented at Mount Sinai Hospital, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, April 1995.
52 . Fulkerson, D. Hawkins, and A. Alden, “Psychotherapy Groups of Insufficient Size,”

International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 31 (1981): 73–81.
53 J. White and M. Keenan, “Stress Control: A Pilot Study of Large Group Therapy for
Generalized Anxiety Disorder,” Behavioral Psychotherapy 18 (1990): 143–46.
54 T. Oei, M. Llamas, and L. Evans, “Does Concurrent Drug Intake Affect the Long-Term
Outlook of Group Cognitive Behavior Therapy in Panic Disorder with or Without
Agoraphobia?” Behavior Research and Therapy 35 (1997): 851–57.
55 A. Cunningham, C. Edmonds, and D. Williams, “Delivering a Very Brief
Psychoeducational Program to Cancer Patients and Family Members in a Large Group
Format,” Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 177–82.
56 A. Cunningham, “Adjuvant Psychological Therapy for Cancer Patients: Putting It on
the Same Footing as Adjunctive Medical Therapies,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 367–71.
57 G. Castore, “Number of Verbal Interrelationships as a Determinant of Group Size,”
Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 64 (1962): 456–57.
58 A. Hare, Handbook of Small Group Research (New York: Free Press of Glencoe,
1962), 224–45.
59 L. Carter et al., “The Behavior of Leaders and Other Group Members,” Journal of
Abnormal Social Psychology 46 (1958): 256–60.
60 A. Marc, ”A Study of Interaction and Consensus in Different Sized Groups,” American
Social Review 17 (1952): 261–67.
61 Y. Slocum, “A Survey of Expectations About Group Therapy Among Clinical and
Nonclinical Populations,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 39–
54.
62 M. Bowden, “Anti-Group Attitudes and Assessment for Psychotherapy,”
Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy 16 (2002): 246–58. M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 455–72.
63 M. Bowden, ibid.
64 H. Bernard, “Patterns and Determinants of Attitudes of Psychiatric Residents Toward
Group Therapy,” Group 15 (1991): 131–40.
65 S. Sue, “In Search of Cultural Competence in Psychotherapy Counseling,” American
Psychologist 53 (1998): 440–48. M. LaRoche and A. Maxie, “Ten Considerations in
Addressing Cultural Differences in Psychotherapy,” Professional Psychology: Research
and Practice 34 (2003): 180–86.
66 B. Meyer, J. Krupnick, S. Simmens, P. Pilkonis, M. Egan, and S. Sotsky, “Treatment
Expectancies, Patient Alliance, and Outcome: Further Analysis from the NIMH Treatment
of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 70 (2002): 1051–55. C. Carver and M. Schriver, On the Self-Regulation of
Bulimia (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998).
67 M. Connolly Gibbon, P. Crits-Christoph, C. de la Cruz, J. Barber, L. Siqueland, and M.

Gladis, “Pretreatment Expectations, Interpersonal Functioning, and Symptoms in the
Prediction of the Therapeutic Alliance Across Supportive-Expressive Psychotherapy and
Cognitive Therapy,” Psychotherapy Research 13 (2003): 59–76.
68 H. Roback, R. Moor, F. Bloch, and M. Shelton, “Confidentiality in Group
Psychotherapy: Empirical Finds and the Law,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 117–35. H. Roback, E. Ochoa, F. Bloch, and S. Purdon,
“Guarding Confidentiality in Clinical Groups: The Therapist’s Dilemma,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 426–31.
69 J. Beahrs and T. Gutheil, “Informed Consent in Psychotherapy,” American Journal of
Psychiatry 158 (2001): 4–10.
70 R. Crandall, “The Assimilation of Newcomers into Groups,” Small Group Behavior 9
(1978): 331–36.
71 E. Gauron and E. Rawlings, “A Procedure for Orienting New Members to Group
Psychotherapy,” Small Group Behavior 6 (1975): 293–307.
72 W. Piper, “Pretraining for Group Psychotherapy: A Cognitive-Experiential Approach,”
Archives of General Psychiatry 36 (1979): 1250–56. W. Piper et al., “Preparation of
Patients: A Study of Group Pretraining for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 309–25. S. Budman et al., “Experiential Pre-Group
Preparation and Screening,” Group 5 (1981): 19–26.
73 S. Budman et al., “Experiential Pre-group Preparation and Screening,” Group 5 (1981):
19–26. S. Budman, S. Cooley, A. Demby, G. Koppenaal, J. Koslof, and T. Powers, “A
Model of Time-Effective Group Psychotherapy for Patients with Personality Disorders,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 315–24.
74 J. Connelly and W. Piper, “An Analysis of Pretraining Work Behavior as a
Composition Variable in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 173–89.
75 R. Kadden, M. Litt, N. Cooney, and D. Busher, “Relationship Between Role-Play
Measures of Coping Skills and Alcoholism Treatment Outcome,” Addiction Behavior 17
(1992): 425–37.
76 W. Piper et al., “Preparation of Patients: A Study of Group Pretraining for Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 309–25.
77 J. Prochaska, C. DiClemente, and J. Norcross, “In Search of How People Change:
Applications to Addictive Behaviors,” American Psychologist 47 (1992): 1102–14.
78 R. Feld, D. Woodside, A. Kaplan, M. Olmstead, and J. Carter, “Pre-Treatment
Motivational Enhancement Therapy for Eating Disorders: A Pilot Study,” International
Journal of Eating Disorders 29 (2001): 393–400. G. O’Reilly, T. Morrison, D. Sheerin, A.
Carr, “A Group-Based Module for Adolescents to Improve Motivation to Change Sexually
Abusive Behavior,” Child Abuse Review 10 (2001): 150–69. W. Miller and S. Rollnick,
Motivational Interviewing: Preparing People to Change Addictive Behavior (New York:
Guilford Press, 2002).

79 I. Yalom et al., “Preparation of Patients for Group Therapy,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 17 (1967): 416–27.
80 The interaction of the groups was measured by scoring each statement during the
meeting on the a sixteen-cell matrix (W. Hill, HIM: Hill Interaction Matrix [Los Angeles:
Youth Study Center, University of Southern California, 1965]). Scoring was performed by
a team of raters naive to the experimental design. Faith in therapy was tested by postgroup
patient-administered questionnaires.
81 D. Meadow, “Preparation of Individuals for Participation in a Treatment Group:
Development and Empirical Testing of a Model,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 367–85. R. Bednar and T. Kaul, “Experiential Group Research:
Can the Canon Fire?” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An
Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 631–
63. G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Mosier, “The Differential Effectiveness of Group
Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and
Practice 7 (2003): 3–12.
82 M. Wogan et al., “Influencing Interaction and Outcomes in Group Psychotherapy,”
Small Group Behavior 8 (1977): 25–46.
83 W. Piper and E. Perrault, “Pretherapy Training for Group Members,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 17–34. Piper et al., “Preparation of Patients.”
W. Piper and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Pregroup Training,” in Praxis der Gruppenpsychotherapie,
ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001): 74–78. Connelly and Piper, “An Analysis of
Pretraining Work Behavior.” S. Budman and M. Bennet, “Short-Term Group
Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group Psychotherapy, 2nd ed., ed. H. Kaplan and B.
Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1983), 138–44. D. France and J. Dugo,
“Pretherapy Orientation as Preparation for Open Psychotherapy Groups,” Psychotherapy
22 (1985): 256–61.
84 J. Heitler, “Clinical Impressions of an Experimental Attempt to Prepare Lower-Class
Patients for Expressive Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 29 (1974): 308–22. K. Palmer, R. Baker, and T. Miker, “The Effects of
Pretraining on Group Psychotherapy for Incest-Related Issues,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 71–89.
85 W. Piper and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Pregroup Training.”
86 E. Werth, “A Comparison of Pretraining Models for Encounter Group Therapy,”
Dissertation Abstracts 40 (1979).
87 G. Silver, “Systematic Presentation of Pre-therapy Information in Group
Psychotherapy: Its Relationship to Attitude and Behavioral Change,” Dissertation
Abstracts (1976): 4481-B.
88 Piper et al., “Preparation of Patients.” L. Annis and D. Perry, “Self-Disclosure in
Unsupervised Groups: Effects of Videotaped Models,” Small Group Behavior 9 (1978):
102–8. J. Samuel, “The Individual and Comparative Effects of a Pre-group Preparation

Upon Two Different Therapy Groups,” Dissertation Abstracts International 41 (1980):
1919-B. S. Barnett, “The Effect of Preparatory Training in Communication Skills on
Group Therapy with Lower Socioeconomic Class Alcoholics,” Dissertation Abstracts
International 41 (1981): 2744-B.
89 Barnett, ibid. P. Pilkonis et al, “Training Complex Social Skills for Use in a
Psychotherapy Group: A Case Study,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30
(1980): 347–56.
90 Pilkonis et al., ibid.
91 T. Zarle and S. Willis, “A Pre-Group Training Technique for Encounter Group Stress,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 22 (1975): 49–53.
92 T. Curran, “Increasing Motivation to Change in Group Treatment,” Small Group
Behavior 9 (1978): 337–48.
93 J. Steuer et al., “Cognitive Behavior and Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapy in
Treatment of Geriatric Depression,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52
(1984): 180–89.

94 O. Farrell, T. Cutter, and F. Floyd, “Evaluating Marital Therapy for Male Alcoholics,”
Behavior Therapy 16 (1985): 147–67.
95 Curran, “Increasing Motivation to Change.”
96 M. Cartwright, “Brief Reports: A Preparatory Method for Group Counseling,” Journal
of Counseling Psychology 23 (1976): 75–77.
97 A. Hare, “A Study of Interaction and Consensus in Different Sized Groups,” American
Social Review 17 (1952): 261–67.
98 C. Taft, C. Murphy, J. Elliott, and T. Morrel, “Attendance Enhancing Procedures in
Group Counseling for Domestic Abusers,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 48 (2001):
51–60.
99 Piper and Ogrodniczuk, “Pregroup Training.”
100 I. Gradolph, “The Task-Approach of Groups of Single-Type and Mixed-Type Valency
Compositions,” in Emotional Dynamics and Group Culture, ed. D. Stock and H. Thelen
(New York: New York University Press, 1958), 127–30. D. Stock and W. Hill,
“Intersubgroup Dynamics as a Factor in Group Growth,” Emotional Dynamics and Group
Culture, ed. D. Stock and H. Thelen (New York: New York University Press, 1958), 207–
21.
101 Piper (Piper & Perrault 1989) suggests that clients tend to drop out of therapy groups
if they receive no pretherapy preparation because of excessive anxiety: that is, they did not
have the opportunity to extinguish anxiety by experiencing controlled modulation of
anxiety in the presence of experienced leaders. R. Curtis, “Self-Organizing Processes,
Anxiety, and Change,” Journal of Psychotherapy Integration 2 (1992): 295–319.
102 R. White, “Motivation Reconsidered: The Concept of Competence,” Psychological
Review 66 (1959): 297–333.
103 B. Rauer and J. Reitsema, “The Effects of Varied Clarity of Group Goal and Group
Path Upon the Individual and His Relation to His Group,” Human Relations 10 (1957):
29–45. A. Cohen, “Situational Structure, Self-Esteem, and Threat-Oriented Reactions to
Power,” in Studies in Social Power, ed. D. Cartwright (Ann Arbor, Mich.: Research Center
for Group Dynamics, 1959), 35–52. A. Goldstein, K. Heller, and L. Sechrest,
Psychotherapy and the Psychology of Behavior Change (New York: Wiley, 1966), 405.
104 Goldstein et al., ibid., 329. E. Murray, “A Content Analysis for Study in
Psychotherapy,” Psychological Monographs 70 (1956).
105 Beahrs and Gutheil, “Informed Consent.”
106 American Psychological Association, Ethical Principles of Psychologists and the
Code of Conduct (Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1992).
107 American Psychiatric Association, The Principles of Medical Ethics with Annotations
Especially Applicable to Psychiatry (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric
Association, 1998), 24.

108 E. Aronson and J. Mills, “The Effect of Severity of Initiation on Liking for a Group,”
Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 59 (1959): 177–81. R. Cialdini, “Harnessing the
Science of Persuasion,” Harvard Business Review 79 (2001): 72–79.

CHAPTER 11
1 B. Tuckman, “Developmental Sequences in Small Groups,” Psychological Bulletin 63
(1965): 384–99. Tuckman’s third stage—“norming”—refers to the development of group
cohesion. His fourth stage—“performing”—refers to the emergence of insight and
functional role-relatedness.
2 K. MacKenzie, “Clinical Application of Group Development Ideas,” Group Dynamics :
Theory, Research and Practice 1 (1997): 275–87. Y. Agazarian and S. Gantt, “Phases of
Group Development: Systems-centered Hypotheses and Their Implications for Research
and Practice,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 7 (2003): 238–52. S.
Wheelan, B. Davidson and F. Tilin, “Group Development Across Time: Reality or
Illusion?” Small Group Research 34 (2003): 223–45. G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, B.
Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for Effectiveness and Mechanisms of
Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th
ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: John Wiley & Sons Ltd., 2004), 647–96.
3 D. Kivlighan and D. Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors in Group
Counseling: The Role of Interpersonal Style and Stage of Group Development,” Small
Group Behavior 19 (1988): 452–68. D. Kivlighan and R. Lilly, “Developmental Changes
in Group Climate as They Relate to Therapeutic Gain,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 208–21.
4 S. Wheelan, “Group Development and the Practice of Group Psychotherapy,” Group
Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 288–93. S. Wheelan, D. Murphy, E.
Tsumura, and S. Fried-Kline, “Member Perceptions of Internal Group Dynamics and
Productivity,” Small Group Research 29 (1998): 371–93. Wheelan and Hochberger
developed and validated the Group Development Questionnaire (GDQ) as a measure of
group development in work and task groups. The GDQ, a self-report measure, consists of
a series of questions that fall into four domains: (1) dependency/inclusion; (2)
counterdependence /flight; (3) trust/structure; and (4) work/productivity. The GDQ has not
been applied to psychotherapy groups to date, but it holds promise in this regard (S.
Wheelan and J. Hochberger, “Validation Studies of the Group Development
Questionnaire,” Small Group Research 27 [1996]: 143–70).
5 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “Some Observations on the
Subjective Experience of Neophyte Group Therapy Trainees,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 543–52.
6 R. Kamm, “Group Dynamics and Athletic Success,” presented at the annual meeting of
the American Group Psychotherapy Association, New York City, February, 27, 2004.
7 C. Kieffer, “Phases of Group Development: A View from Self-Psychology,” Group 25
(2002): 91–105.

8 P. Flores, “Addiction as an Attachment Disorder: Implications for Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 63–82.
9 M. Ettin, “From Identified Patient to Identifiable Group: The Alchemy of the Group as a
Whole,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 137–62. Kieffer,
“Phases of Group Development.”
10 I. Harwood, “Distinguishing Between the Facilitating and Self-Serving Charismatic
Group Leader,” Group 27 (2003): 121–29.
11 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in Standard Edition, vol. 18
(London: Hogarth Press, 1955), 67–143.
12 C. Rich and F. Pitts Jr., “Suicide by Psychiatrists: A Study of Medical Specialists
Among 18,730 Consecutive Physician Deaths During a Five-Year Period, 1967–72,”
Journal of Clinical Psychiatry 41 (1980): 261–63. E. Frank, H. Biola, and C. Burnett,
“Mortality Rates Among U.S. Physicians,” American Journal of Preventive Medicine 19
(2000): 155–59.
13 J. Ogrodniczuk and W. Piper, “The Effect of Group Climate on Outcome in Two Forms
of Short-Term Group Therapy,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 7 (1):
64–76.
14 W. Schutz, The Interpersonal Underworld (Palo Alto, Calif.: Science and Behavior
Books, 1966), 24. K. Roy MacKenzie and W. John Livesley, “A Developmental Model for
Brief Group Therapy,” in Advances in Group Therapy, ed. R. Dies and K. Roy MacKenzie
(New York: International Universities Press, 1983), 101–16. Tuckman, “Developmental
Sequences in Small Groups.”
15 G. Bach, Intensive Group Psychotherapy (New York: Ronald Press, 1954), 95.
16 P. Slater, Microcosm (New York: Wiley, 1966).
17 S. Freud, Totem and Taboo, in S. Freud, Standard Edition of the Complete
Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 13 (London: Hogarth Press, 1953), 1–161.
18 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in S. Freud, Standard Edition,
vol. 18 (London: Hogarth Press, 1955), 123.
19 W. Bennis, “Patterns and Vicissitudes in T-Group Development,” in T-Group Theory
and Laboratory Method: Innovation in Re-Education, ed. L. Bradford, J. Gibb, and K.
Benne (New York: Wiley, 1964), 248–78.
20 T. Mills, personal communication, April 1968.
21 Tuckman, “Developmental Sequences in Small Groups.” I. Harwood, “Distinguishing
Between the Facilitating and Self-Serving Charismatic Group Leader,” Group 27 (2003):
121–29.
22 Murphy et al., “Some Observations on the Subjective Experience.”
23 N. Harpaz, “Failures in Group Psychotherapy: The Therapist Variable,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 3–19. M. Leszcz, “Discussion of Failures in

Group Psychotherapy: The Therapist Variable,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 25–31.
24 S. Scheidlinger, “Presidential Address: On Scapegoating in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 131–43. A. Clark,
“Scapegoating: Dynamics and Interventions in Group Counseling,” Journal of Counseling
and Development 80 (2002): 271–76.
25 E. Schein and W. Bennis, Personal and Organizational Change Through Group
Methods (New York: Wiley, 1965), 275.
26 S. Hayes, “Acceptance, Mindfulness and Science,” Clinical Psychology: Science and
Practice 9 (2002): 101–06. A. Wells, “GAD, Metacognition, and Mindfulness: An
Information Processing Analysis,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 9 (2002):
95–100.
27 Bennis, “Patterns and Vicissitudes.”
28 F. Taylor, “The Therapeutic Factors of Group-Analytic Treatment,” Journal of Mental
Science 96 (1950): 976–97.
29 R. Shellow, J. Ward, and S. Rubenfeld, “Group Therapy and the Institutionalized
Delinquent,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 8 (1958): 265–75.
30 D. Whitaker and M. Lieberman, Psychotherapy Through the Group Process (New
York: Atherton Press, 1964). M. Grotjahn, “The Process of Maturation in Group
Psychotherapy and in the Group Therapist,” Psychiatry 13 (1950): 63–67. MacKenzie and
Livesley, “A Developmental Model.”
31 J. Abrahams, “Group Psychotherapy: Implications for Direction and Supervision of
Mentally Ill Patients,” in Mental Health in Nursing, ed. T. Muller (Washington, D.C.:
Catholic University Press, 1949), 77–83.
32 J. Thorpe and B. Smith, “Phases in Group Development in Treatment of Drug
Addicts,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 3 (1953): 66–78.
33 A. Beck and L. Peters, “The Research Evidence for Distributed Leadership in Therapy
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 31 (1981): 43–71. R. Josselson,
“The Space Between in Group Psychotherapy: A Multidimensional Model of
Relationships,” Group 27 (2003): 203–19.
34 Schutz, The Interpersonal Underworld, 170.
35 I. Janis, Groupthink: Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascoes, 2nd ed.
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1982). G. Hodson and R. Sorrentino, “Groupthink and
Uncertainty Orientation: Personality Differences in Reactivity to the Group Situation,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 144–55.
36 G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment.”
37 S. Drescher, G. Burlingame, and A. Fuhriman, “An Odyssey in Empirical
Understanding,” Small Group Behavior 16 (1985): 3–30.

38 I. Altman, A. Vinsel, and B. Brown, cited in K. MacKenzie, “Group Development,” in
Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York:
Wiley, 1994), 223–68.
39 D. Barker, “The Behavioral Analysis of Interpersonal Intimacy in Group
Development,” Small Group Research 22 (1991): 76–91.
40 D. Kivlighan and R. Lilly, “Developmental Changes in Group Climate.” L.
Castonguay, A. Pincers, W. Agrees, C. Hines, “The Role of Emotion in Group Cognitive-
Behavioral Therapy for Binge Eating Disorder: When Things Have to Feel Worse Before
They Get Better,” Psychotherapy Research 8 (1998): 225–38.
41 D. Hamburg, personal communication, 1978.
42 M. Nitsun, The Anti-Group: Destructive Forces in the Group and Their Creative
Potential (London: Routledge, 1996). M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 455–72.
43 B. Rasmussen, “Joining Group Psychotherapy: Developmental Considerations,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 513–28.
44 D. Jung and J. Sasik, “Effects of Group Characteristics on Work Group Performance: A
Longitudinal Investigation,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 3 (1999):
279–90.
45 I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14
(1966): 393–414.
46 A. Beck describes a similar set of behavior for clients she terms “scapegoat leaders”
(Beck and Peters, “The Research Evidence for Distributed Leadership”).
47 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: J. Wiley &
Sons Ltd., 1996).
48 A. Rice, Learning for Leadership (London: Tavistock Publications, 1965).
49 W. Henry, H. Strupp, S. Butler, T. Schacht, and J. Binder, “Effects of Training in Time-
Limited Dynamic Psychotherapy: Changes in Therapist Behavior,” Journal of Consulting
and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 434–40. J. Waltz, M. Addis, K. Koerner, and N.
Jacobson, “Testing the Integrity of a Psychotherapy Protocol: Assessment of Adherence
and Competence,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 620–30. W.
Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, “Therapy Manuals and the Dilemma of Dynamically Oriented
Therapists and Researchers,” American Journal of Psychotherapy 53 (1999): 467–82.
50 I. Yalom, P. Houts, S. Zimerberg, and K. Rand, “Predictions of Improvement in Group
Therapy: An Exploratory Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68.
51 L. Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout Phenomenon Revisited,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 135 (1978): 1492–95.
52 W. Stone, M. Blase, and J. Bozzuto, “Late Dropouts from Group Therapy,” American
Journal of Psychotherapy 34 (1980): 401–13.

53 W. Stone and S. Rutan, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 101–17. R. MacNair and J. Corazzini,
“Clinical Factors Influencing Group Therapy Dropout,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice and Training 31 (1994): 352–61.
54 S. Budman, A. Demby, and M. Randall, “Short-Term Group Psychotherapy: Who
Succeeds, Who Fails,” Group 4 (1980): 3–16. H. Roback and M. Smith, “Patient Attrition
in Dynamically Oriented Treatment Groups,” American Journal of Psychiatry 144 (1987):
426–43. W. Piper et al., “A Comparative Study of Four Forms of Psychotherapy,” Journal
of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52 (1984): 268–79. M. McCallum, W. Piper, and
A. Joyce, “Dropping Out from Short-Term Therapy,” Psychotherapy 29 (1992): 206–15.
55 R. Tolman and G. Bhosley, “A Comparison of Two Types of Pregroup Preparation for
Men Who Batter,” Journal of Social Services Research 13 (1990): 33–44. S. Stosny,
“Shadows of the Heart: A Dramatic Video for the Treatment Resistance of Spouse Abuse,”
Social Work 39 (1994): 686–94.
56 C. Taft, C. Murphy, J. Elliott, and T. Morrel, “Attendance-Enhancing Procedures in
Group Counseling for Domestic Abusers,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 48 (2001):
51–60.
57 Stone et al., “Late Dropouts.”
58 W. Piper, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Patient Personality
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 525–52.
59 Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts.”
60 Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout Phenomenon Revisited.”
61 H. Bernard, “Guidelines to Minimize Premature Terminations,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 523–29. H. Roback, “Adverse Outcomes in Group
Psychotherapy: Risk Factors, Prevention and Research Directions,” Journal of
Psychotherapy, Practice, and Research, 9 (2000): 113–22.
62 Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts.”
63 M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Early Process and Dropping
Out from Short-term Group Therapy for Complicated Grief,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Practice and Research 6 (2002): 243–54. L. Samstag, S. Batchelder, J. Muran, J. Safran,
A. Winston, “Early Identification of Treatment Failures in Short-Term Psychotherapy,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 126–43.
64 J. Weinberg, “On Adding Insight to Injury,” Gerontologist 16 (1976): 4–10.
65 M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group Psychotherapy
for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–73.
66 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach
(Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957).

67 L. Rosenthal, “The New Member: ‘Infanticide’ in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 277–86.
68 B. Rasmussen, “Joining Group Psychotherapy.” E. Shapiro and R. Ginzberg, “The
Persistently Neglected Sibling Relationship and Its Applicability to Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 327–41.
69 R. Crandall, “The Assimilation of Newcomers into Groups,” Small Group Behavior 9
(1978): 331–37.

CHAPTER 12
1 K. MacKenzie, Time-Managed Group Psychotherapy: Effective Clinical Applications
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1997). A. Berman and H. Weinberg, “The
Advanced-Stage Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 498–
518.
2 J. Silverstein, “Acting Out in Group Therapy: Avoiding Authority Struggles,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 31–45.
3 R. White and R. Lippit, “Leader Behavior and Member Reaction in Three ‘Social
Climates,’” in Group Dynamics: Research and Theory, ed. D. Cartwright and A. Zander
(New York: Row, Peterson, 1962), 527–53.
4 G. Hodson, R. Sorrentino, “Groupthink and Uncertainty Orientation: Personality
Differences in Reactivity to the Group Situation,” Group Dynamics 2 (1997): 144–55.
5 I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14
(1966): 393–414.
6 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in S. Freud, Standard Edition
of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 18 (London: Hogarth Press,
1955), 69–143. I. Yalom, “Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego: A Review,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 24 (1974): 67–82.
7 I. Yalom and P. Houts, unpublished data, 1965.
8 Y. Agazarian, “Contemporary Theories of Group Psychotherapy: A Systems Approach
to the Group-as-a-Whole,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 177–
204. G. Burlingame, R. MacKenzie, B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for
Effectiveness and Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th Ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley & Sons,
2004), 647–96.
9 M. Dubner, “Envy in the Group Therapy Process,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 519–31.
10 J. Kelly Moreno, “Group Treatment for Eating Disorders,” in Handbook of Group
Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 416–57. J.
Bohanske and R. Lemberg, “An Intensive Group Process Retreat Model for the Treatment
of Bulimia,” Group 11 (1987): 228–37.
11 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400. M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and
Foundations of Group Psychotherapy for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–73.
12 A. Camus, The Fall (New York: Vintage, 1956), 58.

13 Ibid., 68.
14 Ibid., 63.
15 L. Ormont, “Developing Emotional Insulation,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 361–75. L. Ormont, “Meeting Maturational Needs in the Group
Setting,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 343–59.
16 B. Buchele, “Etiology and Management of Anger in Groups: A Psychodynamic View,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 275–85. A. Alonso, “Discussant
Comments for Special Section on Anger and Aggression in Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 331–39.
17 My discussion of conflict in the therapy group draws much from essays by Jerome
Frank and Carl Rogers. J. Frank, “Some Values of Conflict in Therapeutic Groups,” Group
Psychotherapy 8 (1955): 142–51. C. Rogers, “Dealing with Psychological Tensions,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 6–24.
18 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach
(Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957).
19 Frank, “Some Values of Conflict.”
20 F. Dostoevsky, “The Double,” in Great Short Works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, ed. R.
Hingley (New York: Harper & Row, 1968).
21 L. Horwitz, “Projective Identification in Dyads and Groups,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 254–79.
22 W. Goldstein, “Clarification of Projective Identification,” American Journal of
Psychiatry 148 (1991): 153–61. T. Ogden, Projective Identification and Psychotherapeutic
Technique (New York: Jason Aronson, 1982).
23 L. Horwitz, “Projective Identification in Dyads.”
24 M. Livingston and L. Livingston, “Conflict and Aggression in Group Psychotherapy: A
Self Psychological Vantage Point,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 381–91. J. Gans and R. Weber, “The Detection of Shame in Group Psychotherapy:
Uncovering the Hidden Emotion,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50
(2000): 381–96. W. Stone, “Frustration, Anger, and the Significance of Alter-Ego
Transference in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45
(1995): 287–302.
25 J. Gans, “Hostility in Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
39 (1989): 499–517. M. Dubner, “Envy in the Group Therapy Process.”
26 A. Clark, “Scapegoating: Dynamics and Intervention in Group Counselling,” Journal
of Counseling and Development 80 (2002): 271–76. B. Cohen and V. Schermer, “On
Scapegoating in Therapy Groups: A Social Constructivist and Intersubjective Outlook,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 89–109.
27 R. Giesler and W. Swann, “Striving for Confirmation: The Role of Self-Verification in

Depression,” in The Interactional Nature of Depression, ed. T. Joiner and J. Coyne
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1999), 189–217.
28 Terence, The Self-Tormentor, trans. Betty Radice (New York: Penguin, 1965).
29 P. Fonagy, “Multiple Voices Versus Meta-Cognition: An Attachment Theory
Perspective,” Journal of Psychotherapy Integration 7 (1997): 181–94. A. Wells, “GAD,
Metacognition, and Mindfulness: An Information Processing Analysis,” Clinical
Psychology 9 (2002): 95–100. M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the
Characterologically Difficult Patient,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39
(1989): 311–35.
30 D. Winnicott, Maturational Processes and the Facilitating Environment (London:
Hogarth Press, 1965).
31 L. Ormont, “The Leader’s Role in Dealing with Aggression in Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 553–72.
32 E. Berne, Games People Play (New York: Grove Press, 1964).
33 M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis
der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69.
34 M. Livingston, “Vulnerability, Tenderness and the Experiences of Self-Object
Relationship: A Self Psychological View of Deepening Curative Process in Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 19–40.
35 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term In-Patient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
185–208. G. Burlingame, R. MacKenzie, B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment.”
36 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term In-Patient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
185–208. G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and L. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Therapy,” in
A Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships That Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002), 71–88.
37 I. Yalom et al., “Predictions of Improvement in Group Therapy: An Exploratory
Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68.
38 S. Hurley, “Self-Disclosure in Small Counseling Groups,” Ph.D. diss., Michigan State
University, 1967.
39 M. Worthy, A. Gary, and G. Kahn, “Self-Disclosure as an Exchange Process,” Journal
of Personality and Social Psychology 13 (1969): 59–63.
40 S. Bloch and E. Crouch, Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1985). S. Bloch and E. Crouch, “Therapeutic Factors:
Intrapersonal and Interpersonal Mechanisms,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed.
A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 269–318. W. Query, “Self-
Disclosure as a Variable in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 14 (1964): 107–15. D. Johnson and L. Ridener, “Self-Disclosure,

Participation, and Perceived Cohesiveness in Small Group Interaction,” Psychological
Reports 35 (1974): 361–63.
41 P. Cozby, “Self-Disclosure, Reciprocity, and Liking,” Sociometry 35 (1972): 151–60.
42 N. Brown, “Conceptualizing Process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
53 (2003): 225–44.
43 C. Truax and R. Carkhuff, “Client and Therapist Transparency in the Psychotherapeutic
Encounter,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 12 (1965): 3–9.
44 H. Peres, “An Investigation of Non-Directive Group Therapy,” Journal of Consulting
Psychology 11 (1947): 159–72.
45 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
46 S. Wiser and M. Goldfried, “Therapist Interventions and Client Emotional
Experiencing in Expert Psychodynamic–Interpersonal and Cognitive-Behavioral
Therapies,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 66 (1998): 634–40. J. Ablon
and E. Jones, “Psychotherapy Process in the National Institute of Mental Health Treatment
of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 67 (1999): 64–75. B. Cohen and V. Schermer, “Therapist Self-Disclosure.”
47 R. Slavin, “The Significance of Here-and-Now Disclosure in Promoting Cohesion in
Group Psychotherapy,” Group 17 (1993): 143–50.
48 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993).
49 D. Medeiros and A. Richards, “Sharing Secrets: Where Psychotherapy and Education
Meet,” in Studies in Humanistic Psychology, ed. C. Aanstoos (Carollton: West Georgia
College Studies in the Social Sciences, vol. 29, 1991).
50 L. Vosen, “The Relationship Between Self-Disclosure and Self-Esteem,” Ph.D. diss.,
University of California at Los Angeles, 1966, cited in Culbert, Interpersonal Process of
Self-Disclosure: It Takes Two to See One (Washington, D.C.: NTL Institute for Applied
Behavioral Science, 1967).
51 Culbert, Interpersonal Process.
52 J. Sternbach, “Self-Disclosure with All-Male Groups,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 53 (2003): 61–81. S. Bergman, Men’s Psychological Development: A
Relational Perspective (Wellesley, Mass.: The Stone Center, 1991).
53 E. Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday
Anchor Books, 1959). S. Jourard and P. Lasakow, “Some Factors in Self-Disclosure,”
Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 56 (1950): 91–98.
54 D. Strassberg and his colleagues studied eighteen patients with chronic schizophrenic
for ten weeks in inpatient group therapy and concluded that high self-disclosing patients
made less therapeutic progress than their counterparts who revealed less personal material
(D. Strassberg et al., “Self-Disclosure in Group Therapy with Schizophrenics,” Archives of

General Psychiatry 32 [1975]: 1259–61.)
55 A. Maslow, unpublished mimeographed material, 1962.
56 I. Yalom, See The Schopenhauer Cure, pp. 237ff.
57 N. Fieldsteel, “The Process of Termination in Long-term Psychoanalytic Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 25–39. R. Klein,
“Introduction to Special Section on Termination and Group Therapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 1–4.
58 J. Pedder, “Termination Reconsidered,” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 69
(1988): 495–505.
59 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
60 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”
American Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
61 S. Kopta, K. Howard, J. Lowry, and L. Beutler, “Patterns of Symptomatic Recovery in
Time-Unlimited Psychotherapy,” Journal of Clinical and Consulting Psychology 62
(1994): 1009–16. S. Kadera, M. Lambert, A. Andrews, “How Much Therapy Is Really
Enough: A Session-by-Session Analysis of the Psychotherapy Dose-Effect Relationship,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 132–51.
62 S. Freud, Analysis Terminable and Interminable, in S. Freud, Standard Edition of the
Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 23 (London: Hogarth Press, 1968),
211–53.
63 Pedder, “Termination Reconsidered.” B. Grenyer and L. Luborsky, “Dynamic Change
in Psychotherapy: Mastery of Interpersonal Conflicts,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 64 (1996): 411–16.
64 V. Schermer and R. Klein, “Termination in Group Psychotherapy from the Perspectives
of Contemporary Object Relations Theory and Self Psychology,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 99–115.
65 Scott Rutan, personal communication, 1983.
66 Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient.” M.
Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient,” in Handbook of Borderline
Disorders, ed. D. Silver and M. Rosenbluth (Madison, Conn.: International Universities
Press, 1992), 435–69.
67 J. Rutan and W. Stone, “Termination in Group Psychotherapy,” in Psychodynamic
Group Therapy (New York: Guilford Press, 1993): 239–54. E. Shapiro and R. Ginzberg,
“Parting Gifts: Termination Rituals in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 317–36.
68 D. Nathanson, “The Nature of Therapeutic Impasse.”
69 K. Long, L. Pendleton, and B. Winters, “Effects of Therapist Termination on Group
Process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 211–22.

70 E. Counselman and R. Weber, “Changing the Guard: New Leadership for an
Established Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 373–86.

CHAPTER 13
1 F. Wright, “Discussion of Difficult Patients,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 339–48. J. Gans and A. Alonso, “Difficult Patients: Their
Construction in Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 311–26. P. Cohen, “The Practice of Modern Group Psychotherapy: Working with
Post Trauma in the Present,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001):
489–503.
2 R. Dies, “Models of Group Psychotherapy: Shifting Through Confusion,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
3 S. Scheidlinger, “Group Dynamics and Group Psychotherapy Revisited Four Decades
Later,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 141–59.
4 I. Yalom and P. Houts, unpublished data, 1965.
5 L. Ormont, “Cultivating the Observing Ego in the Group Setting,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 489–502. L. Ormont, “Meeting Maturational Needs in
the Group Setting,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 343–59.
6 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
7 D. Lundgren and D. Miller, “Identity and Behavioral Changes in Training Groups,”
Human Relations Training News (spring 1965).
8 R. Coyne and R. Silver, “Direct, Vicarious, and Vicarious-Process Experiences,” Small
Group Behavior 11 (1980): 419–29. R. Rosner, L. Beutler, and R. Daldrup, “Vicarious
Emotional Experience and Emotional Expression in Group Psychotherapy,” Journal of
Counseling Psychology 56 (2000): 1–10.
9 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term Inpatient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy (1994):
185–208. V. Tschuschke, K. MacKenzie, B. Haaser, and G. Janke, “Self-Disclosure,
Feedback, and Outcome in Long-Term Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Journal of
Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 35–44.
10 J. Gans and E. Counselman, “Silence in Group Psychotherapy: A Powerful
Communication,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 71–86. J.
Rutan, “Growth Through Shame and Humiliation,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 511–16.
11 L. Ormont, “The Craft of Bridging,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40
(1990): 3–17.
12 M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis
der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69. S.

Cohen, “Working with Resistance to Experiencing and Expressing Emotions in Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 443–58.
13 M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Relationships Among
Psychological Mindedness, Alexithymia and Outcome in Four Forms of Short-Term
Psychotherapy,” Psychology and Psychotherapy: Theory, Research and Practice 76
(2003): 133–44. G. Taylor, R. Bagby, D. Ryan, J. Parker, K. Dooday, and P. Keefe,
“Criterion Validity of the Toronto Alexithymia Scale,” Psychosomatic Medicine 50
(1988): 500–09.
14 H. Swiller, “Alexithymia: Treatment Utilizing Combined Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 47–61. M.
Beresnevaite, “Exploring the Benefits of Group Psychotherapy in Reducing Alexithymia
in Coronary Heart Disease Patients: A Preliminary Study,” Psychotherapy and
Psychosomatics 69 (2000): 117–22.
15 P. Sifneos, “The Prevalence of ‘Alexithymic’ Characteristics in Psychosomatic
Patients,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics 22 (1973): 255–62.
16 Beresnevaite, “Exploring the Benefits of Group Psychotherapy.” The researchers in this
study employed a sixteen-session integrative model of group therapy, combining the
active identification of subjective feelings, role play, empathy exercises, and stress
reduction in the treatment of patients with heart disease. The groups produced significant
reductions in alexithymia ratings and improvements in cardiac functioning that were
sustained over a two-year period.
17 W. Shields, “Hope and the Inclination to Be Troublesome: Winnicott and the Treatment
of Character Disorder in Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 87–103.
18 J. Kirman, “Working with Anger in Group: A Modern Analytic Approach,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 303–29. D. Kiesler, “Therapist
Countertransference: In Search of Common Themes and Empirical Referents,” In Session:
Psychotherapy in Practice 57 (2001): 1053–63. G. Gabbard, “A Contemporary
Psychoanalytic Model of Countertransference,” In Session: Psychotherapy in Practice 57
(2001): 983–91. J. Hayes, “Countertransference in Group Psychotherapy: Waking a
Sleeping Dog,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 521–35.
19 J. Frank et al., “Behavioral Patterns in Early Meetings of Therapeutic Groups,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 108 (1952): 771–78.
20 E. Shapiro, “Dealing with Masochistic Behavior in Group Therapy from the
Perspective of the Self,” Group 25 (2002): 107–20. R. Maunder and J. Hunter, “An
Integrated Approach to the Formulation and Psychotherapy of Medically Unexplained
Symptoms: Meaning- and Attachment-Based Intervention,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 58 (2004): 17–33. M. Berger and M. Rosenbaum, “Notes on Help-
Rejecting Complainers,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 357–
70. S. Brody, “Syndrome of the Treatment-Rejecting Patient,” Psychoanalytic Review 51
(1964): 75–84. C. Peters and H. Grunebaum, “It Could Be Worse: Effective Group

Psychotherapy with the Help-Rejecting Complainers,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 27 (1977): 471–80.
21 Maunder and Hunter, “An Integrated Approach.”
22 E. Shapiro, “Dealing with Masochistic Behavior in Group Therapy from the
Perspective of the Self,” Group 25 (2002): 107–20. Maunder and Hunter, “An Integrated
Approach.” S. Foreman, “The Significance of Turning Passive into Active in Control
Mastery: Theory,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 106–21.
Both self psychological and attachment paradigms converge here. From an attachment
perspective, the client relates in a preoccupied and insecure attachment pattern. The
preoccupation with the caregiver is rooted in the wish to connect. Complaining is intended
to create closeness by pulling the caregiver near. Simultaneously the client’s past
experience of inconsistent, unreliable caregiving fuels his vigilance for any evidence that
he will be eventually abandoned. Accepting help and being sated fuels the dread of this
very abandonment.
23 Do not neglect to consider the real meaning of the help-rejecting complainer’s
complaint. Some clinicians propose that there may be a hidden positive or adaptive value
to the unrelenting complaints that needs to be understood.
24 Frank et al., “Behavioral Patterns in Early Meetings.” E. Berne, Games People Play
(New York: Grove Press, 1964). Peters and Grunebaum, “It Could Be Worse.”
25 Wright, “Discussion of Difficult Patients.” R. Jacobs and D. Campbell, “The
Perpetuation of an Arbitrary Tradition Through Several Generations of a Laboratory
Microculture,” Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 62 (1961): 649–58.
26 R. Moos and I. Yalom, “Medical Students’ Attitudes Toward Psychiatry and
Psychiatrists,” Mental Hygiene 50 (1966): 246–56.
27 L. Coch and J. French, “Overcoming Resistance to Change,” Human Relations 1
(1948): 512–32.
28 N. Kanas, “Group Psychotherapy with Bipolar Patients: A Review and Synthesis,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 321–35. F. Volkmar et al.,
“Group Therapy in the Management of Manic-Depressive Illness,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 35 (1981): 226–33. I. Patelis-Siotis et al., “Group Cognitive-Behavioral
Therapy for Bipolar Disorder: A Feasibility and Effectiveness Study,” Journal of Affective
Disorders 65 (2001): 145–53. M. Sajatovic, M. Davies, and D. Hrouda, “Enhancement of
Treatment Adherence Among Patients with Bipolar Disorder,” Psychiatric Services 55
(2004): 264–69. R. Weiss, L. Najavits, and S. Greenfield, “A Relapse Prevention Group
for Patients with Bipolar and Substance Use Disorders,” Journal of Substance Abuse
Treatment 16 (1999): 47–54. F. Colom et al., “A Randomized Trial on the Efficacy of
Group Psychoeducation in the Prophylaxis of Recurrences in Bipolar Patients Whose
Disease Is in Remission,” Archives of General Psychiatry 60 (2003): 402–7.
29 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 311–35. L. Ormont, “The Role

of the Leader in Managing the Preoedipal Patient in the Group Setting,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 147–71. R. Klein, J. Orleans, and C. Soule,
“The Axis II Group: Treating Severely Characterologically Disturbed Patients,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 97–115. D. Silver,
“Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient,” Canadian Journal of
Psychiatry 28 (1983): 513–21.
30 J. Shedler and D. Westen, “Refining Personality Disorder Diagnosis: Integrating
Science and Practice,” American Journal of Psychiatry 161 (2004): 1350–65.
31 Gans and Alonso, “Difficult Patients.”
32 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient,” in Handbook of
Borderline Disorders, ed. D. Silver and M. Rosenbluth (Madison, Conn.: International
Universities Press, 1992), 435–70. E. Marziali and H. Monroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group
Psychotherapy for Borderline Personality Disorder (New York: Basic Books, 1994). S.
Budman, A. Demby, S. Soldz, and J. Merry, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for
Patients with Personality Disorders: Outcomes and Dropouts,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 357–77. S. Budman, S. Cooley, A. Demby, G.
Koppenaal, J. Koslof, and T. Powers, “A Model of Time-Effective Group Psychotherapy
for Patients with Personality Disorders: A Clinical Model,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 329–55. A. Bateman and P. Fonagy, “Treatment of
Borderline Personality Disorder with Psychoanalytically Oriented Partial Hospitalization:
An 18-Month Follow-Up,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (2001): 36–42. W. Piper
and J. Rosie, “Group Treatment of Personality Disorders: The Power of the Group in the
Intensive Treatment of Personality Disorders,” In Session: Psychotherapy in Practice 4
(1998): 19–34. W. Piper, J. Rosie, A. Joyce, and H. Azim, Time-Limited Day Treatment for
Personality Disorders: Integration of Research and Practice in a Group Program
(Washington, D.C. : American Psychological Association, 1996). M. Chiesa and P.
Fonagy, “Psychosocial Treatment for Severe Personality Disorder: 36-Month Follow-Up,”
British Journal of Psychiatry 183 (2003): 356–62.
33 J. Herman, Trauma and Recovery (New York: Harper Collins, 1992). M. Zanarin, F.
Frankenburg, E. Dubo, A. Sickel, A. Trikha, and A. Levin, “Axis I Comorbidity of
Borderline Personality Disorder,” American Journal of Psychiatry 155 (1998): 1733–39. J.
Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, A. Joyce, and M. McCallum, “Using DSM Axis IV Formulation
to Predict Outcome in Short-Term Individual Psychotherapy,” Journal of Personality
Disorders 15 (2001): 110–22. C. Zlotnick et al., “Clinical Features and Impairment in
Women with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder
(PTSD), BPD Without PTSD, and Other Personality Disorders with PTSD,” Journal of
Nervous and Mental Diseases 191 (2003): 706–13.
34 M. Leszcz, “Group Therapy,” in Treatment of Psychiatric Disorders, vol. 3, ed. J.
Gunderson (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1990), 2667–78.
35 J. Sartre, The Age of Reason, trans. Eric Sutton (New York: Knopf, 1952), 144.
36 American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental

Disorders, 4th ed. Text Rev. (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 2000).
37 O. Kernberg, “An Ego Psychology Object Relations Theory of the Structure and
Treatment of Pathologic Narcissism: An Overview,” Psychiatric Clinics of North America
12 (1989): 723–29. O. Kernberg, Borderline Conditions and Pathological Narcissism
(New York: Jason Aronson, 1975).
38 J. Perry, “Problems and Considerations in the Valid Assessment of Personality
Disorders,” American Journal of Psychiatry 149 (1992): 1645–53. G. Mellsop et al., “The
Reliability of Axis II of DSM-III,” American Journal of Psychiatry 139 (1982): 1360–61.
39 Kernberg, “An Ego Psychology Object Relations Theory.” Kernberg, Borderline
Conditions and Pathological Narcissism. H. Kohut, The Analysis of the Self (New York:
International Universities Press, 1971). H. Kohut, The Restoration of the Self (New York:
International Universities Press, 1977).
40 J. Gunderson, Borderline Personality Disorder: A Clinical Guide (Washington, D.C.:
American Psychiatric Press, 2001). Piper and Rosie, “Group Treatment of Personality
Disorders.” Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient.” Marziali and
Monroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy for Borderline Personality Disorder.
Bateman and Fonagy, “Treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder.” American
Psychiatric Association, “Practice Guideline for the Treatment of Patients with Borderline
Personality Disorder,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (suppl 11 2001): 1–52.
41 L. Horwitz, “Group Psychotherapy for Borderline and Narcissistic Patients,” Bulletin
of the Menninger Clinic 44 (1980): 181–200. N. Wong, “Clinical Considerations in Group
Treatment of Narcissistic Disorders,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 29
(1979): 325–45. R. Kretsch, Y. Goren, and A. Wasserman, “Change Patterns of Borderline
Patients in Individual and Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
37 (1987): 95–112. Klein et al., “The Axis II Group.” J. Grobman, “The Borderline Patient
in Group Psychotherapy: A Case Report,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
30 (1980): 299–318. B. Finn and S. Shakir, “Intensive Group Psychotherapy of Borderline
Patients,” Group 14 (1990): 99–110. K. O’Leary et al., “Homogeneous Group Therapy of
Borderline Personality Disorder,” Group 15 (1991): 56–64. S. Shakir, personal
communication, February 1994. M. Leszcz, I. Yalom, and M. Norden, “The Value of
Inpatient Group Psychotherapy: Patients’ Perceptions,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 411–33. I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York:
Basic Books, 1983). N. Macaskill, “The Narcissistic Core as a Focus in the Group
Therapy of the Borderline Patient,” British Journal of Medical Psychology 53 (1980):
137–43. S. Budman, A. Demby, S. Soldz, and J. Merry, “Time-Limited Group
Psychotherapy for Patients with Personality Disorders: Outcomes and Dropouts,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 357–77.
42 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient.”
43 Klein et al., “The Axis II Group.”
44 M. Bond, E. Banon, and M. Grenier, “Differential Effects of Interventions on the
Therapeutic Alliance with Patients with Borderline Personality Disorders,” Journal of

Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 301–18.
45 K. Heffernan and M. Cloitre, “A Comparison of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder with and
Without Borderline Personality Disorder Among Women with a History of Childhood
Sexual Abuse: Etiological and Clinical Characteristics,” Journal of Nervous and Mental
Diseases 188 (2000): 589–95. M. Cloitre and K. Koenen, “The Impact of Borderline
Personality Disorder on Process Group Outcomes Among Women with Posttraumatic
Stress Disorder Related to Childhood Abuse,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 379–98.
46 Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient.” Horwitz,
“Group Psychotherapy for Borderline and Narcissistic Patients.” Wong, “Clinical
Considerations in Group Treatment of Narcissistic Disorders.” N. Wong, “Combined
Group and Individual Treatment of Borderline and Narcissistic Patients,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 389–403. Klein et al., “The Axis II Group.”
47 J. Kosseff, “The Unanchored Self: Clinical Vignettes of Change in Narcissistic and
Borderline Patients in Groups: Introduction,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 387–88.
48 Shedler and Westen, “Refining Personality Disorder Diagnosis.”
49 American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental
Disorders, 4th ed., 661.
50 Kernberg, “An Ego Psychology Object Relations Theory.” Kernberg, Borderline
Conditions and Pathological Narcissism.
51 M. Livingston and L. Livingston, “Conflict and Aggression in Group Psychotherapy: A
Self Psychological Vantage Point,” International Journal of Psychotherapy 48 (1998):
381–91. J. Horner, “A Characterological Contraindication for Group Psychotherapy,”
Journal of American Academy of Psychoanalysis 3 (1975): 301–05.
52 The tasks of therapy may be facilitated by theoretical frames of reference such as a self
psychological framework or an intersubjective framework. Both approaches sharpen our
focus on the subjective experience of the narcissistically vulnerable client. Leszcz, “Group
Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient.” Livingston and Livingston,
“Conflict and Aggression in Group Psychotherapy.” M. Baker and H. Baker, “Self-
Psychological Contributions to the Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy,” in
Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller (Washington, D.C.:
American Psychiatric Press, 1993), 49–68. I. Harwood, “Distinguishing Between the
Facilitating and the Self-Serving Charismatic Group Leader,” Group 27 (2003): 121–29.
W. Stone, “Self Psychology and the Higher Mental Functioning Hypothesis:
Contemporary Theories,” Group Analysis 29 (1996): 169–81. D. Brandchaft and R.
Stolorow, “The Difficult Patient: Intersubjective Perspective,” in Borderline and
Narcissistic Patients in Therapy, ed. N. Slavinsky-Holy (Madison, Conn.: International
Universities Press, 1988), 243–66.
53 M. Pines, “Group Analytic Therapy of the Borderline Patient,” Group Analysis 11

(1978): 115–26.

CHAPTER 14
1 E. Paykel, “Psychotherapy, Medication Combinations, and Compliance.” Journal of
Clinical Psychiatry 56 (1995): 24–30. D. Greben, “Integrative Dimensions of
Psychotherapy Training,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 49 (2004): 238–48.
2 H. Bernard and S. Drob, “The Experience of Patients in Conjoint Individual and Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 129–46. K. Porter,
“Combined Individual and Group Psychotherapy: A Review of the Literature, 1965–
1978,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 107–14.
3 K. Schwartz, “Concurrent Group and Individual Psychotherapy in a Psychiatric Day
Hospital for Depressed Elderly,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54
(2004): 177–201.
4 B. Roller and V. Nelson, “Group Psychotherapy Treatment of Borderline Personalities,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 369–85. F. DeZuleta and P.
Mark, “Attachment and Contained Splitting: A Combined Approach of Group and
Individual Therapy to the Treatment of Patients from Borderline Personality Disorder,”
Group Analysis 33 (2000): 486–500. E. Fried, “Combined Group and Individual Therapy
with Passive Narcissistic Patients,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5
(1955): 194.
5 K. Chard, T. Weaver, and P. Resick, “Adapting Cognitive Processing Therapy for Child
Sexual Abuse Survivors,” Cognitive and Behavioral Practice 4 (1997): 31–52. N.
Lutwack, “Shame, Women, and Group Psychotherapy,” Group 22 (1998): 129–43.
6 L. Ormont, “Principles and Practice of Conjoint Psychoanalytic Treatment,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 138 (1981): 69–73.
7 J. Rutan and A. Alonso, “Group Therapy, Individual Therapy, or Both?” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 267–82. K. Porter, “Combined Individual and
Group Psychotherapy,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H.
Swiller (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association Press, 1993), 309–41.
8 Ormont, “Principles and Practice of Conjoint Psychoanalytic Treatment.” M. Leszcz,
“Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient,” in Handbook of Borderline Disorders,
ed. D. Silver and M. Rosenbluth (Madison, Conn.: International Universities Press, 1992),
435–69. J. Schacter, “Concurrent Individual and Individual In-a-Group Psychoanalytic
Psychotherapy,” Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association 36 (1988): 455–71.
9 J. Gans, “Broaching and Exploring the Question of Combined Group and Individual
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 123–37.
10 K. Ulman, “The Ghost in the Group Room: Countertransferential Pressures Associated
with Conjoint Individual and Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group

Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 387–407. K. Porter, “Combined Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1993): 309–41.
11 K. Porter, “Combined Individual and Group Psychotherapy.” S. Lipsius, “Combined
Individual and Group Psychotherapy: Guidelines at the Interface,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 313–27. H. Swiller, “Alexithymia: Treatment Using
Combined Individual and Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 37 (1988): 47–61. J. Rutan and A. Alonso, “Common Dilemmas in
Combined Individual and Group Treatment,” Group 14 (1990): 5–12.
12 E. Amaranto and S. Bender, “Individual Psychotherapy as an Adjunct to Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 91–101. S.
Budman, personal communication, 1993.
13 J. Rutan and W. Stone, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 93–109. A study comparing conjoint and
combined group therapy for patients with eating disorders found that the combined format
was far more effective at preventing dropouts. (More than three times as many patients
dropped out of conjoint groups.) K. Scheuble et al., “Premature Termination: A Risk in
Eating Disorder Groups,” Group (1987): 85–93.
14 R. Matano and I. Yalom, “Approaches to Chemical Dependency: Chemical
Dependency and Interactive Group Therapy: A Synthesis,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 269–93. M. Freimuth, “Integrating Group Psychotherapy and
12-Step Work: A Collaborative Approach,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 297–314.
15 E. Khantzian, “Reflection on Group Treatments as Corrective Experiences in Addictive
Vulnerability,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 11–20.
16 P. Flores, “Addition as an Attachment Disorder: Implications for Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 63–82. M. Litt, R. Kadden, N.
Cooney, and E. Kabela, “Coping Skills and Treatment Outcomes in Cognitive-Behavioral
and Interactional Group Therapy for Alcoholism,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 71 (2003): 118–28.
17 Project MATCH Research Group, “Matching Alcoholism Treatments to Client
Heterogeneity: Project MATCH Post-Treatment Drinking Outcomes,” Journal of Studies
in Alcohol 58 (1997): 7–29. Stephanie Brown, personal communication, 2004. M.
Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,” American
Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
18 P. Ouimette, R. Moos, and J. Finney, “Influence of Outpatient Treatment and 12-Step
Group Involvement on One Year Substance Abuse Treatment Outcomes,” Journal of
Studies on Alcohol 59 (1998): 513–22. S. Lash, G. Petersen, E. O’Connor, and L.
Lahmann, “Social Reinforcement of Substance Abuse After Care Group Therapy
Attendants,” Journal of Substance Abuse Treatment 20 (2001): 3–8.

19 Matano and Yalom, “Approaches to Chemical Dependency.” Freimuth, “Integrating
Group Psychotherapy and 12-Step Work.”
20 Matano and Yalom, “Approaches to Chemical Dependency.”
21 Research studies of therapists’ preferences demonstrate that 75–90 percent prefer the
cotherapy mode (I. Paulson, J. Burroughs, and C. Gelb, “Co-Therapy: What Is the Crux of
the Relationship?” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 26 [1976]: 213–24). R.
Dies, J. Mallet, and F. Johnson, “Openness in the Co-Leader Relationship: Its Effect on
Group Process and Outcome,” Small Group Behavior 10 (1979): 523–46. H. Rabin, “How
Does Co-Therapy Compare with Regular Group Therapy?” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 21 (1967): 244–55.
22 C. Hendrix, D. Fournier, and K. Briggs, “Impact of Co-Therapy Teams on Client
Outcomes and Therapist Training in Marriage and Family Therapy,” Contemporary
Family Therapy: An International Journal 23 (2001): 63–82.
23 H. Rabin, “How Does Co-therapy Compare.” H. Spitz and S. Kopp, “Multiple
Psychotherapy,” Psychiatric Quarterly Supplement 31 (1957): 295–331. Paulson et al.,
“CoTherapy: What Is the Crux.” Dies et al., “Openness in the Co-leader Relationship.” R.
Dick, K. Lessler, and J. Whiteside, “A Developmental Framework for Co-Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 273–85.
24 M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group Psychotherapy
for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–74.
25 I. Harwood, “Creative Use of Gender in a Co-Therapy Group Composition When
Addressing Early Attachment, Trauma, and Cross-Cultural Issues,” Psychoanalytic
Inquiry 23 (2003): 697–712. L. Livingston, “Transferences Toward the Co-Therapist
Couple: Dyadic Relationships and Self-Object Needs,” Group 25 (2001): 59–72.
26 B. Roller and V. Nelson, The Art of Co-Therapy: How Therapists Work Together (New
York: Guilford Press, 1991). R. Dies, “Current Practice in the Training of Group
Therapists,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 169–85.
27 I. Yalom, J. Tinklenberg, and M. Gilula, unpublished data, Department of Psychiatry,
Stanford University, 1967.
28 S. McNary and R. Dies, “Co-Therapist Modeling in Group Psychotherapy: Fact or
Fiction?” Group 15 (1993): 131–42.
29 J. Haley, Problem Solving Therapy, 2nd ed. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1987).
30 B. Roller and V. Nelson, “Cotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group Psychotherapy, ed. H.
Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993), 304–12.
31 Paulson et al., “Co-therapy: What Is the Crux.”
32 Roller and Nelson, “Cotherapy.”
33 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collins, and J. Salvendy, “Some Observations on the

Subjective Experience of Neophyte Group Therapy Trainees,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy (1996): 543–52.
34 A model for co-therapy development has been described that identifies 9 stages:
forming a contract about the work; forming an identity as a team; developing mutuality
and respect; developing closeness; defining strengths and limitations; exploring
possibilities; supporting self confrontation; implementing change; closing or re-
organizing. (J. Dugo and A. Beck, “Significance and Complexity of Early Phases in the
Development of the Co-Therapy Relationship,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and
Practice 1 (1997): 294–305. S. Wheelan, “Co-Therapists and the Creation of a Functional
Psychotherapy Group: A Group Dynamics Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 306–10.
35 R. Desmond and M. Seligman, “A Review of Research on Leaderless Groups,” Small
Group Behavior 8 (1977): 3–24.
36 Rutan and Stone, Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapy 3rd ed. (New York: Guilford,
2000).
37 Yalom, Tinklenberg, and Gilula, unpublished data.
38 D. Derr and D. Zampfer, “Dreams in Group Therapy: A Review of Models,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 501–15.
39 M. Livingston, “Self-Psychology, Dreams, and Group Psychotherapy: Working in the
Play Space,” Group 25 (2001): 15–26.
40 J. Pawlik et al., “The Use of Dreams in a Small Analytic Group,” Group Analysis 23
(1990): 163–71. C. Kieffer, “Using Dream Interpretation to Resolve Group Developmental
Impasses,” Group 20 (1996): 273–85.
41 M. Alpert, “Videotaping Psychotherapy,” The Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 5 (1996): 93–105.
42 M. Berger, ed., Videotape Techniques in Psychiatric Training and Treatment (New
York: Brunner/Mazel, 1978). D. Skafte, “Video in Groups: Implications for a Social
Theory of Self,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 389–402.
43 D. Miller, “The Effects of Immediate and Delayed Audio and Videotaped Feedback on
Group Counseling,” Comparative Group Studies 1 (1970): 19–47. M. Robinson, “A Study
of the Effects of Focused Videotaped Feedback in Group Counseling,” Comparative
Group Studies 1 (1970): 47–77.
44 M. Berger, “Use of Videotape in Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group
Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993):
355–62.
45 N. Mayades and D. O’Brien, “The Use of Videotape in Group Therapy,” in Videotape
Techniques in Psychiatric Training and Treatment, ed. M. Berger (New York: Brunner
/Mazel, 1978), 216–29.
46 M. Ravensborg, “Debunking Video Magic,” International Journal of Group

Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 521–22.
47 M. Berger, “The Use of Video Tape with Psychotherapy Groups in a Community
Mental Health Program.”
48 J. Rubin and K. Locascio, “A Model for Communicational Skills Group Using
Structured Exercises and Audiovisual Equipment,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 569–84.
49 M. Alpert, “Videotaping Psychotherapy,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 5 (1996): 93–105.
50 C. Classen et al., “Effectiveness of a Training Program for Enhancing Therapists’
Understanding of the Supportive-Expressive Treatment Model for Breast Cancer Groups,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 6 (1997): 211–18.
51 J. Waltz, M. Addis, K. Koerner, and N. Jacobson, “Testing the Integrity of a
Psychotherapy Protocol: Assessment of Adherence and Competence,” Journal of
Consulting Clinical Psychology 61 (1994): 620–30. P. Goodwin et al., “Lessons Learned
from Enrollment in the BEST Study: A Multicenter Randomized Trial of Group
Psychosocial Support in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” Journal of Clinical Epidemiology 53
(2000): 47–55.
52 I. Yalom, S. Brown, and S. Bloch, “The Written Summary as a Group Psychotherapy
Technique,” Archives of General Psychiatry 32 (1975): 605–13.
53 R. Beck, “The Written Summary in Group Psychotherapy Revisited,” Group 13 (1989):
102–11. M. Aveline, “The Use of Written Reports in a Brief Group Psychotherapy
Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 477–82.
54 It is noteworthy as well that the last ten to twenty years has marked an explosion in
narrative approaches in medicine and psychological treatments in which clients and/or
caregivers write about their emotional experience and reactions to illness, trauma, and the
provision of treatment. Such writing results in significant benefits that include not only
subjective reports of psychological wellbeing but also objective measures of medical
health and illness. (M. White and D. Epston, Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends, [New
York: Norton, 1990].) R. Lieb and S. Kanofsky, “Toward a Constructivist Control Mastery
Theory: An Integration with Narrative Therapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice, Training 40 (2003): 187–202. There are also reports of therapists writing letters
to clients delineating obstacles to therapy during the course of the treatment or shortly
after termination. (B. Laub and S. Hoffmann, “Dialectical Letters: An Integration of
Dialectical Cotherapy and Narrative Therapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice, Training 39 [2002]: 177–83.)
55 M. Chen, J. Noosbond, and M. Bruce, “Therapeutic Document in Group Counseling:
An Active Change Agent,” Journal of Counseling and Development 76 (1998): 404–11.
56 S. Brown and I. Yalom, “Interactional Group Therapy with Alcoholics,” Journal of
Studies on Alcohol 38 (1977): 426–56.
57 H. Spitz, Group Psychotherapy and Managed Mental Health Care: A Clinical Guide

for Providers (New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1996), 159–69. M. Leszcz, “Recommendations
for Psychotherapy Documentation,” Guidelines of the University of Toronto, Department
of Psychiatry, Psychotherapy Program, 2001.
58 M. Leszcz, “Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Review of Geriatric Psychiatry, 3rd
Edition, J. Sadavoy, L. Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Meyers, eds. (New York: Norton,
2004) 1023–54. I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books,
1983). B. van der Kolk, “The Body Keeps the Score: Approaches to the Psychobiology of
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” in Traumatic Stress, the Effects of Overwhelming
Experience on Mind, Body and Society, ed. B. van der Kolk, A.C. McFarlane, and L.
Weisaeth (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), 214–41.
59 J. Kabat-Zinn, Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday
Life (New York: Hyperion, 1994). Z. Segal, M. Williams, J. Teasdale, Mindfulness-Based
Cognitive Therapy for Depression: a New Approach to Preventing Relapse (New York:
Guilford Press, 2001).
60 P. Finkelstein, B. Wenegrat, and I. Yalom, “Large Group Awareness Training,” Annual
Review of Psychology 33 (1982):515–39.
61 F. Perls, The Gestalt Approach and Eyewitness to Therapy (Ben Lomond, Calif.:
Science and Behavior Books, 1974). F. Perls, Gestalt Therapy Verbatim (Moab, Utah:
Real People Press, 1969). F. Perls, Ego, Hunger, and Aggression (New York: Vintage
Books, 1969).
62 R. Harmon, “Recent Developments in Gestalt Group Therapy,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 473–83. R. Feder and R. Ronall, Beyond the Hot Seat:
Gestalt Approaches to Group (New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1980). D. Greve, “Gestalt
Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B.
Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993), 228–35. C. Naranjo, Gestalt Therapy: The
Attitude and Practice of an Atheoretical Experimentalism (Nevada City, Nev.: Gateways
/IDHHB Publishing, 1993). S. Ginger and A. Ginger, “Gestalt Therapy Groups: Why?”
Gestalt 4 (2000). J. Earley, “A Practical Guide to Fostering Interpersonal Norms in a
Gestalt Group,” Gestalt Review 4 (2000): 138–51.
63 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York: Basic
Books, 1973).
63. Ibid.

CHAPTER 15
1 Neither space limitations nor the rapidly growing numbers of specialized groups permit
a comprehensive list and bibliography in this text. Computer literature searches are so
accessible and efficient that the reader may easily obtain a recent bibliography of any
specialized group.
2 P. Cox, F. Ilfeld Jr., B. Squire Ilfeld, and C. Brennan, “Group Therapy Program
Development: Clinician-Administrator Collaboration in New Practice Settings,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 3–24. E. Lonergan, “Discussion
of ‘Group Therapy Program Development’,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 43–45. G. Burlingame, D. Earnshaw, M. Hoag, S. Barlow, “A
Systematic Program to Enhance Clinician Group Skills in an Inpatient Psychiatric
Hospital,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 555–87.
3 J. Salvendy, “Brief Group Therapy at Retirement,” Group 13 (1989): 43–57. H. Nobler,
“It’s Never Too Late to Change: A Group Therapy Experience for Older Women,” Group
16 (1992): 146–55.
4 M. Leszcz, “Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Review of Geriatric Psychiatry, 3rd ed.,
ed. J. Sadavoy, L. Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Meyers (New York: Norton, 2004), 1023–
54.
5 R. Klein and V. Schermer, “Introduction and Overview: Creating a Healing Matrix,” in
Group Psychotherapy for Psychological Trauma, ed. R. Klein and V. Schermer (New
York: Guilford Press, 2000), 3–46. J. Herman, Trauma and Recovery, rev. ed. (New York:
Basic Books, 1997). H. Lubin, M. Loris, J. Burt, and D. Johnson, “Efficacy of
Psychoeducational Group Therapy in Reducing Symptoms of Posttraumatic Stress
Disorder Among Multiply Traumatized Women,” American Journal of Psychiatry 155
(1998): 1172–77. M. Robertson, P. Rushton, D. Bartrum, and R. Ray, “Group-Based
Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder: Theoretical and Clinical
Aspects,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 145–75.
6 A. McKarrick et al., “National Trends in the Use of Psychotherapy in Psychiatric
Inpatient Settings,” Hospital Community Psychiatry 39 (1988): 835–41.
7 In the following discussion, I draw heavily from my book Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1983), where interested readers may find more
in-depth discussion. Although this model was developed for the inpatient ward, it has been
modified and adapted to many other settings, including partial hospitalization groups and
intensive two- to three-week programs for substance abusers. (In chapter 10, I discussed a
particularly common major group therapy modification: the time-limited, brief, closed
therapy group.)
8 M. Leszcz, I. Yalom, and M. Norden, “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy:

Patients’ Perceptions,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 411–35.
Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, 313–35.
9 M. Echternacht, “Fluid Group: Concept and Clinical Application in the Therapeutic
Milieu,” Journal of the American Psychiatric Nurses Association 7 (2001): 39–44.
10 S. Green and S. Bloch, “Working in a Flawed Mental Health Care System: An Ethical
Challenge,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (2001): 1378–83.
11 B. Rosen et al., “Clinical Effectiveness of ‘Short’ Versus ‘Long’ Psychiatric
Hospitalization,” Archives of General Psychiatry 33 (1976): 1316–22.
12 A. Alden et al., “Group Aftercare for Chronic Schizophrenics,” Journal of Clinical
Psychiatry 40 (1979): 249–52. R. Prince et al., “Group Aftercare: Impact on a Statewide
Program,” Diseases of the Nervous System 77 (1977): 793–96. J. Claghorn et al., “Group
Therapy and Maintenance Therapy of Schizophrenics,” Archives of General Psychiatry 31
(1974): 361–65. M. Herz et al., “Individual Versus Group Aftercare Treatment,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 131 (1974): 808–12. C. O’Brien et al., “Group Versus Individual
Psychotherapy with Schizophrenics: A Controlled Outcome Study,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 27 (1972): 474–78. L. Mosher and S. Smith, “Psychosocial Treatment:
Individual, Group, Family, and Community Support Approaches,” Schizophrenia Bulletin
6 (1980): 10–41.
13 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.” Yalom, Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy, 313–35.
14 Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, 34. B. Corder, R. Corder, and A. Hendricks,
“An Experimental Study of the Effects of Paired Patient Meetings on the Group Therapy
Process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 21 (1971): 310–18. J. Otteson,
“Curative Caring: The Use of Buddy Groups with Chronic Schizophrenics,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 47 (1979): 649–51.
15 A number of effective clinical models have been described, each predicated upon a
different conceptual frame such as psychoeducation, problem-solving, psychoanalytic,
cognitive-behavioral. V. Brabender and A. Fallow, Models of Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy (Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1993).
16 C. Williams-Barnard and A. Lindell, “Therapeutic Use of ‘Prizing’ and Its Effect on
Self-Concept of Elderly Clients in Nursing Homes and Group Homes,” Issues in Mental
Health Nursing 13 (1992): 1–17.
17 W. Stone, “Self Psychology and the Higher Mental Functioning Hypothesis:
Contemporary Theories,” Group Analysis 29 (1996): 169–81.
18 Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, 134.
19 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.”
20 M. Leszcz, “Inpatient Group Therapy,” in APA Annual Update V (Washington, D.C.:
American Psychiatric Associative Press, 1986): 729–43.
21 Leszcz et al, “The Value of Inpatient Group.”

22 I. Yalom, M. Lieberman, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
23 For an excellent example of departures from and modifications of my model, see W.
Froberg and B. Slife, “Overcoming Obstacles to the Implementation of Yalom’s Model of
Inpatient Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37
(1987): 371–88.
24 Froberg and Slife, “Overcoming Obstacles to the Implementation of Yalom’s Model.”
25 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.” Yalom, Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy, 262.
26 A. Cunningham, “Adjuvant Psychological Therapy for Cancer Patients: Putting It on
the Same Footing as Adjunctive Medical Therapies,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 367–71.
M. Leszcz, “Gruppenpsychotherapie fur brustkrebspatientinnen,” Psychotheraput 49
(2004): 314–30. K. Lorig et al., “Evidence Suggesting That a Chronic Disease Self-
Management Program Can Improve Health Status While Reducing Hospitalization,”
Medical Care 37 (1999): 5–14.
27 J. Kelly, “Group Psychotherapy for Persons with HIV and AIDS-Related Illnesses,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 143–62. S. Abbey and S.
Farrow, “Group Therapy and Organ Transplantation,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 163–85. R. Allan and S. Scheidt, “Group Psychotherapy for
Patients with Coronary Heart Disease,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 187–214. B. Toner et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for Patients with
Irritable Bowel Syndrome,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998):
215–43. M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group
Psychotherapy for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–73. J. Spira, Group Therapy for Medically Ill Patients
(New York: Guilford Press, 1997). The ENRICHD Investigators, “Enhancing Recovery in
Coronary Heart Disease (ENRICHD) Study Intervention: Rationale and Design,”
Psychosomatic Medicine 63 (2001): 747–55. L. Paparella, “Group Psychotherapy and
Parkinson’s Disease: When Members and Therapist Share the Diagnosis,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 401–9. A. Sherman et al., “Group
Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part I. Effects on Psychosocial
and Functional Outcomes at Different Phases of Illness,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 29–82. A. Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients
with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part II. Effects on Immune, Endocrine, and Disease
Outcomes at Different Phases of Illness,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
54 (2004): 203–33. A. Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and
HIV Disease: Part III. Moderating Variables and Mechanisms of Action,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 347–87.
28 Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part
I.”
29 The ENRICHD Investigators, “Enhancing Recovery in Coronary Heart Disease.”Allan

and Scheidt, “Group Psychotherapy for Patients with Coronary Heart Disease.”
30 Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part
I.” Spira, Group Therapy for Medically Ill Patients.
31 M. Hewitt, N. Breen, and S. Devesa, “Cancer Prevalence and Survivorship Issues:
Analyses of the 1992 National Health Interview Survey,” Journal of the National Cancer
Institute 91 (1999): 1480–86.
32 M. Esplen, B. Toner, J. Hunter, G. Glendon, K. Butler, and B. Field, “A Group Therapy
Approach to Facilitate Integration of Risk Information for Women at Risk for Breast
Cancer,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry: Psychosomatics Edition 43 (1998): 375–80. M.
Esplen et al., “A Multi-Centre Phase II Study of Supportive-Expressive Group Therapy for
Women with BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations,” Cancer 101 (2004): 2327–40.
33 M. Stuber, S. Gonzalez, H. Benjamino, and M. Golart, “Fighting for Recovery,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 4 (1995): 286–96. M. Figueiredo, E.
Fries, and K. Ingram, “The Role of Disclosure Patterns and Unsupportive Social
Interactions in the Well-Being of Breast Cancer Patients,” Psycho-Oncology 13 (2004):
96–105.
34 L. Fallowfield, S. Ford, and S. Lewis, “No News Is Not Good News: Information
Preferences of Patients with Cancer,” Psycho-Oncology 4 (1995): 197–202. M. Slevin, et
al., “Emotional Support for Cancer Patients: What Do Patients Really Want?” British
Journal of Cancer 74 (1996): 1275–79.
35 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
36 L. Baider, “Psychological Intervention with Couples After Mastectomy,” Support Care
Cancer 3 (1995): 239–43. B. Bultz, M. Speca, P. Brasher, P. Geggie, and S. Page, “A
Randomized Controlled Trial of a Brief Psychoeducational Support Group for Partners of
Early Stage Breast Cancer Patients,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 303–13.
37 Leszcz, “Group Therapy.”
38 S. Folkman and S. Greer, “Promoting Psychological Well-Being in the Face of Serious
Illness: When Theory, Research, and Practice Inform Each Other,” Psycho-Oncology 9
[2000]: 11–19.) Not surprisingly, integrating these coping dimensions creates particularly
powerful interventions as noted by R. Lazarus, “Toward Better Research on Stress and
Coping,” American Psychologist 55 (2000): 665–73.
39 D. Kissane et al., “Cognitive-Existential Group Psychotherapy for Women with
Primary Breast Cancer: A Randomized Controlled Trial,” Psycho-Oncology 12 (2003):
532–46. V. Helgeson, S. Cohen, R. Schulz, and J. Yasko, “Education and Peer Discussion
Group Interventions and Adjustment to Breast Cancer,” Archives of General Psychiatry 56
(1999): 340–47. D. Scaturo, “Fundamental Clinical Dilemmas in Contemporary Group
Psychotherapy,” Group Analysis 37 (2004): 201–17.
40 F. Fawzy and N. Fawzy, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats : An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):

81–89.
41 I. Yalom, Gift of Therapy (New York: HarperCollins, 2003), 6–10.
42 SEGT addresses the following main areas: (1) medical illness and treatment; (2)
cognitive and behavioral coping skills for the illness and treatment; (3) family and social
network issues; (4) relationships with health care providers; (5) life values and priorities;
(6) self-image; (7) death and dying; and (8) group functioning regarding task and
engagement. Each group ends with a stress reduction exercise of relaxation and guided
imagery. D. Spiegel and J. Spira, Supportive Expressive Group Therapy: A Treatment
Manual of Psychosocial Interventions for Women with Recurrent Breast Cancer (Stanford:
Psychosocial Treatment Laboratories, 1991). Leszcz and Goodwin, “The Rationale and
Foundations.” D. Spiegel and C. Classen, Group Therapy for Cancer Patients: A
Research-Based Handbook of Psychosocial Care (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
43 C. Classen et al., “Effectiveness of a Training Program for Enhancing Therapists’
Understanding of the Supportive-Expressive Treatment Model for Breast Cancer Groups,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 6 (1997): 211–18. D. Spiegel et al.,
“Group Psychotherapy for Recently Diagnosed Breast Cancer Patients: A Multicenter
Feasibility Study,” Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 482–93. P. Goodwin et al., “Lessons
Learned from Enrollment in the BEST Study: A Multicenter, Randomized Trial of Group
Psychosocial Support in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” Journal of Clinical Epidemiology 53
(2000): 47–55.
44 Spiegel et al., “Group Psychotherapy for Recently Diagnosed.” M. Esplen et al., “A
Supportive-Expressive Group Intervention for Women with a Family History of Breast
Cancer: Results of a Phase II Study,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 243–52.
45 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400. D. Spiegel, J. Bloom, and I. Yalom, “Group Support
for Patients with Metastatic Cancer,” Archives of General Psychiatry 38 (1981): 527–33.
D. Spiegel and M. Glafkides, “Effects of Group Confrontation with Death and Dying,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 433–37. F. Fawzy et al.,
“Malignant Melanoma: Effects of an Early Structured Psychiatric Intervention, Coping,
and Affective State on Recurrence and Survival 6 Years Later,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 50 (1993): 681–89. T. Kuchler et al., “Impact of Psychotherapeutic Support on
Gastrointestinal Cancer Patients Undergoing Surgery: Survival Results of a Trial,”
Hepatogastroenterology 46 (1999): 322–35. S. Edelman, J. Lemon, D. Bell, and A.
Kidman, “Effects of Group CBT on the Survival Time of Patients with Metastatic Breast
Cancer,” Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 474–81. A. Ilnyckj, J. Farber, M. Cheang, and B.
Weinerman, “A Randomized Controlled Trial of Psychotherapeutic Intervention in Cancer
Patients,” Annals of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada 27 (1994):
93–96. Kissane et al., “Cognitive-Existential Group Psychotherapy.”
46 Spiegel notes that contemporary trials may not demonstrate a survival effect because
the baseline of psychosocial care provided for all patients with cancer (including the
control sample) has improved significantly over the past ten to twenty years, a welcome
advance emerging from the recognition that state of mind affects state of body (D. Spiegel,

“Mind Matters: Group Therapy and Survival in Breast Cancer,” New England Journal of
Medicine 345 (2001): 1767–68. D. Spiegel, J. Bloom, H. Kraemer, and E. Gottheil,
“Effect of Psychosocial Treatment on Survival of Patients with Metastatic Breast Cancer,”
Lancet 8669 (1989): 888–91. A. Cunningham et al., “A Randomized Controlled Trial of
the Effects of Group Psychological Therapy on Survival in Women with Metastatic Breast
Cancer,” Psycho-Oncology 7 (1998): 508–17. P. Goodwin et al., “The Effect of Group
Psychosocial Support on Survival in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” New England Journal of
Medicine 345 (2001): 1719–26.
47 C. Classen et al., “Supportive-Expressive Group Therapy and Distress in Patients with
Metastatic Breast Cancer: A Randomized Clinical Intervention Trial,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 58 (2001): 494–501. Spiegel et al., “Group Psychotherapy for Recently
Diagnosed.”
48 A. Beck, Cognitive Therapy and the Emotional Disorders (New York: International
Universities Press, 1976). G. Klerman, M. Weissman, B. Rounsaville, and E. Chevron,
Interpersonal Psychotherapy of Depression (New York: Basic Books, 1984).
49 Leszcz, “Gruppenpsychotherapie fur brustkrebspatientinnen.”
50 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
51 N. Morrison, “Group Cognitive Therapy: Treatment of Choice or Sub-Optimal
Option?” Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy 29 (2001): 311–32.
52 J. White, “Introduction,” in Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for Specific
Problems and Populations, ed. J. White and A. Freeman (Washington, D.C.: American
Psychological Association, 2000), 3–25.
53 Beck, Cognitive Therapy and the Emotional Disorders.
54 J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy (New York: Basic
Books, 1990).
55 T. Oei and L. Sullivan, “Cognitive Changes Following Recovery from Depression in a
Group Cognitive-Behaviour Therapy Program,” Australian and New Zealand Journal of
Psychiatry 33 (1999): 407–15.
56 M. Enns, B. Coz, and S. Pidlubny, “Group Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for Residual
Depression: Effectiveness and Predictors of Response,” Cognitive Behaviour Therapy 31
(2002): 31–40.
57 A. Ravindran et al., “Treatment of Primary Dysthymia with Group Cognitive Therapy
and Pharmacotherapy: Clinical Symptoms and Functional Impairments,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 156 (1999): 1608–17.
58 S. Ma and J. Teasdale, “Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy for Depression:
Replication and Exploration of Differential Relapse Prevention Effects,” Journal of
Consulting Clinical Psychology 72 (2004): 31–40.
59 C. Kutter, E. Wolf, and V. McKeever, “Predictors of Veterans’ Participation in

Cognitive-Behavioral Group Treatment for PTSD,” Journal of Traumatic Stress 17
(2004): 157–62. D. Sorenson, “Healing Traumatizing Provider Interaction Among Women
Through Short-Term Group Therapy,” Archives of Psychiatric Nursing 17 (2003): 259–69.
60 C. Wiseman, S. Sunday, F. Klapper, M. Klein, and K. Halmi, “Short-Term Group CBT
Versus Psycho-Education on an Inpatient Eating Disorder Unit,” Eating Disorders 10
(2002): 313–20. N. Leung, G. Waller, and G. Thomas, “Outcome of Group Cognitive-
Behavior Therapy for Bulimia Nervosa: The Role of Core Beliefs,” Behaviour Research
and Therapy 38 (2000): 145–56.
61 C. Dopke, R. Lehner, and A. Wells, “Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for
Insomnia in Individuals with Serious Mental Illnesses: A Preliminary Evaluation,”
Psychiatric Rehabilitation Journal 3 (2004): 235–42.
62 J. Lidbeck, “Group Therapy for Somatization Disorders in Primary Care,” Acta
Psychiatrica Scandinavia 107 (2003): 449–56.
63 C. Taft, C. Murphy, P. Musser, and N. Remington, “Personality, Interpersonal, and
Motivational Predictors of the Working Alliance in Group Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy
for Partner Violent Men,” Journal of Consulting Clinical Psychology 72 (2004): 349–54.
64 W. Rief, S. Trenkamp, C. Auer, and M. Fichter, “Cognitive Behaviour in Panic
Disorder and Comorbid Major Depression,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics 69
(2000): 70–78.
65 A. Volpato Cordioli et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy in Obsessive-
Compulsive Disorder: A Randomized Clinical Trial,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics
72 (2003): 211–16.
66 A. Page and G. Hooke, “Outcomes for Depressed and Anxious Inpatients Discharged
Before or After Group Cognitive Behaviour Therapy: A Naturalistic Comparison,”
Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease 191 (2003): 653–59. M. Dugas et al., “Group
Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy for Generalized Anxiety Disorder: Treatment Outcome and
Long-Term Follow-Up,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 71 (2003): 821–
25.
67 R. Heimberg et al., “Cognitive Behavioural Group Therapy vs. Phenelzine Therapy for
Social Phobia: 12-Week Outcome,” Archives of General Psychiatry 55 (1998): 1133–41.
68 R. Siddle, F. Jones, and F. Awenat, “Group Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for Anger: A
Pilot Study,” Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy 31 (2003): 69–83.
69 L. Johns, W. Sellwood, J. McGovern, and G. Haddock, “Battling Boredom: Group
Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for Negative Symptoms of Schizophrenia,” Behavioural
and Cognitive Psychotherapy 30 (2002): 341–46. P. Chadwick, S. Sambrooke, S. Rasch,
and E. Davies, “Challenging the Omnipotence of Voices: Group Cognitive Behaviour
Therapy for Voices,” Behaviour Research and Therapy 38 (2000): 993–1003.
70 P. Schnurr et al., “Randomized Trial of Trauma-Focused Group Therapy for
PostTraumatic Stress Disorder: Results from a Department of Veterans Affairs
Cooperative Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 60 (2003): 481–89.

71 White, “Introduction,” in White and Freeman, eds.
72 Heimberg et al., “Cognitive Behavioral Group Therapy vs. Phenelzine.”
73 Safran and Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy.
74 White, “Introduction,” in White and Freeman, eds.
75 Heimberg et al., “Cognitive Behavioral Group Therapy vs. Phenelzine.”
76 Klerman et al., Interpersonal Psychotherapy of Depression.
77 D. Wilfley, K. MacKenzie, R. Welch, V. Ayers, and M. Weissman, Interpersonal
Psychotherapy for Group (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
78 D. Wilfley et al., “Group Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy and Group Interpersonal
Psychotherapy for the Nonpurging Bulimic Individual: A Controlled Comparison,”
Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 296–305. K. MacKenzie and A.
Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group (IPT-G) for Depression,” Journal of
Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10 (2001): 46–51. C. Klier, M. Muzik, K.
Rosenblum, and G. Lenz, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Adapted for the Group Setting in
the Treatment of Postpartum Depression,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 10 (2001): 124–31. H. Verdeli et al., “Adapting Group Interpersonal
Psychotherapy (IPT-G-U) for a Developing Country: Experience in Uganda,” World
Psychiatry (June 2003): 114–20. P. Ravitz, “The Interpersonal Fulcrum: Interpersonal
Therapy for Treatment of Depression,” CPA Bulletin 36 (2203): 15–19. Robertson et al.,
“Group-Based Interpersonal Psychotherapy.”
79 Y. Levkovitz et al., “Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Patients with Major
Depression Disorder: Pilot Study,” Journal of Affective Disorders 60 (2000): 191–95.
80 H. Verdeli et al., “Adapting Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy.” P. Bolton et al.,
“Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Depression in Rural Uganda: A Randomized
Controlled Trial,” JAMA 289 (2003): 3117–24.
81 MacKenzie and Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group.”
82 R. Kessler, K. Mickelson, and S. Zhao, “Patterns and Correlations of Self-Help Group
Membership in the United States,” Social Policy 27 (1997): 27–47.
83 F. Riessman and E. Banks, “A Marriage of Opposites: Self-Help and the Health Care
System,” American Psychologist 56 (2001): 173–74. K. Davison, J. Pennebaker, and S.
Dickerson, “Who Talks? The Social Psychology of Support Groups,” American
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History, Effectiveness, Knowledge Gaps, and Research Opportunities,” Clinical
Psychology Review 23 (2003): 639–63. L. Adamsen, “From Victim to Agent: The Clinical
and Social Significance of Self-Help Group Participation for People with Life-Threatening
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Nebeker, and E. Anderson, “Meta-Analysis of Medical Self-Help Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 53–69.

84 Riessman and Banks, “A Marriage of Opposites.” Davison et al., “Who Talks?”
85 An unpublished study by a Turkish colleague comparing the therapeutic factors of AA
and a professional therapy group (N = 44 patients) revealed that interpersonal learning
input and output were ranked significantly higher by the therapy group, whereas
universality, cohesiveness, and instillation of hope were chosen by the AA members (Cem
Atbasoglu, personal communication, 1994).
86 Ibid.
87 S. Cheung and S. Sun, “Helping Processes in a Mutual Aid Organization for Persons
with Emotional Disturbance,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001):
295–308. Riessman and Banks, “A Marriage of Opposites.” Davison et al., “Who Talks?”
M. Salzer, J. Rappaport, and L. Segre, “Professional Appraisal of Professionally Led and
Self-Help Groups,” American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 69 (1999): 536–40.
88 L. Roberts, D. Salem, J. Rappaport, P. Toro, D. Luke, and E. Seidman, “Giving and
Receiving Help: Interactional Transactions in Mutual-Help Meetings and Psychosocial
Adjustment of Members,” American Journal of Community Psychology 27 (1999): 841–
68. K. Prior and M. Bond, “The Roles of Self-Efficacy and Abnormal Illness Behaviour in
Osteoarthritis Self-Management,” Psychology, Health, and Medicine 9 (2004): 177–92.
89 Davison et al., “Who Talks?”
90 Kelly, “Self-Help for Substance-Use Disorders.”
91 J. Tonigan, R. Toscova, and W. Miller, “Meta-Analysis of the Literature on Alcoholics
Anonymous: Sample and Study Characteristics Moderate Findings,” Journal of Studies on
Alcohol 57 (1996): 65–72.
92 M. Lieberman and L. Snowden, “Problems in Assessing Prevalence and Membership
Characteristics of Self-Help Group Participants,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science
29 (1993): 166–80. B. Carlsen, “Professional Support of Self-Help Groups: A Support
Group Project for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome Patients,” British Journal of Guidance and
Counselling 31 (2003): 289–303.
93 Data are from PEW Internet and America Life Project (www.pewinternet.org), July 16,
2003.
94 J. Alleman, “Online Counseling: The Internet and Mental Health Treatment,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training 39 (2002): 199–209. M. White and
S. Dorman, “Receiving Social Support Online: Implications for Health Education,” Health
Education Research 16 (2001): 693–707. M. Lieberman, M. Golant, A. Winzelberg, and F.
McTavish, “Comparisons Between Professionally Directed and Self-Directed Internet
Groups for Women with Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Self-Help and Self Care
2 (2004): 219–35.
95 S. Hopss, M. Pepin, and J. Boisvert, “The Effectiveness of Cognitive-Behavioral
Group Therapy for Loneliness via Inter-Relay-Chat Among People with Physical
Disabilities,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training 40 (2003): 136–47. J.
Walther, “Computer-Mediated Communication: Impersonal, Interpersonal, and

http://www.pewinternet.org

Hyperpersonal Interaction,” Communication Research 23 (1996): 3–43. Alleman, “Online
Counseling.” White and Dorman, “Receiving Social Support Online.”
96 V. Waldron, M. Lavitt, and K. Douglas, “The Nature and Prevention of Harm in
Technology-Mediated Self-Help Settings: Three Exemplars,” Journal of Technology in
Human Services 17 (2000): 267–93. White and Dorman, “Receiving Social Support
Online.” R. Kraut, M. Patterson, V. Lundmark, S. Kiesler, T. Mukopadhyay, and S.
Scherlis, “Internet Paradox: A Social Technology that Reduces Social Involvement and
Psychological Well-Being,” American Psychologist 53 (1998): 1017–31.
97 H. Weinberg, “Community Unconscious on the Internet,” Group Analysis 35 (2002):
165–83.
98 Alleman, “Online Counseling.” A. Ragusea and L. VandeCreek, “Suggestions for the
Ethical Practice of Online Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice,
Training 40 (2003): 94–102.
99 Hopss et al., “The Effectiveness of Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy.”
100 K. Luce, A. Winzelberg, and M. Zabinski, “Internet-Delivered Psychological
Interventions for Body Image Dissatisfaction and Disordered Eating,” Psychotherapy:
Theory, Research, Practice, Training 40 (2003): 148–54.
101 D. Tate, R. Wing, and R. Winett, “Using Internet Technology to Deliver a Behavioral
Weight Loss Program,” JAMA 285 (2001): 1172–77. A. Celio and A. Winzelberg,
“Improving Compliance in On-line, Structured Self-Help Programs: Evaluation of an
Eating Disorder Prevention Program,” Journal of Psychiatric Practice 8 (2002): 14–20.
102 M. Zabinski et al., “Reducing Risk Factors for Eating Disorders: Targeting At-Risk
Women with a Computerized Psychoeducational Program,” Journal of Eating Disorders
29 (2001): 401–8. M. Zabinski, D. Wilfley, K. Calfas, A. Winzelberg, and C. Taylor, “An
Interactive, Computerized Psychoeducational Intervention for Women at Risk of
Developing an Eating Disorder,” presented at the 23rd annual meeting of the Society for
Behavioral Medicine, Washington, D.C., 2002.
103 T. Houston, L. Cooper, and D. Ford, “Internet Support Groups for Depression: A 1-
Year Prospective Cohort Study,” American Journal of Psychiatry 159 (2002): 2062–68.
104 Ibid., 2066.
105 White and Dorman, “Receiving Social Support Online.” D. Gustafson et al.,
“Development and Pilot Evaluation of a Computer-Based Support System for Women
with Breast Cancer,” Journal of Psychosocial Oncology 11 (1993): 69–93. D. Gustafson et
al., “Impact of a Patient-Centered, Computer-Based Health Information/Support System,”
American Journal of Preventive Medicine 16 (1999): 1–9
106 Winzelberg et al., “Evaluation of an Internet Support Group.”
107 M. Lieberman et al., “Electronic Support Groups for Breast Carcinoma: A Clinical
Trial of Effectiveness,” Cancer 97 (2003): 920–25.
108 M. Lieberman, personal communication, 2004.

109 Lieberman et al., “Comparisons Between Professionally Directed and Self-Directed
Internet Groups.”

CHAPTER 16
1 H. Coffey, personal communication, 1967. A. Bavelas, personal communication, 1967.
A. Marrow, “Events Leading to the Establishment of the National Training Laboratories,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 3 (1967): 144–50. L. Bradford, “Biography of an
Institution,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 3 (1967): 127–44. K. Benne, “History
of the T-Group in the Laboratory Setting,” in T-Group Theory and Laboratory Method, ed.
L. Bradford, J. Gibb, and K. Benne (New York: Wiley, 1964), 80–135.
2 Benne, “History of the T-Group.”
3 E. Schein and W. Bennis, Personal and Organizational Change Through Group
Methods (New York: Wiley, 1965), 41.
4 Ibid., 43.
5 J. Luft, Group Processes: An Introduction to Group Dynamics (Palo Alto, Calif.:
National Press, 1966).
6 I. Wechsler, F. Messarik, and R. Tannenbaum, “The Self in Process: A Sensitive Training
Emphasis,” in Issues in Training, ed. I. Wechsler and E. Schein (Washington, D.C.:
National Education Association, National Training Laboratories, 1962), 33–46.
7 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973). M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, “The Group Experience
Project: A Comparison of Ten Encounter Technologies,” in Encounter, ed. L. Blank, M.
Gottsegen, and G. Gottsegen (New York: Macmillan, 1971). M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and
M. Miles, “The Impact of Encounter Groups on Participants: Some Preliminary Findings,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Sciences 8 (1972): 119–70.
8 These self-administered instruments attempted to measure any possible changes
encounter groups might effect—for example, in self-esteem, self-ideal discrepancy,
interpersonal attitudes and behavior life values, defense mechanisms, emotional
expressivity, values, friendship patterns, and major life decisions. Much third-party
outcome assessment was collected—evaluations by leaders, by other group members, and
by a network of each subject’s personal acquaintances. The assessment outcome was
strikingly similar to that of a psychotherapy project but with one important difference:
since the subjects were not clients but ostensibly healthy individuals seeking growth, no
assessment of target symptoms or chief complaints was made.
9 M. Ettin, “By the Crowd They Have Been Broken, By the Crowd They Shall Be Healed:
The Advent of Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38
(1988): 139–67. M. Ettin, “Come on, Jack, Tell Us About Yourself: The Growth Spurt of
Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 35–59.
S. Scheidlinger, “History of Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group
Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993), 2–

10.
10 M. Rosenbaum and M. Berger, Group Psychotherapy and Group Function (New York:
Basic Books, 1963).
11 E. Lazell, “The Group Treatment of Dementia Praecox,” Psychoanalytic Review 8
(1921): 168–79.
12 L. Marsh, “Group Therapy and the Psychiatric Clinic,” Journal of Nervous and Mental
Disorders 32 (1935): 381–92.
13 L. Wender, “Current Trends in Group Psychotherapy,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 3 (1951): 381–404. T. Burrows, “The Group Method of Analysis,”
Psychoanalytic Review 19 (1927): 268–80. P. Schilder, “Results and Problems of Group
Psychotherapy in Severe Neurosis,” Mental Hygiene 23 (1939): 87–98. S. Slavson,
“Group Therapy,” Mental Hygiene 24 (1940): 36–49. J. Moreno, Who Shall Survive?
(New York: Beacon House, 1953).
14 L. Horwitz, “Training Groups for Psychiatric Residents,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 421–35. L. Horwitz, “Transference in Training Groups
and Therapy Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 14 (1964): 202–13.
S. Kaplan, “Therapy Groups and Training Groups: Similarities and Differences,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 473–504.
15 R. Morton, “The Patient Training Laboratory: An Adaptation of the Instrumented
Training Laboratory,” in Personal and Organizational Change Through Group Methods,
ed. E. Schein and W. Bennis (New York: Wiley, 1965), 114–52.
16 J. Simon, “An Evaluation of est as an Adjunct to Group Psychotherapy in the
Treatment of Severe Alcoholism,” Biosciences Communications 135 (1977): 141–48. J.
Simon, “Observations on 67 Patients Who Took Erhard Seminars Training,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 135 (1978): 686–91.

CHAPTER 17
1 C. McRoberts, G. Burlingame, and M. Hoag, “Comparative Efficacy of Individual and
Group Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics 2 (1998): 101–17.
G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for
Effectiveness and Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley, 2004),
647–96.
2 I. Yalom, “Problems of Neophyte Group Therapists,” International Journal of Social
Psychiatry 7 (1996): 52–59. L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “Some
Observations on the Subjective Experience of Neophyte Group Therapy Trainees,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy (1996): 543–52. R. Billow, “The
Therapist’s Anxiety and Resistance to Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 225–42. S. Scheidlinger, “Response to ‘The Therapist’s Anxiety
and Resistance to Group Psychotherapy,’” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
52 (2002): 295–97.
3 S. Feiner, “Course Design: An Integration of Didactic and Experiential Approaches to
Graduate Training of Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 439–60. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame, “Group Psychotherapy Training and
Effectiveness,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (2001): 399–416. H.
Markus and A. Abernethy, “Joining with Resistance: Addressing Reluctance to Engage in
Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 191–
204. H. Markus and D. King, “A Survey of Group Psychotherapy Training During
Predoctoral Psychology Internship,” Professional Psychology, Research, and Practice 34
(2003): 203–9.
4 American Group Psychotherapy Association, “Guidelines for Certification: Group
Psychotherapy Credentials.” Available at www.agpa.org.
5 N. Taylor, G. Burlingame, K. Kristensen, A. Fuhriman, J. Johansen, and D. Dahl, “A
Survey of Mental Health Care Provider’s and Managed Care Organization Attitudes
Toward, Familiarity With, and Use of Group Interventions,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 243–63.
6 B. Schwartz, “An Eclectic Group Therapy Course for Graduate Students in Professional
Psychology,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 18 (1981): 417–23.
7 Although didactic courses are among the least effective methods of teaching, over 90
percent of psychiatric residency teaching programs use them. E. Pinney, “Group
Psychotherapy Training in Psychiatric Residency Programs,” Journal of Psychiatric
Education 10 (1986): 106.
8 J. Gans, J. Rutan, and E. Lape, “The Demonstration Group: A Tool for Observing Group

http://www.agpa.org

Process and Leadership Style,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002):
233–52.
9 See I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1983), 259–73,
for a full discussion of this format.
10 To order, go to psychotherapy.net/ and click on “videotapes.” V. Brabender, “Videotape
Resources for Group Psychotherapists: A 5-Year Retrospective,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 253–63. Brabender (2002) has completed a detailed
summary of currently available video tape training resources. A particularly effective
approach in training that is often used in clinical trials is an intensive workshop in which
trainees watch videotape segments of group therapy—led well and poorly. Trainees then
discuss how they understand what they observed; what worked and why; what failed and
why; what alternative approaches could be used?
11 H. Bernard, “Introduction to Special Issue on Group Supervision of Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 153–57.
12 Murphy et al., “Some Observations on the Subjective Experience.” J. Kleinberg, “The
Supervisory Alliance and the Training of Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapists,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 159–79. S. Shanfield, V.
Hetherly, and D. Matthews, “Excellent Supervision: The Residents’ Perspective,” Journal
of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10 (2001): 23–27. M. Bowers Jr., “Supervision in
Psychiatry and the Transmission of Values,” Academic Psychiatry 23 (1999): 42–45. M.
Leszcz, “Reflections on the Abuse of Power, Control, and Status in Group Therapy and
Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 389–
400.
13 A. Alonso, “On Being Skilled and Deskilled as a Psychotherapy Supervisor,” Journal
of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9 (2000): 55–61.
14 M. Leszcz and L. Murphy, “Supervision of Group Psychotherapy,” in Clinical
Perspectives on Psychotherapy Supervision, ed. S. Greben and R. Ruskin (Washington,
D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1994), 99–120. Shanfield et al., “Excellent
Supervision.”
15 M. Hantoot, “Lying in Psychotherapy Supervision: Why Residents Say One Thing and
Do Another,” Academic Psychiatry 24 (2000): 179–87.
16 G. Burlingame et al., “A Systematic Program to Enhance Clinician Group Skills in an
Inpatient Psychiatric Hospital,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002):
555–87.
17 Murphy et al., “Some Observations on the Subjective Experience.”
18 G. Ebersole, P. Leiderman, and I. Yalom, “Training the Nonprofessional Group
Therapist,” Journal of Nervous and Mental Disorders 149 (1969): 294–302.
19 L. Tauber, “Choice Point Analysis: Formulation, Strategy, Intervention, and Result in
Group Process Therapy and Supervision,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
28 (1978): 163–83.

http://psychotherapy.net/

20 H. Roback, “Use of Patient Feedback to Improve the Quality of Group Therapy
Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 26 (1976): 243–47.
21 J. Elizur, “‘Stuckness’ in Live Supervision: Expanding the Therapist’s Style,” Journal
of Family Therapy 12 (1990): 267–80. V. Alpher, “Interdependence and Parallel
Processes: A Case Study of Structural Analysis of Social Behavior in Supervision and
Short-Term Dynamic Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy 28 (1991): 218–31.
22 A. Alonso, “Training for Group Psychotherapy,” in Group Therapy and Clinical
Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press,
1993), 521–32. Leszcz and Murphy, “Supervision of Group Psychotherapy.”
23 D. Altfeld, “An Experiential Group Model for Psychotherapy Supervision,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 237–54. E. Counselman and R.
Weber, “Organizing and Maintaining Peer Supervision Groups,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 125–43.
24 D. Janoff and J. Schoenholtz-Read, “Group Supervision Meets Technology: A Model
for Computer-Mediated Group Training at a Distance,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 255–72.
25 C. Classen et al., “Effectiveness of a Training Program for Enhancing Therapists’
Understanding of the Supportive-Expressive Treatment Model for Breast Cancer Groups,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 6 (1997): 211–18. H. Verdeli et al.,
“Adapting Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for a Developing Country: Experience in
Rural Uganda,” World Psychiatry 2 (2002): 114–20. S. Feiner, “Course Design: An
Integration of Didactic and Experiential Approaches to Graduate Training of Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 439–60.
26 Pinney, “Group Psychotherapy Training in Psychiatric Residency Programs.” J. Gans,
J. Rutan, and N. Wilcox, “T-Groups (Training Groups) in Psychiatric Residency Programs:
Facts and Possible Implications,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45
(1995): 169–83. V. Nathan and S. Poulsen, “Group-Analytic Training Groups for
Psychology Students: A Qualitative Study,” Group Analysis 37 (2004): 163–77.
27 M. Aveline, “Principles of Leadership in Brief Training Groups for Mental Health
Professionals,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 107–29.
28 E. Coche, F. Dies, and K. Goettelmann, “Process Variables Mediating Change in
Intensive Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41
(1991): 379–98. V. Tschuschke and L. Greene, “Group Therapists’ Training: What
Predicts Learning?” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 463–82.
29 D. Scaturo, “Fundamental Clinical Dilemmas in Contemporary Group Psychotherapy,”
Group Analysis 37 (2004): 201–17.
30 Aveline, “Principles of Leadership in Brief Training Groups.”
31 C. Mace, “Personal Therapy in Psychiatric Training,” Psychiatric Bulletin 25 (2001):
3–4.

32 J. Guy et al., “Personal Therapy for Psychotherapists Before and After Entering
Professional Practice,” Professional Psychology: Research and Practice 19 (1988): 474–
76.
33 J. Norcross, “Personal Therapy for Therapists: One Solution, 96th annual meeting of
the American Psychological Association: The Hazards of the Psychotherapeutic Practice
for the Clinician (1988, Atlanta, Georgia),” Psychotherapy in Private Practice 8 (1990):
45–59. J. Prochaska and J. Norcross, “Contemporary Psychotherapists: A National Survey
of Characteristics, Practices, Orientations, and Attitudes,” Psychotherapy: Theory,
Research, and Practice 20 (1983): 161–73.
34 D. Weintraub, L. Dixon, E. Kohlhepp, and J. Woolery, “Residents in Personal
Psychotherapy: A Longitudinal Cross-Sectional Perspective,” Academic Psychiatry 23
(1999): 14–19.
35 I. Yalom, The Gift of Therapy (New York: HarperCollins, 2003).
36 N. Elman and L. Forrest, “Psychotherapy in the Remediation of Psychology Trainees:
Exploratory Interviews with Training Directors,” Professional Psychology: Research and
Practice 35 (2004): 123–30. L. Beutler et al., “Therapist Variables,” in Bergin and
Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert
(New York: Wiley, 2004), 647–96. The research in this area is problematic. There is
substantial evidence that therapist psychological well-being is associated with better
clinical outcomes but personal psychotherapy is not. Perhaps the best explanation for these
findings is that engaging in personal psychotherapy by itself is not synonymous with
psychological well-being. Many practitioners may have long struggled personally and not
yet achieved what they need from their personal psychotherapy. Even so, personal
psychotherapy makes therapists more resilient in the face of the demands of the clinical
work.
37 The Canadian Group Psychotherapy Association, as of 1986, required ninety hours of
personal experience in either a bona fide therapy group or a prolonged experiential
workshop with other professionals (Kent Mahoney, personal communication, 1994). J.
Salvendy, “Group Therapy Trainees as Bona Fide Members in Patient Groups,” in Group
and Family Therapy, ed. L. Wolberg and M. Aronson (New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1983).
R. Alnoes and B. Sigrell, “Evaluation of the Outcome of Training Groups Using an
Analytic Group Psychotherapy Technique,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics 25
(1975): 268–75. R. Dies, “Attitudes Toward the Training of Group Psychotherapists,”
Small Group Behavior 5 (1974): 65–79. H. Mullan and M. Rosenbaum, Group
Psychotherapy (New York: Free Press, 1978), 115–73. M. Pines, “Group Psychotherapy:
Frame of Reference for Training,” in Psychotherapy: Research and Training, ed. W.
DeMoor, W. Wijingaarden, and H. Wijngaarden (Amsterdam: Elsevier/North Holland
Biomedical Press, 1980), 233–44. J. Salvendy, “Group Psychotherapy Training: A Quest
for Standards,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 25 (1980): 394–402. R. Battegay, “The
Value of Analytic Self-Experiencing Groups in the Training of Psychotherapists,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 199–213.
38 Coche et al., “Process Variables Mediating Change.”

39 Counselman and Weber, “Organizing and Maintaining Peer Supervision Groups.”
40 E. Bein et al., “The Effects of Training in Time-Limited Dynamic Psychotherapy:
Changes in Therapeutic Outcome,” Psychotherapy Research 10 (2000): 119–32. B.
Wampold, The Great Psychotherapy Debate: Models, Methods, and Findings (Mahwah,
N.J.: Erlbaum, 2001). I. Elkin, “A Major Dilemma in Psychotherapy Outcome Research:
Disentangling Therapists from Therapies,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 6
(1999): 10–32. S. Miller and J. Binder, “The Effects of Manual-Based Training on
Treatment Fidelity and Outcome: A Review of the Literature on Adult Individual
Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training 39 (2002): 184–98.
41 Burlingame et al., “Small-Group Treatment.”
42 E. Silber and J. Tippet, “Self-Esteem: Clinical Assessment and Validation,”
Psychological Reports 16 (1965): 1017–71.
43 S. Holmes and D. Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors in Group and
Individual Treatment Processes,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 47 (2000): 478–84.
44 M. Lieberman and I. Yalom, “Brief Psychotherapy for the Spousally Bereaved: A
Controlled Study,” International Journal of Group Psychiatry 42 (1992): 117–33.
45 S. Leacock, “Gertrude the Governess or Simple 17,” A Treasury of the Best Works of
Stephen Leacock (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1954).

Index
AA. See Alcoholics Anonymous
AA serenity prayer
Absenteeism; of group members; meaning of; value of
Acceleration of interaction
Acceptance; among juveniles; enhanced by group; group; importance of; by others;
universal need for; valued by group members
Activating procedures; curvilinear nature of
Active coping
Actualizing tendency
Acute inpatient therapy groups: acute inpatient hospitalization v.; alleviating hospital-
related anxiety in; altruism in; clinical setting for; formulation of goals in; maladaptive
interpersonal behavior in; modes of structure in; modification of technique for; working
model for higher-level group. See also Inpatient groups
Adaptive social skills, augmented by group popularity
Adaptive spiral; facilitated by therapist; through imitative behavior; in therapy groups
Addition of new members to group: group response to; therapeutic guidelines for; timing
of
Adult Survivors of Incest
Advice-giving
Advice-seeking, interpersonal pathology and
Affect; borderline clients and; critical incident and; expression of; illness and; modeled by
therapist
Affiliation
Affiliativeness
Agreeableness
Ahistorical focus
Alcohol treatment groups; existential factors and; as twelve-step groups. See also
Alcoholics Anonymous (AA); Twelve-step groups
Alcoholics Anonymous (AA); direct advice used by; here-and-now focus in; higher power
and; large-group format of; therapeutic factors and. See also Twelve-step groups
Alcoholism

Alexander, Franz
Alexithymia
Alienation
Allport, G.
Aloneness
Altruism; in AA; in acute inpatient therapy groups; in medical illness groups; in systems
of healing
Alzheimer’s caregiver groups, moving to leaderless format
Ambiguity, decreased by self-knowledge
Ambulatory groups; written summaries for
American Counseling Association
American Group Psychotherapy Association; experiential groups; training groups
American Psychiatric Association
American Psychological Association
American Self-Help Clearinghouse
Analysis of resistance
Analysis Terminable and Interminable (Freud)
Analytic movement
Analytic theory
Anamnestic technique
Anger: expression of; group; in leaderless meetings; prejudice as source of; scapegoating
and; sources in group therapy; transferential
Anthony, E.
Antigroup development
“Antigroup” forces
Antitherapeutic group norms
Anxiety; decreased by information; extrinsic; in group meetings; hospital-related;
intrinsic; issues in; separation; socialization; of therapists
Anxiety-laden issues; in clinical example
Aquinas, Thomas
Arousal hierarchy
“As if” assumption

Asch, S.
Assertive training groups
Assessment of clinical situation
Asynchronous groups
At-risk clients
Attachment; behavior; to group; styles of
Attendance; group cohesiveness influenced by; harnessing group pressure for; influencing;
irregular; pregroup training and; research on; resistance to therapy and
Attraction to group
Audiovisual technology; client response to; declining interest in; use of, in therapy groups.
See also Videotaping of groups
Autonomy; of group members
Axis I psychiatric disorders
Axis II clients
Bandura, A.
Basic encounter groups
Behavioral change; interpersonal learning required for
Behavioral experimentation
Behavioral group therapy
Behavioral patterns in social microcosm
Behavioral therapy: techniques; therapeutic alliance in
Behaviorism
Behavior-shaping groups: direct suggestions used by
Belonging: group; need for
Bereavement groups
Berne, Eric
Binge eating disorders
Bioenergetics
Bion, WIlfred
Bipolar affective disorder, treatment for
Bipolar clients; clinical example in early stage of group; clinical example in mature group;

in early phases of group; in later stage of group
Blending therapy groups; formula for
Borderline clients; advantages of therapy group for; concurrent individual therapy for;
conjoint therapy for; co-therapy and; description of; dynamics of; feedback for;
heterogeneous groups and; individual therapy and; regression with; therapist interest in
Borderline personality disorder; dreams and; group therapy and; origins of
Boredom
Boring clients: group reaction to; individual therapy for; masochism and; therapist’s
reaction to; underlying dynamics of
Bosom Buddies
Boundary experiences
Bowlby, John
Breast cancer groups; research on; SEGT recommended for
Brevity of therapy
Brideshead Revisited (Waugh)
Brief group therapy: economic pressure for; effectiveness of; features of; general
principles for leading; here-and-now focus in; individual short-term treatment and; length
of; long-term treatment therapy and; research on; size of group; structured exercises in
Brief therapy groups; as closed groups; opportunities in; procedural norms for; termination
of
British Group Analytic Institute
British National Health Service study
Budman, S.
Bugenthal, J.
Bulimia groups
Bulimia nervosa
Burdened family caregivers groups
Burrows, T.
Camus, A.
Canadian Group Psychotherapy Association
Cancer groups; adding members to; co-therapy in; emotional expression and; engagement
with life challenges and; extreme experience and; here-and-now focus in; large-group

format and; subgrouping as benefit to. See also Breast cancer groups
Catalysts
Catharsis; limitations of; research on; role of in therapeutic process
Causality
CBASP. See Cognitive behavioral analysis system psychotherapy
CBT. See Cognitive-behavioral therapy
CBT-G. See Cognitive-behavioral group therapy
Chance, group development and
Change: behavioral; characterological; explanation; group cohesiveness and; group
conflict and; interpretive remarks to encourage; preconditions for; process commentary
sequence for; process illumination and; process of; readiness; responsibility and; as
responsibility of client; self-understanding v.; therapeutic; therapeutic strategies for; as
therapy group goal; transtheoretical model; will and
Change readiness, stages of
Characterological change
Characterologically difficult clients; borderline clients; overview of; schizoid clients
CHESS. See Comprehensive Health Enhancement Support System
Childhood conduct disorders, communication linked to
Chronic depression
Chronic pain groups
Circle of Friends
Classical psychoanalytic theory
Client(s): accepting process illumination; in acute situational crisis; assuming process
orientation; at-risk; Axis II; behavior of; bipolar; borderline; boring; characterologically
difficult; deselection of; difficulties of; discomfort levels of; expectations of; as focus of
irritation in group; higher-level; “in or out” concerns of; interpersonal life of; interpersonal
problems of; with intimacy problems; modeling; narcissistic; “near or far” concerns of;
needs of therapy group and; primary task of group and; psychotic; removing from group;
reports; schizoid; screening; selection of; silent; suicidal; tasks of; termination of; “top or
bottom” concerns of; valuing therapeutic factors; willful action and. See also Group
members; Therapist/client relationship
Client modeling
Client reports
Client selection: exclusion criteria; group members influenced by; inclusion criteria for;
participation in group activities and; pride in group membership; procedure overview;

relationships with group members and; research on inclusion criteria; satisfying personal
needs; therapists feelings and
Clinical populations, of group therapy
Closed group therapy
Closed groups; adding new members to; as brief therapy groups; length of
Clustering, of personality pathology
Cognition
Cognitive approach, goals of
Cognitive behavioral analysis system psychotherapy (CBASP)
Cognitive map
Cognitive psychotherapy; interpersonal therapy v.; therapeutic alliance in
Cognitive restructuring
Cognitive-behavioral group therapy (CBT-G); application of; PTSD and; social phobia
treatment and; strategies of
Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT)
Cognitive-behavioral therapy groups; here-and-now focus in; imitation’s value for;
subgrouping as benefit to; therapeutic factors and; therapist-client relationship in
Cohesion, See Group cohesiveness
“Cold processing,”
Combined therapy; advantages of; beginning with individual therapy; clinical examples
of; confidentiality and; dropouts discouraged by; envy in group; open-ended
psychotherapy groups and; resistance to; therapist role in; time-limited groups;
unpredictable interaction in group
Common group tensions; struggle for dominance as
Communicational skills groups: direct advice used by
Compassionate Friends
Composition of therapy groups: clinical observations; cohesiveness as primary guideline
for; crafting an ideal group; cultural factors in; ethno-racial factors in; gender and; group
function influenced by; group process influenced by; heterogeneous mode of;
homogeneous mode of; overview of; prediction of behavior and; principles of; research
summary; sexual orientation in; subsequent work influenced by
Comprehensive Health Enhancement Support System (CHESS)
Concurrent individual therapy; for borderline clients
Confidentiality; combined therapy and; in subgrouping; value of in therapy groups;
written summaries and

Conflict; among group members; areas exposed by group members; around
control/dominance in group; change and; climate of; decreased; dominance and; envy as
fuel for; feedback and; group; in group development; in individual therapy; inevitability
of; in inpatient groups; intimacy and; rivalry as fuel for; self-disclosure enhanced by; in
sphere of intimacy; therapeutic process and; therapists and; in therapy groups. See also
Conflict resolution; Hostility
Conflict resolution; empathy’s value in; role switching and; stages of
Conflictual infantile passions
Confrontation, norms and
Conjoint therapy; for borderline clients; clinical examples of; complications with;
individual therapist in; recommended for characterologically difficult clients; resistance
to; therapist collaboration in; value of here-and-now focus to
Conscientiousness
Conscious mimicry
Consensual group action/cooperation/mutual support
Consensual validation
Constructive loop of trust
Contact, patients’ need for
Content; examples in groups; process v.; revelations of
Content of explanation
Continuity
Contracting
Convergence of twelve-step/group therapy approaches
Coping: active; emphasis; SEGT and; skills; style
Coronary heart disease groups
Corrective emotional experience; components of; conditions required for; as cornerstone
of therapeutic effectiveness; importance of; in individual therapy
Co-therapists; clinical example of disagreeing; countertransference and; male-female
teams; modeling and; selecting; senior vs. junior; “splitting” of
Co-therapy; advantages of; borderline clients and; for cancer groups; disadvantages of;
research on; subgrouping in; in supervised clinical experience; value of collaboration in
Counterdependents
Countertransference; co-therapist and; by therapist; therapist reaction to
Creation of group

Creation of therapy groups: brief group therapy; duration/frequency of meetings;
preliminary considerations for; preparing for group therapy
Crisis group
Crisis-intervention therapy
Critical incidents; affect and; in therapy groups
“Crosstalk,”
Culture building; compared to game of chess
Current forces
Day hospital groups, existential factors in
Death; as co-therapist
Debriefing interviews
Decreased conflict, setting norms for
Denial
Dependency
Depression; “cause and effect” and; heart attack and; prevention of, relapse groups;
research on
Depue, R.
Derepression
Deselection; of clients
Deskilling
Determinism
Devaluation
Developmental tasks
Deviancy
Diagnostic label
Didactic instruction; employment of
Diluted therapy
Direct advice
Direct suggestions, with behavior-shaping groups
Discharge planning groups, therapeutic factors and
Disciplined personal involvement

Discomfort levels; value of in therapy groups
Discordant tasks
Disengagement
Disintegration
Displaced aggression
Displacement
Dissonance theory
Distrust
Diverse interpersonal styles, classification of
Domestic violence
Dominance; conflict and; by group members; struggle for
Dose-effect of individual therapy
Dostoevsky, F.
Double-mirror reactions
Draw-a-Person test
Dreams: borderline personality disorder and; family reenactment and; group work and;
group-relevant themes in; loss of faith in therapist and; role in group therapy; sense of self
and; termination and; therapy groups and; transference and
Drop-in crisis groups
Dropouts; categories of; characteristics of; with chronic mental illness; discouraged by
combined therapy; emotional contagion and; external factors and; group behavior of;
group deviancy and; intimacy problems and; other reasons for; pretherapy preparation;
preventing; rates for; reasons for; removing client from group; research on. See also
Premature termination
DSM-IV-TR. See 2000 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
Dynamic; meaning of
Dynamic psychotherapy; history of; therapist’s task in
Dysphoria
Eating disorders groups
Effectance
“Eggshell” therapy
Electroconvulsive therapy

Elkin, G.
Emotion
Emotional catharsis
Emotional contagion
Emotional experience
Emotional expression; in HIV/AIDS groups; intensity of; linked with hope
Emotional responses: pathology and; recognized by therapists; by therapists
Empathetic capacity: as component of emotional intelligence
Empathetic processing
Empathy; critical to successful group; in narcissistic clients; value of in conflict resolution
Empirical observation
Encounter ethos
Encounter groups; definition of; effectiveness of; end of; evolution of; extragroup
therapeutic factors and; leader’s role in; Lieberman, Yalom, Miles study on; members’
attraction to; relationship to therapy groups; research on; self-disclosure in; silent
members in; structured exercises in. See also T-groups
End-of-meeting reviews: for inpatient groups; phases of; research on
Engagement
Entire group as dyad
Entrapment: by group members; of therapists
Environmental stress
Envy; in combined therapy; as fuel for conflict; termination and
Escape from Freedom (Fromm)
Espirt de corps: group cohesiveness and; low
Ethics Guidelines of the American Psychological Association
European philosophic tradition
Every Day Gets a Little Closer (Yalom/Elkin)
Exclusion criteria for client selection
Existential factors; alcohol treatment groups and; in day hospital groups; inpatient groups
and; in medical illness groups; in prison groups; in psychiatric hospital groups
Existential force
Existential Psychotherapy (Yalom)

Existential shock therapy
Existential therapy
Existential-humanistic approach
Experiential groups; process exploration and; research on
Experiential learning
Explanation: change and; originology v.; personal mastery and; types of
Explanatory scheme
Explicit instruction
Explicit memory
Expression of strong dislike/anger
External stress
Extragroup behavior
Extragroup contact; therapist discussion/analysis of
Extragroup relationships: as part of therapy; problems with
Extragroup therapeutic factors
Extragroups; informing group members of; medical illness groups and; silence about; as
undermining therapist. See also Subgrouping
Extraversion
Extreme experience; cancer groups and; generated by therapists
Extrinsic anxiety
Extrinsic limiting factors
Extrinsic problems
Factor analysis
Fair Employment Practices Act
Faith: in treatment mode
Faith healing
The Fall (Camus)
False connections
Family reenactment; dreams and; incest survivor groups and; sex offender groups and
Favorite child

Fear: of group therapy; of isolation; of loneliness; of psychotic clients; of retaliation; of
revealing secrets
Feedback; for borderline clients; conflict and; monopolists; principles for receiving;
reinforcing effective; T-groups and; timing of
Fellow sufferers
Ferenczi, Sandor
Fitzgerald, F. Scott
Focused feedback
Focusing on positive interaction
Fonagy, P.
Forgetfulness of being
Formulation of goals
Foulkes, S.
Fractionalization
Frank, Jerome
Frankl, Victor
Freedom
“Freezing the frame,”
Freud, S.
Freudian clinicians
Freudian psychology
Fromm, E.
Fromm-Reichman, Frieda
Future determinism
The Future of an Illusion (Freud)
Galilean concept of causality
Gamblers Anonymous
Gay Alcoholics
Genetic insight
Genuineness
Geriatric groups; therapeutic factors and

Gestalt therapy
The Gift of Therapy (Yalom)
Global accusations
Global group characteristics
Global historical survey
Go-Go Stroke Club
Groundlessness
Group behavior: of dropouts; extragroup; operant techniques in; prediction of; pretherapy;
pretherapy encounter and
Group boundaries
Group climate
Group cohesiveness; attendance influenced by; attendance/participation and; attributes of;
condition of; consequences of; contributions to; development of; early stages of; effects
of; espirt de corps and; expression of hostility and; impact of; importance of; intense
emotional experiences and; as mediator for change; monopolists’ influence on; not
synonymous with comfort/ease; precondition for; research on; self-disclosure essential to;
self-esteem influenced by; sexual love relationship and; subgrouping and; therapist-client
relationship and; therapy-relevant variables and; wish to be favored and
Group cohesiveness precondition: precondition for therapeutic factors
Group communication
Group conflict; change and
Group culture: designed by therapist; techniques for shaping
Group current
Group demoralization
Group development: antigroup forces; chance and; clients’ impact on; clinical application
of theory; conflict in; as epigenetic; first group meeting and; formative stages of; hostility
as part of; initial stage of; membership problems in; overview of; problems in; regression
and; research on; second stage of; “storming” stage of; third stage of
Group developmental theory
Group deviancy; research on
Group deviant: definition of; development of; group members v.; group support and;
schizophrenics as; screening for
Group dynamics; research in
Group engagement; resisting
Group environment

Group evaluation: individual’s self-evaluation vs.. See also public esteem
Group experience; delayed benefit of
Group experience for trainees; leaders for; leadership technique in; length of; resistance
to; training group vs. therapy group in; voluntary; warnings about
Group flight; intervention against; tardiness/absence as
Group fragmentation
Group Helpful Impacts Scale
Group history
Group identity
Group integration/mutuality
Group integrity
Group interaction; maladaptive transaction cycle in
Group interpersonal therapy (IPT-G); binge eating disorders and; compared to individual
interpersonal therapy
Group interventions: timing of
Group isolate
Group meetings; with absent members; anxiety in; canceling of; duration/frequency of;
first meeting; leaderless; protocol of for inpatient groups; symptom description in
Group members; absent; acceptance and; “acting out” by; in advanced group; as agents of
help; ambivalence towards new; attrition of; autonomy of; behavior of; with cross-cultural
issues; detachment of; disturbed interpersonal skills of; dominance by; environment of; as
generators of cohesion; gift giving by; giving/seeking advice; group environment and;
group therapy guidelines for; hierarchy of dominance among; higher functioning; hostile;
ideal members (plants) among; importance of group to; influence of; inner worlds of;
interpersonal pathology displayed by; limits of intimacy learned by; long-term
engagement of; lower functioning; maladaptive interpersonal patterns of; “mascot”
among; membership problems; from minority backgrounds; morale of old/new; neophyte;
number of new to add; personal needs of; personal responsibility among; problem;
removal of; response to observation; responsibility of; responsible for group; satisfaction
of; self-ratings by; senior; signs of schism among; tasks of, in new groups; therapeutic
considerations for departing; therapeutic process enhanced by; therapist attacks by;
unrealistic view of therapist by; welcome/support towards new
Group membership: price of; pride in; rewards of
Group name vs. work of therapy
Group norms
Group orientation

Group popularity; adaptive social skills augmented by; advantages of; prerequisites for;
self-esteem augmented by; variables for
Group pressure
Group process: in specialized groups
Group properties
Group role
Group size
Group spirit
Group status
Group summary
Group support; group deviant and
Group survival
Group task; satisfaction with
Group termination; decreasing early; external stress and; reasons for early
Group themes
Group therapy: accent in; adapting CBT to; adapting IPT to; ancestral; balance as critical
problem of; based on therapist/client alliance; as bridge building; as cheap therapy;
“curative” factor in; demystification of; development of; effectiveness of; evolution of;
expected behavior in; goals of; guidelines for group members; history of; honesty as core
of; individual therapy augmented by; individual therapy combining with; individual
therapy v.; length of; as life dress rehearsal; misconceptions about; as multidimensional
laboratory; for normals; “one-size-fits-all” approach to; potency of; preparation for;
pretherapy expectations of; public beliefs about; recommendations for; research on
effectiveness; sequence for; stimulus and; termination phase of; twelve-step groups
combining with
Group therapy record keeping
Group therapy training; components of; group experience for trainees during; how to do
vs. how to learn in; as lifelong process; observation of experienced clinicians during;
outcome assessment and; overview of; personal psychotherapy in; sequence in; standards
for; supervised clinical experience in; videotaping of groups in
Group work; dreams and; dynamics in
Group-as-a-whole; antitherapeutic group norms and; anxiety-laden issues and;
interpretation; rationale of
Groupness
Group-relevant behavior: direct sampling of

Groupthink
Grunebaum, H.
Guidance; limits to
Guided-fantasy exercise
Hamburg, D.
Heidegger, M.
Helmholtz school ideology
Help-rejecting complainers (HRC); description of; distrust of authority by; dynamics of;
influence on therapy group; management guidelines for
Here-and-now focus; in AA; activating phase of; as ahistorical approach; ahistorical value
of; of brief group therapy; in cancer groups; in cognitive-behavior groups; components of;
content and; experience vs. process illumination in; experiencing of; of group therapy;
group therapy’s success in; groups for; illumination of process; illustration of; importance
of; in inpatient groups; process and; process illumination phase; in psychoeducation;
research on; resistance in; self-disclosure in; sexual relationships in groups and; shifting
to; steps of; subgrouping and; symbiotic tiers of; techniques of activation; therapeutic
effectiveness influenced by; therapist disclosure and; therapist’s role in; therapists’ tasks
in; of therapy groups; thinking; value to conjoint therapy
Here-and-now groups
Herpes groups
Hesitant participation
Hesse, Herman
Heterogeneity; for conflict areas; of pathology
Heterogeneous groups; borderline clients and; homogeneous groups v.; long-term
intensive interactional group therapy and
Heterogeneous mode of composition
Hierarchical pyramid
High turnover
Hillel
HIV/AIDS groups; emotional expression and; moving to leaderless format; social
connection affected by; therapeutic factors and
Holocaust survivors
Homogeneity; ego strength and

Homogeneous groups; advantages of; group leaders and; heterogeneous groups v.;
members of; research on; superficiality in
Homogeneous mode of composition
Hope
Horizontal disclosure, See meta-disclosure
Horney, Karen
Hospital discharge/transition groups: direct advice used by
Hostility: group cohesiveness and; group development and; group fragmentation caused
by; intergroup; management of; new group members and; off-target; parataxic distortions
and; sources of; subgrouping and; towards therapists; transference and
“Hot processing,”
Hot-seat technique
HRC. See Help-rejecting complainers
Human experience
Human potential groups
Human relations groups
Human stress response
Humanistic force. See Existential force
Husserl, Edmund
Ibsen, Henrik
ICD–10. See International Classification of Disease
The Iceman Commeth
Ideal group
Identification. See also Imitative behavior
Illumination of process
Imitative behavior; adaptive spiral and; research on; therapeutic impact of; therapists and;
in therapy group(s); as transitional therapeutic factor
Implicit memory
Incest, self-disclosure of
Incest survivor groups; family reenactment and; written summaries and
Inclusion criteria for client selection

Increased engagement: setting norms for
Increased therapist transparency
Individual therapy; augmented by group therapy; beginning for combined therapy;
borderline clients and; for boring clients; clients recommended for group; client/therapist
discrepancies in; combining with group therapy; conflict in; corrective emotional
experience; “curative” factor in; “does-effect” of; effectiveness of; good rapport’s
influence on; group therapy v.; preferences for; recruitment for; research on effectiveness;
termination from; therapist disclosure in; therapist-client relationship in; universality’s role
in
Inference, degrees of
Information: decreasing anxiety; imparting of
Informed consent; preparation for group therapy and
Inner experience
Inpatient groups; agenda filling in; client turnover; common themes in; conflict in;
decreasing isolation in; disadvantages of structure in; end of meeting review for;
existential factors and; goals for; here-and-now focus in; instillation of hope and; personal
agenda setting in; session protocol for; spatial/temporal boundaries for; therapeutic factors
selected by; therapist role in; therapist style in; therapist time in; ward problems and. See
also Acute inpatient therapy groups
Insight; evaluating; genetic; levels of; motivational
Insight groups
Instillation of hope
Intensive retreats
Interactional group therapy; structured exercises in; therapist-client relationship in
Internal working model
International Classification of Disease (ICD–10)
Internet support groups; effectiveness of; ethical concerns with; growth of; norms of;
problems with; research on
Interpersonal behavior; examination of; of group members; identifying
Interpersonal circumplex; research on
Interpersonal coercion
Interpersonal communication
Interpersonal compatibility
Interpersonal competence
Interpersonal distortions

Interpersonal dynamics
Interpersonal dysfunction
Interpersonal input
Interpersonal intake interview
Interpersonal learning; overview of; required for behavioral change; self-disclosure as part
of
Interpersonal mastery
Interpersonal model of group therapy
Interpersonal nosological system; development of
Interpersonal pathology: advice-seeking and; displayed by group members
Interpersonal relationships; contemporary schema for; disturbed; importance of; as key to
group therapy; mental health and; request for help in; theory of
Interpersonal satisfaction
Interpersonal shifts
Interpersonal styles: in therapy groups
Interpersonal theory; aspects of; concepts of
Interpersonal theory of psychiatry
Interpersonal therapy (IPT); adapting to group therapy; cognitive therapy v.; compared to
group interpersonal therapy
Interpretation; concepts of; in context of acceptance/trust
Interpretive remarks
Intersubjective model
Intervention; in CBT-G; for manual-guided groups; for medical illness; observing in
supervised clinical experience; structured; by therapist
In-therapy variables
Intimacy; conflict and; dropouts and; establishment of; limits of by group members;
problems with
Intrapsychic factors
Intrinsic anxiety
Intrinsic limiting factors
Intrinsic problems
IPT. See Interpersonal therapy
IPT-G. See Group interpersonal therapy

Isolation; decreasing in inpatient groups; feared by terminally ill
James, William
Janis, I.
Johari window
Jones, Maxwell
Judeo-Christian National Marriage Encounter programs
Kernberg, Otto
Kiesler, D.J.
Klein, Melanie
Knowledge deficiency
Kübler-Ross, Elisabeth
Laboratory groups: members’ attraction to
Language; value of to therapist
Large-group format
Lazell, E.
Leaderless meetings; in Alzheimer’s caregiver groups; anger in; in HIV/AIDS groups;
member concerns about; reporting on; in support groups; in time-limited groups;
unpopularity of
Leadership: technique; transfer of
Learning disability groups: therapeutic factors and
Lebensphilosophie
Letters of credit
Lewin, Kurt
Liberation
Lieberman, M. A.
Life skills groups
Lifespring
Limit-setting

Loneliness; specter of; types of; universal fear of
Long-term dynamic group; silent members in
Long-term interactional group
Love’s Executioner (Yalom)
Low, Abraham
Low-inference commentary
Lying on the Couch (Yalom)
MacKenzie, K.R.
MADD. See Mothers Against Drunk Driving
Magister Ludi (Hesse)
Maintenance of group
Make Today Count
Maladaptive interpersonal behavior; in acute inpatient therapy groups;
demonstration/meaning of
Maladaptive transaction cycle
Male batterers groups
Marathon groups; history of; research on; transfer of learning and
Marmor, Judd
Marsh, L.
Mascotting
Maslow, A.
Masochism
Mastery
May, R.
MBSR. See Mindfulness-based stress reduction
Meaninglessness
Mechanistic psychotherapy: therapeutic alliance in
Mediating mechanisms
Medical illness groups; altruism evident in; clinical illustration of; coping emphasis in;
existential factors in; extragroup contact and; group cohesiveness in; modeling in;
modifying group therapy technique for; psychological distress in; universality in; value of

imitative behavior in
Medical stress
Meditation stress reduction
Melnick, J.
Membership problems: addition of new members; attendance/punctuality; dropouts;
removing client from group; turnover
Memory, forms of
Men Overcoming Violence
Mended Heart
Mental disorder: disturbed interpersonal relationships and; makeup of
Mental health, interpersonal relationships and
Mental Health Through Will Training (Low)
Metacommunication
Metadisclosure
Miles, M.
Mindfulness of being
Mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR)
Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI)
Mirroring
Mitchell, Stephen
MMPI. See Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory
Modeling; co-therapist and; in medical illness groups; process orientation
Model-setting participant, therapist’s role as
Modification of technique
Momma and the Meaning of Life (Yalom)
Moms in Recovery
Monopolistic behavior: causes of; clinical illustration of; research on; therapist’s job to
check
Monopolists; as catalyst for group anger; crisis method of; feedback and; group
cohesiveness influenced by; group reaction to; group therapy influenced by; guiding to
self-reflective therapy process; as interrogators; self-concealment and; social suicide and;
therapeutic considerations for
Monopolization

Moreno, J.
Mother-child relationship
Mother-infant pair
Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD)
Motivation
Multicultural groups
Multimodal group approach
Multiple observers
Mutual recognition
Napoleon
Narcissistic clients; clinical example of; empathy in; examples of; general problems with;
overgratified/undergratified; overview of; therapeutic factors and; therapist management
of; in therapy group
National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH); Collaborative Treatment Depression Study;
time-limited therapy study of; Treatment of Depression Collaboration Research Program
National Mental Health Consumers Self-Help Clearinghouse
National Registry of Certified Group Psychotherapists
Need frustration
NEO-FFI. See NEO-Five Factor Inventory
NEO-Five Factor Inventory (NEO-FFI)
Neurotic symptoms
Neuroticism
Nietzche, F.
NIMH. See National Institute of Mental Health
2000 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV-TR)
Nitsun, M.
Nonverbal exercises
Norms; antitherapeutic; of caution; confrontation and; construction of; established early in
therapy groups; evolution of in group; examples of; group summary and; of Internet
support groups; modeling and; as prescription for/proscription against behavior;
procedural; procedural for brief therapy groups; self-disclosure and; self-perpetuating;
setting for decreased conflict; setting for increased engagement; shaped by therapists;

shaped in first group meeting; social; social reinforcement and; support and; undermining
of; value of; written summaries and
Obesity groups
Objectivity
Observant participation
Observation of experienced clinicians; group member response to; postmeeting
discussions for
Occupational therapy groups
Off-target hostility
O’Neill, Eugene
One-person psychology
Ongoing outpatient groups
Open groups; termination of
Open, long-term outpatient group therapy
Open-ended psychotherapy group; combined therapy and; therapeutic goals of
Openness
Operant techniques
Oral summaries
Organ transplant groups
Orinology
Ormont, L.
Outcasts, social needs of
Outcome research strategies
Outpatient groups; therapeutic factors selected by
Overeaters Anonymous
Panic
Panic disorder
Panic disorder groups
Paranoid panic disorder

Parataxic distortions; emergence of; as self-perpetuating; as source of hostility; in therapy
groups. See also Transference
Parent group
Parent-child relationship
Parents Anonymous
Parents of Murdered Children
Parents Without Partners
Parloff, M.
Partial hospitalization groups
Past: distant; reconsititution/excavation of; use of; value of in therapy
Past unconscious
Pathogenic beliefs
Pathology display
Payoffs
Peer supervision groups
Perceived goal incompatibility
Perls, Fritz
Personal agenda: in acute inpatient therapy groups; exercise for; filling of
Personal growth groups
Personal history
Personal psychotherapy: for therapists
Personal responsibility: in group therapy
Personal worth. See Self-esteem
Phenomenology
Physical abuser groups
Placebo treatment
Point of urgency
Popularity
Postmeeting discussions
Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD); CBT-G and
Potency: of group therapy
Powdermaker

Power equalization
Power maintenance
Pratt, Joseph Hersey
Pregroup individual sessions: emphasizing points of; helping members reframe
problems/hone goals; purpose of; therapeutic alliance established in; value of
Pregroup interview: objectives of; purpose of
Pregroup orientation
Pregroup preparation; benefits of; group processes/client outcomes and; introducing new
therapist; for new in established group
Pregroup testing
Pregroup training: attendance and; concepts of; research on
Prejudice, as source of anger
Premature termination
Preparing for group therapy: common group problems; inadequate preparation and;
informed consent and; misconceptions about group therapy; other approaches; rationale
behind; reduction of extrinsic anxiety and; research on; system of; timing/style of. See
also Appendix I
Present unconscious
Pretherapy preparation; dropouts and
Primal horde
Primal scream
Primary family experience
Primary family group, corrective recapitulation of. See also Family reenactment
Primary task; meaning of; secondary gratification and; of therapy group
Primordial, existential loneliness
Prison groups, existential factors and
Problem-solving
Problem-solving groups, large-group format and
Problem-solving projects
Problem-specific groups
Procedural memory. See Implicit memory
Process: as apparent in group; beginning of; content v.; definition of; examples in groups;
as power source of group; recognizing; review of; therapist recognition of

Process commentary; group-as-a-whole and; progression of; sequence for change;
sequence initiated by therapist; series for; as short lived; as taboo social behavior;
theoretical overview of; therapist’s role and; in training groups. See also Process
illumination
Process group
Process illumination; helping clients accept; leading to change; techniques of; will and.
See also Process commentary
Process inquiry
Process orientation: helping clients assume; modeling of
Process review
Procrastination
Professional therapist groups
Pro-group behavior
Projective identification
Promiscuity
Provocateurs
Psychiatric hospital groups, existential factors and
Psychiatric inpatient groups
Psychic functioning
Psychoanalytic revisionists
Psychodrama groups, therapeutic factors and
Psychodynamic pathways
Psychoeducation; here-and-now focus in
Psychoeducational groups; large-group format and
Psychological trauma groups
Psychological-mindedness
Psychotherapy: American; compared to game of chess; conditions for effective; current
aims of; demystification of; evolution of; existential force in; necessary conditions for; as
obstruction removal; reliance on nondeliberate social reinforcers; as shared journey of
discovery; task of; therapeutic fads of; transformative power of; value of therapist/client
relationship in
Psychotic clients; clinical example in early stage of group; clinical example in mature
group; danger to group; in early phases of group; fear of; in later stage of group
PTSD. See Posttraumatic stress disorder

Public esteem; evidence for; increase of; influence of; raising in therapy groups; raising
of; under-evaluation of
Punctuality
QOR. See Quality of Object Relations scale
Quality of Object Relations scale (QOR)
Rape groups
Rashomon nature of therapeutic venture
Reality testing
Reasoned therapy
Rebellion
Recovery, Inc.; direct advice used by; large-group format of; organization of; therapeutic
factors and
Reductionism
Reflected appraisals
Regression: borderline clients and; group development and
Relational matrix
Relational model
Relationship; development of
Relationship attachment
Relaxation training
Removing clients from group: member reaction to; reasons for
Repetitive patterns
Repression
Resistance; to conjoint therapy; as pain avoidance
Responsibility; change and; of therapist
Retirement groups
Rice, A. K.
Risk appraisal
Risk taking

Rivalry: feelings of; as fuel for conflict; transference and
Robbers’ Cave experiment
Rogerian clinicians
Rogers, Carl
Role behavior
Role heterogeneity
“Role suction,”
Role switching: as conflict resolution
Role versatility
Role-play
Rorschach test
Rose, G.
Rosencrantz and Guilderstern Are Dead
Ross, Elisabeth Kübler
Rutan, Scott
Rycroft, C.
Safety; provided for self-disclosure
Sartre, J.
Satisfaction
Scapegoating; anger and; definition of
Schachter, S.
Scheidlinger, S.
Schema
Schilder, P.
Schizoid clients; emotional isolation of; therapeutic approach to; therapist and; therapy
group and
Schizophrenia; behavior in therapy groups; as group deviants; group task and; intimacy
problems of
Schopenhauer, A.
The Schopenhauer Cure (Yalom)
Screening clients

Search for meaning
Seating arrangements
Seating patterns
Secondary gratification
Secrets: compulsive; fear of revealing; sexual; in subgrouping; subgrouping and;
therapeutic value in revealing; therapist counseling to reveal; in therapy groups; in third
phase of group development; timing disclosure of
SEGT. See Supportive-expressive group therapy
Selection of clients. See Client selection
Self-absorption
Self-accusation
Self-actualization
Self-concealment
Self-disclosure; adaptive functions of; appropriate; balancing; blockages; as characteristic
of interpersonal model; delaying; discouraged by therapist; dread of; enhanced by conflict;
essential to group cohesiveness; of feelings toward other group members; here-and-now
focus in; horizontal vs. vertical; from imitative behavior; as impersonal act; of incest;
maladaptive; by men; methods for; minor; norms and; objection to; as part of interpersonal
learning; premature; reinforcement for; research on; resistance to; risk in; safety provided
for; sequence of; of sexual abuse; by therapists; timing of; too little; too much; value in
transfer of learning; value to therapy outcome; by women; written summaries and. See
also Secrets
Self-esteem; augmented by group popularity and; evidence for; influenced by group
cohesiveness; meaning of
Self-evaluation
Self-exploration
Self-fulfilling prophecy
Self-help groups; efficacy of; information imparting and; subgrouping as benefit to; for
substance abuse disorders; therapeutic factors and; value of
Self-image adjustment after mastectomy groups
Self-knowledge; ambiguity decreased by
Self-monitoring group
Self-observation
Self psychology
Self-reflection

Self-reflective loop: crucial to therapeutic experience; in here-and-now focus
Self-reinforcing loop: in therapy groups
Self-reporting: of distressed patients; in therapy group
Self-respect
Self-responsibility
Self-transcendance
Self-understanding; change v.; promoting change
Self-worth
Sensitivity-training groups
Sensory awareness groups
Sentence Completion test
Separation anxiety
Setbacks
Sex offender groups; family reenactment and
Sexual abuse: self-disclosure of
Sexual abuse groups; universality’s impact on
Sexual attraction, to therapist
Sexual dysfunction groups
Sexual fantasies
Sexual relationships in groups: clinical example of; here-and-now focus and; subgrouping
and
Sherif, M.
Short-term structured groups; dropout rates in; silent members in
Silent clients; management of; reasons for; therapist’s process checks with
Skills groups
Slavson, S.
Sledgehammer approach
Social connection
Social engineering
Social groups vs. therapy groups .
Social isolation; morality affected by
Social loneliness

Social microcosm: as artificial; as bidirectional; as dynamic interaction; group as; learning
from; reality of; recognizing behavioral patterns in; therapy groups as
Social microcosm theory
Social norms
Social psychology
Social reinforcement; norms and
Social support
Socialization anxiety
Socializing techniques: development of
Sociometric measures
Sociopaths; group therapy and
Socratic posture
Solidarity
Solomon, L.
Specialized diagnostic procedures: direct sampling of group-relevant behavior; general
categories for; interpersonal intake interview; interpersonal nosological system
Specialized therapy groups; group process and; steps in development of
Specific change mechanisms
Spectator therapy
Spousal abuser groups; therapeutic factors and
Spouses caring for brain tumor partner groups
Standard diagnostic interview; research on
Standard psychological testing
“State” of silence vs. “trait” of silence
Stigma
Stoppard, Tom
“Storming” stage of group development
Strong positive affect
Structured exercises; encounter groups; function of; injudicious use of; in interactional
group therapy; Lieberman, Yalom, Miles study on; in T-groups; value of
Structured meetings
Student Bodies

Subgrouping; clinical appearance of; clinical example of; confidentiality in; conspiracy of
silence in; in co-therapy; effects of; exclusion and; extragroup socializing as first stage of;
group cohesiveness and; group factors in; here-and-now focus; hostility and; as
impediment to therapy; inclusion and; individual factors in; overview of; secrecy and;
suicide and; therapeutic considerations for; turning to therapeutic advantage
Substance abuse treatment programs
Suicidal clients; effect on group; interactionally focused group and
Suicide; among psychiatrists; subgrouping and
Sullivan, Harry Stack
Supervised clinical experience; benefits of; characteristics of; co-therapy in; length of;
recommendations for; recording major themes in; research on; using Internet
Supervisory alliance
Support groups: engagement with life challenges and; moving to ongoing leaderless
format; subgrouping as benefit to. See also Internet support groups
Support, norms and
Support/freedom of communication
Supportive-expressive group approach
Supportive-expressive group therapy (SEGT); coping and
Survivors of Incest
Symptomatic relief
Synchronous groups
Systematic reality testing
Systematic research approach
Systems-oriented psychotherapy
Taboos
Tardiness
Target symptom
Targets
Task groups: members’ attraction to
TAT. See Thematic Apperception Test
Tavistock approach
Technical expert, therapist as

Temporal stability
Temporary groups
Tensions: common group; in therapy groups
Terence
Terminally ill, isolation concerns of
Termination; of client; deciding; denial of; dread of; envy and; mourning period due to;
postponing; reasons for; remaining members reaction to; rituals to mark; signs of
readiness; of therapist; of therapy group. See also Group termination; Premature
termination
Termination work
Testimonials
T-groups; birth of; cognitive aids in; feedback and; observant participation and; research
and; shift to therapy groups; structured exercises in; unfreezing and. See also Encounter
groups
Thematic Apperception Test (TAT)
“Then-and there” focus
Therapeutic alliance; in effective treatment; impairment of; in pregroup individual
sessions; therapy outcome and
Therapeutic benefit
Therapeutic change; due to group internalizing; evidence for; as multi-dimentional
Therapeutic disconfirmation
Therapeutic effectiveness; centered in here-and-now focus; corrective emotional
experience as cornerstone of
Therapeutic experience
Therapeutic facilitation
Therapeutic factors; AA and; as arbitrary constructs; categories/rankings of 60 items;
client/therapist discrepancies on; clustering of; in cognitive-behavioral therapy groups; in
different group therapies; differential value of; in discharge planning groups; encounter
groups and; evaluating; extragroup; in geriatric groups; group cohesiveness precondition
for; group members and; in HIV/AIDS groups; individual differences and; inpatient
groups’ selection of; interdependence of; in learning disability groups; least valued of;
modifying forces of; with narcissistic clients; in occupational therapy groups; outside of
group; in psychodrama groups; ranking of; in Recovery, Inc.; research on; research results;
selected by outpatient groups; in self-help groups; in spousal abuser groups; in spouses
caring for brain tumor partner groups; stages of therapy; therapists’ views; in therapy
groups; valued by clients

Therapeutic fads
Therapeutic failure
Therapeutic impact
Therapeutic intervention; bolstered by empirical observation
Therapeutic opportunity
Therapeutic posture
Therapeutic power; through interpersonal learning
Therapeutic process; conflict and;demystification of; dual nature of; enhanced by new
group members; role of catharsis in; therapist’s feelings in
Therapeutic relationship; control of; as “fellow traveler,” mechanism of action for
Therapeutic social system
Therapeutic strength
Therapeutic value
Therapist(s): affect modeled by; American; American vs. European; analytical; attackers
of; attitudes towards; defenders/champions of; disclosure by; errors by; European;
expectations of treatment by; as facilitator for self-expansion; feelings and; fees and; as
gatekeepers; getting “unhooked,” as group historian; increasing efficacy and; individual
vs. group; inpatient vs. outpatient; internal experience of; interpersonal shifts and;
neophyte; as observer/participant in group; omnipotent/distant role by; as paid
professionals; personal psychotherapy and; process-oriented; research orientation required
for; responsibility of; silent; styles of; tasks of; as technical expert; techniques of;
termination of; using social microcosm
Therapist disclosure; effects of; example of; in individual therapy; research on; timing of
Therapist engagement
Therapist transparency: indiscriminate; influence on therapy group; pitfalls of; types of
Therapist/client alliance
Therapist/client engagement
Therapist/client relationship; abuse in; characteristic process of ideal; characteristics of;
client improvement due to; in cognitive-behavior group; group cohesion and; ideal; in
individual therapy; in interactional group therapy; professionalism and; trust in; value in
psychotherapy
Therapy expectations
Therapy group(s): amalgamation of; attraction to members; attrition in; autonomous
decisions by; change as goal of; characterological trends in; “check-in” format
discouraged in; early stage of flux in; effectiveness of; first meeting of; formative stages
of; as “hall of mirrors,” immediate needs of; individual therapy v.; interpersonal sequence

in; interpersonal styles in; members’ attraction to; membership problems with; outside
contracts and; physical setting for; primary task of; “privates” of; range of perspectives in;
as reincarnation of primary family; relationship to encounter groups; senior members in;
social groups v.; as social laboratory; as social microcosm; stages of; struggle for control
in; “take turns” format in; termination of; therapeutic atmosphere of; treatment settings of;
unique potential of; “veterans” in. See also Group meetings
Therapy manualization
Therapy outcome; self-disclosure’s value to; therapeutic alliance and; time-delayed
“There-and-then,”
Thorne, G.
Time-extended groups; research on
Time-limited groups; adding new members to; combined therapy and; moving to ongoing
leaderless format; recommended size of
Tolstoy, L.
“Tough love,”
Traditional group therapy, for specialized clinical situations
Training: group therapists; pregroup; relaxation
Training groups; leader tasks in; process commentary in
Transfer of leadership
Transfer of learning; self-disclosure’s value to; therapist attention to
Transference; analysis of; definitions of; development of; dreams and; as form of
interpersonal perceptual distortion; inevitability of; negative; “no favorites” and; result of;
as source of hostility; sources of; therapist/client; in therapy groups
Transference distortions; resolution of
Transference interpretation
Transference neurosis
Transference resolution
Transferential anger
Transparency: of therapist. See also Therapist transparency
Transtheoretical model of change
Traumatic anxieties
Treatment expectations
Treatment settings
Truax, C.

Trust; constructive loop of; between peers
“Trust fall,”
Truth; historical
Turnover: group membership and
Twelve-step groups; alcohol treatment groups and; combining with group therapy;
misconceptions about; subgrouping as benefit to; value of
Two-person relational psychology
Unfreezing
Uniqueness
Universal mechanisms
Universality; clinical factor of; demonstration of; group members and; in medical illness
groups; role in individual therapy; sexual abuse groups impacted by
Vertical disclosure; see also Metadisclosure
Vicarious experience vs. direct participation
Vicarious therapy. See Spectator therapy
Videotape playback
Videotaping of groups; in group therapy training; in research; in teaching
Viewing window
Waiting-list group
War and Peace (Tolstoy)
Warmth
Waugh, Evelyn
“Wave effect,”
We-consciousness unity
Weight Watchers
Wellness Community
Wender, L.
West, Paula

When It Was Dark (Thorne)
When Nietzche Wept (Yalom)
White, R.
White, William Alanson
The Wild Duck
Will; change and; process illumination and; stifled/bound
Willful action: guiding clients to; obstacles to
Winnicott, D.
Written summaries; for ambulatory groups; confidentiality and; to convey therapist
thoughts; example; functions of; group norms and; with incest survivor groups; key to
understanding process; for new members; oral summaries v.; overview of; preparing;
revivification/continuity and; in teaching; therapeutic leverage facilitated by; as therapy
facilitator; as vehicle for therapist self-disclosure
Yalom, I.
“Yes… but” patient

a
We are better able to evaluate therapy outcome in general than we are able to measure the
relationships between these process variables and outcomes. Kivlighan and colleagues
have developed a promising scale, the Group Helpful Impacts Scale, that tries to capture
the entirety of the group therapeutic process in a multidimensional fashion that
encompasses therapy tasks and therapy relationships as well as group process, client, and
leader variables.
b
There are several methods of using such information in the work of the group. One
effective technique is to redistribute the anonymous secrets to the members, each one
receiving another’s secret. Each member is then asked to read the secret aloud and reveal
how he or she would feel if harboring such a secret. This method usually proves to be a
valuable demonstration of universality, empathy, and the ability of others to understand.
c
In 1973, a member opened the first meeting of the first group ever offered for advanced
cancer patients by distributing this parable to the other members of the group. This woman
(whom I’ve written about elsewhere, referring to her as Paula West; see I. Yalom, Momma
and the Meaning of Life [New York: Basic Books, 1999]) had been involved with me from
the beginning in conceptualizing and organizing this group (see also chapter 15). Her
parable proved to be prescient, since many members were to benefit from the therapeutic
factor of altruism.
d
In the following clinical examples, as elsewhere in this text, I have protected clients’
privacy by altering certain facts, such as name, occupation, and age. Also, the interaction
described in the text is not reproduced verbatim but has been reconstructed from detailed
clinical notes taken after each therapy meeting.
e
Dynamic is a frequently used term in the vocabulary of psychotherapy and must be
defined. It has a lay and a technical meaning. It derives from the Greek dunasthi, meaning
“to have power or strength.” In the lay sense, then, the word evokes energy or movement
(a dynamic football player or orator), but in its technical sense it refers to the idea of
“forces.” In individual therapy, when we speak of a client’s “psychodynamics,” we are
referring to the various forces in conflict within the client that result in certain
configurations of experienced feelings and behavior. In common usage since the advent of
Freud, the assumption is made that some of the forces in conflict with one another exist at
different levels of awareness—indeed, some of them are entirely out of consciousness and,
through the mechanism of repression, dwell in the dynamic unconsciousness. In group
work, dynamics refers to inferred, invisible constructs or group properties (for example,
cohesiveness, group pressure, scapegoating, and subgrouping) that affect the overall
movements of the group.

f
The list of sixty factor items passed through several versions and was circulated among
senior group therapists for suggestions, additions, and deletions. Some of the items are
nearly identical, but it was necessary methodologically to have the same number of items
representing each category. The twelve categories are altruism, group cohesiveness;
universality; interpersonal learning, input; interpersonal learning, output; guidance;
catharsis; identification; family reenactment; self-understanding; instillation of hope; and
existential factors. They are not quite identical to those described in this book; we
attempted, unsuccessfully, to divide interpersonal learning into two parts: input and
output. One category, self-understanding, was included to permit examination of
depression and genetic insight.
The twelve factor Q-sort utilized in this research evolved into the eleven therapeutic
factors identified in Chapter 1. Imparting information replaces Guidance. The corrective
recapitulation of the primary family group replaces Family reenactment. Development of
socializing techniques replaces Interpersonal learning—output. Interpersonal learning
replaces Interpersonal learning—input and Self-understanding. Finally, Imitative behavior
replaces Identification.
The therapeutic factor was meant to be an exploratory instrument constructed a priori
on the basis of clinical intuition (my own and that of experienced clinicians); it was never
meant to be posited as a finely calibrated research instrument. But it has been used in so
much subsequent research that much discussion has arisen about construct validity and
test-retest reliability. By and large, test-retest reliability has been good; factor analytic
studies have yielded varied results: some studies showing only fair, others good, item-to-
individual scale correlation. A comprehensive factor analytic study provided fourteen item
clusters that bore considerable resemblance to my original twelve therapeutic factor
categories. Sullivan and Sawilowsky have demonstrated that some differences between
studies may be related to inconsistencies in brief, modified forms of the questionnaire.
Stone, Lewis, and Beck have constructed a brief, modified form with considerable internal
consistency.
g
The twelve categories are used only for analysis and interpretation. The clients, of course,
were unaware of these categories and dealt only with the sixty randomly sorted items. The
rank of each category was obtained by summing the mean rank of the five items in it.
Some researchers have used brief versions of a therapeutic factor questionnaire that
require clients to rank-order categories. The two approaches require different tasks of the
subject, and it is difficult to assess the congruence of the two approaches.
h
In considering these results, we must keep in mind that the subject’s task was a forced
sort, which means that the lowest ranked items are not necessarily unimportant but are
simply less important than the others.
i

Factor analysis is a statistical method that identifies the smallest number of hypothetical
constructs needed to explain the greatest degree of consistency in a data set. It is a way to
compress large quantities of data into a smaller but conceptually and practically consistent
data groupings.
j
Recent research on the human stress response and the impact of one’s exposure to
potentially traumatic events demonstrates that making sense of, and finding meaning in,
one’s life experience reduces the psychological and physiological signs of stress.
k
The timeless and universal nature of these existential concerns is reflected in the words of
the sage Hillel, 2000 years ago. Addressing his students, Hillel would say: “If I am not for
myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now,
when?”
l
Metacommunication refers to the communication about a communication. Compare, for
example: “Close the window!” “Wouldn’t you like to close the window? You must be
cold.” “I’m cold, would you please close the window?” “Why is this window open?” Each
of these statements contains a great deal more than a simple request or command. Each
conveys a metacommunication: that is, a message about the nature of the relationship
between the two interacting individuals.
m
These phenomena play havoc with outcome research strategies that focus on initial target
symptoms or goals and then simply evaluate the clients’ change on these measures. It is
precisely for this reason that experienced therapists are dismayed at naive contemporary
mental health maintenance providers who insist on evaluating therapy every few sessions
on the basis of initial goals. Using more comprehensive global outcome questionnaires
instead, such as the Outcome Questionnaire 45, can provide meaningful feedback to
therapists that keeps them aligned productively with their clients.
n
A well-conducted multisite psychotherapy trial with over 700 clients with chronic
depression clearly demonstrated the importance of therapeutic approaches that help clients
develop interpersonal effectiveness and reclaim personal responsibility and accountability
for their interpersonal actions. A key principle of this model of psychotherapy, cognitive
behavioral analysis system psychotherapy (CBASP), is that chronic depression is directly
correlated with the depressed client’s loss of a sense of “cause and effect” in his or her
personal world.
o
In the psychoanalytic literature, definitions of transference differ (see C. Rycroft, Critical
Dictionary of Psychoanalysis [New York: Basic Books, 1968], and J. Sandler, G. Dave,

and A. Holder, “Basic Psychoanalytic Concepts: III. Transference,” British Journal of
Psychiatry 116 [1970]: 667–72). The more rigorous definition is that transference is a state
of mind of a client toward the therapist, and it is produced by displacement onto the
therapist of feelings and ideas that derive from previous figures in the client’s life. Other
psychoanalysts extend transference to apply not only to the analysand-analyst relationship
but to other interpersonal situations. In this discussion and elsewhere in this text, I use the
term “transference” liberally to refer to the irrational aspects of any relationship between
two people. In its clinical manifestations, the concept is synonymous with Sullivan’s term
“parataxic distortion.” As I shall discuss, there are more sources of transference than the
simple transfer or displacement of feeling from a prior to a current object.
p
A small study of individual therapy demonstrated that certain non–here-and-now therapist
self-disclosure could be effective in strengthening the real (nontransference) relationship
between client and therapist. Personal disclosure by the therapist about common interests
or activities, when it followed the client’s lead, served to normalize and support clients
and indirectly deepened their learning.
q
At a recent psychotherapy convention, manufacturers promoted video systems that
therapists could use to record every session as a safeguard against frivolous litigation.
r
A rich example of this principle is found in Magister Ludi, in which Herman Hesse
describes an event in the lives of two renowned ancient healers (H. Hesse, Magister Ludi
[New York: Frederick Unger, 1949], 438–67). Joseph, one of the healers, severely afflicted
with feelings of worthlessness and self-doubt, sets off on a long journey across the desert
to seek help from his rival, Dion. At an oasis, Joseph describes his plight to a stranger,
who miraculously turns out to be Dion, whereupon Joseph accepts Dion’s invitation to go
home with him in the role of patient and servant. In time, Joseph regains his former
serenity and zest and ultimately becomes the friend and colleague of his master. Only after
many years have passed and Dion lies on his deathbed, does he reveal that at their
encounter at the oasis, he had reached a similar impasse in his life and was en route to
request Joseph’s assistance.
s
This review included only studies that used random assignment to treatment situations
(rather than matching or nonrandom assignment), which clearly specified the independent
variables employed, and which measured dependent variables by one or more
standardized instruments.
t
Meta-analysis is a statistical approach that examines a large number of scientific studies
by pooling their data together into one large data set to determine findings that might be
missed if one were only to examine smaller data sets.

u
Laboratory group research generally involves volunteers or, more often, university
students taking courses in group therapy or counseling. The participants’ educational
objective is to learn about group dynamics through firsthand experience in groups created
for that purpose. Because these groups are well structured, time limited, and composed of
members willing to answer study questionnaires, they lend themselves naturally to group
research.
v
The dropout categories have substantial overlap. Many of the clients who dropped out
because of problems of intimacy began to occupy a deviant role because of the behavioral
manifestations of their intimacy problems. Had the stress of the intimacy conflict not
forced them to terminate, it is likely that the inherent stresses of the deviant role would
have created pressures leading to termination.
w
Psychological-mindedness is the ability to identify intrapsychic factors and relate them to
one’s difficulties. It appears to be a durable personality trait that does not change over time
even with therapy. The Quality of Object Relations (QOR) Scale evaluates clients’
characteristic manner of relating along a continuum ranging from mature to primitive.
x
One is reminded of the farmer who attempted to train his horse to do with smaller and
smaller amounts of food, but eventually lamented, “Just as I had taught it to manage with
no food at all, the darn critter went and died on me.”
y
It is for this very reason that I decided to write a group therapy novel, The Schopenhauer
Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), in which I attempt to offer an honest portrayal of
the effective therapy group in action.
z
The limits of confidentiality in group therapy is an area that has not been broadly explored
in the professional literature, but rare reports do surface of comembers being called to
testify in criminal or civil proceedings. One questionnaire survey of 100 experienced
group therapists noted that over half of the respondents experienced some minor
confidentiality breach.
aa
The transtheoretical model of change postulates that individuals advance through five
phases in the change process. Therapy will be more effective if it is congruent with the
client’s particular state of change readiness. The stages are precontemplation,
contemplation, preparation, action, and maintenance.
ab

In a classic paper on scapegoating, Scheidlinger recalls the Biblical origins of the
scapegoat. One goat is the bearer of all the people’s sins and is banished from the
community. A second goat is the bearer of all the positive features of the people and is
sacrificed on the altar. To be a scapegoat of either sort bodes poorly for one’s survival (S.
Scheidlinger, “Presidential Address: On Scapegoating in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 131–43).
ac
This is the same Ginny with whom I coauthored a book about our psychotherapy: Every
Day Gets a Little Closer: A Twice-Told Therapy (New York: Basic Books, 1975; reissued
1992).
ad
Therapist countertransference is always a source of valuable data about the client, never
more so than with provocative clients whose behavior challenges our therapeutic
effectiveness. Group leaders should determine their role in the joint construction of the
problem client’s difficulties. Any therapist reaction or behavior that deviates from one’s
baseline signals that interpersonal pulls are being generated. Therapists must take care to
examine their feelings before responding. Together, these perspectives inform and balance
the therapist’s use of empathic processing, confrontation and feedback.
ae
Moos and I demonstrated, for example, that medical students assigned for the first time to
a psychiatric ward regarded the psychotic patients as extremely dangerous, frightening,
unpredictable, and dissimilar to themselves. At the end of the five-week assignment, their
attitudes had undergone considerable change: the students were less frightened of their
patients and realized that psychotic individuals were just confused, deeply anguished
human beings, more like themselves than they had previously thought.
af
In Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited (Boston: Little, Brown, 1945), the protagonist is
counseled that if he is not circumspect, he will have to devote a considerable part of his
second year at college to get rid of undesirable friends he has made during his first year.
ag
I learned a great deal about psychotherapy from this experiment. For one thing, it brought
home to me the Rashomon nature of the therapeutic venture (see chapter 4). The client and
I had extraordinarily different perspectives of the hours we shared. All my marvelous
interpretations? She had never even heard them! Instead, Ginny heard, and valued, very
different parts of the therapy hour: the deeply human exchanges; the fleeting supportive,
accepting glances; the brief moments of real intimacy. The exchange of summaries also
provided interesting instruction about psychotherapy, and I used the summaries in my
teaching. Years later the client and I decided to write a prologue and an afterword and
publish the summaries as a book. (Every Day Gets a Little Closer. New York: Basic
Books, 1974.)

ah
Higher-level clients are the more verbal clients who are motivated to work in therapy and
whose attention span permits them to attend an entire meeting. Elsewhere I describe a
group design for lower-functioning, more regressed clients (Yalom, Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy, 313–35).
ai
We can think of coping as the means and adaptation as the end. Maximizing adaptation
generally improves quality of life. One may categorize the medical groups according to
their basic coping emphasis:
1. Emotion-based coping—social support, emotional ventilation
2. Problem-based coping—active cognitive and behavioral strategies,
psychoeducation, stress reduction techniques
3. Meaning-based coping—increasing existential awareness, realigning life priorities
aj
For a full description of the first group led for cancer patients, see my story “Travels with
Paula” in Momma and the Meaning of Life (New York: HarperCollins, 1999, 15–53).
ak
The authors of a large meta-analysis concluded that although problems with addictions
respond well to self-help groups, clients with medical problems in such groups do not
demonstrate objective benefits commensurate with how highly the participants value the
groups.
al
The American Counseling Association has issued specific ethics guidelines for online
therapists (American Counseling Association, “Ethical Standards for Internet Online
Counseling” [1999]; available at www.counseling.org). Other organizations, such as the
American Psychological Association, have not yet distinguished online from face-to-face
care. It is certain that the future will see new statements from licensing bodies and
professional organizations addressing this area.
am
This is not to say that the encounter ethos suddenly vanished. Many aspects of the
encounter movement linger. For one thing, it was transformed and commercialized in the
large group awareness training enterprises like est and Lifespring (versions of which are
still viable in various parts of the world) and is much in evidence in such programs as the
widespread Judeo-Christian National Marriage Encounter programs.

http://www.counseling.org

Copyright © 2005 by Irvin Yalom and Molyn Leszcz

Published by Basic Books,
A Member of the Perseus Books Group

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address Basic Books,
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Yalom, Irvin D., 1931–
The theory and practice of group psychotherapy / Irvin D. Yalom with
Molyn Leszcz.—5th ed. p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
eISBN : 978-0-465-01291-6
1. Group psychotherapy. I. Leszcz, Molyn, 1952–II. Title.
RC488.Y3 2005
616.89’152—dc22
2005000056

/

ALSO BY IRVIN D. YALOM
Title Page
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS
INSTILLATION OF HOPE
UNIVERSALITY
IMPARTING INFORMATION
ALTRUISM
THE CORRECTIVE RECAPITULATION OF THE PRIMARY FAMILY GROUP
DEVELOPMENT OF SOCIALIZING TECHNIQUES
IMITATIVE BEHAVIOR
Chapter 2 – INTERPERSONAL LEARNING
THE IMPORTANCE OF INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS
THE CORRECTIVE EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE
THE GROUP AS SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM: A DYNAMIC INTERACTION
RECOGNITION OF BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS IN THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM—IS IT REAL?
OVERVIEW
TRANSFERENCE AND INSIGHT
Chapter 3 – GROUP COHESIVENESS
THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP COHESIVENESS
MECHANISM OF ACTION
SUMMARY
Chapter 4 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: AN INTEGRATION
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: THE CLIENT’S VIEW
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: DIFFERENCES BETWEEN CLIENTS’ AND …
THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: MODIFYING FORCES
Chapter 5 – THE THERAPIST: BASIC TASKS
CREATION AND MAINTENANCE OF THE GROUP
CULTURE BUILDING
HOW DOES THE LEADER SHAPE NORMS?
EXAMPLES OF THERAPEUTIC GROUP NORMS
Chapter 6 – THE THERAPIST: WORKING IN THE HERE – AND – NOW
DEFINITION OF PROCESS
PROCESS FOCUS: THE POWER SOURCE OF THE GROUP
THE THERAPIST’S TASKS IN THE HERE-AND-NOW
TECHNIQUES OF HERE-AND-NOW ACTIVATION
TECHNIQUES OF PROCESS ILLUMINATION
HELPING CLIENTS ASSUME A PROCESS ORIENTATION
HELPING CLIENTS ACCEPT PROCESS-ILLUMINATING COMMENTS
PROCESS COMMENTARY: A THEORETICAL OVERVIEW
THE USE OF THE PAST
GROUP – AS – A – WHOLE PROCESS COMMENTARY
Chapter 7 – THE THERAPIST: TRANSFERENCE AND TRANSPARENCY
TRANSFERENCE IN THE THERAPY GROUP
THE PSYCHOTHERAPIST AND TRANSPARENCY
Chapter 8 – THE SELECTION OF CLIENTS
CRITERIA FOR EXCLUSION
CRITERIA FOR INCLUSION
AN OVERVIEW OF THE SELECTION PROCEDURE
SUMMARY
Chapter 9 – THE COMPOSITION OF THERAPY GROUPS
THE PREDICTION OF GROUP BEHAVIOR
PRINCIPLES OF GROUP COMPOSITION
OVERVIEW
A FINAL CAVEAT
Chapter 10 – CREATION OF THE GROUP: PLACE, TIME, SIZE, PREPARATION
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS
DURATION AND FREQUENCY OF MEETINGS
BRIEF GROUP THERAPY
PREPARATION FOR GROUP THERAPY
Chapter 11 – IN THE BEGINNING
FORMATIVE STAGES OF THE GROUP
THE IMPACT OF CLIENTS ON GROUP DEVELOPMENT
MEMBERSHIP PROBLEMS
Chapter 12 – THE ADVANCED GROUP
SUBGROUPING
CONFLICT IN THE THERAPY GROUP
SELF-DISCLOSURE
TERMINATION
Chapter 13 – PROBLEM GROUP MEMBERS
THE MONOPOLIST
THE SILENT CLIENT
THE BORING CLIENT
THE HELP-REJECTING COMPLAINER
THE PSYCHOTIC OR BIPOLAR CLIENT
THE CHARACTEROLOGICALLY DIFFICULT CLIENT
Chapter 14 – THE THERAPIST: SPECIALIZED FORMATS AND PROCEDURAL AIDS
CONCURRENT INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP THERAPY
COMBINING GROUP THERAPY AND TWELVE-STEP GROUPS
CO-THERAPISTS
THE LEADERLESS MEETING
DREAMS
AUDIOVISUAL TECHNOLOGY
WRITTEN SUMMARIES
GROUP THERAPY RECORD KEEPING
STRUCTURED EXERCISES
Chapter 15 – SPECIALIZED THERAPY GROUPS
MODIFICATION OF TRADITIONAL GROUP THERAPY FOR SPECIALIZED CLINICAL SITUATIONS: …
THE ACUTE INPATIENT THERAPY GROUP
GROUPS FOR THE MEDICALLY ILL
ADAPTATION OF CBT AND IPT TO GROUP THERAPY
SELF-HELP GROUPS AND INTERNET SUPPORT GROUPS
Chapter 16 – GROUP THERAPY: ANCESTORS AND COUSINS
WHAT IS AN ENCOUNTER GROUP?
ANTECEDENTS AND EVOLUTION OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
GROUP THERAPY FOR NORMALS
THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE ENCOUNTER GROUP AND THE THERAPY GROUP
Chapter 17 – TRAINING THE GROUP THERAPIST
OBSERVATION OF EXPERIENCED CLINICIANS
SUPERVISION
A GROUP EXPERIENCE FOR TRAINEES
PERSONAL PSYCHOTHERAPY
SUMMARY
BEYOND TECHNIQUE
Appendix – Information and Guidelines for Participation in Group Therapy
Notes
Index
Copyright Page

Table of Contents

ALSO BY IRVIN D. YALOM
Title Page
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgements

Chapter 1 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS
INSTILLATION OF HOPE
UNIVERSALITY
IMPARTING INFORMATION
ALTRUISM
THE CORRECTIVE RECAPITULATION OF THE PRIMARY FAMILY GROUP
DEVELOPMENT OF SOCIALIZING TECHNIQUES
IMITATIVE BEHAVIOR

Chapter 2 – INTERPERSONAL LEARNING
THE IMPORTANCE OF INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS
THE CORRECTIVE EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE
THE GROUP AS SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM: A DYNAMIC INTERACTION
RECOGNITION OF BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS IN THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM—IS IT REAL?
OVERVIEW
TRANSFERENCE AND INSIGHT

Chapter 3 – GROUP COHESIVENESS
THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP COHESIVENESS

MECHANISM OF ACTION
SUMMARY

Chapter 4 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: AN INTEGRATION
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: THE CLIENT’S
VIEW
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: DIFFERENCES
BETWEEN CLIENTS’ AND …
THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: MODIFYING FORCES

Chapter 5 – THE THERAPIST: BASIC TASKS
CREATION AND MAINTENANCE OF THE GROUP
CULTURE BUILDING
HOW DOES THE LEADER SHAPE NORMS?
EXAMPLES OF THERAPEUTIC GROUP NORMS

Chapter 6 – THE THERAPIST: WORKING IN THE HERE – AND – NOW
DEFINITION OF PROCESS
PROCESS FOCUS: THE POWER SOURCE OF THE GROUP
THE THERAPIST’S TASKS IN THE HERE-AND-NOW
TECHNIQUES OF HERE-AND-NOW ACTIVATION
TECHNIQUES OF PROCESS ILLUMINATION
HELPING CLIENTS ASSUME A PROCESS ORIENTATION
HELPING CLIENTS ACCEPT PROCESS-ILLUMINATING COMMENTS
PROCESS COMMENTARY: A THEORETICAL OVERVIEW
THE USE OF THE PAST
GROUP – AS – A – WHOLE PROCESS COMMENTARY

Chapter 7 – THE THERAPIST: TRANSFERENCE AND TRANSPARENCY
TRANSFERENCE IN THE THERAPY GROUP

THE PSYCHOTHERAPIST AND TRANSPARENCY

Chapter 8 – THE SELECTION OF CLIENTS
CRITERIA FOR EXCLUSION
CRITERIA FOR INCLUSION
AN OVERVIEW OF THE SELECTION PROCEDURE
SUMMARY

Chapter 9 – THE COMPOSITION OF THERAPY GROUPS
THE PREDICTION OF GROUP BEHAVIOR
PRINCIPLES OF GROUP COMPOSITION
OVERVIEW
A FINAL CAVEAT

Chapter 10 – CREATION OF THE GROUP: PLACE, TIME, SIZE, PREPARATION
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS
DURATION AND FREQUENCY OF MEETINGS
BRIEF GROUP THERAPY
PREPARATION FOR GROUP THERAPY

Chapter 11 – IN THE BEGINNING
FORMATIVE STAGES OF THE GROUP
THE IMPACT OF CLIENTS ON GROUP DEVELOPMENT
MEMBERSHIP PROBLEMS

Chapter 12 – THE ADVANCED GROUP
SUBGROUPING
CONFLICT IN THE THERAPY GROUP
SELF-DISCLOSURE

TERMINATION

Chapter 13 – PROBLEM GROUP MEMBERS
THE MONOPOLIST
THE SILENT CLIENT
THE BORING CLIENT
THE HELP-REJECTING COMPLAINER
THE PSYCHOTIC OR BIPOLAR CLIENT
THE CHARACTEROLOGICALLY DIFFICULT CLIENT

Chapter 14 – THE THERAPIST: SPECIALIZED FORMATS AND PROCEDURAL
AIDS
CONCURRENT INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP THERAPY
COMBINING GROUP THERAPY AND TWELVE-STEP GROUPS
CO-THERAPISTS
THE LEADERLESS MEETING
DREAMS
AUDIOVISUAL TECHNOLOGY
WRITTEN SUMMARIES
GROUP THERAPY RECORD KEEPING
STRUCTURED EXERCISES

Chapter 15 – SPECIALIZED THERAPY GROUPS
MODIFICATION OF TRADITIONAL GROUP THERAPY FOR SPECIALIZED
CLINICAL SITUATIONS: …
THE ACUTE INPATIENT THERAPY GROUP
GROUPS FOR THE MEDICALLY ILL
ADAPTATION OF CBT AND IPT TO GROUP THERAPY
SELF-HELP GROUPS AND INTERNET SUPPORT GROUPS

Chapter 16 – GROUP THERAPY: ANCESTORS AND COUSINS
WHAT IS AN ENCOUNTER GROUP?
ANTECEDENTS AND EVOLUTION OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
GROUP THERAPY FOR NORMALS
THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE ENCOUNTER GROUP AND THE
THERAPY GROUP

Chapter 17 – TRAINING THE GROUP THERAPIST
OBSERVATION OF EXPERIENCED CLINICIANS
SUPERVISION
A GROUP EXPERIENCE FOR TRAINEES
PERSONAL PSYCHOTHERAPY
SUMMARY
BEYOND TECHNIQUE

Appendix – Information and Guidelines for Participation in Group Therapy
Notes
Index
Copyright Page

ALSO BY IRVIN D. YALOM
Existential Psychotherapy
Every Day Gets a Little Closer: A Twice-Told Therapy
(with Ginny Elkin)
Encounter Groups: First Facts
(with Morton A. Lieberman and Matthew B. Miles)
Inpatient Group Psychotherapy
Concise Guide to Group Psychotherapy
(with Sophia Vinogradov)
Love’s Executioner
When Nietzsche Wept
Lying on the Couch
Momma and the Meaning of Life
The Gift of Therapy
The Schopenhauer Cure

ALSO BY MOLYN LESZCZ

Treating the Elderly with Psychotherapy:
The Scope for Change in Later Life
(with Joel Sadavoy)

To the memory of my mother and father, RUTH YALOM and BENJAMIN YALOM

To the memory of my mother and father, CLARA LESZCZ and SAUL LESZCZ

Preface to the Fifth Edition
For this fifth edition of The Theory and Practice of Psychotherapy I have had the good
fortune of having Molyn Leszcz as my collaborator. Dr. Leszcz, whom I first met in 1980
when he spent a yearlong fellowship in group therapy with me at Stanford University, has
been a major contributor to research and clinical innovation in group therapy. For the past
twelve years, he has directed one of the largest group therapy training programs in the
world in the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Toronto, where he is an
associate professor. His broad knowledge of contemporary group practice and his
exhaustive review of the research and clinical literature were invaluable to the preparation
of this volume. We worked diligently, like co-therapists, to make this edition a seamless
integration of new and old material. Although for stylistic integrity we opted to retain the
first-person singular in this text, behind the “I” there is always a collaborative “we.”
Our task in this new edition was to incorporate the many new changes in the field and to
jettison outmoded ideas and methods. But we had a dilemma: What if some of the changes
in the field do not represent advances but, instead, retrogression? What if marketplace
considerations demanding quicker, cheaper, more efficient methods act against the best
interests of the client? And what if “efficiency” is but a euphemism for shedding clients
from the fiscal rolls as quickly as possible? And what if these diverse market factors force
therapists to offer less than they are capable of offering their clients?
If these suppositions are true, then the requirements of this revision become far more
complex because we have a dual task: not only to present current methods and prepare
student therapists for the contemporary workplace, but also to preserve the accumulated
wisdom and techniques of our field even if some young therapists will not have immediate
opportunities to apply them.
Since group therapy was first introduced in the 1940s, it has undergone a series of
adaptations to meet the changing face of clinical practice. As new clinical syndromes,
settings, and theoretical approaches have emerged, so have corresponding variants of
group therapy. The multiplicity of forms is so evident today that it makes more sense to
speak of “group therapies” than of “group therapy.” Groups for panic disorder, groups for
acute and chronic depression, groups to prevent depression relapse, groups for eating
disorders, medical support groups for patients with cancer, HIV/AIDS, rheumatoid
arthritis, multiple sclerosis, irritable bowel syndrome, obesity, myocardial infarction,
paraplegia, diabetic blindness, renal failure, bone marrow transplant, Parkinson’s, groups
for healthy men and women who carry genetic mutations that predispose them to develop
cancer, groups for victims of sexual abuse, for the confused elderly and for their
caregivers, for clients with obsessive-compulsive disorder, first-episode schizophrenia, for
chronic schizophrenia, for adult children of alcoholics, for parents of sexually abused
children, for male batterers, for self-mutilators, for the divorced, for the bereaved, for
disturbed families, for married couples—all of these, and many more, are forms of group
therapy.
The clinical settings of group therapy are also diverse: a rapid turnover group for

chronically or acutely psychotic patients on a stark hospital ward is group therapy, and so
are groups for imprisoned sex offenders, groups for residents of a shelter for battered
women, and open-ended groups of relatively well functioning individuals with neurotic or
personality disorders meeting in the well-appointed private office of a psychotherapist.
And the technical approaches are bewilderingly different: cognitive-behavioral,
psychoeducational, interpersonal, gestalt, supportive-expressive, psychoanalytic, dynamic-
interactional, psychodrama—all of these, and many more, are used in group therapy.
This family gathering of group therapies is swollen even more by the presence of
distant cousins to therapy groups entering the room: experiential classroom training
groups (or process groups) and the numerous self-help (or mutual support) groups like
Alcoholics Anonymous and other twelve-step recovery groups, Adult Survivors of Incest,
Sex Addicts Anonymous, Parents of Murdered Children, Overeaters Anonymous, and
Recovery, Inc. Although these groups are not formal therapy groups, they are very often
therapeutic and straddle the blurred borders between personal growth, support, education,
and therapy (see chapter 16 for a detailed discussion of this topic). And we must also
consider the youngest, most rambunctious, and most unpredictable of the cousins: the
Internet support groups, offered in a rainbow of flavors.
How, then, to write a single book that addresses all these group therapies? The strategy
I chose thirty-five years ago when I wrote the first edition of this book seems sound to me
still. My first step was to separate “front” from “core” in each of the group therapies. The
front consists of the trappings, the form, the techniques, the specialized language, and the
aura surrounding each of the ideological schools; the core consists of those aspects of the
experience that are intrinsic to the therapeutic process—that is, the bare-boned
mechanisms of change.
If you disregard the “front” and consider only the actual mechanisms of effecting
change in the client, you will find that the change mechanisms are limited in number and
are remarkably similar across groups. Therapy groups with similar goals that appear
wildly different in external form may rely on identical mechanisms of change.
In the first two editions of this book, caught up in the positivistic zeitgeist surrounding
the developing psychotherapies, I referred to these mechanisms of change as “curative
factors.” Educated and humbled by the passing years, I know now that the harvest of
psychotherapy is not cure—surely, in our field, that is an illusion—but instead change or
growth. Hence, yielding to the dictates of reality, I now refer to the mechanisms of change
as “therapeutic factors” rather than “curative factors.”
The therapeutic factors constitute the central organizing principle of this book. I begin
with a detailed discussion of eleven therapeutic factors and then describe a
psychotherapeutic approach that is based on them.
But which types of groups to discuss? The array of group therapies is now so vast that it
is impossible for a text to address each type of group separately. How then to proceed? I
have chosen in this book to center my discussion around a prototypic type of group
therapy and then to offer a set of principles that will enable the therapist to modify this

fundamental group model to fit any specialized clinical situation.
The prototypical model is the intensive, heterogeneously composed outpatient
psychotherapy group, meeting for at least several months, with the ambitious goals of both
symptomatic relief and personality change. Why focus on this particular form of group
therapy when the contemporary therapy scene, driven by economic factors, is dominated
by another type of group—a homogeneous, symptom-oriented group that meets for briefer
periods and has more limited goals?
The answer is that long-term group therapy has been around for many decades and has
accumulated a vast body of knowledge from both empirical research and thoughtful
clinical observation. Earlier I alluded to contemporary therapists not often having the
clinical opportunities to do their best work; I believe that the prototypical group we
describe in this book is the setting in which therapists can offer maximum benefit to their
clients. It is an intensive, ambitious form of therapy that demands much from both client
and therapist. The therapeutic strategies and techniques required to lead such a group are
sophisticated and complex. However, once students master them and understand how to
modify them to fit specialized therapy situations, they will be in a position to fashion a
group therapy that will be effective for any clinical population in any setting. Trainees
should aspire to be creative and compassionate therapists with conceptual depth, not
laborers with little vision and less morale. Managed care emphatically views group
therapy as the treatment modality of the future. Group therapists must be as prepared as
possible for this opportunity.
Because most readers of this book are clinicians, the text is intended to have immediate
clinical relevance. I also believe, however, that it is imperative for clinicians to remain
conversant with the world of research. Even if therapists do not personally engage in
research, they must know how to evaluate the research of others. Accordingly, the text
relies heavily on relevant clinical, social, and psychological research.
While searching through library stacks during the writing of early editions of this book,
I often found myself browsing in antiquated psychiatric texts. How unsettling it is to
realize that the devotees of such therapy endeavors as hydrotherapy, rest cures, lobotomy,
and insulin coma were obviously clinicians of high intelligence, dedication, and integrity.
The same may be said of earlier generations of therapists who advocated venesection,
starvation, purgation, and trephination. Their texts are as well written, their optimism as
unbridled, and their reported results as impressive as those of contemporary practitioners.
Question: why have other health-care fields left treatment of psychological disturbance
so far behind? Answer: because they have applied the principles of the scientific method.
Without a rigorous research base, the psychotherapists of today who are enthusiastic about
current treatments are tragically similar to the hydrotherapists and lobotomists of
yesteryear. As long as we do not test basic principles and treatment outcomes with
scientific rigor, our field remains at the mercy of passing fads and fashions. Therefore,
whenever possible, the approach presented in this text is based on rigorous, relevant
research, and attention is called to areas in which further research seems especially
necessary and feasible. Some areas (for example, preparation for group therapy and the

reasons for group dropouts) have been widely and competently studied, while other areas
(for example, “working through” or countertransference) have only recently been touched
by research. Naturally, this distribution of research emphasis is reflected in the text: some
chapters may appear, to clinicians, to stress research too heavily, while other chapters may
appear, to research-minded colleagues, to lack rigor.
Let us not expect more of psychotherapy research than it can deliver. Will the findings
of psychotherapy research affect a rapid major change in therapy practice? Probably not.
Why? “Resistance” is one reason. Complex systems of therapy with adherents who have
spent many years in training and apprenticeship and cling stubbornly to tradition will
change slowly and only in the face of very substantial evidence. Furthermore, front-line
therapists faced with suffering clients obviously cannot wait for science. Also, keep in
mind the economics of research. The marketplace controls the focus of research. When
managed-care economics dictated a massive swing to brief, symptom-oriented therapy,
reports from a multitude of well-funded research projects on brief therapy began to appear
in the literature. At the same time, the bottom dropped out of funding sources for research
on longer-term therapy, despite a strong clinical consensus about the importance of such
research. In time we expect that this trend will be reversed and that more investigation of
the effectiveness of psychotherapy in the real world of practice will be undertaken to
supplement the knowledge accruing from randomized controlled trials of brief therapy.
Another consideration is that, unlike in the physical sciences, many aspects of
psychotherapy inherently defy quantification. Psychotherapy is both art and science;
research findings may ultimately shape the broad contours of practice, but the human
encounter at the center of therapy will always be a deeply subjective, nonquantifiable
experience.
One of the most important underlying assumptions in this text is that interpersonal
interaction within the here-and-now is crucial to effective group therapy. The truly potent
therapy group first provides an arena in which clients can interact freely with others, then
helps them identify and understand what goes wrong in their interactions, and ultimately
enables them to change those maladaptive patterns. We believe that groups based solely on
other assumptions, such as psychoeducational or cognitive-behavioral principles, fail to
reap the full therapeutic harvest. Each of these forms of group therapy can be made even
more effective by incorporating an awareness of interpersonal process.
This point needs emphasis: It has great relevance for the future of clinical practice. The
advent of managed care will ultimately result in increased use of therapy groups. But, in
their quest for efficiency, brevity, and accountability, managed-care decision makers may
make the mistake of decreeing that some distinct orientations (brief, cognitive-behavioral,
symptom-focused) are more desirable because their approach encompasses a series of
steps consistent with other efficient medical approaches: the setting of explicit, limited
goals; the measuring of goal attainment at regular, frequent intervals; a highly specific
treatment plan; and a replicable, uniform, manual-driven, highly structured therapy with a
precise protocol for each session. But do not mistake the appearance of efficiency for true
effectiveness.

In this text we discuss, in depth, the extent and nature of the interactional focus and its
potency in bringing about significant character and interpersonal change. The interactional
focus is the engine of group therapy, and therapists who are able to harness it are much
better equipped to do all forms of group therapy, even if the group model does not
emphasize or acknowledge the centrality of interaction.
Initially I was not eager to undertake the considerable task of revising this text. The
theoretical foundations and technical approach to group therapy described in the fourth
edition remain sound and useful. But a book in an evolving field is bound to age sooner
than later, and the last edition was losing some of its currency. Not only did it contain
dated or anachronistic allusions, but also the field has changed. Managed care has settled
in by now, DSM-IV has undergone a text revision (DSM-IV-TR), and a decade of clinical
and research literature needed to be reviewed and assimilated into the text. Furthermore,
new types of groups have sprung up and others have faded away. Cognitive-behavioral,
psychoeducational, and problem-specific brief therapy groups are becoming more
common, so in this revision we have made a special effort throughout to address the
particular issues germane to these groups.
The first four chapters of this text discuss eleven therapeutic factors. Chapter 1 covers
instillation of hope, universality, imparting information, altruism, the corrective
recapitulation of the primary family group, the development of socializing techniques, and
imitative behavior. Chapters 2 and 3 present the more complex and powerful factors of
interpersonal learning and cohesiveness. Recent advances in our understanding of
interpersonal theory and the therapeutic alliance that can strengthen therapist effectiveness
have influenced our approach to these two chapters.
Chapter 4 discusses catharsis and existential factors and then attempts a synthesis by
addressing the comparative importance and the interdependence of all eleven therapeutic
factors.
The next two chapters address the work of the therapist. Chapter 5 discusses the tasks of
the group therapist—especially those germane to shaping a therapeutic group culture and
harnessing the group interaction for therapeutic benefit. Chapter 6 describes how the
therapist must first activate the here-and-now (that is, plunge the group into its own
experience) and then illuminate the meaning of the here-and-now experience. In this
edition we deemphasize certain models that rely on the elucidation of group-as-a-whole
dynamics (for example, the Tavistock approach)—models that have since proven
ineffective in the therapy process. (Some omitted material that may still interest some
readers will remain available at www.yalom.com.)
While chapters 5 and 6 address what the therapist must do, chapter 7 addresses how the
therapist must be. It explicates the therapist’s role and the therapist’s use of self by
focusing on two fundamental issues: transference and transparency. In previous editions, I
felt compelled to encourage therapist restraint: Many therapists were still so influenced by
the encounter group movement that they, too frequently and too extensively, “let it all
hang out.” Times have changed; more conservative forces have taken hold, and now we
feel compelled to discourage therapists from practicing too defensively. Many

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contemporary therapists, threatened by the encroachment of the legal profession into the
field (a result of the irresponsibility and misconduct of some therapists, coupled with a
reckless and greedy malpractice industry), have grown too cautious and impersonal.
Hence we give much attention to the use of the therapist’s self in psychotherapy.
Chapters 8 through 14 present a chronological view of the therapy group and emphasize
group phenomena and techniques that are relevant to each stage. Chapters 8 and 9, on
client selection and group composition, include new research data on group therapy
attendance, dropouts, and outcomes. Chapter 10, which describes the practical realities of
beginning a group, includes a lengthy new section on brief group therapy, presents much
new research on the preparation of the client for group therapy. The appendix contains a
document to distribute to new members to help prepare them for their work in the therapy
group.
Chapter 11 addresses the early stages of the therapy group and includes new material on
dealing with the therapy dropout. Chapter 12 deals with phenomena encountered in the
mature phase of the group therapy work: subgrouping, conflict, self-disclosure, and
termination.
Chapter 13, on problem members in group therapy, adds new material to reflect
advances in interpersonal theory. It discusses the contributions of intersubjectivity,
attachment theory, and self psychology. Chapter 14 discusses specialized techniques of the
therapist, including concurrent individual and group therapy (both combined and
conjoint), co-therapy, leaderless meetings, dreams, videotaping, and structured exercises,
the use of the written summary in group therapy, and the integration of group therapy and
twelve-step programs.
Chapter 15, on specialized therapy groups, addresses the many new groups that have
emerged to deal with specific clinical syndromes or clinical situations. It presents the
critically important principles used to modify traditional group therapy technique in order
to design a group to meet the needs of other specialized clinical situations and populations,
and describes the adaptation of cognitive-behavioral and interpersonal therapy to groups.
These principles are illustrated by in-depth discussions of various groups, such as the
acute psychiatric inpatient group and groups for the medically ill (with a detailed
illustration of a group for patients with cancer). Chapter 15 also discusses self-help groups
and the youngest member of the group therapy family—the Internet support group.
Chapter 16, on the encounter group, presented the single greatest challenge for this
revision. Because the encounter group qua encounter group has faded from contemporary
culture, we considered omitting the chapter entirely. However, several factors argue
against an early burial: the important role played by the encounter movement groups in
developing research technology and the use of encounter groups (also known as process
groups, T-groups (for “training”), or experiential training groups) in group psychotherapy
education. Our compromise was to shorten the chapter considerably and to make the entire
fourth edition chapter available at www.yalom.com for readers who are interested in the
history and evolution of the encounter movement.
Chapter 17, on the training of group therapists, includes new approaches to the

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supervision process and on the use of process groups in the educational curriculum.
During the four years of preparing this revision I was also engaged in writing a novel,
The Schopenhauer Cure, which may serve as a companion volume to this text: It is set in a
therapy group and illustrates many of the principles of group process and therapist
technique offered in this text. Hence, at several points in this fifth edition, I refer the
reader to particular pages in The Schopenhauer Cure that offer fictionalized portrayals of
therapist techniques.
Excessively overweight volumes tend to gravitate to the “reference book” shelves. To
avoid that fate we have resisted lengthening this text. The addition of much new material
has mandated the painful task of cutting older sections and citations. (I left my writing
desk daily with fingers stained by the blood of many condemned passages.) To increase
readability, we consigned almost all details and critiques of research method to footnotes
or to notes at the end of the book. The review of the last ten years of group therapy
literature has been exhaustive.

Most chapters contain 50–100 new references. In several locations throughout the book,
we have placed a dagger (†) to indicate that corroborative observations or data exist for
suggested current readings for students interested in that particular area. This list of
references and suggested readings has been placed on my website, www.yalom.com.

http://www.yalom.com

Acknowledgments
(Irvin Yalom)
I am grateful to Stanford University for providing the academic freedom, library
facilities, and administrative staff necessary to accomplish this work. To a masterful
mentor, Jerome Frank (who died just before the publication of this edition), my thanks for
having introduced me to group therapy and for having offered a model of integrity,
curiosity, and dedication. Several have assisted in this revision: Stephanie Brown, Ph.D.
(on twelve-step groups), Morton Lieberman, Ph.D. (on Internet groups), Ruthellen
Josselson, Ph.D. (on group-as-a-whole interventions), David Spiegel (on medical groups),
and my son Ben Yalom, who edited several chapters.

(Molyn Leszcz)
I am grateful to the University of Toronto Department of Psychiatry for its support in
this project. Toronto colleagues who have made comments on drafts of this edition and
facilitated its completion include Joel Sadavoy, M.D., Don Wasylenki, M.D., Danny
Silver, M.D., Paula Ravitz, M.D., Zindel Segal, Ph.D., Paul Westlind, M.D., Ellen
Margolese, M.D., Jan Malat, M.D., and Jon Hunter, M.D. Liz Konigshaus handled the
painstaking task of word-processing, with enormous efficiency and unyielding good
nature. Benjamin, Talia, and Noah Leszcz, my children, and Bonny Leszcz, my wife,
contributed insight and encouragement throughout.

Chapter 1
THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS
Does group therapy help clients? Indeed it does. A persuasive body of outcome research
has demonstrated unequivocally that group therapy is a highly effective form of
psychotherapy and that it is at least equal to individual psychotherapy in its power to
provide meaningful benefit.1
How does group therapy help clients? A naive question, perhaps. But if we can answer
it with some measure of precision and certainty, we will have at our disposal a central
organizing principle with which to approach the most vexing and controversial problems
of psychotherapy. Once identified, the crucial aspects of the process of change will
constitute a rational basis for the therapist’s selection of tactics and strategies to shape the
group experience to maximize its potency with different clients and in different settings.
I suggest that therapeutic change is an enormously complex process that occurs through
an intricate interplay of human experiences, which I will refer to as “therapeutic factors.”
There is considerable advantage in approaching the complex through the simple, the total
phenomenon through its basic component processes. Accordingly, I begin by describing
and discussing these elemental factors.
From my perspective, natural lines of cleavage divide the therapeutic experience into
eleven primary factors:
1. Instillation of hope
2. Universality
3. Imparting information
4. Altruism
5. The corrective recapitulation of the primary family group
6. Development of socializing techniques
7. Imitative behavior
8. Interpersonal learning
9. Group cohesiveness
10. Catharsis
11. Existential factors
In the rest of this chapter, I discuss the first seven factors. I consider interpersonal
learning and group cohesiveness so important and complex that I have treated them
separately, in the next two chapters. Existential factors are discussed in chapter 4, where
they are best understood in the context of other material presented there. Catharsis is
intricately interwoven with other therapeutic factors and will also be discussed in chapter

4.
The distinctions among these factors are arbitrary. Although I discuss them singly, they
are interdependent and neither occur nor function separately. Moreover, these factors may
represent different parts of the change process: some factors (for example, self-
understanding) act at the level of cognition; some (for example, development of
socializing techniques) act at the level of behavioral change; some (for example, catharsis)
act at the level of emotion; and some (for example, cohesiveness) may be more accurately
described as preconditions for change.† Although the same therapeutic factors operate in
every type of therapy group, their interplay and differential importance can vary widely
from group to group. Furthermore, because of individual differences, participants in the
same group benefit from widely different clusters of therapeutic factors.†
Keeping in mind that the therapeutic factors are arbitrary constructs, we can view them
as providing a cognitive map for the student-reader. This grouping of the therapeutic
factors is not set in concrete; other clinicians and researchers have arrived at a different,
and also arbitrary, clusters of factors.2 No explanatory system can encompass all of
therapy. At its core, the therapy process is infinitely complex, and there is no end to the
number of pathways through the experience. (I will discuss all of these issues more fully
in chapter 4.)
The inventory of therapeutic factors I propose issues from my clinical experience, from
the experience of other therapists, from the views of the successfully treated group patient,
and from relevant systematic research. None of these sources is beyond doubt, however;
neither group members nor group leaders are entirely objective, and our research
methodology is often crude and inapplicable.
From the group therapists we obtain a variegated and internally inconsistent inventory
of therapeutic factors (see chapter 4). Therapists, by no means disinterested or unbiased
observers, have invested considerable time and energy in mastering a certain therapeutic
approach. Their answers will be determined largely by their particular school of
conviction. Even among therapists who share the same ideology and speak the same
language, there may be no consensus about the reasons clients improve. In research on
encounter groups, my colleagues and I learned that many successful group leaders
attributed their success to factors that were irrelevant to the therapy process: for example,
the hot-seat technique, or nonverbal exercises, or the direct impact of a therapist’s own
person (see chapter 16).3 But that does not surprise us. The history of psychotherapy
abounds in healers who were effective, but not for the reasons they supposed. At other
times we therapists throw up our hands in bewilderment. Who has not had a client who
made vast improvement for entirely obscure reasons?
Group members at the end of a course of group therapy can supply data about the
therapeutic factors they considered most and least helpful. Yet we know that such
evaluations will be incomplete and their accuracy limited. Will the group members not,
perhaps, focus primarily on superficial factors and neglect some profound healing forces
that may be beyond their awareness? Will their responses not be influenced by a variety of
factors difficult to control? It is entirely possible, for example, that their views may be

distorted by the nature of their relationship to the therapist or to the group. (One team of
researchers demonstrated that when patients were interviewed four years after the
conclusion of therapy, they were far more apt to comment on unhelpful or harmful aspects
of their group experience than when interviewed immediately at its conclusion.)4 Research
has also shown, for example, that the therapeutic factors valued by group members may
differ greatly from those cited by their therapists or by group observers,5 an observation
also made in individual psychotherapy. Furthermore, many confounding factors influence
the client’s evaluation of the therapeutic factors: for example, the length of time in
treatment and the level of a client’s functioning,6 the type of group (that is, whether
outpatient, inpatient, day hospital, brief therapy),7 the age and the diagnosis of a client,8
and the ideology of the group leader.9 Another factor that complicates the search for
common therapeutic factors is the extent to which different group members perceive and
experience the same event in different ways.† Any given experience may be important or
helpful to some and inconsequential or even harmful to others.
Despite these limitations, clients’ reports are a rich and relatively untapped source of
information. After all, it is their experience, theirs alone, and the farther we move from the
clients’ experience, the more inferential are our conclusions. To be sure, there are aspects
of the process of change that operate outside a client’s awareness, but it does not follow
that we should disregard what clients do say.
There is an art to obtaining clients’ reports. Paper-and-pencil or sorting questionnaires
provide easy data but often miss the nuances and the richness of the clients’ experience.
The more the questioner can enter into the experiential world of the client, the more lucid
and meaningful the report of the therapy experience becomes. To the degree that the
therapist is able to suppress personal bias and avoid influencing the client’s responses, he
or she becomes the ideal questioner: the therapist is trusted and understands more than
anyone else the inner world of the client.
In addition to therapists’ views and clients’ reports, there is a third important method of
evaluating the therapeutic factors: the systematic research approach. The most common
research strategy by far is to correlate in-therapy variables with outcome in therapy. By
discovering which variables are significantly related to successful outcomes, one can
establish a reasonable base from which to begin to delineate the therapeutic factors.
However, there are many inherent problems in this approach: the measurement of outcome
is itself a methodological morass, and the selection and measurement of the in-therapy
variables are equally problematic.a10
I have drawn from all these methods to derive the therapeutic factors discussed in this
book. Still, I do not consider these conclusions definitive; rather, I offer them as
provisional guidelines that may be tested and deepened by other clinical researchers. For
my part, I am satisfied that they derive from the best available evidence at this time and
that they constitute the basis of an effective approach to therapy.

INSTILLATION OF HOPE
The instillation and maintenance of hope is crucial in any psychotherapy. Not only is hope
required to keep the client in therapy so that other therapeutic factors may take effect, but
faith in a treatment mode can in itself be therapeutically effective. Several studies have
demonstrated that a high expectation of help before the start of therapy is significantly
correlated with a positive therapy outcome.11 Consider also the massive data documenting
the efficacy of faith healing and placebo treatment—therapies mediated entirely through
hope and conviction. A positive outcome in psychotherapy is more likely when the client
and the therapist have similar expectations of the treatment.12 The power of expectations
extends beyond imagination alone. Recent brain imaging studies demonstrate that the
placebo is not inactive but can have a direct physiological effect on the brain.13
Group therapists can capitalize on this factor by doing whatever we can to increase
clients’ belief and confidence in the efficacy of the group mode. This task begins before
the group starts, in the pregroup orientation, in which the therapist reinforces positive
expectations, corrects negative preconceptions, and presents a lucid and powerful
explanation of the group’s healing properties. (See chapter 10 for a full discussion of the
pregroup preparation procedure.)
Group therapy not only draws from the general ameliorative effects of positive
expectations but also benefits from a source of hope that is unique to the group format.
Therapy groups invariably contain individuals who are at different points along a coping-
collapse continuum. Each member thus has considerable contact with others—often
individuals with similar problems—who have improved as a result of therapy. I have often
heard clients remark at the end of their group therapy how important it was for them to
have observed the improvement of others. Remarkably, hope can be a powerful force even
in groups of individuals combating advanced cancer who lose cherished group members to
the disease. Hope is flexible—it redefines itself to fit the immediate parameters, becoming
hope for comfort, for dignity, for connection with others, or for minimum physical
discomfort.14
Group therapists should by no means be above exploiting this factor by periodically
calling attention to the improvement that members have made. If I happen to receive notes
from recently terminated members informing me of their continued improvement, I make
a point of sharing this with the current group. Senior group members often assume this
function by offering spontaneous testimonials to new, skeptical members.
Research has shown that it is also vitally important that therapists believe in themselves
and in the efficacy of their group.15 I sincerely believe that I am able to help every
motivated client who is willing to work in the group for at least six months. In my initial
meetings with clients individually, I share this conviction with them and attempt to imbue
them with my optimism.
Many of the self-help groups—for example, Compassionate Friends (for bereaved

parents), Men Overcoming Violence (men who batter), Survivors of Incest, and Mended
Heart (heart surgery patients)—place heavy emphasis on the instillation of hope.16 A
major part of Recovery, Inc. (for current and former psychiatric patients) and Alcoholics
Anonymous meetings is dedicated to testimonials. At each meeting, members of
Recovery, Inc. give accounts of potentially stressful incidents in which they avoided
tension by the application of Recovery, Inc. methods, and successful Alcoholics
Anonymous members tell their stories of downfall and then rescue by AA. One of the
great strengths of Alcoholics Anonymous is the fact that the leaders are all alcoholics—
living inspirations to the others.
Substance abuse treatment programs commonly mobilize hope in participants by using
recovered drug addicts as group leaders. Members are inspired and expectations raised by
contact with those who have trod the same path and found the way back. A similar
approach is used for individuals with chronic medical illnesses such as arthritis and heart
disease. These self-management groups use trained peers to encourage members to cope
actively with their medical conditions.17 The inspiration provided to participants by their
peers results in substantial improvements in medical outcomes, reduces health care costs,
promotes the individual’s sense of self-efficacy, and often makes group interventions
superior to individual therapies.18
UNIVERSALITY
Many individuals enter therapy with the disquieting thought that they are unique in their
wretchedness, that they alone have certain frightening or unacceptable problems, thoughts,
impulses, and fantasies. Of course, there is a core of truth to this notion, since most clients
have had an unusual constellation of severe life stresses and are periodically flooded by
frightening material that has leaked from their unconscious.
To some extent this is true for all of us, but many clients, because of their extreme
social isolation, have a heightened sense of uniqueness. Their interpersonal difficulties
preclude the possibility of deep intimacy. In everyday life they neither learn about others’
analogous feelings and experiences nor avail themselves of the opportunity to confide in,
and ultimately to be validated and accepted by, others.
In the therapy group, especially in the early stages, the disconfirmation of a client’s
feelings of uniqueness is a powerful source of relief. After hearing other members disclose
concerns similar to their own, clients report feeling more in touch with the world and
describe the process as a “welcome to the human race” experience. Simply put, the
phenomenon finds expression in the cliché “We’re all in the same boat”—or perhaps more
cynically, “Misery loves company.”
There is no human deed or thought that lies fully outside the experience of other people.
I have heard group members reveal such acts as incest, torture, burglary, embezzlement,
murder, attempted suicide, and fantasies of an even more desperate nature. Invariably, I

have observed other group members reach out and embrace these very acts as within the
realm of their own possibilities, often following through the door of disclosure opened by
one group member’s trust or courage. Long ago Freud noted that the staunchest taboos
(against incest and patricide) were constructed precisely because these very impulses are
part of the human being’s deepest nature.
Nor is this form of aid limited to group therapy. Universality plays a role in individual
therapy also, although in that format there is less opportunity for consensual validation, as
therapists choose to restrict their degree of personal transparency.
During my own 600-hour analysis I had a striking personal encounter with the
therapeutic factor of universality. It happened when I was in the midst of describing my
extremely ambivalent feelings toward my mother. I was very much troubled by the fact
that, despite my strong positive sentiments, I was also beset with death wishes for her, as I
stood to inherit part of her estate. My analyst responded simply, “That seems to be the way
we’re built.” That artless statement not only offered me considerable relief but enabled me
to explore my ambivalence in great depth.
Despite the complexity of human problems, certain common denominators between
individuals are clearly evident, and the members of a therapy group soon perceive their
similarities to one another. An example is illustrative: For many years I asked members of
T-groups (these are nonclients—primarily medical students, psychiatric residents, nurses,
psychiatric technicians, and Peace Corps volunteers; see chapter 16) to engage in a “top-
secret” task in which they were asked to write, anonymously, on a slip of paper the one
thing they would be most disinclined to share with the group. The secrets prove to be
startlingly similar, with a couple of major themes predominating. The most common secret
is a deep conviction of basic inadequacy—a feeling that one is basically incompetent, that
one bluffs one’s way through life. Next in frequency is a deep sense of interpersonal
alienation—that, despite appearances, one really does not, or cannot, care for or love
another person. The third most frequent category is some variety of sexual secret. These
chief concerns of nonclients are qualitatively the same in individuals seeking professional
help. Almost invariably, our clients experience deep concern about their sense of worth
and their ability to relate to others.b
Some specialized groups composed of individuals for whom secrecy has been an
especially important and isolating factor place a particularly great emphasis on
universality. For example, short-term structured groups for bulimic clients build into their
protocol a strong requirement for self-disclosure, especially disclosure about attitudes
toward body image and detailed accounts of each member’s eating rituals and purging
practices. With rare exceptions, patients express great relief at discovering that they are
not alone, that others share the same dilemmas and life experiences.19
Members of sexual abuse groups, too, profit enormously from the experience of
universality.20 An integral part of these groups is the intimate sharing, often for the first
time in each member’s life, of the details of the abuse and the ensuing internal devastation
they suffered. Members in such groups can encounter others who have suffered similar
violations as children, who were not responsible for what happened to them, and who have

also suffered deep feelings of shame, guilt, rage, and uncleanness. A feeling of
universality is often a fundamental step in the therapy of clients burdened with shame,
stigma, and self-blame, for example, clients with HIV/AIDS or those dealing with the
aftermath of a suicide.21
Members of homogeneous groups can speak to one another with a powerful authenticity
that comes from their firsthand experience in ways that therapists may not be able to do.
For instance, I once supervised a thirty-five-year-old therapist who was leading a group of
depressed men in their seventies and eighties. At one point a seventy-seven-year-old man
who had recently lost his wife expressed suicidal thoughts. The therapist hesitated, fearing
that anything he might say would come across as naive. Then a ninety-one-year-old group
member spoke up and described how he had lost his wife of sixty years, had plunged into
a suicidal despair, and had ultimately recovered and returned to life. That statement
resonated deeply and was not easily dismissed.
In multicultural groups, therapists may need to pay particular attention to the clinical
factor of universality. Cultural minorities in a predominantly Caucasian group may feel
excluded because of different cultural attitudes toward disclosure, interaction, and
affective expression. Therapists must help the group move past a focus on concrete
cultural differences to transcultural—that is, universal—responses to human situations and
tragedies.22 At the same time, therapists must be keenly aware of the cultural factors at
play. Mental health professionals are often sorely lacking in knowledge of the cultural
facts of life required to work effectively with culturally diverse members. It is imperative
that therapists learn as much as possible about their clients’ cultures as well as their
attachment to or alienation from their culture.23
Universality, like the other therapeutic factors, does not have sharp borders; it merges
with other therapeutic factors. As clients perceive their similarity to others and share their
deepest concerns, they benefit further from the accompanying catharsis and from their
ultimate acceptance by other members (see chapter 3 on group cohesiveness).
IMPARTING INFORMATION
Under the general rubric of imparting information, I include didactic instruction about
mental health, mental illness, and general psychodynamics given by the therapists as well
as advice, suggestions, or direct guidance from either the therapist or other group
members.
Didactic Instruction
Most participants, at the conclusion of successful interactional group therapy, have learned
a great deal about psychic functioning, the meaning of symptoms, interpersonal and group

dynamics, and the process of psychotherapy. Generally, the educational process is implicit;
most group therapists do not offer explicit didactic instruction in interactional group
therapy. Over the past decade, however, many group therapy approaches have made
formal instruction, or psychoeducation, an important part of the program.
One of the more powerful historical precedents for psychoeducation can be found in the
work of Maxwell Jones, who in his work with large groups in the 1940s lectured to his
patients three hours a week about the nervous system’s structure, function, and relevance
to psychiatric symptoms and disability.24
Marsh, writing in the 1930s, also believed in the importance of psychoeducation and
organized classes for his patients, complete with lectures, homework, and grades.25
Recovery, Inc., the nation’s oldest and largest self-help program for current and former
psychiatric patients, is basically organized along didactic lines.26 Founded in 1937 by
Abraham Low, this organization has over 700 operating groups today.27 Membership is
voluntary, and the leaders spring from the membership. Although there is no formal
professional guidance, the conduct of the meetings has been highly structured by Dr. Low;
parts of his textbook, Mental Health Through Will Training,28 are read aloud and
discussed at every meeting. Psychological illness is explained on the basis of a few simple
principles, which the members memorize—for example, the value of “spotting”
troublesome and self-undermining behaviors; that neurotic symptoms are distressing but
not dangerous; that tension intensifies and sustains the symptom and should be avoided;
that the use of one’s free will is the solution to the nervous patient’s dilemmas.
Many other self-help groups strongly emphasize the imparting of information. Groups
such as Adult Survivors of Incest, Parents Anonymous, Gamblers Anonymous, Make
Today Count (for cancer patients), Parents Without Partners, and Mended Hearts
encourage the exchange of information among members and often invite experts to
address the group.29 The group environment in which learning takes place is important.
The ideal context is one of partnership and collaboration, rather than prescription and
subordination.
Recent group therapy literature abounds with descriptions of specialized groups for
individuals who have some specific disorder or face some definitive life crisis—for
example, panic disorder,30 obesity,31 bulimia,32 adjustment after divorce, 33 herpes,34
coronary heart disease,35 parents of sexually abused children,36 male batterers,37
bereavement,38 HIV/AIDS,39 sexual dysfunction,40 rape,41 self-image adjustment after
mastectomy,42 chronic pain,43 organ transplant,44 and prevention of depression relapse.45
In addition to offering mutual support, these groups generally build in a
psychoeducational component approach offering explicit instruction about the nature of a
client’s illness or life situation and examining clients’ misconceptions and self-defeating
responses to their illness. For example, the leaders of a group for clients with panic
disorder describe the physiological cause of panic attacks, explaining that heightened
stress and arousal increase the flow of adrenaline, which may result in hyperventilation,

shortness of breath, and dizziness; the client misinterprets the symptoms in ways that only
exacerbate them (“I’m dying” or “I’m going crazy”), thus perpetuating a vicious circle.
The therapists discuss the benign nature of panic attacks and offer instruction first on how
to bring on a mild attack and then on how to prevent it. They provide detailed instruction
on proper breathing techniques and progressive muscular relaxation.
Groups are often the setting in which new mindfulness- and meditation-based stress
reduction approaches are taught. By applying disciplined focus, members learn to become
clear, accepting, and nonjudgmental observers of their thoughts and feelings and to reduce
stress, anxiety, and vulnerability to depression.46
Leaders of groups for HIV-positive clients frequently offer considerable illness-related
medical information and help correct members’ irrational fears and misconceptions about
infectiousness. They may also advise members about methods of informing others of their
condition and fashioning a less guilt-provoking lifestyle.
Leaders of bereavement groups may provide information about the natural cycle of
bereavement to help members realize that there is a sequence of pain through which they
are progressing and there will be a natural, almost inevitable, lessening of their distress as
they move through the stages of this sequence. Leaders may help clients anticipate, for
example, the acute anguish they will feel with each significant date (holidays,
anniversaries, and birthdays) during the first year of bereavement. Psychoeducational
groups for women with primary breast cancer provide members with information about
their illness, treatment options, and future risks as well as recommendations for a healthier
lifestyle. Evaluation of the outcome of these groups shows that participants demonstrate
significant and enduring psychosocial benefits.47
Most group therapists use some form of anticipatory guidance for clients about to enter
the frightening situation of the psychotherapy group, such as a preparatory session
intended to clarify important reasons for psychological dysfunction and to provide
instruction in methods of self-exploration.48 By predicting clients’ fears, by providing
them with a cognitive structure, we help them cope more effectively with the culture
shock they may encounter when they enter the group therapy (see chapter 10).
Didactic instruction has thus been employed in a variety of fashions in group therapy: to
transfer information, to alter sabotaging thought patterns, to structure the group, to explain
the process of illness. Often such instruction functions as the initial binding force in the
group, until other therapeutic factors become operative. In part, however, explanation and
clarification function as effective therapeutic agents in their own right. Human beings
have always abhorred uncertainty and through the ages have sought to order the universe
by providing explanations, primarily religious or scientific. The explanation of a
phenomenon is the first step toward its control. If a volcanic eruption is caused by a
displeased god, then at least there is hope of pleasing the god.
Frieda Fromm-Reichman underscores the role of uncertainty in producing anxiety. The
awareness that one is not one’s own helmsman, she points out, that one’s perceptions and
behavior are controlled by irrational forces, is itself a common and fundamental source of

anxiety.49
Our contemporary world is one in which we are forced to confront fear and anxiety
often. In particular, the events of September 11, 2001, have brought these troubling
emotions more clearly to the forefront of people’s lives. Confronting traumatic anxieties
with active coping (for instance, engaging in life, speaking openly, and providing mutual
support), as opposed to withdrawing in demoralized avoidance, is enormously helpful.
These responses not only appeal to our common sense but, as contemporary
neurobiological research demonstrates, these forms of active coping activate important
neural circuits in the brain that help regulate the body’s stress reactions.50
And so it is with psychotherapy clients: fear and anxiety that stem from uncertainty of
the source, meaning, and seriousness of psychiatric symptoms may so compound the total
dysphoria that effective exploration becomes vastly more difficult. Didactic instruction,
through its provision of structure and explanation, has intrinsic value and deserves a place
in our repertoire of therapeutic instruments (see chapter 5).
Direct Advice
Unlike explicit didactic instruction from the therapist, direct advice from the members
occurs without exception in every therapy group. In dynamic interactional therapy groups,
it is invariably part of the early life of the group and occurs with such regularity that it can
be used to estimate a group’s age. If I observe or hear a tape of a group in which the
clients with some regularity say things like, “I think you ought to …” or “What you should
do is …” or “Why don’t you … ?” then I can be reasonably certain either that the group is
young or that it is an older group facing some difficulty that has impeded its development
or effected temporary regression. In other words, advice-giving may reflect a resistance to
more intimate engagement in which the group members attempt to manage relationships
rather than to connect. Although advice-giving is common in early interactional group
therapy, it is rare that specific advice will directly benefit any client. Indirectly, however,
advice-giving serves a purpose; the process of giving it, rather than the content of the
advice, may be beneficial, implying and conveying, as it does, mutual interest and caring.
Advice-giving or advice-seeking behavior is often an important clue in the elucidation
of interpersonal pathology. The client who, for example, continuously pulls advice and
suggestions from others, ultimately only to reject them and frustrate others, is well known
to group therapists as the “help-rejecting complainer” or the “yes … but” client (see
chapter 13).51 Some group members may bid for attention and nurturance by asking for
suggestions about a problem that either is insoluble or has already been solved. Others
soak up advice with an unquenchable thirst, yet never reciprocate to others who are
equally needy. Some group members are so intent on preserving a high-status role in the
group or a facade of cool self-sufficiency that they never ask directly for help; some are so
anxious to please that they never ask for anything for themselves; some are excessively
effusive in their gratitude; others never acknowledge the gift but take it home, like a bone,
to gnaw on privately.

Other types of more structured groups that do not focus on member interaction make
explicit and effective use of direct suggestions and guidance. For example, behavior-
shaping groups, hospital discharge planning and transition groups, life skills groups,
communicational skills groups, Recovery, Inc., and Alcoholics Anonymous all proffer
considerable direct advice. One communicational skills group for clients who have
chronic psychiatric illnesses reports excellent results with a structured group program that
includes focused feedback, videotape playback, and problem-solving projects.52 AA
makes use of guidance and slogans: for example, members are asked to remain abstinent
for only the next twenty-four hours—“One day at a time.” Recovery, Inc. teaches
members how to spot neurotic symptoms, how to erase and retrace, how to rehearse and
reverse, and how to apply willpower effectively.
Is some advice better than others? Researchers who studied a behavior-shaping group of
male sex offenders noted that advice was common and was useful to different members to
different extents. The least effective form of advice was a direct suggestion; most effective
was a series of alternative suggestions about how to achieve a desired goal.53
Psychoeducation about the impact of depression on family relationships is much more
effective when participants examine, on a direct, emotional level, the way depression is
affecting their own lives and family relationships. The same information presented in an
intellectualized and detached manner is far less valuable.54
ALTRUISM
There is an old Hasidic story of a rabbi who had a conversation with the Lord about
Heaven and Hell. “I will show you Hell,” said the Lord, and led the rabbi into a room
containing a group of famished, desperate people sitting around a large, circular table. In
the center of the table rested an enormous pot of stew, more than enough for everyone.
The smell of the stew was delicious and made the rabbi’s mouth water. Yet no one ate.
Each diner at the table held a very long-handled spoon—long enough to reach the pot and
scoop up a spoonful of stew, but too long to get the food into one’s mouth. The rabbi saw
that their suffering was indeed terrible and bowed his head in compassion. “Now I will
show you Heaven,” said the Lord, and they entered another room, identical to the first—
same large, round table, same enormous pot of stew, same long-handled spoons. Yet there
was gaiety in the air; everyone appeared well nourished, plump, and exuberant. The rabbi
could not understand and looked to the Lord. “It is simple,” said the Lord, “but it requires
a certain skill. You see, the people in this room have learned to feed each other!”c
In therapy groups, as well as in the story’s imagined Heaven and Hell, members gain
through giving, not only in receiving help as part of the reciprocal giving-receiving
sequence, but also in profiting from something intrinsic to the act of giving. Many
psychiatric patients beginning therapy are demoralized and possess a deep sense of having
nothing of value to offer others. They have long considered themselves as burdens, and

the experience of finding that they can be of importance to others is refreshing and boosts
self-esteem. Group therapy is unique in being the only therapy that offers clients the
opportunity to be of benefit to others. It also encourages role versatility, requiring clients
to shift between roles of help receivers and help providers.55
And, of course, clients are enormously helpful to one another in the group therapeutic
process. They offer support, reassurance, suggestions, insight; they share similar problems
with one another. Not infrequently group members will accept observations from another
member far more readily than from the group therapist. For many clients, the therapist
remains the paid professional; the other members represent the real world and can be
counted on for spontaneous and truthful reactions and feedback. Looking back over the
course of therapy, almost all group members credit other members as having been
important in their improvement. Sometimes they cite their explicit support and advice,
sometimes their simply having been present and allowing their fellow members to grow as
a result of a facilitative, sustaining relationship. Through the experience of altruism, group
members learn firsthand that they have obligations to those from whom they wish to
receive care.
An interaction between two group members is illustrative. Derek, a chronically anxious
and isolated man in his forties who had recently joined the group, exasperated the other
members by consistently dismissing their feedback and concern. In response, Kathy, a
thirty-five-year-old woman with chronic depression and substance abuse problems, shared
with him a pivotal lesson in her own group experience. For months she had rebuffed the
concern others offered because she felt she did not merit it. Later, after others informed
her that her rebuffs were hurtful to them, she made a conscious decision to be more
receptive to gifts offered her and soon observed, to her surprise, that she began to feel
much better. In other words, she benefited not only from the support received but also in
her ability to help others feel they had something of value to offer. She hoped that Derek
could consider those possibilities for himself.
Altruism is a venerable therapeutic factor in other systems of healing. In primitive
cultures, for example, a troubled person is often given the task of preparing a feast or
performing some type of service for the community.56 Altruism plays an important part in
the healing process at Catholic shrines, such as Lourdes, where the sick pray not only for
themselves but also for one another. People need to feel they are needed and useful. It is
commonplace for alcoholics to continue their AA contacts for years after achieving
complete sobriety; many members have related their cautionary story of downfall and
subsequent reclamation at least a thousand times and continually enjoy the satisfaction of
offering help to others.
Neophyte group members do not at first appreciate the healing impact of other
members. In fact, many prospective candidates resist the suggestion of group therapy with
the question “How can the blind lead the blind?” or “What can I possibly get from others
who are as confused as I am? We’ll end up pulling one another down.” Such resistance is
best worked through by exploring a client’s critical self-evaluation. Generally, an
individual who deplores the prospect of getting help from other group members is really

saying, “I have nothing of value to offer anyone.”
There is another, more subtle benefit inherent in the altruistic act. Many clients who
complain of meaninglessness are immersed in a morbid self-absorption, which takes the
form of obsessive introspection or a teeth-gritting effort to actualize oneself. I agree with
Victor Frankl that a sense of life meaning ensues but cannot be deliberately pursued: life
meaning is always a derivative phenomenon that materializes when we have transcended
ourselves, when we have forgotten ourselves and become absorbed in someone (or
something) outside ourselves.57 A focus on life meaning and altruism are particularly
important components of the group psychotherapies provided to patients coping with life-
threatening medical illnesses such as cancer and AIDS.†58
THE CORRECTIVE RECAPITULATION OF THE
PRIMARY FAMILY GROUP
The great majority of clients who enter groups—with the exception of those suffering
from posttraumatic stress disorder or from some medical or environmental stress—have a
background of a highly unsatisfactory experience in their first and most important group:
the primary family. The therapy group resembles a family in many aspects: there are
authority /parental figures, peer/sibling figures, deep personal revelations, strong
emotions, and deep intimacy as well as hostile, competitive feelings. In fact, therapy
groups are often led by a male and female therapy team in a deliberate effort to simulate
the parental configuration as closely as possible. Once the initial discomfort is overcome,
it is inevitable that, sooner or later, the members will interact with leaders and other
members in modes reminiscent of the way they once interacted with parents and siblings.
If the group leaders are seen as parental figures, then they will draw reactions associated
with parental/authority figures: some members become helplessly dependent on the
leaders, whom they imbue with unrealistic knowledge and power; other blindly defy the
leaders, who are perceived as infantilizing and controlling; others are wary of the leaders,
who they believe attempt to strip members of their individuality; some members try to
split the co-therapists in an attempt to incite parental disagreements and rivalry; some
disclose most deeply when one of the co-therapists is away; some compete bitterly with
other members, hoping to accumulate units of attention and caring from the therapists;
some are enveloped in envy when the leader’s attention is focused on others: others
expend energy in a search for allies among the other members, in order to topple the
therapists; still others neglect their own interests in a seemingly selfless effort to appease
the leaders and the other members.
Obviously, similar phenomena occur in individual therapy, but the group provides a
vastly greater number and variety of recapitulative possibilities. In one of my groups,
Betty, a member who had been silently pouting for a couple of meetings, bemoaned the
fact that she was not in one-to-one therapy. She claimed she was inhibited because she

knew the group could not satisfy her needs. She knew she could speak freely of herself in
a private conversation with the therapist or with any one of the members. When pressed,
Betty expressed her irritation that others were favored over her in the group. For example,
the group had recently welcomed another member who had returned from a vacation,
whereas her return from a vacation went largely unnoticed by the group. Furthermore,
another group member was praised for offering an important interpretation to a member,
whereas she had made a similar statement weeks ago that had gone unnoticed. For some
time, too, she had noticed her growing resentment at sharing the group time; she was
impatient while waiting for the floor and irritated whenever attention was shifted away
from her.
Was Betty right? Was group therapy the wrong treatment for her? Absolutely not! These
very criticisms—which had roots stretching down into her early relationships with her
siblings—did not constitute valid objections to group therapy. Quite the contrary: the
group format was particularly valuable for her, since it allowed her envy and her craving
for attention to surface. In individual therapy—where the therapist attends to the client’s
every word and concern, and the individual is expected to use up all the allotted time—
these particular conflicts might emerge belatedly, if at all.
What is important, though, is not only that early familial conflicts are relived but that
they are relived correctively. Reexposure without repair only makes a bad situation worse.
Growth-inhibiting relationship patterns must not be permitted to freeze into the rigid,
impenetrable system that characterizes many family structures. Instead, fixed roles must
be constantly explored and challenged, and ground rules that encourage the investigation
of relationships and the testing of new behavior must be established. For many group
members, then, working out problems with therapists and other members is also working
through unfinished business from long ago. (How explicit the working in the past need be
is a complex and controversial issue, which I will address in chapter 5.)
DEVELOPMENT OF SOCIALIZING TECHNIQUES
Social learning—the development of basic social skills—is a therapeutic factor that
operates in all therapy groups, although the nature of the skills taught and the explicitness
of the process vary greatly, depending on the type of group therapy. There may be explicit
emphasis on the development of social skills in, for example, groups preparing
hospitalized patients for discharge or adolescent groups. Group members may be asked to
role-play approaching a prospective employer or asking someone out on a date.
In other groups, social learning is more indirect. Members of dynamic therapy groups,
which have ground rules encouraging open feedback, may obtain considerable information
about maladaptive social behavior. A member may, for example, learn about a
disconcerting tendency to avoid looking at the person with whom he or she is conversing;
about others’ impressions of his or her haughty, regal attitude; or about a variety of other

social habits that, unbeknownst to the group member, have been undermining social
relationships. For individuals lacking intimate relationships, the group often represents the
first opportunity for accurate interpersonal feedback. Many lament their inexplicable
loneliness: group therapy provides a rich opportunity for members to learn how they
contribute to their own isolation and loneliness.59
One man, for example, who had been aware for years that others avoided social contact
with him, learned in the therapy group that his obsessive inclusion of minute, irrelevant
details in his social conversation was exceedingly off-putting. Years later he told me that
one of the most important events of his life was when a group member (whose name he
had long since forgotten) told him, “When you talk about your feelings, I like you and
want to get closer; but when you start talking about facts and details, I want to get the hell
out of the room!”
I do not mean to oversimplify; therapy is a complex process and obviously involves far
more than the simple recognition and conscious, deliberate alteration of social behavior.
But, as I will show in chapter 3, these gains are more than fringe benefits; they are often
instrumental in the initial phases of therapeutic change. They permit the clients to
understand that there is a huge discrepancy between their intent and their actual impact on
others.†
Frequently senior members of a therapy group acquire highly sophisticated social skills:
they are attuned to process (see chapter 6); they have learned how to be helpfully
responsive to others; they have acquired methods of conflict resolution; they are less likely
to be judgmental and are more capable of experiencing and expressing accurate empathy.
These skills cannot but help to serve these clients well in future social interactions, and
they constitute the cornerstones of emotional intelligence.60
IMITATIVE BEHAVIOR
Clients during individual psychotherapy may, in time, sit, walk, talk, and even think like
their therapists. There is considerable evidence that group therapists influence the
communicational patterns in their groups by modeling certain behaviors, for example,
self-disclosure or support.61 In groups the imitative process is more diffuse: clients may
model themselves on aspects of the other group members as well as of the therapist. 62
Group members learn from watching one another tackle problems. This may be
particularly potent in homogeneous groups that focus on shared problems—for example, a
cognitive-behavior group that teaches psychotic patients strategies to reduce the intensity
of auditory hallucinations.63
The importance of imitative behavior in the therapeutic process is difficult to gauge, but
social-psychological research suggests that therapists may have underestimated it.
Bandura, who has long claimed that social learning cannot be adequately explained on the

basis of direct reinforcement, has experimentally demonstrated that imitation is an
effective therapeutic force.†64 In group therapy it is not uncommon for a member to
benefit by observing the therapy of another member with a similar problem constellation
—a phenomenon generally referred to as vicarious or spectator therapy.65
Imitative behavior generally plays a more important role in the early stages of a group,
as members identify with more senior members or therapists. 66 Even if imitative behavior
is, in itself, short-lived, it may help to unfreeze the individual enough to experiment with
new behavior, which in turn can launch an adaptive spiral (see chapter 4). In fact, it is not
uncommon for clients throughout therapy to “try on,” as it were, bits and pieces of other
people and then relinquish them as ill fitting. This process may have solid therapeutic
impact; finding out what we are not is progress toward finding out what we are.

Chapter 2
INTERPERSONAL LEARNING
Interpersonal learning, as I define it, is a broad and complex therapeutic factor. It is the
group therapy analogue of important therapeutic factors in individual therapy such as
insight, working through the transference, and the corrective emotional experience. But it
also represents processes unique to the group setting that unfold only as a result of specific
work on the part of the therapist. To define the concept of interpersonal learning and to
describe the mechanism whereby it mediates therapeutic change in the individual, I first
need to discuss three other concepts:
1. The importance of interpersonal relationships
2. The corrective emotional experience
3. The group as social microcosm
THE IMPORTANCE OF INTERPERSONAL
RELATIONSHIPS
From whatever perspective we study human society—whether we scan humanity’s broad
evolutionary history or scrutinize the development of the single individual—we are at all
times obliged to consider the human being in the matrix of his or her interpersonal
relationships. There is convincing data from the study of nonhuman primates, primitive
human cultures, and contemporary society that human beings have always lived in groups
that have been characterized by intense and persistent relationships among members and
that the need to belong is a powerful, fundamental, and pervasive motivation.1
Interpersonal relatedness has clearly been adaptive in an evolutionary sense: without deep,
positive, reciprocal interpersonal bonds, neither individual nor species survival would
have been possible.
John Bowlby, from his studies of the early mother-child relationship, concludes not only
that attachment behavior is necessary for survival but also that it is core, intrinsic, and
genetically built in.2 If mother and infant are separated, both experience marked anxiety
concomitant with their search for the lost object. If the separation is prolonged, the
consequences for the infant will be profound. Winnicott similarly noted, “There is no such
thing as a baby. There exists a mother-infant pair.”3 We live in a “relational matrix,”
according to Mitchell: “The person is comprehensible only within this tapestry of
relationships, past and present.”4
Similarly, a century ago the great American psychologist-philosopher William James
said:

We are not only gregarious animals liking to be in sight of our fellows, but we
have an innate propensity to get ourselves noticed, and noticed favorably, by our
kind. No more fiendish punishment could be devised, were such a thing physically
possible, than that one should be turned loose in society and remain absolutely
unnoticed by all the members thereof.5
Indeed, James’s speculations have been substantiated time and again by contemporary
research that documents the pain and the adverse consequences of loneliness. There is, for
example, persuasive evidence that the rate for virtually every major cause of death is
significantly higher for the lonely, the single, the divorced, and the widowed.6 Social
isolation is as much a risk factor for early mortality as obvious physical risk factors such
as smoking and obesity.7 The inverse is also true: social connection and integration have a
positive impact on the course of serious illnesses such as cancer and AIDS.8
Recognizing the primacy of relatedness and attachment, contemporary models of
dynamic psychotherapy have evolved from a drive-based, one-person Freudian
psychology to a two-person relational psychology that places the client’s interpersonal
experience at the center of effective psychotherapy. †9 Contemporary psychotherapy
employs “a relational model in which mind is envisioned as built out of interactional
configurations of self in relation to others.”10
Building on the earlier contributions of Harry Stack Sullivan and his interpersonal
theory of psychiatry,11 interpersonal models of psychotherapy have become prominent.12
Although Sullivan’s work was seminally important, contemporary generations of
therapists rarely read him. For one thing, his language is often obscure (though there are
excellent renderings of his work into plain English);13 for another, his work has so
pervaded contemporary psychotherapeutic thought that his original writings seem overly
familiar or obvious. However, with the recent focus on integrating cognitive and
interpersonal approaches in individual therapy and in group therapy, interest in his
contributions have resurged.14 Kiesler argues in fact that the interpersonal frame is the
most appropriate model within which therapists can meaningfully synthesize cognitive,
behavioral, and psychodynamic approaches—it is the most comprehensive of the
integrative psychotherapies.†15
Sullivan’s formulations are exceedingly helpful for understanding the group therapeutic
process. Although a comprehensive discussion of interpersonal theory is beyond the scope
of this book, I will describe a few key concepts here. Sullivan contends that the
personality is almost entirely the product of interaction with other significant human
beings. The need to be closely related to others is as basic as any biological need and is, in
the light of the prolonged period of helpless infancy, equally necessary to survival. The
developing child, in the quest for security, tends to cultivate and to emphasize those traits
and aspects of the self that meet with approval and to squelch or deny those that meet with
disapproval. Eventually the individual develops a concept of the self based on these
perceived appraisals of significant others.
The self may be said to be made up of reflected appraisals. If these were chiefly

derogatory, as in the case of an unwanted child who was never loved, of a child
who has fallen into the hands of foster parents who have no real interest in him as a
child; as I say, if the self-dynamism is made up of experience which is chiefly
derogatory, it will facilitate hostile, disparaging appraisals of other people and it
will entertain disparaging and hostile appraisals of itself.16
This process of constructing our self-regard on the basis of reflected appraisals that we
read in the eyes of important others continues, of course, through the developmental cycle.
Grunebaum and Solomon, in their study of adolescents, have stressed that satisfying peer
relationships and self-esteem are inseparable concepts.17 The same is true for the elderly
—we never outgrow the need for meaningful relatedness.18
Sullivan used the term “parataxic distortions” to describe individuals’ proclivity to
distort their perceptions of others. A parataxic distortion occurs in an interpersonal
situation when one person relates to another not on the basis of the realistic attributes of
the other but on the basis of a personification existing chiefly in the former’s own fantasy.
Although parataxic distortion is similar to the concept of transference, it differs in two
important ways. First, the scope is broader: it refers not only to an individual’s distorted
view of the therapist but to all interpersonal relationships (including, of course, distorted
relationships among group members). Second, the theory of origin is broader: parataxic
distortion is constituted not only of the simple transferring onto contemporary
relationships of attitudes toward real-life figures of the past but also of the distortion of
interpersonal reality in response to intrapersonal needs. I will generally use the two terms
interchangeably; despite the imputed difference in origins, transference and parataxic
distortion may be considered operationally identical. Furthermore, many therapists today
use the term transference to refer to all interpersonal distortions rather than confining its
use to the client-therapist relationship (see chapter 7).
The transference distortions emerge from a set of deeply stored memories of early
interactional experiences.19 These memories contribute to the construction of an internal
working model that shapes the individual’s attachment patterns throughout life.20 This
internal working model also known as a schema21 consists of the individual’s beliefs about
himself, the way he makes sense of relationship cues, and the ensuing interpersonal
behavior—not only his own but the type of behavior he draws from others. 22 For
instance, a young woman who grows up with depressed and overburdened parents is likely
to feel that if she is to stay connected and attached to others, she must make no demands,
suppress her independence, and subordinate herself to the emotional needs of others.†
Psychotherapy may present her first opportunity to disconfirm her rigid and limiting
interpersonal road map.
Interpersonal (that is, parataxic) distortions tend to be self-perpetuating. For example,
an individual with a derogatory, debased self-image may, through selective inattention or
projection, incorrectly perceive another to be harsh and rejecting. Moreover, the process
compounds itself because that individual may then gradually develop mannerisms and
behavioral traits—for example, servility, defensive antagonism, or condescension—that
eventually will cause others to become, in reality, harsh and rejecting. This sequence is

commonly referred to as a “self-fulfilling prophecy”—the individual anticipates that
others will respond in a certain manner and then unwittingly behaves in a manner that
brings that to pass. In other words, causality in relationships is circular and not linear.
Interpersonal research supports this thesis by demonstrating that one’s interpersonal
beliefs express themselves in behaviors that have a predictable impact on others.23
Interpersonal distortions, in Sullivan’s view, are modifiable primarily through
consensual validation—that is, through comparing one’s interpersonal evaluations with
those of others. Consensual validation is a particularly important concept in group therapy.
Not infrequently a group member alters distortions after checking out the other members’
views of some important incident.
This brings us to Sullivan’s view of the therapeutic process. He suggests that the proper
focus of research in mental health is the study of processes that involve or go on between
people.24 Mental disorder, or psychiatric symptomatology in all its varied manifestations,
should be translated into interpersonal terms and treated accordingly.25 Current
psychotherapies for many disorders emphasize this principle.† “Mental disorder” also
consists of interpersonal processes that are either inadequate to the social situation or
excessively complex because the individual is relating to others not only as they are but
also in terms of distorted images based on who they represent from the past. Maladaptive
interpersonal behavior can be further defined by its rigidity, extremism, distortion,
circularity, and its seeming inescapability.26
Accordingly, psychiatric treatment should be directed toward the correction of
interpersonal distortions, thus enabling the individual to lead a more abundant life, to
participate collaboratively with others, to obtain interpersonal satisfactions in the context
of realistic, mutually satisfying interpersonal relationships: “One achieves mental health to
the extent that one becomes aware of one’s interpersonal relationships.”27 Psychiatric cure
is the “expanding of the self to such final effect that the patient as known to himself is
much the same person as the patient behaving to others.”28 Although core negative beliefs
about oneself do not disappear totally with treatment, effective treatment generates a
capacity for interpersonal mastery29 such that the client can respond with a broadened,
flexible, empathetic, and more adaptive repertoire of behaviors, replacing vicious cycles
with constructive ones.
Improving interpersonal communication is the focus of a range of parent and child
group psychotherapy interventions that address childhood conduct disorders and antisocial
behavior. Poor communication of children’s needs and of parental expectations generates
feelings of personal helplessness and ineffectiveness in both children and parents. These
lead to the children’s acting-out behaviors as well as to parental responses that are often
hostile, devaluing, and inadvertently inflammatory.30 In these groups, parents and children
learn to recognize and correct maladaptive interpersonal cycles through the use of
psychoeducation, problem solving, interpersonal skills training, role-playing, and
feedback.
These ideas—that therapy is broadly interpersonal, both in its goals and in its means—

are exceedingly germane to group therapy. That does not mean that all, or even most,
clients entering group therapy ask explicitly for help in their interpersonal relationships.
Yet I have observed that the therapeutic goals of clients often undergo a shift after a
number of sessions. Their initial goal, relief of suffering, is modified and eventually
replaced by new goals, usually interpersonal in nature. For example, goals may change
from wanting relief from anxiety or depression to wanting to learn to communicate with
others, to be more trusting and honest with others, to learn to love. In the brief group
therapies, this translation of client concerns and aspirations into interpersonal ones may
need to take place earlier, at the assessment and preparation phase (see chapter 10).31
The goal shift from relief of suffering to change in interpersonal functioning is an
essential early step in the dynamic therapeutic process. It is important in the thinking of
the therapist as well. Therapists cannot, for example, treat depression per se: depression
offers no effective therapeutic handhold, no rationale for examining interpersonal
relationships, which, as I hope to demonstrate, is the key to the therapeutic power of the
therapy group. It is necessary, first, to translate depression into interpersonal terms and
then to treat the underlying interpersonal pathology. Thus, the therapist translates
depression into its interpersonal issues—for example, passive dependency, isolation,
obsequiousness, inability to express anger, hypersensitivity to separation—and then
addresses those interpersonal issues in therapy.
Sullivan’s statement of the overall process and goals of individual therapy is deeply
consistent with those of interactional group therapy. This interpersonal and relational
focus is a defining strength of group therapy.† The emphasis on the client’s understanding
of the past, of the genetic development of those maladaptive interpersonal stances, may be
less crucial in group therapy than in the individual setting where Sullivan worked (see
chapter 6).
The theory of interpersonal relationships has become so much an integral part of the
fabric of psychiatric thought that it needs no further underscoring. People need people—
for initial and continued survival, for socialization, for the pursuit of satisfaction. No one
—not the dying, not the outcast, not the mighty—transcends the need for human contact.
During my many years of leading groups of individuals who all had some advanced
form of cancer,32 I was repeatedly struck by the realization that, in the face of death, we
dread not so much nonbeing or nothingness but the accompanying utter loneliness. Dying
patients may be haunted by interpersonal concerns—about being abandoned, for example,
even shunned, by the world of the living. One woman, for example, had planned to give a
large evening social function and learned that very morning that her cancer, heretofore
believed contained, had metastasized. She kept the information secret and gave the party,
all the while dwelling on the horrible thought that the pain from her disease would
eventually grow so unbearable that she would become less human and, finally,
unacceptable to others.
The isolation of the dying is often double-edged. Patients themselves often avoid those
they most cherish, fearing that they will drag their family and friends into the quagmire of
their despair. Thus they avoid morbid talk, develop an airy, cheery facade, and keep their

fears to themselves. Their friends and family contribute to the isolation by pulling back,
by not knowing how to speak to the dying, by not wanting to upset them or themselves. I
agree with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross that the question is not whether but how to tell a patient
openly and honestly about a fatal illness. The patient is always informed covertly that he
or she is dying by the demeanor, by the shrinking away, of the living.33
Physicians often add to the isolation by keeping patients with advanced cancer at a
considerable psychological distance—perhaps to avoid their sense of failure and futility,
perhaps also to avoid dread of their own death. They make the mistake of concluding that,
after all, there is nothing more they can do. Yet from the patient’s standpoint, this is the
very time when the physician is needed the most, not for technical aid but for sheer human
presence. What the patient needs is to make contact, to be able to touch others, to voice
concerns openly, to be reminded that he or she is not only apart from but also a part of.
Psychotherapeutic approaches are beginning to address these specific concerns of the
terminally ill—their fear of isolation and their desire to retain dignity within their
relationships.† Consider the outcasts—those individuals thought to be so inured to
rejection that their interpersonal needs have become heavily calloused. The outcasts, too,
have compelling social needs. I once had an experience in a prison that provided me with
a forceful reminder of the ubiquitous nature of this human need. An untrained psychiatric
technician consulted me about his therapy group, composed of twelve inmates. The
members of the group were all hardened recidivists, whose offenses ranged from
aggressive sexual violation of a minor to murder. The group, he complained, was sluggish
and persisted in focusing on extraneous, extragroup material. I agreed to observe his group
and suggested that first he obtain some sociometric information by asking each member
privately to rank-order everyone in the group for general popularity. (I had hoped that the
discussion of this task would induce the group to turn its attention upon itself.) Although
we had planned to discuss these results before the next group session, unexpected
circumstances forced us to cancel our presession consultation.
During the next group meeting, the therapist, enthusiastic but professionally
inexperienced and insensitive to interpersonal needs, announced that he would read aloud
the results of the popularity poll. Hearing this, the group members grew agitated and
fearful. They made it clear that they did not wish to know the results. Several members
spoke so vehemently of the devastating possibility that they might appear at the bottom of
the list that the therapist quickly and permanently abandoned his plan of reading the list
aloud.
I suggested an alternative plan for the next meeting: each member would indicate whose
vote he cared about most and then explain his choice. This device, also, was too
threatening, and only one-third of the members ventured a choice. Nevertheless, the group
shifted to an interactional level and developed a degree of tension, involvement, and
exhilaration previously unknown. These men had received the ultimate message of
rejection from society at large: they were imprisoned, segregated, and explicitly labeled as
outcasts. To the casual observer, they seemed hardened, indifferent to the subtleties of
interpersonal approval and disapproval. Yet they cared, and cared deeply.

The need for acceptance by and interaction with others is no different among people at
the opposite pole of human fortunes—those who occupy the ultimate realms of power,
renown, or wealth. I once worked with an enormously wealthy client for three years. The
major issues revolved about the wedge that money created between herself and others. Did
anyone value her for herself rather than her money? Was she continually being exploited
by others? To whom could she complain of the burdens of a ninetymillion-dollar fortune?
The secret of her wealth kept her isolated from others. And gifts! How could she possibly
give appropriate gifts without having others feel either disappointed or awed? There is no
need to belabor the point; the loneliness of the very privileged is common knowledge.
(Loneliness is, incidentally, not irrelevant to the group therapist; in chapter 7, I will
discuss the loneliness inherent in the role of group leader.)
Every group therapist has, I am sure, encountered group members who profess
indifference to or detachment from the group. They proclaim, “I don’t care what they say
or think or feel about me; they’re nothing to me; I have no respect for the other members,”
or words to that effect. My experience has been that if I can keep such clients in the group
long enough, their wishes for contact inevitably surface. They are concerned at a very
deep level about the group. One member who maintained her indifferent posture for many
months was once invited to ask the group her secret question, the one question she would
like most of all to place before the group. To everyone’s astonishment, this seemingly
aloof, detached woman posed this question: “How can you put up with me?”
Many clients anticipate meetings with great eagerness or with anxiety; some feel too
shaken afterward to drive home or to sleep that night; many have imaginary conversations
with the group during the week. Moreover, this engagement with other members is often
long-lived; I have known many clients who think and dream about the group members
months, even years, after the group has ended.
In short, people do not feel indifferent toward others in their group for long. And clients
do not quit the therapy group because of boredom. Believe scorn, contempt, fear,
discouragement, shame, panic, hatred! Believe any of these! But never believe
indifference!
In summary, then, I have reviewed some aspects of personality development, mature
functioning, psychopathology, and psychiatric treatment from the point of view of
interpersonal theory. Many of the issues that I have raised have a vital bearing on the
therapeutic process in group therapy: the concept that mental illness emanates from
disturbed interpersonal relationships, the role of consensual validation in the modification
of interpersonal distortions, the definition of the therapeutic process as an adaptive
modification of interpersonal relationships, and the enduring nature and potency of the
human being’s social needs. Let us now turn to the corrective emotional experience, the
second of the three concepts necessary to understand the therapeutic factor of
interpersonal learning.
THE CORRECTIVE EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE

In 1946, Franz Alexander, when describing the mechanism of psychoanalytic cure,
introduced the concept of the “corrective emotional experience.” The basic principle of
treatment, he stated, “is to expose the patient, under more favorable circumstances, to
emotional situations that he could not handle in the past. The patient, in order to be helped,
must undergo a corrective emotional experience suitable to repair the traumatic influence
of previous experience.”34 Alexander insisted that intellectual insight alone is insufficient:
there must be an emotional component and systematic reality testing as well. Patients,
while affectively interacting with their therapist in a distorted fashion because of
transference, gradually must become aware of the fact that “these reactions are not
appropriate to the analyst’s reactions, not only because he (the analyst) is objective, but
also because he is what he is, a person in his own right. They are not suited to the situation
between patient and therapist, and they are equally unsuited to the patient’s current
interpersonal relationships in his daily life.”35
Although the idea of the corrective emotional experience was criticized over the years
because it was misconstrued as contrived, inauthentic, or manipulative, contemporary
psychotherapies view it as a cornerstone of therapeutic effectiveness. Change both at the
behavioral level and at the deeper level of internalized images of past relationships does
not occur primarily through interpretation and insight but through meaningful here-and-
now relational experience that disconfirms the client’s pathogenic beliefs. 36 When such
discomfirmation occurs, change can be dramatic: clients express more emotion, recall
more personally relevant and formative experiences, and show evidence of more boldness
and a greater sense of self.37
These basic principles—the importance of the emotional experience in therapy and the
client’s discovery, through reality testing, of the inappropriateness of his or her
interpersonal reactions—are as crucial in group therapy as in individual therapy, and
possibly more so because the group setting offers far more opportunities for the generation
of corrective emotional experiences. In the individual setting, the corrective emotional
experience, valuable as it is, may be harder to come by, because the client-therapist
relationship is more insular and the client is more able to dispute the spontaneity, scope,
and authenticity of that relationship. (I believe Alexander was aware of that, because at
one point he suggested that the analyst may have to be an actor, may have to play a role in
order to create the desired emotional atmosphere.)38
No such simulation is necessary in the therapy group, which contains many built-in
tensions—tensions whose roots reach deep into primeval layers: sibling rivalry,
competition for leaders’/parents’ attention, the struggle for dominance and status, sexual
tensions, parataxic distortions, and differences in social class, education, and values
among the members. But the evocation and expression of raw affect is not sufficient: it has
to be transformed into a corrective emotional experience. For that to occur two conditions
are required: (1) the members must experience the group as sufficiently safe and
supportive so that these tensions may be openly expressed; (2) there must be sufficient
engagement and honest feedback to permit effective reality testing.
Over many years of clinical work, I have made it a practice to interview clients after

they have completed group therapy. I always inquire about some critical incident, a
turning point, or the most helpful single event in therapy. Although “critical incident” is
not synonymous with therapeutic factor, the two are not unrelated, and much may be
learned from an examination of single important events. My clients almost invariably cite
an incident that is highly laden emotionally and involves some other group member, rarely
the therapist.
The most common type of incident my clients report (as did clients described by Frank
and Ascher)39 involves a sudden expression of strong dislike or anger toward another
member. In each instance, communication was maintained, the storm was weathered, and
the client experienced a sense of liberation from inner restraints as well as an enhanced
ability to explore more deeply his or her interpersonal relationships.
The important characteristics of such critical incidents were:
1. The client expressed strong negative affect.
2. This expression was a unique or novel experience for the client.
3. The client had always dreaded the expression of anger. Yet no catastrophe ensued:
no one left or died; the roof did not collapse.
4. Reality testing ensued. The client realized either that the anger expressed was
inappropriate in intensity or direction or that prior avoidance of affect expression
had been irrational. The client may or may not have gained some insight, that is,
learned the reasons accounting either for the inappropriate affect or for the prior
avoidance of affect experience or expression.
5. The client was enabled to interact more freely and to explore interpersonal
relationships more deeply.
Thus, when I see two group members in conflict with one another, I believe there is an
excellent chance that they will be particularly important to one another in the course of
therapy. In fact, if the conflict is particularly uncomfortable, I may attempt to ameliorate
some of the discomfort by expressing that hunch aloud.
The second most common type of critical incident my clients describe also involves
strong affect—but, in these instances, positive affect. For example, a schizoid client
described an incident in which he ran after and comforted a distressed group member who
had bolted from the room; later he spoke of how profoundly he was affected by learning
that he could care for and help someone else. Others spoke of discovering their aliveness
or of feeling in touch with themselves. These incidents had in common the following
characteristics:
1. The client expressed strong positive affect—an unusual occurrence.
2. The feared catastrophe did not occur—derision, rejection, engulfment, the
destruction of others.
3. The client discovered a previously unknown part of the self and thus was enabled
to relate to others in a new fashion.

The third most common category of critical incident is similar to the second. Clients
recall an incident, usually involving self-disclosure, that plunged them into greater
involvement with the group. For example, a previously withdrawn, reticent man who had
missed a couple of meetings disclosed to the group how desperately he wanted to hear the
group members say that they had missed him during his absence. Others, too, in one
fashion or another, openly asked the group for help.
To summarize, the corrective emotional experience in group therapy has several
components:
1. A strong expression of emotion, which is interpersonally directed and constitutes a
risk taken by the client.
2. A group supportive enough to permit this risk taking.
3. Reality testing, which allows the individual to examine the incident with the aid of
consensual validation from the other members.
4. A recognition of the inappropriateness of certain interpersonal feelings and
behavior or of the inappropriateness of avoiding certain interpersonal behavior.
5. The ultimate facilitation of the individual’s ability to interact with others more
deeply and honestly.
Therapy is an emotional and a corrective experience. This dual nature of the therapeutic
process is of elemental significance, and I will return to it again and again in this text. We
must experience something strongly; but we must also, through our faculty of reason,
understand the implications of that emotional experience.† Over time, the client’s deeply
held beliefs will change—and these changes will be reinforced if the client’s new
interpersonal behaviors evoke constructive interpersonal responses. Even subtle
interpersonal shifts can reflect a profound change and need to be acknowledged and
reinforced by the therapist and group members.
Barbara, a depressed young woman, vividly described her isolation and alienation
to the group and then turned to Alice, who had been silent. Barbara and Alice had
often sparred because Barbara would accuse Alice of ignoring and rejecting her.
In this meeting, however, Barbara used a more gentle tone and asked Alice about
the meaning of her silence. Alice responded that she was listening carefully and
thinking about how much they had in common. She then added that Barbara’s
more gentle inquiry allowed her to give voice to her thoughts rather than defend
herself against the charge of not caring, a sequence that had ended badly for them
both in earlier sessions. The seemingly small but vitally important shift in
Barbara’s capacity to approach Alice empathically created an opportunity for
repair rather than repetition.
This formulation has direct relevance to a key concept of group therapy, the here-and-
now, which I will discuss in depth in chapter 6. Here I will state only this basic premise:
When the therapy group focuses on the here-and-now, it increases in power and
effectiveness.

But if the here-and-now focus (that is, a focus on what is happening in this room in the
immediate present) is to be therapeutic, it must have two components: the group members
must experience one another with as much spontaneity and honesty as possible, and they
must also reflect back on that experience. This reflecting back, this self-reflective loop, is
crucial if an emotional experience is to be transformed into a therapeutic one. As we shall
see in the discussion of the therapist’s tasks in chapter 5, most groups have little difficulty
in entering the emotional stream of the here-and-now; but generally it is the therapist’s job
to keep directing the group toward the self-reflective aspect of that process.
The mistaken assumption that a strong emotional experience is in itself a sufficient
force for change is seductive as well as venerable. Modern psychotherapy was conceived
in that very error: the first description of dynamic psychotherapy (Freud and Breuer’s
1895 Studies on Hysteria)40 described a method of cathartic treatment based on the
conviction that hysteria is caused by a traumatic event to which the individual has never
fully responded emotionally. Since illness was supposed to be caused by strangulated
affect, treatment was directed toward giving a voice to the stillborn emotion. It was not
long before Freud recognized the error: emotional expression, though necessary, is not a
sufficient condition for change. Freud’s discarded ideas have refused to die and have been
the seed for a continuous fringe of therapeutic ideologies. The Viennese fin-de-siècle
cathartic treatment still lives today in the approaches of primal scream, bioenergetics, and
the many group leaders who place an exaggerated emphasis on emotional catharsis.
My colleagues and I conducted an intensive investigation of the process and outcome of
many of the encounter techniques popular in the 1970s (see chapter 16), and our findings
provide much support for the dual emotional-intellectual components of the
psychotherapeutic process.41
We explored, in a number of ways, the relationship between each member’s experience
in the group and his or her outcome. For example, we asked the members after the
conclusion of the group to reflect on those aspects of the group experience they deemed
most pertinent to their change. We also asked them during the course of the group, at the
end of each meeting, to describe which event at that meeting had the most personal
significance. When we correlated the type of event with outcome, we obtained surprising
results that disconfirmed many of the contemporary stereotypes about the prime
ingredients of the successful encounter group experience. Although emotional experiences
(expression and experiencing of strong affect, self-disclosure, giving and receiving
feedback) were considered extremely important, they did not distinguish successful from
unsuccessful group members. In other words, the members who were unchanged or even
had a destructive experience were as likely as successful members to value highly the
emotional incidents of the group.
What types of experiences did differentiate the successful from the unsuccessful
members? There was clear evidence that a cognitive component was essential; some type
of cognitive map was needed, some intellectual system that framed the experience and
made sense of the emotions evoked in the group. (See chapter 16 for a full discussion of
this result.) That these findings occurred in groups led by leaders who did not attach much

importance to the intellectual component speaks strongly for its being part of the
foundation, not the facade, of the change process.42
THE GROUP AS SOCIAL MICROCOSM
A freely interactive group, with few structural restrictions, will, in time, develop into a
social microcosm of the participant members. Given enough time, group members will
begin to be themselves: they will interact with the group members as they interact with
others in their social sphere, will create in the group the same interpersonal universe they
have always inhabited. In other words, clients will, over time, automatically and inevitably
begin to display their maladaptive interpersonal behavior in the therapy group. There is no
need for them to describe or give a detailed history of their pathology: they will sooner or
later enact it before the other group members’ eyes. Furthermore, their behavior serves as
accurate data and lacks the unwitting but inevitable blind spots of self-report. Character
pathology is often hard for the individual to report because it is so well assimilated into
the fabric of the self and outside of conscious and explicit awareness. As a result, group
therapy, with its emphasis on feedback, is a particularly effective treatment for individuals
with character pathology.43
This concept is of paramount importance in group therapy and is a keystone of the
entire approach to group therapy. Each member’s interpersonal style will eventually
appear in his or her transactions in the group. Some styles result in interpersonal friction
that will be manifest early in the course of the group. Individuals who are, for example,
angry, vindictive, harshly judgmental, self-effacing, or grandly coquettish will generate
considerable interpersonal static even in the first few meetings. Their maladaptive social
patterns will quickly elicit the group’s attention. Others may require more time in therapy
before their difficulties manifest themselves in the here-and-now of the group. This
includes clients who may be equally or more severely troubled but whose interpersonal
difficulties are more subtle, such as individuals who quietly exploit others, those who
achieve intimacy to a point but then, becoming frightened, disengage themselves, or those
who pseudo-engage, maintaining a subordinate, compliant position.
The initial business of a group usually consists of dealing with the members whose
pathology is most interpersonally blatant. Some interpersonal styles become crystal-clear
from a single transaction, some from a single group meeting, and others require many
sessions of observation to understand. The development of the ability to identify and put
to therapeutic advantage maladaptive interpersonal behavior as seen in the social
microcosm of the small group is one of the chief tasks of a training program for group
psychotherapists. Some clinical examples may make these principles more graphic.d
The Grand Dame

Valerie, a twenty-seven-year-old musician, sought therapy with me primarily because of
severe marital discord of several years’ standing. She had had considerable, unrewarding
individual and hypnotic uncovering therapy. Her husband, she reported, was an alcoholic
who was reluctant to engage her socially, intellectually, or sexually. Now the group could
have, as some groups do, investigated her marriage interminably. The members might
have taken a complete history of the courtship, of the evolution of the discord, of her
husband’s pathology, of her reasons for marrying him, of her role in the conflict. They
might have followed up this collection of information with advice for changing the marital
interaction or perhaps suggestions for a trial or permanent separation.
But all this historical, problem-solving activity would have been in vain: this entire line
of inquiry not only disregards the unique potential of therapy groups but also is based on
the highly questionable premise that a client’s account of a marriage is even reasonably
accurate. Groups that function in this manner fail to help the protagonist and also suffer
demoralization because of the ineffectiveness of a problem-solving, historical group
therapy approach. Let us instead observe Valerie’s behavior as it unfolded in the here-and-
now of the group.
Valerie’s group behavior was flamboyant. First, there was her grand entrance, always
five or ten minutes late. Bedecked in fashionable but flashy garb, she would sweep in,
sometimes throwing kisses, and immediately begin talking, oblivious to whether another
member was in the middle of a sentence. Here was narcissism in the raw! Her worldview
was so solipsistic that it did not take in the possibility that life could have been going on in
the group before her arrival.
After very few meetings, Valerie began to give gifts: to an obese female member, a copy
of a new diet book; to a woman with strabismus, the name of a good ophthalmologist; to
an effeminate gay client, a subscription to Field and Stream magazine (intended, no doubt,
to masculinize him); to a twenty-four-year-old virginal male, an introduction to a
promiscuous divorced friend of hers. Gradually it became apparent that the gifts were not
duty-free. For example, she pried into the relationship that developed between the young
man and her divorced friend and insisted on serving as confidante and go-between, thus
exerting considerable control over both individuals.
Her efforts to dominate soon colored all of her interactions in the group. I became a
challenge to her, and she made various efforts to control me. By sheer chance, a few
months previously I had seen her sister in consultation and referred her to a competent
therapist, a clinical psychologist. In the group Valerie congratulated me for the brilliant
tactic of sending her sister to a psychologist; I must have divined her deep-seated aversion
to psychiatrists. Similarly, on another occasion, she responded to a comment from me,
“How perceptive you were to have noticed my hands trembling.”
The trap was set! In fact, I had neither “divined” her sister’s alleged aversion to
psychiatrists (I had simply referred her to the best therapist I knew) nor noted Valerie’s
trembling hands. If I silently accepted her undeserved tribute, then I would enter into a
dishonest collusion with Valerie; if, on the other hand, I admitted my insensitivity either to
the trembling of the hands or to the sister’s aversion, then, by acknowledging my lack of

perceptivity, I would have also been bested. She would control me either way! In such
situations, the therapist has only one real option: to change the frame and to comment on
the process—the nature and the meaning of the entrapment. (I will have a great deal more
to say about relevant therapist technique in chapter 6.)
Valerie vied with me in many other ways. Intuitive and intellectually gifted, she became
the group expert on dream and fantasy interpretation. On one occasion she saw me
between group sessions to ask whether she could use my name to take a book out of the
medical library. On one level the request was reasonable: the book (on music therapy) was
related to her profession; furthermore, having no university affiliation, she was not
permitted to use the library. However, in the context of the group process, the request was
complex in that she was testing limits; granting her request would have signaled to the
group that she had a special and unique relationship with me. I clarified these
considerations to her and suggested further discussion in the next session. Following this
perceived rebuttal, however, she called the three male members of the group at home and,
after swearing them to secrecy, arranged to see them. She engaged in sexual relations with
two; the third, a gay man, was not interested in her sexual advances but she launched a
formidable seduction attempt nonetheless.
The following group meeting was horrific. Extraordinarily tense and unproductive, it
demonstrated the axiom (to be discussed later) that if something important in the group is
being actively avoided, then nothing else of import gets talked about either. Two days later
Valerie, overcome with anxiety and guilt, asked for an individual session with me and
made a full confession. It was agreed that the whole matter should be discussed in the next
group meeting.
Valerie opened the next meeting with the words: “This is confession day! Go ahead,
Charles!” and then later, “Your turn, Louis,” deftly manipulating the situation so that the
confessed transgressions became the sole responsibilities of the men in question, and not
herself. Each man performed as she bade him and, later in the meeting, received from her
a critical evaluation of his sexual performance. A few weeks later, Valerie let her estranged
husband know what had happened, and he sent threatening messages to all three men.
That was the last straw! The members decided they could no longer trust her and, in the
only such instance I have known, voted her out of the group. (She continued her therapy
by joining another group.) The saga does not end here, but perhaps I have recounted
enough to illustrate the concept of the group as social microcosm.
Let me summarize. The first step was that Valerie clearly displayed her interpersonal
pathology in the group. Her narcissism, her need for adulation, her need to control, her
sadistic relationship with men—the entire tragic behavioral scroll—unrolled in the here-
and-now of therapy. The next step was reaction and feedback. The men expressed their
deep humiliation and anger at having to “jump through a hoop” for her and at receiving
“grades” for their sexual performance. They drew away from her. They began to reflect: “I
don’t want a report card every time I have sex. It’s controlling, like sleeping with my
mother! I’m beginning to understand more about your husband moving out!” and so on.
The others in the group, the female members and the therapists, shared the men’s feelings

about the wantonly destructive course of Valerie’s behavior—destructive for the group as
well as for herself.
Most important of all, she had to deal with this fact: she had joined a group of troubled
individuals who were eager to help each other and whom she grew to like and respect; yet,
in the course of several weeks, she had so poisoned her own environment that, against her
conscious wishes, she became a pariah, an outcast from a group that could have been very
helpful to her. Facing and working through these issues in her subsequent therapy group
enabled her to make substantial personal changes and to employ much of her considerable
potential constructively in her later relationships and endeavors.
The Man Who Liked Robin Hood
Ron, a forty-eight-year-old attorney who was separated from his wife, entered therapy
because of depression, anxiety, and intense feelings of loneliness. His relationships with
both men and women were highly problematic. He yearned for a close male friend but had
not had one since high school. His current relationships with men assumed one of two
forms: either he and the other man related in a highly competitive, antagonistic fashion,
which veered dangerously close to combativeness, or he assumed an exceedingly
dominant role and soon found the relationship empty and dull.
His relationships with women had always followed a predictable sequence: instant
attraction, a crescendo of passion, a rapid loss of interest. His love for his wife had
withered years ago and he was currently in the midst of a painful divorce.
Intelligent and highly articulate, Ron immediately assumed a position of great influence
in the group. He offered a continuous stream of useful and thoughtful observations to the
other members, yet kept his own pain and his own needs well concealed. He requested
nothing and accepted nothing from me or my co-therapist. In fact, each time I set out to
interact with Ron, I felt myself bracing for battle. His antagonistic resistance was so great
that for months my major interaction with him consisted of repeatedly requesting him to
examine his reluctance to experience me as someone who could offer help.
“Ron,” I suggested, giving it my best shot, “let’s understand what’s happening. You
have many areas of unhappiness in your life. I’m an experienced therapist, and you come
to me for help. You come regularly, you never miss a meeting, you pay me for my
services, yet you systematically prevent me from helping you. Either you so hide your
pain that I find little to offer you, or when I do extend some help, you reject it in one
fashion or another. Reason dictates that we should be allies. Shouldn’t we be working
together to help you? Tell me, how does it come about that we are adversaries?”
But even that failed to alter our relationship. Ron seemed bemused and skillfully and
convincingly speculated that I might be identifying one of my problems rather than his.
His relationship with the other group members was characterized by his insistence on
seeing them outside the group. He systematically arranged for some extragroup activity
with each of the members. He was a pilot and took some members flying, others sailing,

others to lavish dinners; he gave legal advice to some and became romantically involved
with one of the female members; and (the final straw) he invited my co-therapist, a female
psychiatric resident, for a skiing weekend.
Furthermore, he refused to examine his behavior or to discuss these extragroup
meetings in the group, even though the pregroup preparation (see chapter 12) had
emphasized to all the members that such unexamined, undiscussed extragroup meetings
generally sabotage therapy.
After one meeting when we pressured him unbearably to examine the meaning of the
extragroup invitations, especially the skiing invitation to my co-therapist, he left the
session confused and shaken. On his way home, Ron unaccountably began to think of
Robin Hood, his favorite childhood story but something he had not thought about for
decades.
Following an impulse, he went directly to the children’s section of the nearest public
library to sit in a small child’s chair and read the story one more time. In a flash, the
meaning of his behavior was illuminated! Why had the Robin Hood legend always
fascinated and delighted him? Because Robin Hood rescued people, especially women,
from tyrants!
That motif had played a powerful role in his interior life, beginning with the Oedipal
struggles in his own family. Later, in early adulthood, he built up a successful law firm by
first assisting in a partnership and then enticing his boss’s employees to work for him. He
had often been most attracted to women who were attached to some powerful man. Even
his motives for marrying were blurred: he could not distinguish between love for his wife
and desire to rescue her from a tyrannical father.
The first stage of interpersonal learning is pathology display. Ron’s characteristic modes
of relating to both men and women unfolded vividly in the microcosm of the group. His
major interpersonal motif was to struggle with and to vanquish other men. He competed
openly and, because of his intelligence and his great verbal skills, soon procured the
dominant role in the group. He then began to mobilize the other members in the final
conspiracy: the unseating of the therapist. He formed close alliances through extragroup
meetings and by placing other members in his debt by offering favors. Next he endeavored
to capture “my women”—first the most attractive female member and then my co-
therapist.
Not only was Ron’s interpersonal pathology displayed in the group, but so were its
adverse, self-defeating consequences. His struggles with men resulted in the undermining
of the very reason he had come to therapy: to obtain help. In fact, the competitive struggle
was so powerful that any help I extended him was experienced not as help but as defeat, a
sign of weakness.
Furthermore, the microcosm of the group revealed the consequences of his actions on
the texture of his relationships with his peers. In time the other members became aware
that Ron did not really relate to them. He only appeared to relate but, in actuality, was
using them as a way of relating to me, the powerful and feared male in the group. The

others soon felt used, felt the absence of a genuine desire in Ron to know them, and
gradually began to distance themselves from him. Only after Ron was able to understand
and to alter his intense and distorted ways of relating to me was he able to turn to and
relate in good faith to the other members of the group.
“Those Damn Men”
Linda, forty-six years old and thrice divorced, entered the group because of anxiety and
severe functional gastrointestinal distress. Her major interpersonal issue was her
tormented, self-destructive relationship with her current boyfriend. In fact, throughout her
life she had encountered a long series of men (father, brothers, bosses, lovers, and
husbands) who had abused her both physically and psychologically. Her account of the
abuse that she had suffered, and suffered still, at the hands of men was harrowing.
The group could do little to help her, aside from applying balm to her wounds and
listening empathically to her accounts of continuing mistreatment by her current boss and
boyfriend. Then one day an unusual incident occurred that graphically illuminated her
dynamics. She called me one morning in great distress. She had had an extremely
unsettling altercation with her boyfriend and felt panicky and suicidal. She felt she could
not possibly wait for the next group meeting, still four days off, and pleaded for an
immediate individual session. Although it was greatly inconvenient, I rearranged my
appointments that afternoon and scheduled time to meet her. Approximately thirty minutes
before our meeting, she called and left word with my secretary that she would not be
coming in after all.
In the next group meeting, when I inquired what had happened, Linda said that she had
decided to cancel the emergency session because she was feeling slightly better by the
afternoon, and that she knew I had a rule that I would see a client only one time in an
emergency during the whole course of group therapy. She therefore thought it might be
best to save that option for a time when she might be even more in crisis.
I found her response bewildering. I had never made such a rule; I never refuse to see
someone in real crisis. Nor did any of the other members of the group recall my having
issued such a dictum. But Linda stuck to her guns: she insisted that she had heard me say
it, and she was dissuaded neither by my denial nor by the unanimous consensus of the
other group members. Nor did she seem concerned in any way about the inconvenience
she had caused me. In the group discussion she grew defensive and acrimonious.
This incident, unfolding in the social microcosm of the group, was highly informative
and allowed us to obtain an important perspective on Linda’s responsibility for some of
her problematic relationships with men. Up until that point, the group had to rely entirely
on her portrayal of these relationships. Linda’s accounts were convincing, and the group
had come to accept her vision of herself as victim of “all those damn men out there.” An
examination of the here-and-now incident indicated that Linda had distorted her
perceptions of at least one important man in her life: her therapist. Moreover—and this is
extremely important—she had distorted the incident in a highly predictable fashion: she

experienced me as far more uncaring, insensitive, and authoritarian than I really was.
This was new data, and it was convincing data—and it was displayed before the eyes of
all the members. For the first time, the group began to wonder about the accuracy of
Linda’s accounts of her relationships with men. Undoubtedly, she faithfully portrayed her
feelings, but it became apparent that there were perceptual distortions at work: because of
her expectations of men and her highly conflicted relationships with them, she
misperceived their actions toward her.
But there was more yet to be learned from the social microcosm. An important piece of
data was the tone of the discussion: the defensiveness, the irritation, the anger. In time I,
too, became irritated by the thankless inconvenience I had suffered by changing my
schedule to meet with Linda. I was further irritated by her insistence that I had proclaimed
a certain insensitive rule when I (and the rest of the group) knew I had not. I fell into a
reverie in which I asked myself, “What would it be like to live with Linda all the time
instead of an hour and a half a week?” If there were many such incidents, I could imagine
myself often becoming angry, exasperated, and uncaring toward her. This is a particularly
clear example of the concept of the self-fulfilling prophecy described on page 22. Linda
predicted that men would behave toward her in a certain way and then, unconsciously,
operated so as to bring this prediction to pass.
Men Who Could Not Feel
Allen, a thirty-year-old unmarried scientist, sought therapy for a single, sharply delineated
problem: he wanted to be able to feel sexually stimulated by a woman. Intrigued by this
conundrum, the group searched for an answer. They investigated his early life, sexual
habits, and fantasies. Finally, baffled, they turned to other issues in the group. As the
sessions continued, Allen seemed impassive and insensitive to his own and others’ pain.
On one occasion, for example, an unmarried member in great distress announced in sobs
that she was pregnant and was planning to have an abortion. During her account she also
mentioned that she had had a bad PCP trip. Allen, seemingly unmoved by her tears,
persisted in posing intellectual questions about the effects of “angel dust” and was puzzled
when the group commented on his insensitivity.
So many similar incidents occurred that the group came to expect no emotion from him.
When directly queried about his feelings, he responded as if he had been addressed in
Sanskrit or Aramaic. After some months the group formulated an answer to his oft-
repeated question, “Why can’t I have sexual feelings toward a woman?” They asked him
to consider instead why he couldn’t have any feelings toward anybody.
Changes in his behavior occurred very gradually. He learned to spot and identify
feelings by pursuing telltale autonomic signs: facial flushing, gastric tightness, sweating
palms. On one occasion a volatile woman in the group threatened to leave the group
because she was exasperated trying to relate to “a psychologically deaf and dumb
goddamned robot.” Allen again remained impassive, responding only, “I’m not going to
get down to your level.”

However, the next week when he was asked about the feelings he had taken home from
the group, he said that after the meeting he had gone home and cried like a baby. (When
he left the group a year later and looked back at the course of his therapy, he identified this
incident as a critical turning point.) Over the ensuing months he was more able to feel and
to express his feelings to the other members. His role within the group changed from that
of tolerated mascot to that of accepted compeer, and his self-esteem rose in accordance
with his awareness of the members’ increased respect for him.

In another group Ed, a forty-seven-year-old engineer, sought therapy because of loneliness
and his inability to find a suitable mate. Ed’s pattern of social relationships was barren: he
had never had close male friends and had only sexualized, unsatisfying, short-lived
relationships with women who ultimately and invariably rejected him. His good social
skills and lively sense of humor resulted in his being highly valued by other members in
the early stages of the group.
As time went on and members deepened their relationships with one another, however,
Ed was left behind: soon his experience in the group resembled closely his social life
outside the group. The most obvious aspect of his behavior was his limited and offensive
approach to women. His gaze was directed primarily toward their breasts or crotch; his
attention was voyeuristically directed toward their sexual lives; his comments to them
were typically simplistic and sexual in nature. Ed considered the men in the group
unwelcome competitors; for months he did not initiate a single transaction with a man.
With so little appreciation for attachments, he, for the most part, considered people
interchangeable. For example, when a member described her obsessive fantasy that her
boyfriend, who was often late, would be killed in an automobile accident, Ed’s response
was to assure her that she was young, charming, and attractive and would have little
trouble finding another man of at least equal quality. To take another example, Ed was
always puzzled when other members appeared troubled by the temporary absence of one
of the co-therapists or, later, by the impending permanent departure of a therapist.
Doubtless, he suggested, there was, even among the students, a therapist of equal
competence. (In fact, he had seen in the hall a bosomy psychologist whom he would
particularly welcome as therapist.)
He put it most succinctly when he described his MDR (minimum daily requirement) for
affection; in time it became clear to the group that the identity of the MDR supplier was
incidental to Ed—far less relevant than its dependability.
Thus evolved the first phase of the group therapy process: the display of interpersonal
pathology. Ed did not relate to others so much as he used them as equipment, as objects to
supply his life needs. It was not long before he had re-created in the group his habitual—
and desolate—interpersonal universe: he was cut off from everyone. Men reciprocated his
total indifference; women, in general, were disinclined to service his MDR, and those
women he especially craved were repulsed by his narrowly sexualized attentions. The
subsequent course of Ed’s group therapy was greatly informed by his displaying his

interpersonal pathology inside the group, and his therapy profited enormously from
focusing exhaustively on his relationships with the other group members.
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM: A DYNAMIC
INTERACTION
There is a rich and subtle dynamic interplay between the group member and the group
environment. Members shape their own microcosm, which in turn pulls characteristic
defensive behavior from each. The more spontaneous interaction there is, the more rapid
and authentic will be the development of the social microcosm. And that in turn increases
the likelihood that the central problematic issues of all the members will be evoked and
addressed.
For example, Nancy, a young woman with borderline personality disorder, entered the
group because of a disabling depression, a subjective state of disintegration, and a
tendency to develop panic when left alone. All of Nancy’s symptoms had been intensified
by the threatened breakup of the small commune in which she lived. She had long been
sensitized to the breakup of nuclear units; as a child she had felt it was her task to keep her
volatile family together, and now as an adult she nurtured the fantasy that when she
married, the various factions among her relatives would be permanently reconciled.
How were Nancy’s dynamics evoked and worked through in the social microcosm of
the group? Slowly! It took time for these concerns to manifest themselves. At first,
sometimes for weeks on end, Nancy would work comfortably on important but minor
conflict areas. But then certain events in the group would fan her major, smoldering
concerns into anxious conflagration. For example, the absence of a member would
unsettle her. In fact, much later, in a debriefing interview at the termination of therapy,
Nancy remarked that she often felt so stunned by the absence of any member that she was
unable to participate for the entire session.
Even tardiness troubled her and she would chide members who were not punctual.
When a member thought about leaving the group, Nancy grew deeply concerned and
could be counted on to exert maximal pressure on the member to continue, regardless of
the person’s best interests. When members arranged contacts outside the group meeting,
Nancy became anxious at the threat to the integrity of the group. Sometimes members felt
smothered by Nancy. They drew away and expressed their objections to her phoning them
at home to check on their absence or lateness. Their insistence that she lighten her
demands on them simply aggravated Nancy’s anxiety, causing her to increase her
protective efforts.
Although she longed for comfort and safety in the group, it was, in fact, the very
appearance of these unsettling vicissitudes that made it possible for her major conflict
areas to become exposed and to enter the stream of the therapeutic work.

Not only does the small group provide a social microcosm in which the maladaptive
behavior of members is clearly displayed, but it also becomes a laboratory in which is
demonstrated, often with great clarity, the meaning and the dynamics of the behavior. The
therapist sees not only the behavior but also the events triggering it and sometimes, more
important, the anticipated and real responses of others.
The group interaction is so rich that each member’s maladaptive transaction cycle is
repeated many times, and members have multiple opportunities for reflection and
understanding. But if pathogenic beliefs are to be altered, the group members must receive
feedback that is clear and usable. If the style of feedback delivery is too stressful or
provocative, members may be unable to process what the other members offer them.
Sometimes the feedback may be premature—that is, delivered before sufficient trust is
present to soften its edge. At other times feedback can be experienced as devaluing,
coercive, or injurious.44 How can we avoid unhelpful or harmful feedback? Members are
less likely to attack and blame one another if they can look beyond surface behavior and
become sensitive to one another’s internal experiences and underlying intentions.† Thus
empathy is a critical element in the successful group. But empathy, particularly with
provocative or aggressive clients, can be a tall order for group members and therapists
alike.†
The recent contributions of the intersubjective model are relevant and helpful here.45
This model poses members and therapists such questions as: “How am I implicated in
what I construe as your provocativeness? What is my part in it?” In other words, the group
members and the therapist continuously affect one another. Their relationships, their
meaning, patterns, and nature, are not fixed or mandated by external influences, but jointly
constructed. A traditional view of members’ behavior sees the distortion with which
members relate events—either in their past or within the group interaction—as solely the
creation and responsibility of that member. An intersubjective perspective acknowledges
the group leader’s and other members’ contributions to each member’s here-and-now
experience—as well as to the texture of their entire experience in the group.
Consider the client who repeatedly arrives late to the group meeting. This is always an
irritating event, and group members will inevitably express their annoyance. But the
therapist should also encourage the group to explore the meaning of that particular client’s
behavior. Coming late may mean “I don’t really care about the group,” but it may also
have many other, more complex interpersonal meanings: “Nothing happens without me,
so why should I rush?” or “I bet no one will even notice my absence—they don’t seem to
notice me while I’m there,” or “These rules are meant for others, not me.”
Both the underlying meaning of the individual’s behavior and the impact of that
behavior on others need to be revealed and processed if the members are to arrive at an
empathic understanding of one another. Empathic capacity is a key component of
emotional intelligence46 and facilitates transfer of learning from the therapy group to the
client’s larger world. Without a sense of the internal world of others, relationships are

confusing, frustrating, and repetitive as we mindlessly enlist others as players with
predetermined roles in our own stories, without regard to their actual motivations and
aspirations.
Leonard, for example, entered the group with a major problem of procrastination. In
Leonard’s view, procrastination was not only a problem but also an explanation. It
explained his failures, both professionally and socially; it explained his discouragement,
depression, and alcoholism. And yet it was an explanation that obscured meaningful
insight and more accurate explanations.
In the group we became well acquainted and often irritated or frustrated with Leonard’s
procrastination. It served as his supreme mode of resistance to therapy when all other
resistance had failed. When members worked hard with Leonard, and when it appeared
that part of his neurotic character was about to be uprooted, he found ways to delay the
group work. “I don’t want to be upset by the group today,” he would say, or “This new job
is make or break for me”; “I’m just hanging on by my fingernails”; “Give me a break—
don’t rock the boat”; “I’d been sober for three months until the last meeting caused me to
stop at the bar on my way home.” The variations were many, but the theme was consistent.
One day Leonard announced a major development, one for which he had long labored:
he had quit his job and obtained a position as a teacher. Only a single step remained:
getting a teaching certificate, a matter of filling out an application requiring approximately
two hours’ labor.
Only two hours and yet he could not do it! He delayed until the allowed time had
practically expired and, with only one day remaining, informed the group about the
deadline and lamented the cruelty of his personal demon, procrastination. Everyone in the
group, including the therapists, experienced a strong desire to sit Leonard down, possibly
even in one’s lap, place a pen between his fingers, and guide his hand along the
application form. One client, the most mothering member of the group, did exactly that:
she took him home, fed him, and schoolmarmed him through the application form.
As we began to review what had happened, we could now see his procrastination for
what it was: a plaintive, anachronistic plea for a lost mother. Many things then fell into
place, including the dynamics behind Leonard’s depressions (which were also desperate
pleas for love), alcoholism, and compulsive overeating.
The idea of the social microcosm is, I believe, sufficiently clear: if the group is
conducted such that the members can behave in an unguarded, unselfconscious manner,
they will, most vividly, re-create and display their pathology in the group. Thus in this
living drama of the group meeting, the trained observer has a unique opportunity to
understand the dynamics of each client’s behavior.
RECOGNITION OF BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS IN THE
SOCIAL MICROCOSM

If therapists are to turn the social microcosm to therapeutic use, they must first learn to
identify the group members’ recurrent maladaptive interpersonal patterns. In the incident
involving Leonard, the therapist’s vital clue was the emotional response of members and
leaders to Leonard’s behavior. These emotional responses are valid and indispensable
data: they should not be overlooked or underestimated. The therapist or other group
members may feel angry toward a member, or exploited, or sucked dry, or steamrollered,
or intimidated, or bored, or tearful, or any of the infinite number of ways one person can
feel toward another.
These feelings represent data—a bit of the truth about the other person—and should be
taken seriously by the therapist. If the feelings elicited in others are highly discordant with
the feelings that the client would like to engender in others, or if the feelings aroused are
desired, yet inhibit growth (as in the case of Leonard), then therein lies a crucial part of the
client’s problem. Of course there are many complications inherent in this thesis. Some
critics might say that a strong emotional response is often due to pathology not of the
subject but of the respondent. If, for example, a self-confident, assertive man evokes
strong feelings of fear, intense envy, or bitter resentment in another man, we can hardly
conclude that the response is reflective of the former’s pathology. There is a distinct
advantage in the therapy group format: because the group contains multiple observers, it is
easier to differentiate idiosyncratic and highly subjective responses from more objective
ones.
The emotional response of any single member is not sufficient; therapists need
confirmatory evidence. They look for repetitive patterns over time and for multiple
responses—that is, the reactions of several other members (referred to as consensual
validation) to the individual. Ultimately therapists rely on the most valuable evidence of
all: their own emotional responses. Therapists must be able to attend to their own reactions
to the client, an essential skill in all relational models. If, as Kiesler states, we are
“hooked” by the interpersonal behavior of a member, our own reactions are our best
interpersonal information about the client’s impact on others.47
Therapeutic value follows, however, only if we are able to get “unhooked”—that is, to
resist engaging in the usual behavior the client elicits from others, which only reinforces
the usual interpersonal cycles. This process of retaining or regaining our objectivity
provides us with meaningful feedback about the interpersonal transaction. From this
perspective, the thoughts, fantasies, and actual behavior elicited in the therapist by each
group member should be treated as gold. Our reactions are invaluable data, not failings. It
is impossible not to get hooked by our clients, except by staying so far removed from the
client’s experience that we are untouched by it—an impersonal distance that reduces our
therapeutic effectiveness.
A critic might ask, “How can we be certain that therapists’ reactions are ‘objective’?”
Co-therapy provides one answer to that question. Co-therapists are exposed together to the
same clinical situation. Comparing their reactions permits a clearer discrimination
between their own subjective responses and objective assessments of the interactions.
Furthermore, group therapists may have a calm and privileged vantage point, since, unlike

individual therapists, they witness countless compelling maladaptive interpersonal dramas
unfold without themselves being at the center of all these interactions.
Still, therapists do have their blind spots, their own areas of interpersonal conflict and
distortion. How can we be certain these are not clouding their observations in the course
of group therapy? I will address this issue fully in later chapters on training and on the
therapist’s tasks and techniques, but for now note only that this argument is a powerful
reason for therapists to know themselves as fully as possible. Thus it is incumbent upon
the neophyte group therapist to embark on a lifelong journey of self-exploration, a journey
that includes both individual and group therapy.
None of this is meant to imply that therapists should not take seriously the responses
and feedback of all clients, including those who are highly disturbed. Even the most
exaggerated, irrational responses contain a core of reality. Furthermore, the disturbed
client may be a valuable, accurate source of feedback at other times: no individual is
highly conflicted in every area. And, of course, an idiosyncratic response may contain
much information about the respondent.
This final point constitutes a basic axiom for the group therapist. Not infrequently,
members of a group respond very differently to the same stimulus. An incident may occur
in the group that each of seven or eight members perceives, observes, and interprets
differently. One common stimulus and eight different responses—how can that be? There
seems to be only one plausible explanation: there are eight different inner worlds.
Splendid! After all, the aim of therapy is to help clients understand and alter their inner
worlds. Thus, analysis of these differing responses is a royal road—a via regia—into the
inner world of the group member.
For example, consider the first illustration offered in this chapter, the group containing
Valerie, a flamboyant, controlling member. In accord with their inner world, each of the
group members responded very differently to her, ranging from obsequious acquiescence
to lust and gratitude to impotent fury or effective confrontation.
Or, again, consider certain structural aspects of the group meeting: members have
markedly different responses to sharing the group’s or the therapist’s attention, to
disclosing themselves, to asking for help or helping others. Nowhere are such differences
more apparent than in the transference—the members’ responses to the leader: the same
therapist will be experienced by different members as warm, cold, rejecting, accepting,
competent, or bumbling. This range of perspectives can be humbling and even
overwhelming for therapists, particularly neophytes.
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM—IS IT REAL?
I have often heard group members challenge the veracity of the social microcosm.
Members may claim that their behavior in this particular group is atypical, not at all
representative of their normal behavior. Or that this is a group of troubled individuals who

have difficulty perceiving them accurately. Or even that group therapy is not real; it is an
artificial, contrived experience that distorts rather than reflects one’s real behavior. To the
neophyte therapist, these arguments may seem formidable, even persuasive, but they are in
fact truth-distorting. In one sense, the group is artificial: members do not choose their
friends from the group; they are not central to one another; they do not live, work, or eat
together; although they relate in a personal manner, their entire relationship consists of
meetings in a professional’s office once or twice a week; and the relationships are transient
—the end of the relationship is built into the social contract at the very beginning.
When faced with these arguments, I often think of Earl and Marguerite, members in a
group I led long ago. Earl had been in the group for four months when Marguerite was
introduced. They both blushed to see the other, because, by chance, only a month earlier,
they had gone on a Sierra Club camping trip together for a night and been “intimate.”
Neither wanted to be in the group with the other. To Earl, Marguerite was a foolish, empty
girl, “a mindless piece of ass,” as he was to put it later in the group. To Marguerite, Earl
was a dull nonentity, whose penis she had made use of as a means of retaliation against
her husband.
They worked together in the group once a week for about a year. During that time, they
came to know each other intimately in a fuller sense of the word: they shared their deepest
feelings; they weathered fierce, vicious battles; they helped each other through suicidal
depressions; and, on more than one occasion, they wept for each other. Which was the real
world and which the artificial?
One group member stated, “For the longest time I believed the group was a natural
place for unnatural experiences. It was only later that I realized the opposite—it is an
unnatural place for natural experiences.”48 One of the things that makes the therapy group
real is that it eliminates social, sexual, and status games; members go through vital life
experiences together, they shed reality-distorting facades and strive to be honest with one
another. How many times have I heard a group member say, “This is the first time I have
ever told this to anyone”? The group members are not strangers. Quite the contrary: they
know one another deeply and fully. Yes, it is true that members spend only a small fraction
of their lives together. But psychological reality is not equivalent to physical reality.
Psychologically, group members spend infinitely more time together than the one or two
meetings a week when they physically occupy the same office.
OVERVIEW
Let us now return to the primary task of this chapter: to define and describe the therapeutic
factor of interpersonal learning. All the necessary premises have been posited and
described in this discussion of:
1. The importance of interpersonal relationships

2. The corrective emotional experience
3. The group as a social microcosm
I have discussed these components separately. Now, if we recombine them into a logical
sequence, the mechanism of interpersonal learning as a therapeutic factor becomes
evident:
I. Psychological symptomatology emanates from disturbed interpersonal
relationships. The task of psychotherapy is to help the client learn how to develop
distortion-free, gratifying interpersonal relationships.
II. The psychotherapy group, provided its development is unhampered by severe
structural restrictions, evolves into a social microcosm, a miniaturized
representation of each member’s social universe.
III. The group members, through feedback from others, self-reflection, and self-
observation, become aware of significant aspects of their interpersonal behavior:
their strengths, their limitations, their interpersonal distortions, and the
maladaptive behavior that elicits unwanted responses from other people. The
client, who will often have had a series of disastrous relationships and
subsequently suffered rejection, has failed to learn from these experiences because
others, sensing the person’s general insecurity and abiding by the rules of etiquette
governing normal social interaction, have not communicated the reasons for
rejection. Therefore, and this is important, clients have never learned to
discriminate between objectionable aspects of their behavior and a self-concept as
a totally unacceptable person. The therapy group, with its encouragement of
accurate feedback, makes such discrimination possible.
IV. In the therapy group, a regular interpersonal sequence occurs:
a. Pathology display: the member displays his or her behavior.
b. Through feedback and self-observation, clients
1. become better witnesses of their own behavior;
2. appreciate the impact of that behavior on
a. the feelings of others;
b. the opinions that others have of them;
c. the opinions they have of themselves.
V. The client who has become fully aware of this sequence also becomes aware of
personal responsibility for it: each individual is the author of his or her own
interpersonal world.
VI. Individuals who fully accept personal responsibility for the shaping of their
interpersonal world may then begin to grapple with the corollary of this discovery:
if they created their social-relational world, then they have the power to change it.

VII. The depth and meaningfulness of these understandings are directly proportional
to the amount of affect associated with the sequence. The more real and the more
emotional an experience, the more potent is its impact; the more distant and
intellectualized the experience, the less effective is the learning.
VIII. As a result of this group therapy sequence, the client gradually changes by
risking new ways of being with others. The likelihood that change will occur is a
function of
a. The client’s motivation for change and the amount of personal
discomfort and dissatisfaction with current modes of behavior;
b. The client’s involvement in the group—that is, how much the client
allows the group to matter;
c. The rigidity of the client’s character structure and interpersonal style.
IX. Once change, even modest change, occurs, the client appreciates that some feared
calamity, which had hitherto prevented such behavior, has been irrational and can
be disconfirmed; the change in behavior has not resulted in such calamities as
death, destruction, abandonment, derision, or engulfment.
X. The social microcosm concept is bidirectional: not only does outside behavior
become manifest in the group, but behavior learned in the group is eventually
carried over into the client’s social environment, and alterations appear in clients’
interpersonal behavior outside the group.
XI. Gradually an adaptive spiral is set in motion, at first inside and then outside the
group. As a client’s interpersonal distortions diminish, his or her ability to form
rewarding relationships is enhanced. Social anxiety decreases; self-esteem rises;
the need for self-concealment diminishes. Behavior change is an essential
component of effective group therapy, as even small changes elicit positive
responses from others, who show more approval and acceptance of the client,
which further increases self-esteem and encourages further change.49 Eventually
the adaptive spiral achieves such autonomy and efficacy that professional therapy
is no longer necessary.
Each of the steps of this sequence requires different and specific facilitation by the
therapist. At various points, for example, the therapist must offer specific feedback,
encourage self-observation, clarify the concept of responsibility, exhort the client into risk
taking, disconfirm fantasized calamitous consequences, reinforce the transfer of learning,
and so on. Each of these tasks and techniques will be fully discussed in chapters 5 and 6.
TRANSFERENCE AND INSIGHT
Before concluding the examination of interpersonal learning as a mediator of change, I

wish to call attention to two concepts that deserve further discussion. Transference and
insight play too central a role in most formulations of the therapeutic process to be passed
over lightly. I rely heavily on both of these concepts in my therapeutic work and do not
mean to slight them. What I have done in this chapter is to embed them both into the
factor of interpersonal learning.
Transference is a specific form of interpersonal perceptual distortion. In individual
psychotherapy, the recognition and the working through of this distortion is of paramount
importance. In group therapy, working through interpersonal distortions is, as we have
seen, of no less importance; however, the range and variety of distortions are considerably
greater. Working through the transference—that is, the distortion in the relationship to the
therapist—now becomes only one of a series of distortions to be examined in the therapy
process.
For many clients, perhaps for the majority, it is the most important relationship to work
through, because the therapist is the personification of parental images, of teachers, of
authority, of established tradition, of incorporated values. But most clients are also
conflicted in other interpersonal domains: for example, power, assertiveness, anger,
competitiveness with peers, intimacy, sexuality, generosity, greed, envy.
Considerable research emphasizes the importance many group members place on
working through relationships with other members rather than with the leader.50 To take
one example, a team of researchers asked members, in a twelve-month follow-up of a
short-term crisis group, to indicate the source of the help each had received. Forty-two
percent felt that the group members and not the therapist had been helpful, and 28 percent
responded that both had been helpful. Only 5 percent said that the therapist alone was a
major contributor to change.51
This body of research has important implications for the technique of the group
therapist: rather than focusing exclusively on the client-therapist relationship, therapists
must facilitate the development and working-through of interactions among members. I
will have much more to say about these issues in chapters 6 and 7.
Insight defies precise description; it is not a unitary concept. I prefer to employ it in the
general sense of “sighting inward”—a process encompassing clarification, explanation,
and derepression. Insight occurs when one discovers something important about oneself—
about one’s behavior, one’s motivational system, or one’s unconscious.
In the group therapy process, clients may obtain insight on at least four different levels:
1. Clients may gain a more objective perspective on their interpersonal presentation.
They may for the first time learn how they are seen by other people: as tense, warm, aloof,
seductive, bitter, arrogant, pompous, obsequious, and so on.
2. Clients may gain some understanding into their more complex interactional patterns
of behavior. Any of a vast number of patterns may become clear to them: for example, that
they exploit others, court constant admiration, seduce and then reject or withdraw,
compete relentlessly, plead for love, or relate only to the therapist or either the male or
female members.

3. The third level may be termed motivational insight. Clients may learn why they do
what they do to and with other people. A common form this type of insight assumes is
learning that one behaves in certain ways because of the belief that different behavior
would bring about some catastrophe: one might be humiliated, scorned, destroyed, or
abandoned. Aloof, detached clients, for example, may understand that they shun closeness
because of fears of being engulfed and losing themselves; competitive, vindictive,
controlling clients may understand that they are frightened of their deep, insatiable
cravings for nurturance; timid, obsequious individuals may dread the eruption of their
repressed, destructive rage.
4. A fourth level of insight, genetic insight, attempts to help clients understand how they
got to be the way they are. Through an exploration of the impact of early family and
environmental experiences, the client understands the genesis of current patterns of
behavior. The theoretical framework and the language in which the genetic explanation is
couched are, of course, largely dependent on the therapist’s school of conviction.
I have listed these four levels in the order of degree of inference. An unfortunate and
long-standing conceptual error has resulted, in part, from the tendency to equate a
“superficial-deep” sequence with this “degree of inference” sequence. Furthermore,
“deep” has become equated with “profound” or “good,” and superficial with “trivial,”
“obvious,” or “inconsequential.” Psychoanalysts have, in the past, disseminated the belief
that the more profound the therapist, the deeper the interpretation (from the perspective of
early life events) and thus the more complete the treatment. There is, however, not a single
shred of evidence to support this conclusion.
Every therapist has encountered clients who have achieved considerable genetic insight
based on some accepted theory of child development or psychopathology—be it that of
Freud, Klein, Winnicott, Kernberg, or Kohut—and yet made no therapeutic progress. On
the other hand, it is commonplace for significant clinical change to occur in the absence of
genetic insight. Nor is there a demonstrated relationship between the acquisition of genetic
insight and the persistence of change. In fact, there is much reason to question the validity
of our most revered assumptions about the relationship between types of early experience
and adult behavior and character structure.52
For one thing, we must take into account recent neurobiological research into the
storage of memory. Memory is currently understood to consist of at least two forms, with
two distinct brain pathways.53 We are most familiar with the form of memory known as
“explicit memory.” This memory consists of recalled details, events, and the
autobiographical recollections of one’s life, and it has historically been the focus of
exploration and interpretation in the psychodynamic therapies. A second form of memory,
“implicit memory,” houses our earliest relational experiences, many of which precede our
use of language or symbols. This memory (also referred to as “procedural memory”)
shapes our beliefs about how to proceed in our relational world. Unlike explicit memory,
implicit memory is not fully reached through the usual psychotherapeutic dialogue but,
instead, through the relational and emotional component of therapy.
Psychoanalytic theory is changing as a result of this new understanding of memory.

Fonagy, a prominent analytic theorist and researcher, conducted an exhaustive review of
the psychoanalytic process and outcome literature. His conclusion: “The recovery of past
experience may be helpful, but the understanding of current ways of being with the other
is the key to change. For this, both self and other representations may need to alter and
this can only be done effectively in the here and now.”54 In other words, the actual
moment-to-moment experience of the client and therapist in the therapy relationship is the
engine of change.
A fuller discussion of causality would take us too far afield from interpersonal learning,
but I will return to the issue in chapters 5 and 6. For now, it is sufficient to emphasize that
there is little doubt that intellectual understanding lubricates the machinery of change. It is
important that insight—“sighting in”—occur, but in its generic, not its genetic, sense. And
psychotherapists need to disengage the concept of “profound” or “significant” intellectual
understanding from temporal considerations. Something that is deeply felt or has deep
meaning for a client may or—as is usually the case—may not be related to the unraveling
of the early genesis of behavior.

Chapter 3
GROUP COHESIVENESS
In this chapter I examine the properties of cohesiveness, the considerable evidence for
group cohesiveness as a therapeutic factor, and the various pathways through which it
exerts its therapeutic influence.
What is cohesiveness and how does it influence therapeutic outcome? The short answer
is that cohesiveness is the group therapy analogue to relationship in individual therapy.
First, keep in mind that a vast body of research on individual psychotherapy demonstrates
that a good therapist-client relationship is essential for a positive outcome. Is it also true
that a good therapy relationship is essential in group therapy? Here again, the literature
leaves little doubt that “relationship” is germane to positive outcome in group therapy. But
relationship in group therapy is a far more complex concept than relationship in individual
therapy. After all, there are only two people in the individual therapy transaction, whereas
a number of individuals, generally six to ten, work together in group therapy. It is not
enough to say that a good relationship is necessary for successful group therapy—we must
specify which relationship: The relationship between the client and the group therapist (or
therapists if there are co-leaders)? Or between the group member and other members? Or
perhaps even between the individual and the “group” taken as a whole?

Over the past forty years, a vast number of controlled studies of psychotherapy outcome
have demonstrated that the average person who receives psychotherapy is significantly
improved and that the outcome from group therapy is virtually identical to that of
individual therapy.1 Furthermore there is evidence that certain clients may obtain greater
benefit from group therapy than from other approaches, particularly clients dealing with
stigma or social isolation and those seeking new coping skills.2
The evidence supporting the effectiveness of group psychotherapy is so compelling that
it prompts us to direct our attention toward another question: What are the necessary
conditions for effective psychotherapy? After all, not all psychotherapy is successful. In
fact, there is evidence that treatment may be for better or for worse—although most
therapists help their clients, some therapists make some clients worse.3 Why? What makes
for successful therapy? Although many factors are involved, a proper therapeutic
relationship is a sine qua non for effective therapy outcome. 4 Research evidence
overwhelmingly supports the conclusion that successful therapy—indeed even successful
drug therapy—is mediated by a relationship between therapist and client that is
characterized by trust, warmth, empathic understanding, and acceptance.5 Although a
positive therapeutic alliance is common to all effective treatments, it is not easily or
routinely established. Extensive therapy research has focused on the nature of the
therapeutic alliance and the specific interventions required to achieve and maintain it.6

Is the quality of the relationship related to the therapist’s school of conviction? The
evidence says, “No.” Experienced and effective clinicians from different schools
(Freudian, nondirective, experiential, gestalt, relational, interpersonal, cognitive-
behavioral, psychodrama) resemble one another (and differ from nonexperts in their own
school) in their conception of the ideal therapeutic relationship and in the relationship they
themselves establish with their clients.7
Note that the engaged, cohesive therapeutic relationship is necessary in all
psychotherapies, even the so-called mechanistic approaches—cognitive, behavioral, or
systems-oriented forms of psychotherapy.8 A recent secondary analysis of a large
comparative psychotherapy trial, the National Institute of Mental Health’s (NIMH)
Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program, concluded that successful
therapy, whether it was cognitive-behavioral therapy or interpersonal therapy, required
“the presence of a positive attachment to a benevolent, supportive, and reassuring
authority figure.”9 Research has shown that the client-therapist bond and the technical
elements of cognitive therapy are synergistic: a strong and positive bond in itself
disconfirms depressive beliefs and facilitates the work of modifying cognitive distortions.
The absence of a positive bond renders technical interventions ineffective or even
harmful.10
As noted, relationship plays an equally critical role in group psychotherapy. But the
group therapy analogue of the client-therapist relationship in individual therapy must be a
broader concept, encompassing the individual’s relationship to the group therapist, to the
other group members, and to the group as a whole.† At the risk of courting semantic
confusion, I refer to all of these relationships in the group with the term “group
cohesiveness.” Cohesiveness is a widely researched basic property of groups that has been
explored in several hundred research articles. Unfortunately, there is little cohesion in the
literature, which suffers from the use of different definitions, scales, subjects, and rater
perspectives.11
In general, however, there is agreement that groups differ from one another in the
amount of “groupness” present. Those with a greater sense of solidarity, or “we-ness,”
value the group more highly and will defend it against internal and external threats. Such
groups have a higher rate of attendance, participation, and mutual support and will defend
the group standards much more than groups with less esprit de corps. Nonetheless it is
difficult to formulate a precise definition. A recent comprehensive and thoughtful review
concluded that cohesiveness “is like dignity: everyone can recognize it but apparently no
one can describe it, much less measure it.”12 The problem is that cohesiveness refers to
overlapping dimensions. On the one hand, there is a group phenomenon—the total esprit
de corps; on the other hand, there is the individual member cohesiveness (or, more strictly,
the individual’s attraction to the group).13
In this book, cohesiveness is broadly defined as the result of all the forces acting on all
the members such that they remain in the group,14 or, more simply, the attractiveness of a
group for its members.15 Members of a cohesive group feel warmth and comfort in the

group and a sense of belongingness; they value the group and feel in turn that they are
valued, accepted, and supported by other members.16†
Esprit de corps and individual cohesiveness are interdependent, and group cohesiveness
is often computed simply by summing the individual members’ level of attraction to the
group. Newer methods of measuring group cohesiveness from raters’ evaluations of group
climate make for greater quantitative precision, but they do not negate the fact that group
cohesiveness remains a function and a summation of the individual members’ sense of
belongingness.17 Keep in mind that group members are differentially attracted to the group
and that cohesiveness is not fixed—once achieved, forever held—but instead fluctuates
greatly during the course of the group.18 Early cohesion and engagement is essential for
the group to encompass the more challenging work that comes later in the group’s
development, as more conflict and discomfort emerges.19 Recent research has also
differentiated between the individual’s sense of belonging and his or her appraisal of how
well the entire group is working. It is not uncommon for an individual to feel “that this
group works well, but I’m not part of it.”20 It is also possible for members (for example
eating disorder clients) to value the interaction and bonding in the group yet be
fundamentally opposed to the group goal.21
Before leaving the matter of definition, I must point out that group cohesiveness is not
only a potent therapeutic force in its own right. It is a precondition for other therapeutic
factors to function optimally. When, in individual therapy, we say that it is the relationship
that heals, we do not mean that love or loving acceptance is enough; we mean that an ideal
therapist-client relationship creates conditions in which the necessary risk taking,
catharsis, and intrapersonal and interpersonal exploration may unfold. It is the same for
group therapy: cohesiveness is necessary for other group therapeutic factors to operate.
THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP COHESIVENESS
Although I have discussed the therapeutic factors separately, they are, to a great degree,
interdependent. Catharsis and universality, for example, are not complete processes. It is
not the sheer process of ventilation that is important; it is not only the discovery that
others have problems similar to one’s own and the ensuing disconfirmation of one’s
wretched uniqueness that are important. It is the affective sharing of one’s inner world and
then the acceptance by others that seem of paramount importance. To be accepted by
others challenges the client’s belief that he or she is basically repugnant, unacceptable, or
unlovable. The need for belonging is innate in us all. Both affiliation within the group and
attachment in the individual setting address this need.22 Therapy groups generate a
positive, self-reinforcing loop: trust–self-disclosure–empathy–acceptance–trust.23 The
group will accept an individual, provided that the individual adheres to the group’s
procedural norms, regardless of past life experiences, transgressions, or social failings.
Deviant lifestyles, history of prostitution, sexual perversion, heinous criminal offenses—

all of these can be accepted by the therapy group, so long as norms of nonjudgmental
acceptance and inclusiveness are established early in the group.
For the most part, the disturbed interpersonal skills of our clients have limited their
opportunities for effective sharing and acceptance in intimate relationships. Furthermore,
some members are convinced that their abhorrent impulses and fantasies shamefully bar
them from social interaction. † I have known many isolated clients for whom the group
represented their only deeply human contact. After just a few sessions, they have a
stronger sense of being at home in the group than anywhere else. Later, even years
afterward, when most other recollections of the group have faded from memory, they may
still remember the warm sense of belonging and acceptance.
As one successful client looking back over two and a half years of therapy put it, “The
most important thing in it was just having a group there, people that I could always talk to,
that wouldn’t walk out on me. There was so much caring and hating and loving in the
group, and I was a part of it. I’m better now and have my own life, but it’s sad to think that
the group’s not there anymore.”
Furthermore, group members see that they are not just passive beneficiaries of group
cohesion, they also generate that cohesion, creating durable relationships—perhaps for the
first time in their lives. One group member commented that he had always attributed his
aloneness to some unidentified, intractable, repugnant character failing. It was only after
he stopped missing meetings regularly because of his discouragement and sense of futility
that he discovered the responsibility he exercised for his own aloneness: relationships do
not inevitably wither—his had been doomed largely by his choice to neglect them.
Some individuals internalize the group: “It’s as though the group is sitting on my
shoulder, watching me. I’m forever asking, ‘What would the group say about this or
that?’” Often therapeutic changes persist and are consolidated because, even years later,
the members are disinclined to let the group down.24
Membership, acceptance, and approval in various groups are of the utmost importance
in the individual’s developmental sequence. The importance of belonging to childhood
peer groups, adolescent cliques, sororities or fraternities, or the proper social “in” group
can hardly be overestimated. Nothing seems to be of greater importance for the self-
esteem and well-being of the adolescent, for example, than to be included and accepted in
some social group, and nothing is more devastating than exclusion.25
Most of our clients, however, have an impoverished group history; they have never
been valuable and integral to a group. For these individuals, the sheer successful
negotiation of a group experience may in itself be curative. Belonging in the group raises
self-esteem and meets members’ dependency needs but in ways that also foster
responsibility and autonomy, as each member contributes to the group’s welfare and
internalizes the atmosphere of a cohesive group.26
Thus, in a number of ways, members of a therapy group come to mean a great deal to
one another. The therapy group, at first perceived as an artificial group that does not count,
may in fact come to count very much. I have known groups whose members experience

together severe depressions, psychoses, marriage, divorce, abortions, suicide, career shifts,
sharing of innermost thoughts, and incest (sexual activity among the group members). I
have seen a group physically carry one of its members to the hospital and seen many
groups mourn the death of members. I have seen members of cancer support groups
deliver eulogies at the funeral of a fallen group member. Relationships are often cemented
by moving or hazardous adventures. How many relationships in life are so richly layered?
Evidence
Empirical evidence for the impact of group cohesiveness is not as extensive or as
systematic as research documenting the importance of relationship in individual
psychotherapy. Studying the effect of cohesiveness is more complex27 because it involves
research on variables closely related to cohesion such as group climate (the degree of
engagement, avoidance, and conflict in the group)28 and alliance (the member-therapist
relationship).29 The results of the research from all these perspectives, however, point to
the same conclusion: relationship is at the heart of good therapy. This is no less important
in the era of managed care and third-party oversight than it was in the past. In fact, the
contemporary group therapist has an even larger responsibility to safeguard the therapeutic
relationship from external intrusion and control.30
I now turn to a survey of the relevant research on cohesion. (Readers who are less
interested in research methodology may wish to proceed directly to the summary section.)
• In an early study of former group psychotherapy clients in which members’
explanations of the therapeutic factors in their therapy were transcribed and
categorized, investigators found that more than half considered mutual support the
primary mode of help in group therapy. Clients who perceived their group as
cohesive attended more sessions, experienced more social contact with other
members, and felt that the group had been therapeutic. Improved clients were
significantly more likely to have felt accepted by the other members and to
mention particular individuals when queried about their group experience.31
• In 1970, I reported a study in which successful group therapy clients were asked to
look back over their experience and to rate, in order of effectiveness, the series of
therapeutic factors I describe in this book.32 Since that time, a vast number of
studies using analogous designs have generated considerable data on clients’ views
of what aspects of group therapy have been most useful. I will examine these
results in depth in the next chapter; for now, it is sufficient to note that there is a
strong consensus that clients regard group cohesiveness as an extremely important
determinant of successful group therapy.
• In a six-month study of two long-term therapy groups,33 observers rated the process
of each group session by scoring each member on five variables: acceptance,
activity, desensitivity, abreaction, and improvement. Weekly self-ratings were also
obtained from each member. Both the research raters and group members

considered “acceptance” to be the variable most strongly related to improvement.
• Similar conclusions were reached in a study of forty-seven clients in twelve
psychotherapy groups. Members’ self-perceived personality change correlated
significantly with both their feelings of involvement in the group and their
assessment of total group cohesiveness.34
• My colleagues and I evaluated the one-year outcome of all forty clients who had
started therapy in five outpatient groups.35 Outcome was then correlated with
variables measured in the first three months of therapy. Positive outcome in
therapy significantly correlated with only two predictor variables: group
cohesiveness36 and general popularity—that is, clients who, early in the course of
therapy, were most attracted to the group (high cohesiveness) and who were rated
as more popular by the other group members at the sixth and the twelfth weeks had
a better therapy outcome at the fiftieth week. The popularity finding, which in this
study correlated even more positively with outcome than did cohesiveness, is, as I
shall discuss shortly, relevant to group cohesiveness and sheds light on the
mechanism through which group cohesiveness mediates change.
• The same findings emerge in more structured groups. A study of fifty-one clients
who attended ten sessions of behavioral group therapy demonstrated that
“attraction to the group” correlated significantly with improved self-esteem and
inversely correlated with the group dropout rate.37
• The quality of intermember relationships has also been well documented as an
essential ingredient in T-groups (also called sensitivity-training, process,
encounter, or experiential groups; see chapter 16). A rigorously designed study
found a significant relationship between the quality of intermember relationships
and outcome in a T-group of eleven subjects who met twice a week for a total of
sixty-four hours.38 The members who entered into the most two-person mutually
therapeutic relationships showed the most improvement during the course of the
group.39 Furthermore, the perceived relationship with the group leader was
unrelated to the extent of change.
• My colleagues M. A. Lieberman, M. Miles, and I conducted a study of 210 subjects
in eighteen encounter groups, encompassing ten ideological schools (gestalt,
transactional analysis, T-groups, Synanon, personal growth, Esalen,
psychoanalytic, marathon, psychodrama, encounter tape).40 (See chapter 16 for a
detailed discussion of this project.) Cohesiveness was assessed in several ways and
correlated with outcome.41 The results indicated that attraction to the group is
indeed a powerful determinant of outcome. All methods of determining
cohesiveness demonstrated a positive correlation between cohesiveness and
outcome. A member who experienced little sense of belongingness or attraction to
the group, even measured early in the course of the sessions, was unlikely to
benefit from the group and, in fact, was likely to have a negative outcome.
Furthermore, the groups with the higher overall levels of cohesiveness had a

significantly better total outcome than groups with low cohesiveness.
• Another large study (N = 393) of experiential training groups yielded a strong
relationship between affiliativeness (a construct that overlaps considerably with
cohesion) and outcome.42
• MacKenzie and Tschuschke, studying twenty clients in long-term inpatient groups,
differentiated members’ personal “emotional relatedness to the group” from their
appraisal of “group work” as a whole. The individual’s personal sense of belonging
correlated with future outcome, whereas the total group work scales did not.43
• S. Budman and his colleagues developed a scale to measure cohesiveness via
observations by trained raters of videotaped group sessions. They studied fifteen
therapy groups and found greater reductions in psychiatric symptoms and
improvement in self-esteem in the most cohesively functioning groups. Group
cohesion that was evident early—within the first thirty minutes of each session—
predicted better outcome.44
• A number of other studies have examined the role of the relationship between the
client and the group leader in group therapy. Marziali and colleagues45 examined
group cohesion and the client-group leader relationship in a thirty-session
manualized interpersonal therapy group of clients with borderline personality
disorder. Cohesion and member-leader relationship correlated strongly, supporting
Budman’s findings,46 and both positively correlated with outcome. However, the
member-group leader relationship measure was a more powerful predictor of
outcome. The relationship between client and therapist may be particularly
important for clients who have volatile interpersonal relationships and with whom
the therapist serves an important containing function.
• In a study of a short-term structured cognitive-behavioral therapy group for social
phobia47 the relationship with the therapist deepened over the twelve weeks of
treatment and correlated positively with outcome, but cohesion was static and not
related to outcome. In this study the group was a setting for therapy and not an
agent of therapy. Intermember bonds were not cultivated by the therapists, leading
the authors to conclude that in highly structured groups, what matters most is the
client-therapist collaboration around the therapy tasks.48
• A study of thirty-four clients with depression and social isolation treated in a
twelve-session interactional problem-solving group reported that clients who
described experiencing warmth and positive regard from the group leader had
better therapy outcomes. The opposite also held true. Negative therapy outcomes
were associated with negative client–group leader relationships. This correlative
study does not address cause and effect, however: Are clients better liked by their
therapist because they do well in therapy, or does being well liked promote more
well-being and effort?49
• Outcomes in brief intensive American Group Psychotherapy Association Institute

training groups were influenced by higher levels of engagement. 50 Positive
outcomes may well be mediated by group engagement that fosters more
interpersonal communication and self-disclosure.51
Summary
I have cited evidence that group members value deeply the acceptance and support they
receive from their therapy group. Self-perceived therapy outcome is positively correlated
with attraction to the group. Highly cohesive groups have a better overall outcome than
groups with low esprit de corps. Both emotional connectedness and the experience of
group effectiveness contribute to group cohesiveness. Individuals with positive outcomes
have had more mutually satisfying relationships with other members. Highly cohesive
groups have greater levels of self-disclosure. For some clients and some groups
(especially highly structured groups) the relationship with the leader may be the essential
factor. A strong therapeutic relationship may not guarantee a positive outcome, but a poor
therapeutic relationship will certainly not result in an effective treatment.
The presence of cohesion early in each session as well as in the early sessions of the
group correlates with positive outcomes. It is critical that groups become cohesive and
that leaders be alert to each member’s personal experience of the group and address
problems with cohesion quickly. Positive client outcome is also correlated with group
popularity, a variable closely related to group support and acceptance. Although
therapeutic change is multidimensional, these findings taken together strongly support the
contention that group cohesiveness is an important determinant of positive therapeutic
outcome.
In addition to this direct evidence, there is considerable indirect evidence from research
with other types of groups. A plethora of studies demonstrate that in laboratory task
groups, high levels of group cohesiveness produce many results that may be considered
intervening therapy outcome factors. For example, group cohesiveness results in better
group attendance, greater participation of members, greater influenceability of members,
and many other effects. I will consider these findings in detail shortly, as I discuss the
mechanism by which cohesiveness fosters therapeutic change.
MECHANISM OF ACTION
How do group acceptance, group support, and trust help troubled individuals? Surely there
must be more to it than simple support or acceptance; therapists learn early in their careers
that love is not enough. Although the quality of the therapist-client relationship is crucial,
the therapist must do more than simply relate warmly and honestly to the client.52 The
therapeutic relationship creates favorable conditions for setting other processes in motion.

What other processes? And how are they important?
Carl Rogers’s deep insights into the therapeutic relationship are as relevant today as
they were nearly fifty years ago. Let us start our investigation by examining his views
about the mode of action of the therapeutic relationship in individual therapy. In his most
systematic description of the process of therapy, Rogers states that when the conditions of
an ideal therapist-client relationship exist, the following characteristic process is set into
motion:
1. The client is increasingly free in expressing his feelings.
2. He begins to test reality and to become more discriminatory in his feelings and
perceptions of his environment, his self, other persons, and his experiences.
3. He increasingly becomes aware of the incongruity between his experiences and his
concept of self.
4. He also becomes aware of feelings that have been previously denied or distorted in
awareness.
5. His concept of self, which now includes previously distorted or denied aspects,
becomes more congruent with his experience.
6. He becomes increasingly able to experience, without threat, the therapist’s
unconditional positive regard and to feel an unconditional positive self-regard.
7. He increasingly experiences himself as the focus of evaluation of the nature and
worth of an object or experience.
8. He reacts to experience less in terms of his perception of others’ evaluation of him
and more in terms of its effectiveness in enhancing his own development.53
Central to Rogers’s views is his formulation of an actualizing tendency, an inherent
tendency in all life to expand and to develop itself—a view stretching back to early
philosophic views and clearly enunciated a century ago by Nietzsche.54 It is the therapist’s
task to function as a facilitator and to create conditions favorable for self-expansion. The
first task of the individual is self-exploration: the examination of feelings and experiences
previously denied awareness.
This task is a ubiquitous stage in dynamic psychotherapy. Horney, for example,
emphasized the individual’s need for self-knowledge and self-realization, stating that the
task of the therapist is to remove obstacles in the path of these autonomous processes.55
Contemporary models recognize the same principle. Clients often pursue therapy with a
plan to disconfirm pathogenic beliefs that obstruct growth and development.56 In other
words, there is a built-in inclination to growth and self-fulfillment in all individuals. The
therapist does not have to inspirit clients with these qualities (as if we could!). Instead, our
task is to remove the obstacles that block the process of growth. And one way we do this
is by creating an ideal therapeutic atmosphere in the therapy group. A strong bond
between members not only directly disconfirms one’s unworthiness, it also generates
greater willingness among clients to self-disclose and take interpersonal risks. These

changes help deactivate old, negative beliefs about the self in relation to the world.57
There is experimental evidence that good rapport in individual therapy and its
equivalent (cohesiveness) in group therapy encourage the client to participate in a process
of reflection and personal exploration. For example, Truax,58 studying forty-five
hospitalized patients in three heterogeneous groups, demonstrated that participants in
cohesive groups were significantly more inclined to engage in deep and extensive self-
exploration. 59 Other research demonstrates that high cohesion is closely related to high
degrees of intimacy, risk taking, empathic listening, and feedback. 60 The group members’
recognition that their group is working well at the task of interpersonal learning produces
greater cohesion in a positive and self-reinforcing loop.61 Success with the group task
strengthens the emotional bonds in the group.
Perhaps cohesion is vital because many of our clients have not had the benefit of
ongoing solid peer acceptance in childhood. Therefore they find validation by other group
members a new and vital experience. Furthermore, acceptance and understanding among
members may carry greater power and meaning than acceptance by a therapist. Other
group members, after all, do not have to care, or understand. They’re not paid for it; it’s
not their “job.”62
The intimacy developed in a group may be seen as a counterforce in a technologically
driven culture that, in all ways—socially, professionally, residentially, recreationally—
inexorably dehumanizes relationships.63 In a world in which traditional boundaries that
maintain relationships are increasingly permeable and transient, there is a greater need
than ever for group belonging and group identity.64 The deeply felt human experience in
the group may be of great value to the individual, Rogers believes. Even if it creates no
visible carryover, no external change in behavior, group members may still experience a
more human, richer part of themselves and have this as an internal reference point. This
last point is worth emphasizing, for it is one of those gains of therapy—especially group
therapy—that enrich one’s interior life and yet may not, at least for a long period of time,
have external behavioral manifestations and thus may elude measurement by researchers
and consideration by managed health care administrators, who determine how much and
what type of therapy is indicated.
Group members’ acceptance of self and acceptance of other members are
interdependent; not only is self-acceptance basically dependent on acceptance by others,
but acceptance of others is fully possible only after one can accept oneself. This principle
is supported by both clinical wisdom and research.65 Members of a therapy group may
experience considerable self-contempt and contempt for others. A manifestation of this
feeling may be seen in the client’s initial refusal to join “a group of nuts” or reluctance to
become closely involved with a group of pained individuals for fear of being sucked into a
maelstrom of misery. A particularly evocative response to the prospect of group therapy
was given by a man in his eighties when he was invited to join a group for depressed
elderly men: it was useless, he said, to waste time watering a bunch of dead trees—his
metaphor for the other men in his nursing home.66

In my experience, all individuals seeking assistance from a mental health professional
have in common two paramount difficulties: (1) establishing and maintaining meaningful
interpersonal relationships, and (2) maintaining a sense of personal worth (self-esteem). It
is hard to discuss these two interdependent areas as separate entities, but since in the
preceding chapter I dwelled more heavily on the establishment of interpersonal
relationships, I shall now turn briefly to self-esteem.
Self-esteem and public esteem are highly interdependent.67 Self-esteem refers to an
individual’s evaluation of what he or she is really worth, and is indissolubly linked to that
person’s experiences in prior social relationships. Recall Sullivan’s statement: “The self
may be said to be made up of reflected appraisals.”68 In other words, during early
development, one’s perceptions of the attitudes of others toward oneself come to
determine how one regards and values oneself. The individual internalizes many of these
perceptions and, if they are consistent and congruent, relies on these internalized
evaluations for some stable measure of self-worth.
But, in addition to this internal reservoir of self-worth, people are, to a greater or lesser
degree, always concerned and influenced by the current evaluations of others—especially
the evaluation provided by the groups to which they belong. Social psychology research
supports this clinical understanding: the groups and relationships in which we take part
become incorporated in the self.69 One’s attachment to a group is multidimensional. It is
shaped both by the member’s degree of confidence in his attractiveness to the group—am
I a desirable member?—and the member’s relative aspiration for affiliation—do I want to
belong?
The influence of public esteem—that is, the group’s evaluation—on an individual
depends on several factors: how important the person feels the group to be; the frequency
and specificity of the group’s communications to the person about that public esteem; and
the salience to the person of the traits in question. (Presumably, considering the honest and
intense self-disclosure in therapy groups, the salience is very great indeed, since these
traits are close to a person’s core identity.) In other words, the more the group matters to
the person, and the more that person subscribes to the group values, the more he or she
will be inclined to value and agree with the group judgment.70 This last point has much
clinical relevance. The more attracted an individual is to the group, the more he or she will
respect the judgment of the group and will attend to and take seriously any discrepancy
between public esteem and self-esteem. A discrepancy between the two will create a state
of dissonance, which the individual will attempt to correct.
Let us suppose this discrepancy veers to the negative side—that is, the group’s
evaluation of the individual is less than the individual’s self-evaluation. How to resolve
that discrepancy? One recourse is to deny or distort the group’s evaluation. In a therapy
group, this is not a positive development, for a vicious circle is generated: the group, in the
first place, evaluates the member poorly because he or she fails to participate in the group
task (which in a therapy group consists of active exploration of one’s self and one’s
relationships with others). Any increase in defensiveness and communicational problems
will only further lower the group’s esteem of that particular member. A common method

used by members to resolve such a discrepancy is to devalue the group—emphasizing, for
example, that the group is artificial or composed of disturbed individuals, and then
comparing it unfavorably to some anchor group (for example, a social or occupational
group) whose evaluation of the member is different. Members who follow this sequence
(for example, the group deviants described in chapter 8) usually drop out of the group.
Toward the end of a successful course of group therapy, one group member reviewed
her early recollections of the group as follows: “For the longest time I told myself you
were all nuts and your feedback to me about my defensiveness and inaccessibility was
ridiculous. I wanted to quit—I’ve done that before many times, but I felt enough of a
connection here to decide to stay. Once I made that choice I started to tell myself that you
cannot all be wrong about me. That was the turning point in my therapy.” This is an
example of the therapeutic method of resolving the discrepancy for the individual: that is,
to raise one’s public esteem by changing those behaviors and attitudes that have been
criticized by the group. This method is more likely if the individual is highly attracted to
the group and if the public esteem is not too much lower than the self-esteem.
But is the use of group pressure to change individual behavior or attitudes a form of
social engineering? Is it not mechanical? Does it not neglect deeper levels of integration?
Indeed, group therapy does employ behavioral principles; psychotherapy is, in all its
variants, basically a form of learning. Even the most nondirective therapists use, at an
unconscious level, operant conditioning techniques: they signal desirable conduct or
attitudes to clients, whether explicitly or subtly.71
This process does not suggest that we assume an explicit behavioral, mechanistic view
of the client, however. Aversive or operant conditioning of behavior and attitudes is, in my
opinion, neither feasible nor effective when applied as an isolated technique. Although
clients often report lasting improvement after some disabling complaint is remedied by
behavioral therapy techniques, close inspection of the process invariably reveals that
important interpersonal relationships have been affected. Either the therapist-client
relationship in the behavioral and cognitive therapies has been more meaningful than the
therapist realized (and research evidence substantiates this),72 or some important changes,
initiated by the symptomatic relief, have occurred in the client’s social relationships that
have served to reinforce and maintain the client’s improvement. Again, as I have stressed
before, all the therapeutic factors are intricately interdependent. Behavior and attitudinal
change, regardless of origin, begets other changes. The group changes its evaluation of a
member; the member feels more self-satisfied in the group and with the group itself; and
the adaptive spiral described in the previous chapter is initiated.
A far more common occurrence in a psychotherapy group is a discrepancy in the
opposite direction: the group’s evaluation of a member is higher than the member’s self-
evaluation. Once again, the member is placed in a state of dissonance and once again will
attempt to resolve the discrepancy. What can a member in that position do? Perhaps the
person will lower the public esteem by revealing personal inadequacies. However, in
therapy groups, this behavior has the paradoxical effect of raising public esteem—
disclosure of inadequacies is a valued group norm and enhances acceptance by the group.

Another possible scenario, desirable therapeutically, occurs when group members
reexamine and alter their low level of self-esteem. An illustrative clinical vignette will
flesh out this formulation:
• Marietta, a thirty-four-year-old housewife with an emotionally impoverished
background, sought therapy because of anxiety and guilt stemming from a series of
extramarital affairs. Her self-esteem was exceedingly low; nothing escaped her
self-excoriation: her physical appearance, her intelligence, her speech, her
unimaginativeness, her functioning as a mother and a wife. Although she received
solace from her religious affiliation, it was a mixed blessing because she felt too
unworthy to socialize with the church people in her community. She married a man
she considered repugnant but nonetheless a good man—certainly good enough for
her. Only in her sexual affairs, particularly when she had them with several men at
once, did she seem to come alive—to feel attractive, desirable, and able to give
something of herself that seemed of value to others. However, this behavior
clashed with her religious convictions and resulted in considerable anxiety and
further self-derogation.
Viewing the group as a social microcosm, the therapist soon noted characteristic
trends in Marietta’s group behavior. She spoke often of the guilt issuing from her
sexual behavior, and for many hours the group struggled with all the titillating
ramifications of her predicament. At all other times in the group, however, she
disengaged and offered nothing. She related to the group as she did to her social
environment. She could belong to it, but she could not really relate to the other
people: the only thing of real interest she felt she could offer was her genitals.
Over time in the group she began to respond and to question others and to offer
warmth, support, and feedback. She found other, nonsexual, aspects of herself to
disclose and spoke openly of a broad array of her life concerns. Soon she found
herself increasingly valued by the other members. She gradually reexamined and
eventually disconfirmed her belief that she had little of value to offer. The
discrepancy between her public esteem and her self-esteem widened (that is, the
group valued her more than she regarded herself), and soon she was forced to
entertain a more realistic and positive view of herself. Gradually, an adaptive
spiral ensued: she began to establish meaningful nonsexual relationships both in
and out of the group and these, in turn, further enhanced her self-esteem.
The more therapy disconfirms the client’s negative self-image through new relational
experience, the more effective therapy will be.73
Self-Esteem, Public Esteem, and Therapeutic Change: Evidence
Group therapy research has not specifically investigated the relationship between public
esteem and shifts in self-esteem. However, an interesting finding from a study of
experiential groups (see chapter 16) was that members’ self-esteem decreased when public

esteem decreased.74 (Public esteem is measured by sociometric data, which involves
asking members to rank-order one another on several variables.) Researchers also
discovered that the more a group member underestimated his or her public esteem, the
more acceptable that member was to the other members. In other words, the ability to face
one’s deficiencies, or even to judge oneself a little harshly, increases one’s public esteem.
Humility, within limits, is far more adaptable than arrogance.
It is also interesting to consider data on group popularity, a variable closely related to
public esteem. The group members considered most popular by other members after six
and twelve weeks of therapy had significantly better therapy outcomes than the other
members at the end of one year.75 Thus, it seems that clients who have high public esteem
early in the course of a group are destined to have a better therapy outcome.
What factors seem to be responsible for the attainment of popularity in therapy groups?
Three variables, which did not themselves correlate with outcome, correlated significantly
with popularity:
1. Previous self-disclosure.76
2. Interpersonal compatibility:77 individuals who (perhaps fortuitously) have
interpersonal needs that happen to blend well with those of the other group
members become popular in the group.
3. Other sociometric measures; group members who were often chosen as leisure
companions and worked well with colleagues became popular in the group. A
clinical study of the most popular and least popular members revealed that popular
members tended to be young, well-educated, intelligent, and introspective. They
filled the leadership vacuum that occurs early in the group when the therapist
declines to assume the traditional leader role.78
The most unpopular group members were rigid, moralistic, nonintrospective, and least
involved in the group task. Some were blatantly deviant, attacking the group and isolating
themselves. Some schizoid members were frightened of the group process and remained
peripheral. A study of sixty-six group therapy members concluded that the less popular
members (that is, those viewed less positively by other members) were more inclined to
drop out of the group.79
Social psychology researchers have also investigated the attributes that confer higher
social status in social groups. The personality attribute of extraversion (measured by a
personality questionnaire, the NEO-PI)80 is a very strong predictor of popularity.81
Extraversion connotes the traits of active and energetic social engagement, that is, a
person who is upbeat and emotionally robust. Depue’s neurobiological research82 suggests
that such individuals invite others to approach them. The promise of the extravert’s
welcome response rewards and reinforces engagement.
The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group study corroborated these
conclusions.83 Sociometric data revealed that the members with the more positive
outcomes were influential and engaged in behavior in close harmony with the encounter

group values of risk taking, spontaneity, openness, self-disclosure, expressivity, group
facilitation, and support. Evidence has emerged from both clinical and social-
psychological small-group research demonstrating that the members who adhere most
closely to group norms attain positions of popularity and influence.84 Members who help
the group achieve its tasks are awarded higher status.85
To summarize: Members who are popular and influential in therapy groups have a
higher likelihood of changing. They attain popularity and influence in the group by virtue
of their active participation, self-disclosure, self-exploration, emotional expression,
nondefensiveness, leadership, interest in others, and support of the group.
It is important to note that the individual who adheres to the group norms not only is
rewarded by increased public esteem within the group but also uses those same social
skills to deal more effectively with interpersonal problems outside the group. Thus,
increased popularity in the group acts therapeutically in two ways: by augmenting self-
esteem and by reinforcing adaptive social skills. The rich get richer. The challenge in
group therapy is helping the poor get richer as well.
Group Cohesiveness and Group Attendance
Continuation in the group is obviously a necessary, though not a sufficient, prerequisite for
successful treatment. Several studies indicate that clients who terminate early in the course
of group therapy receive little benefit.86 In one study, over fifty clients who dropped out of
long-term therapy groups within the first twelve meetings reported that they did so
because of some stress encountered in the group. They were not satisfied with their
therapy experience and they did not improve; indeed, many of these clients felt worse.87
Clients who remain in the group for at least several months have a high likelihood (85
percent in one study) of profiting from therapy.88
The greater a member’s attraction to the group, the more inclined that person will be to
stay in therapy groups as well as in encounter groups, laboratory groups (formed for some
research purpose), and task groups (established to perform some designated task).89 The
Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group study discovered a high correlation
between low cohesiveness and eventual dropping out from the group.90 The dropouts had
little sense of belongingness and left the group most often because they felt rejected,
attacked, or unconnected.
The relationship between cohesiveness and maintenance of membership has
implications for the total group as well. Not only do the least cohesive members terminate
membership and fail to benefit from therapy, but noncohesive groups with high member
turnover prove to be less therapeutic for the remaining members as well. Clients who drop
out challenge the group’s sense of worth and effectiveness.
Stability of membership is a necessary condition for effective shortand long-term
interactional group therapy. Although most therapy groups go through an early phase of

instability during which some members drop out and replacements are added, the groups
thereafter settle into a long, stable phase in which much of the solid work of therapy
occurs. Some groups seem to enter this phase of stability early, and other groups never
achieve it. Dropouts at times beget other dropouts, as other clients may terminate soon
after the departure of a key member. In a group therapy follow-up study, clients often
spontaneously underscored the importance of membership stability.91
In chapter 15, I will discuss the issue of cohesiveness in groups led in clinical settings
that preclude a stable long-term membership. For example, drop-in crisis groups or groups
on an acute inpatient ward rarely have consistent membership even for two consecutive
meetings. In these clinical situations, therapists must radically alter their perspectives on
the life development of the group. I believe, for example, that the appropriate life span for
the acute inpatient group is a single session. The therapist must strive to be efficient and to
offer effective help to as many members as possible during each single session.
Brief therapy groups pay a particularly high price for poor attendance, and therapists
must make special efforts to increase cohesiveness early in the life of the group. These
strategies (including strong pregroup preparation, homogeneous composition, and
structured interventions)92 will be discussed in chapter 15.
Group Cohesiveness and the Expression of Hostility
It would be a mistake to equate cohesiveness with comfort. Although cohesive groups
may show greater acceptance, intimacy, and understanding, there is evidence that they
also permit greater development and expression of hostility and conflict. Cohesive groups
have norms (that is, unwritten rules of behavior accepted by group members) that
encourage open expression of disagreement or conflict alongside support. In fact, unless
hostility can be openly expressed, persistent covert hostile attitudes may hamper the
development of cohesiveness and effective interpersonal learning. Unexpressed hostility
simply smolders within, only to seep out in many indirect ways, none of which facilitates
the group therapeutic process. It is not easy to continue communicating honestly with
someone you dislike or even hate. The temptation to avoid the other and to break off
communication is very great; yet when channels of communication are closed, so are any
hopes for conflict resolution and for personal growth.
This is as true on the megagroup—even the national—level as on the dyadic. The
Robbers’ Cave experiment, a famed research project conducted long ago, in the infancy of
group dynamics research,e offers experimental evidence still relevant for contemporary
clinical work.93 A camp of well-adjusted eleven-year-old boys was divided at the outset
into two groups that were placed in competition with each other in a series of contests.
Soon each group developed considerable cohesiveness as well as a deep sense of hostility
toward the other group. Any meaningful communication between the two groups became
impossible. If, for example, they were placed in physical proximity in the dining hall, the
group boundaries remained impermeable. Intergroup communication consisted of taunts,

insults, and spitballs.
How to restore meaningful communication between the members of the two groups?
That was the quest of the researchers. Finally they hit upon a successful strategy.
Intergroup hostility was relieved only when a sense of allegiance to a single large group
could be created. The researchers created some superordinate goals that disrupted the
small group boundaries and forced all the boys to work together in a single large group.
For example, a truck carrying food for an overnight hike stalled in a ditch and could be
rescued only by the cooperative efforts of all the boys; a highly desirable movie could be
rented only by the pooled contributions of the entire camp; the water supply was cut off
and could be restored only by the cooperative efforts of all campers.
The drive to belong can create powerful feelings within groups. Members with a strong
adherence to what is inside the group may experience strong pressure to exclude and
devalue who and what is outside the bounds of the group.94 It is not uncommon for
individuals to develop prejudice against groups to which they cannot belong. It is
therefore not surprising that hostility often emerges against members of ethnic or racial
groups to which entry for outsiders may be impossible. The implication for international
conflict is apparent: intergroup hostility may dissolve in the face of some urgently felt
worldwide crisis that only supranational cooperation can avert: atmospheric pollution or
an international AIDS epidemic, for example. These principles also have implications for
clinical work with small groups.
Intermember conflict during the course of group therapy must be contained. Above all,
communication must not be ruptured, and the adversaries must continue to work together
in a meaningful way, to take responsibility for their statements, and to be willing to go
beyond namecalling. This is, of course, a major difference between therapy groups and
social groups, in which conflicts often result in the permanent rupture of relationships.
Clients’ descriptions of critical incidents in therapy (see chapter 2) often involve an
episode in which they expressed strong negative affect. In each instance, however, the
client was able to weather the storm and to continue relating (often in a more gratifying
manner) to the other member.
Underlying these events is the condition of cohesiveness. The group and the members
must mean enough to each other to be willing to bear the discomfort of working through a
conflict. Cohesive groups are, in a sense, like families with much internecine warfare but a
powerful sense of loyalty.
Several studies demonstrate that cohesiveness is positively correlated with risk taking
and intensive interaction.95 Thus, cohesiveness is not synonymous with love or with a
continuous stream of supportive, positive statements. Cohesive groups are groups that are
able to embrace conflict and to derive constructive benefit from it. Obviously, in times of
conflict, cohesiveness scales that emphasize warmth, comfort, and support will
temporarily gyrate; thus, many researchers have reservations about viewing cohesiveness
as a precise, stable, measurable, unidimensional variable and consider it instead as
multidimensional.96

Once the group is able to deal constructively with conflict in the group, therapy is
enhanced in many ways. I have already mentioned the importance of catharsis, of risk
taking, of gradually exploring previously avoided or unknown parts of oneself and
recognizing that the anticipated dreaded catastrophe is chimerical. Many clients are
desperately afraid of anger—their own and that of others. A highly cohesive group
encourages members to tolerate the pain and hurt that interpersonal learning may produce.
But keep in mind that it is the early engagement that makes such successful working-
through later possible.97 The premature expression of excess hostility before group
cohesion has been established is a leading cause of group fragmentation. It is important for
clients to realize that their anger is not lethal. Both they and others can and do survive an
expression of their impatience, irritability, and even outright rage. For some clients, it is
also important to have the experience of weathering an attack. In the process, they may
become better acquainted with the reasons for their position and learn to withstand
pressure from others.98
Conflict may also enhance self-disclosure, as each opponent tends to reveal more and
more to clarify his or her position. As members are able to go beyond the mere statement
of position, as they begin to understand the other’s experiential world, past and present,
and view the other’s position from their own frame of reference, they may begin to
understand that the other’s point of view may be as appropriate for that person as their
own is for themselves. The working through of extreme dislike or hatred of another person
is an experience of great therapeutic power. A clinical illustration demonstrates many of
these points (another example may be found in my novel The Schopenhauer Cure).99
• Susan, a forty-six-year-old, very proper school principal, and Jean, a twenty-one-
year-old high school dropout, became locked into a vicious struggle. Susan
despised Jean because of her libertine lifestyle, and what she imagined to be her
sloth and promiscuity. Jean was enraged by Susan’s judgmentalism, her
sanctimoniousness, her embittered spinsterhood, her closed posture to the world.
Fortunately, both women were deeply committed members of the group.
(Fortuitous circumstances played a part here. Jean had been a core member of the
group for a year and then married and went abroad for three months. Just at that
time Susan became a member and, during Jean’s absence, became heavily involved
in the group.)
Both had had considerable past difficulty in tolerating and expressing anger.
Over a four-month period, they interacted heavily, at times in pitched battles. For
example, Susan erupted indignantly when she found out that Jean was obtaining
food stamps illegally; and Jean, learning of Susan’s virginity, ventured the opinion
that she was a curiosity, a museum piece, a mid-Victorian relic.
Much good group work was done because Jean and Susan, despite their conflict,
never broke off communication. They learned a great deal about each other and
eventually realized the cruelty of their mutual judgmentalism. Finally, they could
both understand how much each meant for the other on both a personal and a
symbolic level. Jean desperately wanted Susan’s approval; Susan deeply envied

Jean for the freedom she had never permitted herself. In the working-through
process, both fully experienced their rage; they encountered and then accepted
previously unknown parts of themselves. Ultimately, they developed an empathic
understanding and then an acceptance of each other. Neither could possibly have
tolerated the extreme discomfort of the conflict were it not for the strong cohesion
that, despite the pain, bound them to the group.
Not only are cohesive groups more able to express hostility among members but there is
evidence that they are also more able to express hostility toward the leader.100 Regardless
of the personal style or skill of group leaders, the therapy group will nonetheless come,
often within the first dozen meetings, to experience some degree of hostility and
resentment toward them. (See chapter 11 for a full discussion of this issue.) Leaders do not
fulfill members’ fantasized expectations and, in the view of many members, do not care
enough, do not direct enough, and do not offer immediate relief. If the group members
suppress these feelings of disappointment or anger, several harmful consequences may
ensue. They may attack a convenient scapegoat—another member or some institution like
“psychiatry” or “doctors.” They may experience a smoldering irritation within themselves
or within the group as a whole. They may, in short, begin to establish norms discouraging
open expression of feelings. The presence of such scapegoating may be a signal that
aggression is being displaced away from its more rightful source—often the therapist.101
Leaders who challenge rather than collude with group scapegoating not only safeguard
against an unfair attack, they also demonstrate their commitment to authenticity and
responsibility in relationships.
The group that is able to express negative feelings toward the therapist almost
invariably is strengthened by the experience. It is an excellent exercise in direct
communication and provides an important learning experience—namely, that one may
express hostility directly without some ensuing irreparable calamity. It is far preferable
that the therapist, the true object of the anger, be confronted than for the anger to be
displaced onto some other member in the group. Furthermore, the therapist, let us pray, is
far better able than a scapegoated member to withstand confrontation. The entire process
is self-reinforcing; a concerted attack on the leader that is handled in a nondefensive,
nonretaliatory fashion serves to increase cohesiveness still further.
One cautionary note about cohesion: misguided ideas about cohesion may interfere with
the group task.102 Janis coined the term “groupthink” to describe the phenomenon of
“deterioration of mental efficiency, reality testing, and moral judgment that results from
group pressure.”103 Group pressure to conform and maintain consensus may create a
groupthink environment. This is not an alliance-based cohesion that facilitates the growth
of the group members; on the contrary, it is a misalliance based on naive or regressive
assumptions about belonging. Critical and analytic thought by the group members needs to
be endorsed and encouraged by the group leader as an essential group norm.104
Autocratic, closed and authoritarian leaders discourage such thought. Their groups are
more prone to resist uncertainty, to be less reflective, and to close down exploration
prematurely.105

Group Cohesiveness and Other Therapy-Relevant Variables
Research from both therapy and laboratory groups has demonstrated that group
cohesiveness has a plethora of important consequences that have obvious relevance to the
group therapeutic process.106 It has been shown, for example, that the members of a
cohesive group, in contrast to the members of a noncohesive group, will:
1. Try harder to influence other group members 107
2. Be more open to influence by the other members108
3. Be more willing to listen to others109 and more accepting of others110
4. Experience greater security and relief from tension in the group111
5. Participate more readily in meetings112
6. Self-disclose more113
7. Protect the group norms and exert more pressure on individuals deviating from the
norms114
8. Be less susceptible to disruption as a group when a member terminates
membership115
9. Experience greater ownership of the group therapy enterprise116
SUMMARY
By definition, cohesiveness refers to the attraction that members have for their group and
for the other members. It is experienced at interpersonal, intrapersonal, and intragroup
levels. The members of a cohesive group are accepting of one another, supportive, and
inclined to form meaningful relationships in the group. Cohesiveness is a significant factor
in successful group therapy outcome. In conditions of acceptance and understanding,
members will be more inclined to express and explore themselves, to become aware of
and integrate hitherto unacceptable aspects of self, and to relate more deeply to others.
Self-esteem is greatly influenced by the client’s role in a cohesive group. The social
behavior required for members to be esteemed by the group is socially adaptive to the
individual out of the group.
In addition, highly cohesive groups are more stable groups, with better attendance and
less turnover. Evidence was presented to indicate that this stability is vital to successful
therapy: early termination precludes benefit for the involved client and impedes the
progress of the rest of the group as well. Cohesiveness favors self-disclosure, risk taking,
and the constructive expression of conflict in the group—phenomenon that facilitate
successful therapy.

What we have yet to consider are the determinants of cohesiveness. What are the
sources of high and low cohesiveness? What does the therapist do to facilitate the
development of a highly cohesive group? These important issues will be discussed in the
chapters dealing with the group therapist’s tasks and techniques.

Chapter 4
THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: AN INTEGRATION
We began our inquiry into the group therapy therapeutic factors with the rationale that the
delineation of these factors would guide us to a formulation of effective tactics and
strategies for the therapist. The compendium of therapeutic factors presented in chapter 1
is, I believe, comprehensive but is not yet in a form that has great clinical applicability.
For the sake of clarity I have considered the factors as separate entities, whereas in fact
they are intricately interdependent. In other words, I have taken the therapy process apart
to examine it, and now it is time to put it back together again.
In this chapter I first consider how the therapeutic factors operate when they are viewed
not separately but as part of a dynamic process. Next I address the comparative potency of
the therapeutic factors. Obviously, they are not all of equal value. However, an absolute
rank-ordering of therapeutic factors is not possible. Many contingencies must be
considered. The importance of various therapeutic factors depends on the type of group
therapy practiced. Groups differ in their clinical populations, therapeutic goals, and
treatment settings—for example, eating disorders groups, panic disorder groups, substance
abuse groups, medical illness groups, ongoing outpatient groups, brief therapy groups,
inpatient groups, and partial hospitalization groups. They may emphasize different clusters
of therapeutic factors, and some therapeutic factors are important at one stage of a group,
whereas others predominate at another. Even within the same group, different clients
benefit from different therapeutic factors. Like diners at a cafeteria, group members will
choose their personalized menu of therapeutic factors, depending on such factors as their
needs, their social skills, and their character structure.
This chapter underscores the point that some factors are not always independent
mechanisms of change but instead create the conditions for change. For example, as I
mentioned in chapter 1, instillation of hope may serve largely to prevent early
discouragement and to keep members in the group until other, more potent forces for
change come into play. Or consider cohesiveness: for some members, the sheer experience
of being an accepted, valued member of a group may in itself be the major mechanism of
change. Yet for other members, cohesiveness is important because it provides the
conditions, the safety and support, that allow them to express emotion, request feedback,
and experiment with new interpersonal behavior.
Our efforts to evaluate and integrate the therapeutic factors will always remain, to some
extent, conjectural. Over the past twenty-five years there has been a groundswell of
research on the therapeutic factors: recent reviews have cited hundreds of studies.1 Yet
little definitive research has been conducted on the comparative value of the therapeutic
factors and their interrelation; indeed, we may never attain a high degree of certainty as to
these comparative values. We have summaries at the end of sections for those readers less
interested in research detail.
I do not speak from a position of investigative nihilism but instead argue that the nature

of our data on therapeutic factors is so highly subjective that it largely resists the
application of scientific methodology. The precision of our instrumentation and statistical
analysis will always be limited by the imprecision of our primary data—the clients’
assessment of what was most helpful about their group therapy experience. We may
improve our data collection by asking our clients these questions at repeated intervals or
by having independent raters evaluate the therapeutic factors at work,2 but we are still left
trying to quantify and categorize subjective dimensions that do not fit easily into an
objective and categorical system.†3 We must also recognize limits in our ability to infer
objective therapeutic cause and effect accurately from rater observation or client
reflection, both of which are inherently subjective. This point is best appreciated by those
therapists and researchers who themselves have had a personal therapy experience. They
need only pose themselves the task of evaluating and rating the therapeutic factors in their
own therapy to realize that precise judgment can never be attained. Consider the following
not atypical clinical illustration, which demonstrates the difficulty of determining which
factor is most therapeutic within a treatment experience.
• A new member, Barbara, a thirty-six-year-old chronically depressed single
woman, sobbed as she told the group that she had been laid off. Although her job
paid poorly and she disliked the work, she viewed the layoff as evidence that she
was unacceptable and doomed to a miserable, unhappy life. Other group members
offered support and reassurance but with minimal apparent impact. Another
member, Gail, who was fifty years old and herself no stranger to depression, urged
Barbara to avoid a negative cascade of depressive thoughts and self-derogation
and added that it was only after a year of hard work in the group that she was able
to attain a stable mood and to view negative events as disappointments rather than
damning personal indictments.
Barbara nodded and then told the group that she had desperately needed to talk
and arrived early for the meeting, saw no one else and assumed not only that the
group had been canceled but also that the leader had uncaringly failed to notify
her. She was angrily contemplating leaving, when the group members arrived. As
she talked, she smiled knowingly, acknowledging the depressive assumptions she
continually makes and her propensity to act upon them.
After a short reflection, she recalled a memory of her childhood—of her anxious
mother, and her family’s motto, “Disaster is always around the corner.” At age
eight she had a diagnostic workup for tuberculosis because of a positive skin test.
Her mother had said, “Don’t worry—I will visit you at the sanitarium.” The
diagnostic workup was negative, but her mother’s echoing words still filled her
with dread. Barbara then added—“I can’t tell you what it’s like for me today to
receive this kind feedback and reassurance instead.”
We can see in this illustration the presence of the several therapeutic factors—
universality, instillation of hope, self-understanding, imparting information, family
reenactment, interpersonal learning, and catharsis. Which therapeutic factor is primary?
How can we determine that with any certainty?

Some attempts have been made to use subjectively evaluated therapeutic factors as
independent variables in outcome studies. Yet enormous difficulties are encountered in
such research. The methodological problems are formidable: as a general rule, the
accuracy with which variables can be measured is directly proportional to their triviality.
A comprehensive review of such empirical studies produced only a handful of studies that
had an acceptable research design, and these studies have limited clinical relevance. 4 For
example, four studies attempted to quantify and evaluate insight by comparing insight
groups with other approaches, such as assertiveness training groups or interactional here-
and-now groups (as though such interactional groups offered no insight).5 The researchers
measured insight by counting the number of a therapist’s insight-providing comments or
by observers’ ratings of a leader’s insight orientation. Such a design fails to take into
account the crucial aspects of the experience of insight: for example, how accurate was the
insight? How well timed? Was the client in a state of readiness to accept it? What was the
nature of the client’s relationship with the therapist? (If adversarial, the client is apt to
reject any interpretation; if dependent, the client may ingest all interpretations without
discrimination.) Insight is a deeply subjective experience that cannot be rated by objective
measures (one accurate, well-timed interpretation is worth a score of interpretations that
fail to hit home). Perhaps it is for these reasons that no new research on insight in group
therapy and outcome has been reported in the past decade. In virtually every form of
psychotherapy the therapist must appreciate the full context of the therapy to understand
the nature of effective therapeutic interventions.6
As a result, I fear that empirical psychotherapy research will never provide the certainty
we crave, and we must learn to live effectively with uncertainty. We must listen to what
clients tell us and consider the best available evidence from research and intelligent
clinical observation. Ultimately we must evolve a reasoned therapy that offers the great
flexibility needed to cope with the infinite range of human problems.
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC
FACTORS: THE CLIENT’S VIEW
How do group members evaluate the various therapeutic factors? Which factors do they
regard as most salient to their improvement in therapy? In the first two editions of this
book, it was possible to review in a leisurely fashion the small body of research bearing on
this question: I discussed the two existing studies that explicitly explored the client’s
subjective appraisal of the therapeutic factors, and then proceeded to describe in detail the
results of my first therapeutic factor research project.7 For that undertaking, my colleagues
and I administered to twenty successful group therapy participants a therapeutic factor
questionnaire designed to compare the importance of the eleven therapeutic factors I
identified in chapter 1.
Things have changed since then. In the past four decades, a deluge of studies have

researched the client’s view of the therapeutic factors (several of these studies have also
obtained therapists’ ratings of therapeutic factors). Recent research demonstrates that a
focus on therapeutic factors is a very useful way for therapists to shape their group
therapeutic strategies to match their clients’ goals.8 This burst of research provides rich
data and enables us to draw conclusions with far more conviction about therapeutic
factors. For one thing, it is clear that the differential value of the therapeutic factors is
vastly influenced by the type of group, the stage of the therapy, and the intellectual level
of the client. Thus, the overall task of reviewing and synthesizing the literature is far more
difficult.
However, since most of the researchers use some modification of the therapeutic factors
and the research instrument I described in my 1970 research, 9 I will describe that research
in detail and then incorporate into my discussion the findings from more recent research
on therapeutic factors.10
My colleagues and I studied the therapeutic factors in twenty successful long-term
group therapy clients. 11 We asked twenty group therapists to select their most successful
client. These therapists led groups of middle-class outpatients who had neurotic or
characterological problems. The subjects had been in therapy eight to twenty-two months
(the mean duration was sixteen months) and had recently terminated or were about to
terminate group therapy.12 All subjects completed a therapeutic factor Q-sort and were
interviewed by the investigators.
Twelve categories of therapeutic factors were constructed from the sources outlined
throughout this book,13f and five items describing each category were written, making a
total of sixty items (see table 4.1). Each item was typed on a 3 × 5 card; the client was
given the stack of randomly arranged cards and asked to place a specified number of cards
into seven piles labeled as follows:
Most helpful to me in the group (2 cards)
Extremely helpful (6 cards)
Very helpful (12 cards)
Helpful (20 cards)
Barely helpful (12 cards)
Less helpful (6 cards)
Least helpful to me in the group (2 cards)14
TABLE 4.1 Therapeutic Factors: Categories and Rankings of the Sixty Individual Items

After the Q-sort, which took thirty to forty-five minutes, each subject was interviewed
for an hour by the three investigators. Their reasons for their choice of the most and least
helpful items were reviewed, and a series of other areas relevant to therapeutic factors was
discussed (for example, other, nonprofessional therapeutic influences in the clients’ lives,
critical events in therapy, goal changes, timing of improvement, therapeutic factors in their
own words).
Results
A sixty-item, seven-pile Q-sort for twenty subjects makes for complex data. Perhaps the
clearest way to consider the results is a simple rank-ordering of the sixty items (arrived at
by ranking the sum of the twenty pile placements for each item). Turn again to table 4.1.
The number after each item represents its rank order. Thus, on average, item 48
(Discovering and accepting previously unknown or unacceptable parts of myself) was
considered the most important therapeutic factor by the subjects, item 38 (Adopting
mannerisms or the style of another group member) the least important, and so on.
The ten items the subjects deemed most helpful were, in order of importance:

1. Discovering and accepting previously unknown or unacceptable parts of myself.
2. Being able to say what was bothering me instead of holding it in.
3. Other members honestly telling me what they think of me.
4. Learning how to express my feelings.
5. The group’s teaching me about the type of impression I make on others.
6. Expressing negative and/or positive feelings toward another member.
7. Learning that I must take ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no
matter how much guidance and support I get from others.
8. Learning how I come across to others.
9. Seeing that others could reveal embarrassing things and take other risks and
benefit from it helped me to do the same.
10. Feeling more trustful of groups and of other people.
Note that seven of the first eight items represent some form of catharsis or of insight. I
again use insight in the broadest sense; the items, for the most part, reflect the first level of
insight (gaining an objective perspective of one’s interpersonal behavior) described in
chapter 2. This remarkable finding lends considerable weight to the principle, also
described in chapter 2, that therapy is a dual process consisting of emotional experience
and of reflection on that experience. More, much more, about this later.
The administration and scoring of a sixty-item Q-sort is so laborious that most
researchers have since used an abbreviated version—generally, one that asks a subject to
rank the twelve therapeutic factor categories rather than sixty individual items. However,
four studies that replicate the sixty-item Q-sort study report remarkably similar findings.15
If we analyze the twelve general categories,g we find the following rank order of
importance:
1. Interpersonal input
2. Catharsis
3. Cohesiveness
4. Self-understanding
5. Interpersonal output
6. Existential factors
7. Universality
8. Instillation of hope
9. Altruism
10. Family reenactment

11. Guidance
12. Identificationh
A number of other replicating studies describe the therapeutic factors selected by group
therapy outpatients.16 These studies are in considerable agreement: the most commonly
chosen therapeutic factors are catharsis, self-understanding, and interpersonal input,
closely followed by cohesiveness and universality. The same trio of most helpful
therapeutic factors (interpersonal input, self-understanding, and catharsis) has been
reported in studies of personal growth groups.17 One researcher suggests that the
therapeutic factors fall into three main clusters: the remoralization factor (cluster of hope,
universality, and acceptance), the self-revelation factor (self-disclosure and catharsis), and
the specific psychological work factor (interpersonal learning and self-understanding).18
This clustering resembles a factor analysisi of therapeutic factors collected from studies of
American Group Psychotherapy Association Institute experiential groups suggesting that
the group therapeutic factors fall into three main categories: early factors of belonging and
remoralization common to all therapy groups; factors of guidance and instruction; and
specific skill development factors. Despite different terminology, both of these clustering
approaches suggest that the group therapeutic factors consist of universal mechanisms,
mediating mechanisms, and specific change mechanisms.19
Which therapeutic factors are least valued? All of the studies of therapy groups and
personal growth groups report the same results: family reenactment, guidance, and
identification. These results all suggest that the defining core of the therapeutic process in
these therapy groups is an affectively charged, self-reflective interpersonal interaction, in a
supportive and trusting setting.20 Comparisons of individual and group therapy therapeutic
factors consistently underscore this finding21 and support the importance of the basic
concepts I discussed in chapter 2—the importance of the corrective emotional experience
and the concept that the therapeutic here-and-now focus consists of an experiencing and a
cognitive component.

In the following sections, I will incorporate these research findings in a broader discussion
of the questions posed at the beginning of this chapter on the interrelationships and
comparative potency of the therapeutic factors. Keep in mind throughout that these
findings pertain to a specific type of therapy group: an interactionally based group with
the ambitious goals of symptom relief and behavioral and characterological change. Later
in this chapter I will present some evidence that other groups with different goals and
shorter duration may capitalize on different clusters of therapeutic factors.
Catharsis
Catharsis has always assumed an important role in the therapeutic process, though the

rationale behind its use has undergone a metamorphosis. For centuries, sufferers have been
purged to be cleansed of excessive bile, evil spirits, and infectious toxins (the word itself
is derived from the Greek “to clean”). Since Breuer and Freud’s 1895 treatise on the
treatment of hysteria,22 many therapists have attempted to help clients rid themselves of
suppressed, choked affect. What Freud and subsequently all dynamic psychotherapists
have learned is that catharsis is not enough. After all, we have emotional discharges,
sometimes very intense ones, all our lives without their leading to change.
The data support this conclusion. Although studies of clients’ appraisals of the
therapeutic factors reveals the importance of catharsis, the research also suggests
important qualifications. The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles study starkly illustrates the
limitations of catharsis per se.23 The authors asked 210 members of a thirty-hour
encounter group to describe the most significant incident that occurred in the course of the
group. Experiencing and expressing feelings (both positive and negative) was cited
frequently. Yet this critical incident was not related to positive outcome: incidents of
catharsis were as likely to be selected by members with poor outcomes as by those with
good outcomes. Catharsis was not unrelated to outcome; it was necessary but in itself not
sufficient. Indeed, members who cited only catharsis were somewhat more likely to have
had a negative experience in the group. The high learners characteristically showed a
profile of catharsis plus some form of cognitive learning. The ability to reflect on one’s
emotional experience is an essential component of the change process.†
In the Q-sort therapeutic factor studies, the two items that are ranked most highly and
are most characteristic of the catharsis category in factor analytic studies are items 34
(Learning how to express my feelings) and 35 (Being able to say what was bothering me).
Both of these items convey something other than the sheer act of ventilation or abreaction.
They connote a sense of liberation and acquiring skills for the future. The other frequently
chosen catharsis item—item 32 (Expressing negative and/or positive feelings toward
another member)—indicates the role of catharsis in the ongoing interpersonal process.
Item 31, which most conveys the purest sense of sheer ventilation (Getting things off my
chest), was not highly ranked by group members.24
Interviews with the clients to investigate the reasons for their selection of items
confirmed this view. Catharsis was viewed as part of an interpersonal process; no one
ever obtains enduring benefit from ventilating feelings in an empty closet. Furthermore, as
I discussed in chapter 3, catharsis is intricately related to cohesiveness. Catharsis is more
helpful once supportive group bonds have formed; in other words, catharsis is more
valued late rather than early in the course of the group.25 Conversely, strong expression of
emotion enhances the development of cohesiveness: members who express strong feelings
toward one another and work honestly with these feelings will develop close mutual
bonds. In groups of clients dealing with loss, researchers found that expression of positive
affect was associated with positive outcomes. The expression of negative affect, on the
other hand, was therapeutic only when it occurred in the context of genuine attempts to
understand oneself or other group members.26
Emotional expression is directly linked with hope and a sense of personal effectiveness.

Emotional disclosure is also linked to the ability to cope: articulation of one’s needs
permits oneself and the people in one’s environment to respond productively to life’s
challenges. Women with early breast cancer who are emotionally expressive achieve a
much better quality of life than those who avoid and suppress their distress.27 Recently
bereaved HIV-positive men who are able to express emotions, grieve, and find meaning in
their losses, maintain significantly higher immune function and live longer than those who
minimize their distress and avoid the mourning process.28
In summary, then, the open expression of affect is vital to the group therapeutic process;
in its absence, a group would degenerate into a sterile academic exercise. Yet it is only
part of the process and must be complemented by other factors. One last point: the
intensity of emotional expression is highly relative and must be appreciated not from the
leader’s perspective but from that of each member’s experiential world. A seemingly
muted expression of emotion may, for a highly constricted individual, represent an event
of considerable intensity. On many occasions I have heard students view a videotape of a
group meeting and describe the session as muted and boring, whereas the members
themselves experienced the session as intense and highly charged.
Self-Understanding
The therapeutic factor Q-sort also underscores the important role that the intellectual
component plays in the therapeutic process. Of the twelve categories, the two pertaining to
the intellectual task in therapy (interpersonal input and self-understanding) are both ranked
highly. Interpersonal input, discussed at some length in chapter 2, refers to the
individual’s learning how he or she is perceived by other people. It is the crucial first step
in the therapeutic sequence of the therapeutic factor of interpersonal learning.
The category of self-understanding is more problematic. It was constructed to permit
investigation of the importance of derepression and of the intellectual understanding of the
relationship between past and present (genetic insight). Refer back to table 4.1 and
examine the five items of the “self-understanding” category. It is clear that the category is
an inconsistent one, containing several very different elements. There is poor correlation
among items, some being highly valued by group therapy members and some less so. Item
48, Discovering and accepting previously unknown or unacceptable parts of myself, is the
single most valued item of all the sixty. Two items (46 and 47) that refer to understanding
causes of problems and to recognizing the existence of interpersonal distortion are also
highly valued. The item that most explicitly refers to genetic insight, item 50, is
considered of little value by group therapy clients.
This finding has been corroborated by other researchers. One study replicated the
therapeutic factor Q-sort study and, on the basis of a factor analysis, subdivided insight
into two categories: self-understanding and genetic insight. The sample of seventy-two
group therapy members ranked self-understanding fourth of fourteen factors and genetic
insight eighth.29 Another study concluded that genetic interpretations were significantly
less effective than here-and-now feedback in producing positive group therapy outcomes.

In fact, clients not only showed little benefit from genetic interpretations but in particular
considered the leaders’ efforts in this regard unproductive. Comembers were more
effective: their efforts at linking present to past contained less jargon and were linked
more directly to actual experience than were the therapists’ more conceptual, less “real”
explanations.30
When we interviewed the subjects in our study to learn more about the meaning of their
choices, we found that the most popular item—48, Discovering and accepting previously
unknown or unacceptable parts of myself —had a very specific implication to group
members. More often than not, they discovered positive areas of themselves: the ability to
care for another, to relate closely to others, to experience compassion.
There is an important lesson to be learned here. Too often psychotherapy, especially in
naive, popularized, or early conceptualizations, is viewed as a detective search, as a
digging or a stripping away. Rogers, Horney, Maslow, and our clients as well remind us
that therapy is also horizontal and upward exploration; digging or excavation may uncover
our riches and treasures as well as shameful, fearful, or primitive aspects of ourselves.31
Our clients want to be liberated from pathogenic beliefs; they seek personal growth and
control over their lives. As they gain fuller access to themselves, they become emboldened
and increase their sense of ownership of their personhood. Psychotherapy has grown
beyond its emphasis on eradicating the “pathological” and now aims at increasing clients’
breadth of positive emotions and cognitions. A group therapy approach that encourages
members to create and inhabit a powerful and caring environment is a potent approach to
these contemporary goals.†32
Thus, one way that self-understanding promotes change is by encouraging individuals
to recognize, integrate, and give free expression to previously obscured parts of
themselves. When we deny or stifle parts of ourselves, we pay a heavy price: we feel a
deep, amorphous sense of restriction; we are constantly on guard; we are often troubled
and puzzled by internal but seemingly alien impulses that demand expression. When we
are able to reclaim these disavowed parts, we experience a wholeness, and a sense of
liberation.
So far, so good. But what of the other components of the intellectual task? For example,
how does the highly ranked item Learning why I think and feel the way I do (item 47)
result in therapeutic change?
First, we must recognize that there is an urgent need for intellectual understanding in
the psychotherapeutic enterprise, a need that comes from both client and therapist. Our
search for understanding is deeply rooted. Maslow, in a treatise on motivation, suggested
that the human being has cognitive needs that are as basic as the needs for safety, love, and
self-esteem. 33 Most children are exceedingly curious; in fact, we grow concerned if a
child lacks curiosity about the environment. Researchers studying primates also see high
levels of curiosity: monkeys in a solid enclosure will do considerable work for the
privilege of being able to look through a window to see outside; they will also work hard
and persistently to solve puzzles without any reward except the satisfactions inherent in
the puzzle solving.

In an analogous fashion our clients automatically search for understanding, and
therapists who prize the intellectual pursuit join them. Often, it all seems so natural that
we lose sight of the raison d’être of therapy. After all, the object of therapy is change, not
self-understanding. Or is it? Are the two synonymous? Does any and every type of self-
understanding lead automatically to change? Or is the quest for self-understanding simply
an interesting, appealing, reasonable exercise for clients and therapists, serving, like
mortar, to keep the two joined together while something else—“relationship”—develops.
Perhaps it is relationship that is the real mutative force in therapy. In fact, there is
considerable evidence that a supportive psychotherapy relationship in a noninterpretive
therapy can produce substantial change in interpersonal behavior.34 It is far easier to pose
these questions than to answer them. I will present some preliminary points here, and in
chapter 6, after developing some material on the interpretative task and techniques of the
therapist, I will attempt to present a coherent thesis.
If we examine the motives behind our curiosity and our proclivity to explore our
environment, we shed some light on the process of change. These motives include
effectance (our desire for mastery and power), safety (our desire to render the unexplained
harmless through understanding), and pure cognizance (our desire for knowledge and
exploration for its own sake).35 The worried householder who explores a mysterious and
frightening noise in his home; the young student who, for the first time, looks through a
microscope and experiences the exhilaration of understanding the structure of an insect
wing; the medieval alchemist or the New World explorer probing uncharted and
proscribed regions—all receive their respective rewards: safety, a sense of personal
keenness and satisfaction, and mastery in the guise of knowledge or wealth.
Of these motives, the one least relevant for the change process is pure cognizance.
There is little question that knowledge for its own sake has always propelled the human
being. The lure of the forbidden is an extraordinarily popular and ubiquitous motif in folk
literature, from the story of Adam and Eve to the saga of Peeping Tom. It is no surprise,
then, that the desire to know enters the psychotherapeutic arena. Yet there is little evidence
that understanding for its own sake results in change.
But the desires for safety and for mastery play an important and obvious role in
psychotherapy. They are, of course, as White has ably discussed, closely intertwined.36
The unexplained—especially the frightening unexplained—cannot be tolerated for long.
All cultures, through either a scientific or a religious explanation, attempt to make sense of
chaotic and threatening situations in the physical and social environment as well as in the
nature of existence itself. One of our chief methods of control is through language. Giving
a name to chaotic, unruly forces provides us with a sense of mastery or control. In the
psychotherapeutic situation, information decreases anxiety by removing ambiguity. There
is considerable research evidence supporting this observation.37
The converse is, incidentally, also true: anxiety increases ambiguity by distorting
perceptual acuteness. Anxious subjects show disturbed organization of visual perception;
they are less capable of perceiving and organizing rapid visual cues and are distinctly
slower in completing and recognizing incomplete pictures in a controlled experimental

setting.38 Unless one is able to order the world cognitively, one may experience anxiety,
which, if severe, interferes with the perceptual apparatus. Thus, anxiety begets anxiety: the
ensuing perplexity and overt or subliminal awareness of perceptual distortion become a
potent secondary source of anxiety.39
In psychotherapy, clients are enormously reassured by the belief that their chaotic inner
world, their suffering, and their tortuous interpersonal relationships are all explicable and
thereby governable. Maslow, in fact, views the increase of knowledge as having
transformative effects far beyond the realms of safety, anxiety reduction, and mastery. He
views psychiatric illness as a disease caused by knowledge deficiency.40 In this way he
would support the moral philosophic contention that if we know the good, we will always
act for the good. Presumably it follows that if we know what is ultimately good for us we
will act in our own best interests.41j
Therapists, too, are less anxious if, when confronted with great suffering and
voluminous, chaotic material, they can believe in a set of principles that will permit an
ordered explanation. Frequently, therapists will cling tenaciously to a particular system in
the face of considerable contradictory evidence—sometimes, in the case of researcher-
clinicians, even evidence that has issued from their own investigations. Though such
tenacity of belief may carry many disadvantages, it performs one valuable function: it
enables the therapist to preserve equanimity in the face of considerable affect emerging
within the transference or countertransference.
There is little in the above that is controversial. Self-knowledge permits us to integrate
all parts of ourselves, decreases ambiguity, permits a sense of effectance and mastery, and
allows us to act in concert with our own best interests. An explanatory scheme also
permits generalization and transfer of learning from the therapy setting to new situations
in the outside world.
The great controversies arise when we discuss not the process or the purpose or the
effects of explanation but the content of explanation. As I hope to make clear in chapter 6,
I think these controversies are irrelevant. When we focus on change rather than on self-
understanding as our ultimate goal, we can only conclude that an explanation is correct if
it leads to change. The final common result of all our intellectual efforts in therapy is
change. Each clarifying, explanatory, or interpretive act of the therapist is ultimately
designed to exert leverage on the client’s will to change.
Imitative Behavior (Identification)
Group therapy participants rate imitative behavior among the least helpful of the twelve
therapeutic factors. However, we learned from debriefing interviews that the five items in
this category seem to have tapped only a limited sector of this therapeutic mode (see table
4.1). They failed to distinguish between mere mimicry, which apparently has only a
restricted value for clients, and the acquisition of general styles and strategies of behavior,
which may have considerable value. To clients, conscious mimicry is an especially

unpopular concept as a therapeutic mode since it suggests a relinquishing of individuality
—a basic fear of many group participants.
On the other hand, clients may acquire from others a general strategy that may be used
across a variety of personal situations. Members of groups for medically ill patients often
benefit from seeing other members manage a shared problem effectively.42 This process
also works at both overt and more subtle levels. Clients may begin to approach problems
by considering, consciously or unconsciously, what some other member or the therapist
would think or do in the same situation. If the therapist is tolerant and flexible, then clients
may also adopt these traits. If the therapist is self-disclosing and accepts limitations
without becoming insecure or defensive, then clients are more apt to learn to accept their
personal shortcomings.43 Not only do group members adopt the traits and style of the
therapist, but sometimes they may even assimilate the therapist’s complex value system.44
Initially, imitative behavior is in part an attempt to gain approval, but it does not end
there. The more intact clients retain their reality testing and flexibility and soon realize
that changes in their behavior result in greater acceptance by others. This increased
acceptance can then act to change one’s self-concept and self-esteem in the manner
described in chapter 3, and an adaptive spiral is instigated. It is also possible for an
individual to identify with aspects of two or more other people, resulting in an amalgam.
Although parts of others are imitated, the amalgam represents a creative synthesis, a
highly innovative individualistic identity.
What of spectator therapy? Is it possible that clients may learn much from observing the
solutions arrived at by others who have similar problems? I have no doubt that such
learning occurs in the therapy group. Every experienced group therapist has at least one
story of a member who came regularly to the group for months on end, was extremely
inactive, and finally terminated therapy much improved.
I clearly remember Rod, who was so shy, isolated, and socially phobic that in his adult
life he had never shared a meal with another person. When I introduced him into a rather
fast-paced group, I was concerned that he would be in over his head. And in a sense he
was. For months he sat and listened in silent amazement as the other members interacted
intensively with one another. That was a period of high learning for Rod: simply to be
exposed to the possibilities of intimate interaction enriched his life. But then things
changed! The group began to demand more reciprocity and placed great pressure on him
to participate more personally in the meetings. Rod grew more uncomfortable and
ultimately, with my encouragement, decided to leave the group. Since he worked at the
same university, I had occasion to cross paths with him several times in the ensuing years,
and he never failed to inform me how important and personally useful the group had been.
It had shown him what was possible and how individuals could engage one another, and it
offered him an internal reference point to which he could turn for reassurance as he
gradually reached out to touch others in his life.
Clients learn not only from observing the substantive work of others who are like them
but also from watching the process of the work. In that sense, imitative behavior is a
transitional therapeutic factor that permits clients subsequently to engage more fully in

other aspects of therapy. Proof of this is to be found in the fact that one of the five
imitative behavior items (item 37, Seeing that others could reveal embarrassing things
and take other risks and benefit from it helped me to do the same) was rated as the eighth
(of sixty) most important therapeutic factor. A largescale study in the Netherlands found
that clients considered identification to be more important in the early stages of therapy,
when novice members looked for more senior members with whom to identify.45
Family Reenactment
Family reenactment, or the corrective recapitulation of the primary family experience—a
therapeutic factor highly valued by many therapists—is not generally considered helpful
by most group members. The clinical populations that place a high value on this factor are
very specific—groups for incest survivors46 and groups for sex offenders.47 For these
members the early failure of the family to protect and care for them looms as a powerful
issue.
The fact that this factor is not cited often by most group members, though, should not
surprise us, since it operates at a different level of awareness from such explicit factors as
catharsis or universality. Family reenactment becomes more a part of the general horizon
against which the group is experienced. Few therapists will deny that the primary family
of each group member is an omnipresent specter haunting the group therapy room.
Clients’ experience in their family of origin obviously will, to a great degree, influence the
nature of their interpersonal distortions, the role they assume in the group, and their
attitudes toward the group leaders.
There is little doubt in my mind that the therapy group reincarnates the primary family.
It acts as a time machine, flinging the client back several decades and evoking deeply
etched ancient memories and feelings. In fact, this phenomenon is one of the major
sources of power of the therapy group. In my last meeting with a group before departing
for a year’s sabbatical, a client related the following dream: “My father was going away
for a long trip. I was with a group of people. My father left us a thirtyfoot boat, but rather
than giving it to me to steer, he gave it to one of my friends, and I was angry about this.”
This is not the place to discuss this dream fully. Suffice it to say that the client’s father had
deserted the family when the client was young and left him to be tyrannized thereafter by
an older brother. The client said that this was the first time he had thought of his father in
years. The events of the group—my departure, my place being taken by a new therapist,
the client’s attraction to the co-therapist (a woman), his resentment toward another
dominating member in the group—all acted in concert to awaken long-slumbering
memories. Clients reenact early family scripts in the group and, in successful group
therapy, experiment with new behavior and break free from the rigid family roles into
which they had long been locked.
While I believe these are important phenomena in the therapeutic process, it is
altogether a different question whether the group should focus explicitly on them. I think
not, as this process is part of the internal, generally silent, homework of the group

member. Major shifts in our perspective on the past occur because of the vitality of the
work in the present—not through a direct summons and inquiry of the spirits of the past.
There are, as I will discuss in chapter 6, many overriding reasons for the group to maintain
an ahistorical focus. To focus unduly on people who are not present, on parents and
siblings, on Oedipal strivings, on sibling rivalries, or patricidal desires is to avoid and
deny the reality of the group and the other members as a living experience in the here-and-
now.
Existential Factors
The category of existential factors was almost an afterthought. My colleagues and I first
constructed the Q-sort instrument with eleven major factors. It appeared neat and precise,
but something was missing. Important sentiments expressed by both clients and therapists
had not been represented, so we added a factor consisting of these five items:
1. Recognizing that life is at times unfair and unjust
2. Recognizing that ultimately there is no escape from some of life’s pain or from
death
3. Recognizing that no matter how close I get to other people, I must still face life
alone
4. Facing the basic issues of my life and death, and thus living my life more honestly
and being less caught up in trivialities
5. Learning that I must take ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no
matter how much guidance and support I get from others
Several issues are represented in this cluster: responsibility, basic isolation, contingency,
the capriciousness of existence, the recognition of our mortality and the ensuing
consequences for the conduct of our life. What to label this category? I finally settled, with
some hesitation, on existential factors, meaning that all these factors relate to existence—
to our confrontation with the human condition—a confrontation that informs us of the
harsh existential facts of life: our mortality, our freedom and responsibility for
constructing our own life design, our isolation from being thrown alone into existence, and
our search for life meaning despite being unfortunate enough to be thrown into a universe
without intrinsic meaning.
It is clear that the existential items strike responsive chords in clients, and many cite
some of the five items as having been crucially important to them. In fact, the entire
category of existential factors is often ranked highly, ahead of greatly valued modes of
change such as universality, altruism, recapitulation of the primary family experience,
guidance, identification, and instillation of hope. Item 60, Learning that I must take
ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no matter how much guidance and support
I get from others, was ranked fifth overall of the sixty items.
The same findings are reported by other researchers. Every single project that includes

an existential category reports that subjects rank that category at least in the upper 50
percent. In some studies, for example, with therapy groups in prison, in day hospitals, in
psychiatric hospitals, and in alcohol treatment groups, the existential category is ranked
among the top three factors.48 Existential factors are also central to many of the current
group therapy interventions for the seriously medically ill.49 A group of older women
ranked existential factors first,50 as did a sample of sixty-six patients on an alcohol unit.51
What unites these divergent clinical populations is the participants’ awareness of
immutable limits in life—limits of time, power, or health. Even in groups led by therapists
who do not conceptualize existential factors as relevant, the existential factors are highly
valued by the group members.52
It is important to listen to our data. Obviously, the existential factors in therapy deserve
far more consideration than they generally receive. It is more than happenstance that the
category of existential factors was included almost as afterthought yet proved to be so
important to clients. Existential factors play an important but largely unrecognized role in
psychotherapy. There is no discrete school of existential psychotherapy, no single accepted
body of existential theory and techniques. Nonetheless, a considerable proportion of
American therapists (over 16 percent in a 1983 survey—as large a group as the
psychoanalytic contingent) consider themselves to be existentially or “existentially-
humanistically” oriented.53 A similar proportion of senior group therapists surveyed in
1992 endorsed the existential-humanistic approach as the model that best reflects
contemporary group therapy.54
Even therapists who nominally adhere to other orientations are often surprised when
they look deeply at their techniques and at their basic view of the human situation and find
that they are existentially oriented.55 Many psychoanalytically oriented therapists, for
example, inwardly eschew or at best ignore much of the classical analytic theory and
instead consider the authentic client-therapist encounter as the mutative element of
therapy.56
Keep in mind that classical psychoanalytic theory is based explicitly on a highly
materialistic view of human nature. It is not possible to understand Freud fully without
considering his allegiance to the Helmholtz school, an ideological school that dominated
Western European medical and basic research in the latter part of the nineteenth century.57
This doctrine holds that we human beings are precisely the sum of our parts. It is
deterministic, antivitalistic, and materialistic (that is, it attempts to explain the higher by
the lower).
Freud never swerved from his adherence to this postulate and to its implications about
human nature. Many of his more cumbersome formulations (for example, the dual-instinct
theory, the theory of libidinal energy conservation and transformation) were the result of
his unceasing attempts to fit human behavior to Helmholtzian rules. This approach
constitutes a negative definition of the existential approach. If you feel restricted by its
definition of yourself, if you feel that there’s something missing, that we are more than a
sum of parts, that the doctrine omits some of the central features that make us human—

such as purpose, responsibility, sentience, will, values, courage, spirit—then to that degree
you have an existentialist sensibility.
I must be careful not to slip off the surface of these pages and glide into another book.
This is not the place to discuss in any depth the existential frame of reference in therapy. I
refer interested readers to my book, Existential Psychotherapy58 and to my other books
that portray the existential clinical approach in action, Love’s Executioner,59 When
Nietzsche Wept,60 The Gift of Therapy,61 Momma and the Meaning of Life,62 and, The
Schopenhauer Cure.63 For now, it is sufficient to note that modern existential therapy
represents an application of two merged philosophical traditions. The first is substantive:
Lebensphilosophie (the philosophy of life, or philosophical anthropology); and the second
is methodological: phenomenology, a more recent tradition, fathered by Edmund Husserl,
which argues that the proper realm of the study of the human being is consciousness itself.
From a phenomenological approach, understanding takes place from within; hence, we
must bracket the natural world and attend instead to the inner experience that is the author
of that world.
The existential therapeutic approach—with its emphasis on awareness of death,
freedom, isolation, and life purpose—has been, until recently, far more acceptable to the
European therapeutic community than to the American one. The European philosophic
tradition, the geographic and ethnic confinement, and the greater familiarity with limits,
war, death, and uncertain existence all favored the spread of the existential influence. The
American zeitgeist of expansiveness, optimism, limitless horizons, and pragmatism
embraced instead the scientific positivism proffered by a mechanistic Freudian
metaphysics or a hyperrational, empirical behaviorism (strange bedfellows!).
During the past four decades, there has been a major development in American
psychotherapy: the emergence of what has come to be known as the third force in
American psychology (after Freudian psychoanalysis and Watsonian behaviorism). This
force, often labeled “existential” or “humanistic,” has had an enormous influence on
modern therapeutic practice.
Note, however, that we have done more than imported the European existential
tradition; we have Americanized it. Thus, although the syntax of humanistic psychology is
European, the accent is unmistakably New World. The European focus is on the tragic
dimensions of existence, on limits, on facing and taking into oneself the anxiety of
uncertainty and nonbeing. The American humanistic psychologists, on the other hand,
speak less of limits and contingency than of human potentiality, less of acceptance than of
awareness, less of anxiety than of peak experiences and oceanic oneness, less of life
meaning than of self-realization, less of apartness and basic isolation than of I-Thou and
encounter.
Of course, when a basic doctrine has a number of postulates and the accent of each is
systematically altered in a specific direction, there is a significant risk of aberration from
the original doctrine. To some extent this has occurred, and some humanistic
psychologists have lost touch with their existential roots and espouse a monolithic goal of
self-actualization with an associated set of quick actualizing techniques. This is a most

unfortunate development. It is important to keep in mind that the existential approach in
therapy is not a set of technical procedures but basically an attitude, a sensibility toward
the facts of life inherent in the human condition.
Existential therapy is a dynamic approach based on concerns that are rooted in
existence. Earlier I mentioned that a “dynamic” approach refers to a therapy that assumes
that the deep structures of personality encompass forces that are in conflict with one
another, and (this point is very important) these forces exist at different levels of
awareness: indeed, some exist outside of conscious awareness. But what about the content
of the internal struggle?
The existential view of the content differs greatly from the other dynamic systems. A
classical analytic approach, for example, addresses the struggle between the individual’s
fundamental drives (primarily sexual and aggressive) and an environment that frustrates
satisfaction of those drives. Alternatively, a self psychology approach would attend to the
individual’s efforts to preserve a stable sense of self as vital and worthwhile in the context
of resonating or disappointing self-object relationships.
The existential approach holds that the human being’s paramount struggle is with the
“givens” of existence, the ultimate concerns of the human condition: death, isolation,
freedom, and meaninglessness. Anxiety emerges from basic conflicts in each of these
realms: (1) we wish to continue to be and yet are aware of inevitable death; (2) we crave
structure and yet must confront the truth that we are the authors of our own life design and
our beliefs and our neural apparatus is responsible for the form of reality: underneath us
there is Nichts, groundlessness, the abyss; (3) we desire contact, protection, to be part of a
larger whole, yet experience the unbridgeable gap between self and others; and (4) we are
meaning-seeking creatures thrown into a world that has no intrinsic meaning.
The items in the Q-sort that struck meaningful chords in the study subjects reflected
some of these painful truths about existence. Group members realized that there were
limits to the guidance and support they could receive from others and that the ultimate
responsibility for the conduct of their lives was theirs alone. They learned also that though
they could be close to others, there was a point beyond which they could not be
accompanied: there is a basic aloneness to existence that must be faced. Many clients
learned to face their limitations and their mortality with greater candor and courage.
Coming to terms with their own deaths in a deeply authentic fashion permits them to cast
the troublesome concerns of everyday life in a different perspective. It permits them to
trivialize life’s trivia.
We often ignore these existential givens, until life events increase our sensibilities. We
may at first respond to illness, bereavement, and trauma with denial, but ultimately the
impact of these life-altering events may break through to create a therapeutic opportunity
that may catalyze constructive changes in oneself, one’s relationships, and one’s
relationship to life in general.†64
After ten sessions of integrative group therapy, women with early-stage breast cancer
not only experienced more optimism and reduced depression and anxiety but also
concluded that their cancer had contributed positively to their lives by causing them to

realign their life priorities. 65 In addition they showed a significant reduction in levels of
the stress hormone cortisol.66 Members of such support groups may benefit
psychologically, emotionally, and even physically as a result of the group’s support for
meaningful engagement with life challenges (see chapter 15).67
The course of therapy of Sheila, a client who at the end of treatment selected the
existential Q-sort items as having been instrumental in her improvement, illustrates many
of these points.
• A twenty-five-year-old perennial student, Sheila complained of depression,
loneliness, purposelessness, and severe gastric distress for which no organic cause
could be found. In a pregroup individual session she lamented repeatedly, “I don’t
know what’s going on!”
I could not discover what precisely she meant, and since this complaint was
embedded in a litany of self-accusations, I soon forgot it. However, she did not
understand what happened to her in the group, either: she could not understand
why others were so uninterested in her, why she developed a conversion paralysis,
why she entered sexually masochistic relationships, or why she so idealized the
therapist.
In the group Sheila was boring and absolutely predictable. Before every
utterance she scanned the sea of faces in the group searching for clues to what
others wanted and expected. She was willing to be almost anything so as to avoid
offending others and possibly driving them away from her. (Of course, she did
drive others away, not from anger but from boredom.) Sheila was in chronic retreat
from life, and the group tried endless approaches to halt the retreat, to find Sheila
within the cocoon of compliance she had spun around herself.
No progress occurred until the group stopped encouraging Sheila, stopped
attempting to force her to socialize, to study, to write papers, to pay bills, to buy
clothes, to groom herself, but instead urged her to consider the blessings of failure.
What was there in failure that was so seductive and so rewarding? Quite a bit, it
turned out! Failing kept her young, kept her protected, kept her from deciding.
Idealizing the therapist served the same purpose. Help was out there. He knew the
answers. Her job in therapy was to enfeeble herself to the point where the therapist
could not in all good conscience withhold his royal touch.
A critical event occurred when she developed an enlarged axillary lymph node.
She had a biopsy performed and later that day came to the group still fearfully
awaiting the results (which ultimately proved the enlarged node benign). She had
never been so near to her own death before, and we helped Sheila plunge into the
terrifying loneliness she experienced. There are two kinds of loneliness: the
primordial, existential loneliness that Sheila confronted in that meeting, and a
social loneliness, an inability to be with others.
Social loneliness is commonly and easily worked with in a group therapeutic
setting. Basic loneliness is more hidden, more obscured by the distractions of

everyday life, more rarely faced. Sometimes groups confuse the two and make an
effort to resolve or to heal a member’s basic loneliness. But, as Sheila learned that
day, it cannot be taken away; it cannot be resolved; it can only be known and
ultimately embraced as an integral part of existence.
Rather quickly, then, Sheila changed. She reintegrated far-strewn bits of herself.
She began to make decisions and to take over the helm of her life. She commented,
“I think I know what’s going on” (I had long forgotten her initial complaint). More
than anything else, she had been trying to avoid the specter of loneliness. I think
she tried to elude it by staying young, by avoiding choice and decision, by
perpetuating the myth that there would always be someone who would choose for
her, would accompany her, would be there for her. Choice and freedom invariably
imply loneliness, and, as Fromm pointed out long ago in Escape from Freedom,
freedom holds more terror for us than tyranny does.68
Turn back again to table 4.1. Let us consider item 60, which so many clients rated so
highly: Learning that I must take ultimate responsibility for the way I live my life no
matter how much guidance and support I get from others. In a sense, this is a double-
edged factor in group therapy. Group members learn a great deal about how to relate
better, how to develop greater intimacy with others, how to give help and to ask for help
from others. At the same time, they discover the limits of intimacy; they learn what they
cannot obtain from others. It is a harsh lesson and leads to both despair and strength. One
cannot stare at the sun very long, and Sheila on many occasions looked away and avoided
her dread. But she was always able to return to it, and by the end of therapy had made
major shifts within herself.
An important concept in existential therapy is that human beings may relate to the
ultimate concerns of existence in one of two possible modes. On the one hand, we may
suppress or ignore our situation in life and live in what Heidegger termed a state of
forgetfulness of being.69 In this everyday mode, we live in the world of things, in everyday
diversions; we are absorbed in chatter, tranquilized, lost in the “they”; we are concerned
only about the way things are. On the other hand, we may exist in a state of mindfulness of
being, a state in which we marvel not at the way things are, but that they are. In this state,
we are aware of being; we live authentically; we embrace our possibilities and limits; we
are aware of our responsibility for our lives. (I prefer Sartre’s definition of responsibility:
“to be responsible is to be the “uncontested author of… ”.)70
Being aware of one’s self-creation in the authentic state of mindfulness of being
provides one with the power to change and the hope that one’s actions will bear fruit.†
Thus, the therapist must pay special attention to the factors that transport a person from
the everyday to the authentic mode of existing. One cannot effect such a shift merely by
bearing down, by gritting one’s teeth. But there are certain jolting experiences (often
referred to in the philosophical literature as “boundary experiences”) that effectively
transport one into the mindfulness-of-being state.71
An extreme experience—such as Sheila’s encounter with a possibly malignant tumor—
is a good example of a boundary experience, an event that brings one sharply back to

reality and helps one prioritize one’s concerns in their proper perspective. Extreme
experience, however, occurs in its natural state only rarely during the course of a therapy
group, and the adept leader finds other ways to introduce these factors. The growing
emphasis on brief therapy offers an excellent opportunity: the looming end of the group
(or, for that matter, individual therapy) may be used by the therapist to urge clients to
consider other terminations, including death, and to reconsider how to improve the quality
and satisfaction of their remaining time. It is in this domain that the existential and
interpersonal intersect as clients begin to ask themselves more fundamental questions:
What choices do I exercise in my relationships and in my behavior? How do I wish to be
experienced by others? Am I truly present and engaged in this relationship or am I
managing the relationship inauthentically to reduce my anxiety? Do I care about what this
person needs from me or am I motivated by my constricted self-interest?
Other group leaders attempt to generate extreme experience by using a form of
existential shock therapy. With a variety of techniques, they try to bring clients to the edge
of the abyss of existence. I have seen leaders begin personal growth groups, for example,
by asking clients to compose their own epitaphs. Other leaders may begin by asking
members to draw their lifeline and mark their present position on it: How far from birth?
How close to death? But our capacity for denial is enormous, and it is the rare group that
perseveres, that does not slip back into less threatening concerns. Natural events in the
course of a group—illness, death, termination, and loss—may jolt the group back, but
always temporarily.
In 1974, I began to lead groups of individuals who lived continuously in the midst of
extreme experience.72 All the members had a terminal illness, generally metastatic
carcinoma, and all were entirely aware of the nature and implications of their illness. I
learned a great deal from these groups, especially about the fundamental but concealed
issues of life that are so frequently neglected in traditional psychotherapy. (See Chapter 15
for a detailed description of this group and current applications of the supportive-
expressive group approach.)
Reflecting back on that initial therapy group for cancer patients, many features stand
out. For one thing, the members were deeply supportive to one another, and it was
extraordinarily helpful for them to be so. Offering help so as to receive it in reciprocal
fashion was only one, and not the most important, benefit of this supportiveness. Being
useful to someone else drew them out of morbid self-absorption and provided them with a
sense of purpose and meaning. Almost every terminally ill person I have spoken to has
expressed deep fear of a helpless immobility—not only of being a burden to others and
being unable to care for themselves but of being useless and without value to others.
Living, then, becomes reduced to pointless survival, and the individual searches within,
ever more deeply, for meaning. The group offered these women the opportunity to find
meaning outside themselves: by extending help to another person, by caring for others,
they found the sense of purpose that so often eludes sheer introspective reflection.k
These approaches, these avenues to self-transcendence, if well traveled, can increase
one’s sense of meaning and purpose as well as one’s ability to bear what cannot be

changed. Finding meaning in the face of adversity can be transformative.73 Long ago,
Nietzsche wrote: “He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how.”74
It was clear to me (and demonstrated by empirical research) that the members of this
group who plunged most deeply into themselves, who confronted their fate most openly
and resolutely, passed into a richer mode of existence.75 Their life perspective was
radically altered; the trivial, inconsequential diversions of life were seen for what they
were. Their neurotic phobias diminished. They appreciated more fully the elemental
features of living: the changing seasons, the previous spring, the falling leaves, the loving
of others. Rather than resignation, powerlessness, and restriction, some members have
experienced a great sense of liberation and autonomy.
Some even spoke of the gift of cancer. What some considered tragic, was not their death
per se, but that they learned how to live life fully only after being threatened by serious
illness. They wondered if it was possible to teach their loved ones this important lesson
earlier in life or if it could be learned only in extremis? It may be that through the act of
death ending life, the idea of death revitalizes life: death becomes a co-therapist pushing
the work of psychotherapy ahead.
What can you as therapist do in the face of the inevitable? I think the answer lies in the
verb to be. You do by being, by being there with the client. Presence is the hidden agent of
help in all forms of therapy. Clients looking back on their therapy rarely remember a
single interpretation you made, but they always remember your presence, that you were
there with them. It is asking a great deal of the therapist to join this group, yet it would be
hypocrisy not to join. The group does not consist of you (the therapist), and they (the
dying); it is we who are dying, we who are banding together in the face of our common
condition. In my book The Gift of Therapy, I propose that the most accurate or felicitous
term for the therapeutic relationship might be “fellow traveler.” Two hundred years ago,
Schopenhauer suggested we should address one another as “fellow sufferers.”76
The group well demonstrates the double meaning of the word apartness: we are
separate, lonely, apart from but also a part of. One of my members put it elegantly when
she described herself as a lonely ship in the dark. Even though no physical mooring could
be made, it was nonetheless enormously comforting to see the lights of other ships sailing
the same water.
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC
FACTORS: DIFFERENCES BETWEEN CLIENTS’ AND
THERAPISTS’ VIEWS
Do clients and therapists agree about what helps in group psychotherapy? Research
comparing therapists’ and clients’ assessments is instructive. First, keep in mind that
therapists’ published views of the range of therapeutic factors are broadly analogous to the

factors I have described.77 But, of course, leaders from different ideological schools differ
in their weighting of the therapeutic factors, even though they resemble one another in
their therapeutic relationships.78
The research data tells us that therapists and clients differ in their valuation of the group
therapeutic factors. A study of 100 acute inpatient group members and their thirty
behaviorally oriented therapists showed that the therapists and clients differed
significantly in their ranking of therapeutic factors. Therapists placed considerably more
weight on client modeling and behavioral experimentation, whereas the group members
valued other factors more: self-responsibility, self-understanding, and universality.79
Another study showed that groups of alcoholics ranked existential factors far higher than
did their therapists.80 It should not be surprising that substance abuse clients value
accountability and personal responsibility highly. These factors are cornerstones of
twelve-step groups.
Fifteen HIV-positive men treated in time-limited cognitive-behavioral therapy groups
for depression cited different therapeutic factors than their therapists. Members selected
social support, cohesion, universality, altruism, and existential factors, whereas the
therapists (in line with their ideological school) considered cognitive restructuring as the
mutative agent.81
A large survey of prison therapy groups notes that inmates agree with their group
leaders about the importance of interpersonal learning but value existential factors far
more highly than their therapists do.82 As noted earlier, incest victims in group therapy
value highly the therapeutic factor of family reenactment.83
Therapists are wise to be alert to these divergences. Client-therapist disagreement about
the goals and tasks of therapy may impair the therapeutic alliance.† This issue is not
restricted to group therapy. Client-therapist discrepancies on therapeutic factors also occur
in individual psychotherapy. A large study of psychoanalytically oriented therapy found
that clients attributed their successful therapy to relationship factors, whereas their
therapists gave precedence to technical skills and techniques.84 In general, analytic
therapists value the coming to consciousness of unconscious factors and the subsequent
linkage between childhood experiences and present symptoms far more than do their
clients, who deny the importance or even the existence of these elements in therapy;
instead they emphasize the personal elements of the relationship and the encounter with a
new, accepting type of authority figure.
A turning point in the treatment of one client starkly illustrates the differences. In the
midst of treatment, the client had an acute anxiety attack and was seen by the therapist in
an emergency session. Both therapist and client regarded the incident as critical, but for
very different reasons. To the therapist, the emergency session unlocked the client’s
previously repressed memories of early incestuous sex play and facilitated a working-
through of important Oedipal material. The client, on the other hand, entirely dismissed
the content of the emergency session and instead valued the relationship implications: the
caring and concern expressed by the therapist’s willingness to see him in the middle of the

night.
A similar discrepancy between the client’s and the therapist’s view of therapy is to be
found in Every Day Gets a Little Closer, a book I coauthored with a client.85 Throughout
the treatment she and I wrote independent, impressionistic summaries of each meeting and
handed them in, sealed, to my secretary. Every few months we read each other’s
summaries and discovered that we valued very different aspects of the therapeutic process.
All my elegant interpretations? She never even heard them! What she remembered and
treasured were the soft, subtle, personal exchanges, which, to her, conveyed my interest
and caring for her.
Reviews of process and outcome research reveal that clients’ ratings of therapist
engagement and empathy are more predictive of therapeutic success than therapists’
ratings of these same variables.86 These findings compel us to pay close attention to the
client’s view of the most salient therapeutic factors. In research as in clinical work, we do
well to heed the adage: Listen to the client.
To summarize: Therapists and their clients differ in their views about important
therapeutic factors: clients consistently emphasize the importance of the relationship and
the personal, human qualities of the therapist, whereas therapists attribute their success to
their techniques. When the therapist-client discrepancy is too great, when therapists
emphasize therapeutic factors that are incompatible with the needs and capacities of the
group members, then the therapeutic enterprise will be derailed: clients will become
bewildered and resistant, and therapists will become discouraged and exasperated. The
therapist’s capacity to respond to client vulnerability with warmth and tenderness is
pivotal and may lie at the heart of the transformative power of therapy.†
THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: MODIFYING FORCES
It is not possible to construct an absolute hierarchy of therapeutic factors. There are many
modifying forces: therapeutic factors are influenced by the type of group therapy, the stage
of therapy, extragroup forces, and individual differences.
Therapeutic Factors in Different Group Therapies
Different types of group therapy favor the operation of different clusters of curative
factors. Consider, for example, the therapy group on an acute inpatient ward. Members of
inpatient therapy groups do not select the same constellation of three factors (interpersonal
learning, catharsis, and self-understanding) as most members of outpatient groups.87
Rather, they select a wide range of therapeutic factors that reflect, I believe, both the
heterogeneous composition of inpatient therapy groups and the cafeteria theory of
improvement in group therapy. Clients who differ greatly from one another in ego
strength, motivation, goals, and type and severity of psychopathology meet in the same
inpatient group and, accordingly, select and value different aspects of the group procedure.

Many more inpatients than outpatients select the therapeutic factors of instillation of
hope and existential factors (especially the assumption of responsibility). Instillation of
hope looms large in inpatient groups because so many individuals enter the hospital in a
state of utter demoralization. Until the individual acquires hope and the motivation to
engage in treatment, no progress will be made. Often the most effective antidote to
demoralization is the presence of others who have recently been in similar straits and
discovered a way out of despair. Existential factors (defined on the research instruments
generally as “assumption of ultimate responsibility for my own life”) are of particular
importance to inpatients, because often hospitalization confronts them with the limits of
other people; external resources have been exhausted; family, friends, therapists have
failed; they have hit bottom and realize that, in the final analysis, they can rely only on
themselves. (On one inpatient Q-sort study, the assumption of responsibility, item 60, was
ranked first of the sixty items.)88
A vast range of homogeneously composed groups meet today. Let us review the
therapeutic factors chosen by the members of several of these groups.
• Alcoholics Anonymous and Recovery, Inc. members emphasize the instillation of
hope, imparting information, universality, altruism, and some aspects of group
cohesiveness.
• Members of discharge planning groups in psychiatric hospitals emphasize imparting
of information and development of socializing techniques.
• Participants of occupational therapy groups most valued the factors of cohesiveness,
instillation of hope, and interpersonal learning.89
• Members of psychodrama groups in Israel, despite differences in culture and
treatment format, selected factors consistent with those selected by group therapy
outpatients: interpersonal learning, catharsis, group cohesiveness, and self-
understanding.90
• Members of self-help groups (women’s consciousness raising, bereaved parents,
widows, heart surgery patients, and mothers) commonly chose factors of
universality, followed by guidance, altruism, and cohesiveness.91
• Members of an eighteen-month-long group of spouses caring for a partner with a
brain tumor chose universality, altruism, instillation of hope, and the provision of
information.92
• Psychotic clients with intrusive, controlling auditory hallucinations successfully
treated in cognitive-behavioral therapy groups valued universality, hope, and
catharsis. For them, finally being able to talk about their voices and feel
understood by peers was of enormous value.93
• Spousal abusers in a psychoeducational group selected the imparting of information
as a chief therapeutic factor.94
• Adolescents in learning disability groups cited the effectiveness of “mutual

recognition”—of seeing oneself in others and feeling valued and less isolated.95
• Geriatric group participants who confront limits, mortality, and the passage of time
select existential factors as critically important.96
When therapists form a new therapy group in some specialized setting or for some
specialized clinical population, the first step, as I will stress in chapter 15, is to determine
the appropriate goals and, after that, the therapeutic factors most likely to be helpful for
that particular group. Everything else, all matters of therapeutic technique, follow from
that framework. Thus, it is vitally important to keep in mind the persuasive research
evidence that different types of group therapy make use of different therapeutic factors.
For example, consider a time-limited psychoeducational group for panic attacks whose
members may receive considerable benefit from group leader instruction on cognitive
strategies for preventing and minimizing the disruptiveness of the attacks (guidance). The
experience of being in a group of people who suffer from the same problem (universality)
is also likely to be very comforting. Although difficulties in relationships may indeed
contribute to their symptoms, an undue focus on the therapeutic factor of interpersonal
learning would not be warranted given the time frame of the group.
Understanding the client’s experience of the therapeutic factors can lead to enlightened
and productive group innovations. For example, an effective multimodal group approach
for bulimia nervosa has been reported that integrates and sequences three independently
effective treatments. This twelve-week group starts with a psychoeducation module about
bulimia and nutrition; next is a cognitive-behavioral module that examines distorted
cognitions about eating and body image; and the group concludes with an interpersonally
oriented group segment that examines here-and-now relationship concerns and their
impact on eating behaviors.97
Therapeutic Factors and Stages of Therapy
Intensive interactional group therapy exerts its chief therapeutic power through
interpersonal learning (encompassing catharsis, self-understanding, and interpersonal
input and output) and group cohesiveness, but the other therapeutic factors play an
indispensable role in the intensive therapy process. To appreciate the interdependence of
the therapeutic factors, we must consider the entire group process from start to finish.
Many clients expressed difficulty in rank-ordering therapeutic factors because they
found different factors helpful at different stages of therapy. Factors of considerable
importance early in therapy may be far less salient late in the course of treatment.
Consider the early stages of development: the group’s chief concerns are with survival,
establishing boundaries, and maintaining membership. In this phase, factors such as the
instillation of hope, guidance, and universality are especially important.†98 A universality
phase early in the group is inevitable as well, as members search out similarities and
compare symptoms and problem constellations.

The first dozen meetings of a group present a high-risk period for potential dropouts,
and it is often necessary to awaken hope in the members in order to keep them attending
through this critical phase. Factors such as altruism and group cohesiveness operate
throughout therapy, but their nature changes with the stage of the group. Early in therapy,
altruism takes the form of offering suggestions or helping one another talk by asking
appropriate questions and giving attention. Later it may take the form of a more profound
caring and presence.
Group cohesiveness operates as a therapeutic factor at first by means of group support,
acceptance, and the facilitation of attendance and later by means of the interrelation of
group esteem and self-esteem and through its role in interpersonal learning. It is only after
the development of group cohesiveness that members may engage deeply and
constructively in the self-disclosure, confrontation, and conflict essential to the process of
interpersonal learning. Therapists must appreciate this necessary developmental sequence
to help prevent early group dropouts. In a study of therapeutic factors in long-term
inpatient treatment in Germany, clinical improvement was related to the experience of
early cohesion and belonging. Cohesion set the stage for greater personal self-disclosure,
which generated the interpersonal feedback that produced behavioral and psychological
change.99 An outpatient study demonstrated that the longer group members participated in
the group, the more they valued cohesiveness, self-understanding, and interpersonal
output.100 Students in eleven-session counseling groups valued universality more in the
first half of the group and interpersonal learning in the second half.101
In a study of twenty-six-session growth groups, universality and hope declined in
importance through the course of the group, whereas catharsis increased.102 In a study of
spouse abusers, universality was the prominent factor in early stages, while the importance
of group cohesion grew over time.103 This emphasis on universality may be characteristic
in the treatment of clients who feel shame or stigma. The cohesion that promotes change,
however, is best built on a respect and acceptance of personal differences that takes time
to mature. In another study, psychiatric inpatients valued universality, hope, and
acceptance most, but later, when they participated in outpatient group psychotherapy, they
valued self-understanding more.104
In summary, the therapeutic factors clients deem most important vary with the stage of
group development. The therapist’s attention to this finding is as important as the
therapist’s congruence with the client on therapeutic factors reviewed in the preceding
section. Clients’ needs and goals change during the course of therapy. In chapter 2, I
described a common sequence in which group members first seek symptomatic relief and
then, during the first months in therapy, formulate new goals, often interpersonal ones of
relating more deeply to others, learning to love, and being honest with others. As
members’ needs and goals shift during therapy, so, too, must the necessary therapeutic
processes. Modern enlightened psychotherapy is often termed dynamic psychotherapy
because it appreciates the dynamics, the motivational aspects of behavior, many of which
are not in awareness. Dynamic therapy may be thought of also as changing, evolving
psychotherapy: clients change, the group goes through a developmental sequence, and the

therapeutic factors shift in primacy and influence during the course of therapy.
Therapeutic Factors Outside the Group
Although I suggest that major behavioral and attitudinal shifts require a degree of
interpersonal learning, occasionally group members make major changes without making
what would appear to be the appropriate investment in the therapeutic process. This brings
up an important principle in therapy: The therapist or the group does not have to do the
entire job. Personality reconstruction as a therapeutic goal is as unrealistic as it is
presumptuous. Our clients have many adaptive coping strengths that may have served
them well in the past, and a boost from some event in therapy may be sufficient to help a
client begin coping in an adaptive manner. Earlier in this text I used the term “adaptive
spiral” to refer to the process in which one change in a client begets changes in his or her
interpersonal environment that beget further personal change. The adaptive spiral is the
reverse of the vicious circle, in which so many clients find themselves ensnared—a
sequence of events in which dysphoria has interpersonal manifestations that weaken or
disrupt interpersonal bonds and consequently create further dysphoria.
These points are documented when we ask clients about other therapeutic influences or
events in their lives that occurred concurrently with their therapy course. In one sample of
twenty clients, eighteen described a variety of extragroup therapeutic factors. Most
commonly cited was a new or an improved interpersonal relationship with one or more of
a variety of figures (member of the opposite sex, parent, spouse, teacher, foster family, or
new set of friends).105 Two clients claimed to have benefited by going through with a
divorce that had long been pending. Many others cited success at work or school, which
raised their self-esteem as they established a reservoir of real accomplishments. Others
became involved in some new social venture (a YMCA group or community action
group).
Perhaps these are fortuitous, independent factors that deserve credit, along with group
therapy, for the successful outcome. In one sense that is true: the external event augments
therapy. Yet it is also true that the potential external event had often always been there: the
therapy group mobilized the members to take advantage of resources that had long been
available to them in their environment.
Consider Bob, a lonely, shy, and insecure man, who attended a time-limited twenty-
five-session group. Though he spent considerable time discussing his fear about
approaching women, and though the group devoted much effort to helping him, there
seemed little change in his outside behavior. But at the final meeting of the group, Bob
arrived with a big smile and a going-away present for the group: a copy of a local
newspaper in which he had placed an ad in the personals!
The newspapers, spouses, online sites, relatives, potential friends, social organizations,
and academic or job opportunities are always out there, available, waiting for the client to
seize them. The group may have given the client only the necessary slight boost to allow

him or her to exploit these previously untapped resources. Frequently the group members
and the therapist are unaware of the importance of these factors and view the client’s
improvement with skepticism or puzzlement. And frequently the group may end with no
evidence of their ultimate impact on the member. Later, when I discuss combined
treatment, I will emphasize the point that therapists who continue to see clients in
individual therapy long after the termination of the group often learn that members make
use of the internalized group months, even years, later.
A study of encounter group members who had very successful outcomes yielded
corroborative results.106 More often than not, successful members did not credit the group
for their change. Instead, they described the beneficial effects of new relationships they
had made, new social circles they had created, new recreational clubs they had joined,
greater work satisfaction they had found. Closer inquiry indicated, of course, that the
relationships, social circles, recreational clubs, and work satisfaction had not suddenly and
miraculously materialized. They had long been available to the individual who was
mobilized by the group experience to take advantage of these resources and exploit them
for satisfaction and personal growth.
I have considered, at several places in this text, how the skills group members acquire
prepare them for new social situations in the future. Not only are extrinsic skills acquired
but intrinsic capacities are released. Psychotherapy removes neurotic obstructions that
have stunted the development of the client’s own resources. The view of therapy as
obstruction removal lightens the burden of therapists and enables them to retain respect
for the rich, never fully knowable, capacities of their clients.
Individual Differences and Therapeutic Factors
The studies cited in this chapter report average values of therapeutic factors as ranked by
groups of clients. However, there is considerable individual variation in the rankings, and
some researchers have attempted to determine the individual characteristics that influence
the selection of therapeutic factors. Although demographic variables such as sex and
education make little difference, there is evidence that level of functioning is significantly
related to the ranking of therapeutic factors, for example, higher-functioning individuals
value interpersonal learning (the cluster of interpersonal input and output, catharsis, and
self-understanding) more than do the lower-functioning members in the same group.107 It
has also been shown that lower-functioning inpatient group members value the instillation
of hope, whereas higher-functioning members in the same groups value universality,
vicarious learning, and interpersonal learning.108
A large number of other studies demonstrate differences between individuals (high
encounter group learners vs. low learners, dominant vs. nondominant clients, overly
responsible vs. nonresponsible clients, high self acceptors vs. low self acceptors, highly
affiliative vs. low affiliative students).109
Not everyone needs the same things or responds in the same way to group therapy.

There are many therapeutic pathways through the group therapy experience. Consider, for
example, catharsis. Some restricted individuals benefit by experiencing and expressing
strong affect, whereas others who have problems of impulse control and great emotional
liability may not benefit from catharsis but instead from reining in emotional expression
and acquiring intellectual structure. Narcissistic individuals need to learn to share and to
give, whereas passive, self-effacing individuals need to learn to express their needs and to
become more selfish. Some clients may need to develop satisfactory, even rudimentary,
social skills; others may need to work with more subtle issues—for example, a male client
who needs to stop sexualizing all women and devaluing or competing with all men.
In summary, it is clear that the comparative potency of the therapeutic factors is a
complex issue. Different factors are valued by different types of therapy groups, by the
same group at different developmental stages, and by different clients within the same
group, depending on individual needs and strengths. Overall, however, the preponderance
of research evidence indicates that the power of the interactional outpatient group
emanates from its interpersonal properties. Interpersonal interaction and exploration
(encompassing catharsis and self-understanding) and group cohesiveness are the sine qua
non of effective group therapy, and effective group therapists must direct their efforts
toward maximal development of these therapeutic resources. The next chapters will
consider the role and the techniques of the group therapist from the viewpoint of these
therapeutic factors.

Chapter 5
THE THERAPIST: BASIC TASKS
Now that I have considered how people change in group therapy, it is time to turn to the
therapist’s role in the therapeutic process. In this chapter, I consider the basic tasks of the
therapist and the techniques by which they may be accomplished.
The four previous chapters contend that therapy is a complex process consisting of
elemental factors that interlace in an intricate fashion. The group therapist’s job is to create
the machinery of therapy, to set it in motion, and to keep it operating with maximum
effectiveness. Sometimes I think of the therapy group as an enormous dynamo: often the
therapist is deep in the interior—working, experiencing, interacting (and being personally
influenced by the energy field); at other times, the therapist dons mechanic’s clothes and
tinkers with the exterior, lubricating, tightening nuts and bolts, replacing parts.
Before turning to specific tasks and techniques, I wish to emphasize something to which
I will return again and again in the following pages. Underlying all considerations of
technique must be a consistent, positive relationship between therapist and client. The
basic posture of the therapist to a client must be one of concern, acceptance, genuineness,
empathy . Nothing, no technical consideration, takes precedence over this attitude. Of
course, there will be times when the therapist challenges the client, shows frustration, even
suggests that if the client is not going to work, he or she should consider leaving the
group. But these efforts (which in the right circumstances may have therapeutic clout) are
never effective unless they are experienced against a horizon of an accepting, concerned
therapist-client relationship.
I will discuss the techniques of the therapist in respect to three fundamental tasks:
1. Creation and maintenance of the group
2. Building a group culture
3. Activation and illumination of the here-and-now
I discuss the first of these only briefly here and will pick it up in greater detail after I
present the essential background material of chapters 8, 9, and 10. In this chapter, I focus
primarily on the second task, building a group culture, and, in the next chapter turn to the
third task, the activation and illumination of the here-and-now.
CREATION AND MAINTENANCE OF THE GROUP
The group leader is solely responsible for creating and convening the group. Your offer of
professional help serves as the group’s initial raison d’être, and you set the time and place
for meetings. A considerable part of the maintenance task is performed before the first

meeting, and, as I will elaborate in later chapters, the leader’s expertise in the selection
and the preparation of members will greatly influence the group’s fate.
Once the group begins, the therapist attends to gatekeeping, especially the prevention of
member attrition. Occasionally an individual will have an unsuccessful group experience
resulting in premature termination of therapy, which may play some useful function in his
or her overall therapy career. For example, failure in or rejection by a group may so
unsettle the client as to prime him or her ideally for another therapist. Generally, however,
a client who drops out early in the course of the group should be considered a therapeutic
failure. Not only does the client fail to receive benefit, but the progress of the remainder of
the group is adversely affected. Stability of membership is a sine qua non of successful
therapy. If dropouts do occur, the therapist must, except in the case of a closed group (see
chapter 10), add new members to maintain the group at its ideal size.
Initially, the clients are strangers to one another and know only the therapist, who is the
group’s primary unifying force. The members relate to one another at first through their
common relationship with the therapist, and these therapist-client alliances set the stage
for the eventual development of group cohesion.
The therapist must recognize and deter any forces that threaten group cohesiveness.
Continued tardiness, absences, subgrouping, disruptive extragroup socialization, and
scapegoating all threaten the functional integrity of the group and require the intervention
of the therapist. Each of these issues will be discussed fully in later chapters. For now, it is
necessary only to emphasize the therapist’s responsibility to supra-individual needs. Your
first task is to help create a physical entity, a cohesive group. There will be times when
you must delay dealing with pressing needs of an individual client, and even times when
you will have to remove a member from the group for the good of the other members.
A clinical vignette illustrates some of these points:
• Once I introduced two new members, both women, into an outpatient group. This
particular group, with a stable core of four male members, had difficulty keeping
women members and two women had dropped out in the previous month. This
meeting began inauspiciously for one of the women, whose perfume triggered a
sneezing fit in one of the men, who moved his chair away from her and then, while
vigorously opening the windows, informed her of his perfume allergy and of the
group’s “no perfume” rule.
At this point another member, Mitch, arrived a couple of minutes late and,
without even a glance at the two new members, announced, “I need some time
today from the group. I was really shook up by the meeting last week. I went home
from the group very disturbed by your comments about my being a time hog. I
didn’t like those insinuations from any of you, or from you either [addressing me].
Later that evening I had an enormous fight with my wife, who took exception to my
reading a medical journal [Mitch was a physician] at the dinner table, and we
haven’t been speaking since.”
Now this particular opening is a good beginning for most group meetings. It had

many things going for it. The client stated that he wanted some time. (The more
members who come to the group asking for time and eager to work, the more
energized a meeting will be.) Also, he wanted to work on issues that had been
raised in the previous week’s meeting. (As a general rule the more group members
work on themes continually from meeting to meeting, the more powerful the group
becomes.) Furthermore, he began the meeting by attacking the therapist—and that
was a good thing. This group had been treating me much too gently. Mitch’s attack,
though uncomfortable, was, I felt certain, going to produce important group work.
Thus I had many different options in the meeting, but there was one task to
which I had to award highest priority: maintaining the functional integrity of the
group. I had introduced two female members into a group that had had some
difficulty retaining women. And how had the members of the group responded? Not
well! They had virtually disenfranchised the new members. After the sneezing
incident, Mitch had not even acknowledged their presence and had launched into
an opening gambit—that, though personally important, systematically excluded the
new women by its reference to the previous meeting.
It was important, then, for me to find a way to address this task and, if possible,
also to address the issues Mitch had raised. In chapter 2, I offered the basic
principle that therapy should strive to turn all issues into here-and-now issues. It
would have been folly to deal explicitly with Mitch’s fight with his wife. The data
that Mitch would have given about his wife would have been biased and he might
well have “yes, but” the group to death.
Fortunately, however, there was a way to tackle both issues at once. Mitch’s
treatment of the two women in the group bore many similarities to his treatment of
his wife at the dinner table. He had been as insensitive to their presence and their
particular needs as to his wife’s. In fact, it was precisely about his insensitivity that
the group had confronted him the previous meeting.
Therefore, about a half hour into the meeting, I pried Mitch’s attention away
from his wife and last week’s session by saying, “Mitch, I wonder what hunches
you have about how our two new members are feeling in the group today?”
This inquiry led Mitch into the general issue of empathy and his inability or
unwillingness in many situations to enter the experiential world of the other.
Fortunately, this tactic not only turned the other group members’ attention to the
way they all had ignored the two new women, but also helped Mitch work
effectively on his core problem: his failure to recognize and appreciate the needs
and wishes of others. Even if it were not possible to address some of Mitch’s
central issues, I still would have opted to attend to the integration of the new
members. Physical survival of the group must take precedence over other tasks.
CULTURE BUILDING

Once the group is a physical reality, the therapist’s energy must be directed toward
shaping it into a therapeutic social system. An unwritten code of behavioral rules or norms
must be established that will guide the interaction of the group. And what are the desirable
norms for a therapeutic group? They follow logically from the discussion of the
therapeutic factors.
Consider for a moment the therapeutic factors outlined in the first four chapters:
acceptance and support, universality, advice, interpersonal learning, altruism, and hope—
who provides these? Obviously, the other members of the group! Thus, to a large extent, it
is the group that is the agent of change.
Herein lies a crucial difference in the basic roles of the individual therapist and the
group therapist. In the individual format, the therapist functions as the solely designated
direct agent of change. The group therapist functions far more indirectly. In other words, if
it is the group members who, in their interaction, set into motion the many therapeutic
factors, then it is the group therapist’s task to create a group culture maximally conducive
to effective group interaction.
The game of chess provides a useful analogy. Expert players do not, at the beginning of
the game, strive for checkmate or outright capture of a piece, but instead aim at obtaining
strategic squares on the board, thereby increasing the power of each of their pieces. In so
doing, players are indirectly moving toward success since, as the game proceeds, this
superior strategic position will favor an effective attack and ultimate material gain. So,
too, the group therapist methodically builds a culture that will ultimately exert great
therapeutic strength.
A jazz pianist, a member of one of my groups, once commented on the role of the leader
by reflecting that very early in his musical career, he deeply admired the great
instrumental virtuosos. It was only much later that he grew to understand that the truly
great jazz musicians were those who knew how to augment the sound of others, how to be
quiet, how to enhance the functioning of the entire ensemble.
It is obvious that the therapy group has norms that radically depart from the rules, or
etiquette, of typical social intercourse. Unlike almost any other kind of group, the
members must feel free to comment on the immediate feelings they experience toward the
group, the other members, and the therapist. Honesty and spontaneity of expression must
be encouraged in the group. If the group is to develop into a true social microcosm,
members must interact freely. In schematic form, the pathways of interaction should
appear like the first rather than the second diagram, in which communications are
primarily to or through the therapist.

Other desirable norms include active involvement in the group, nonjudgmental
acceptance of others, extensive self-disclosure, desire for self-understanding, and an
eagerness to change current modes of behavior. Norms may be a prescription for as well
as a proscription against certain types of behavior. Norms may be implicit as well as
explicit. In fact, the members of a group cannot generally consciously elaborate the norms
of the group. Thus, to learn the norms of a group, the researcher is ill advised to ask the
members for a list of these unwritten rules. A far better approach is to present the members
with a list of behaviors and ask them to indicate which are appropriate and which
inappropriate in the group.
Norms invariably evolve in every type of group—social, professional, and therapeutic.1
By no means is it inevitable that a therapeutic group will evolve norms that facilitate the
therapeutic process. Systematic observation of therapy groups reveals that many are
encumbered with crippling norms. A group may, for example, so value hostile catharsis
that positive sentiments are eschewed; a group may develop a “take turns” format in
which the members sequentially describe their problems to the group; or a group may
have norms that do not permit members to question or challenge the therapist. Shortly I
will discuss some specific norms that hamper or facilitate therapy, but first I will consider
how norms come into being.
The Construction of Norms
Norms of a group are constructed both from expectations of the members for their group
and from the explicit and implicit directions of the leader and more influential members. If
the members’ expectations are not firm, then the leader has even more opportunity to
design a group culture that, in his or her view, will be optimally therapeutic. The group
leader’s statements to the group play a powerful, though usually implicit, role in
determining the norms established in the group.† In one study, researchers observed that

when the leader made a comment following closely after a particular member’s actions,
that member became a center of attention in the group and often assumed a major role in
future meetings. Furthermore, the relative infrequency of the leader’s comments
augmented the strength of his or her interventions.2 Researchers studying intensive
experiential training groups for group therapists also concluded that leaders who modeled
warmth and technical expertise more often had positive outcomes: members of their
groups achieved greater self-confidence and greater awareness of both group dynamics
and the role of the leader.3 In general, leaders who set norms of increased engagement and
decreased conflict have better clinical outcomes.4
By discussing the leader as norm-shaper, I am not proposing a new or contrived role for
the therapist. Wittingly or unwittingly, the leader always shapes the norms of the group
and must be aware of this function. Just as one cannot not communicate, the leader cannot
not influence norms; virtually all of his or her early group behavior is influential.
Moreover, what one does not do is often as important as what one does do.
Once I observed a group led by a British group analyst in which a member who had
been absent the six previous meetings entered the meeting a few minutes late. The
therapist in no way acknowledged the arrival of the member; after the session, he
explained to the student observers that he chose not to influence the group since he
preferred that they make their own rules about welcoming tardy or prodigal members. It
appeared clear to me, however, that the therapist’s non-welcome was an influential act and
very much of a norm-setting message. His group had evolved, no doubt as a result of
many similar previous actions, into a uncaring, insecure one, whose members sought
methods of currying the leader’s favor.
Norms are created relatively early in the life of a group and, once established, are
difficult to change. Consider, for example, the small group in an industrial setting that
forms norms regulating individual member output, or a delinquent gang that establishes
codes of behavior, or a psychiatric ward that forms norms of expected staff and patient
role behavior. To change entrenched standards is notoriously difficult and requires
considerable time and often large group membership turnover.
To summarize: every group evolves a set of unwritten rules or norms that determine the
procedure of the group. The ideal therapy group has norms that permit the therapeutic
factors to operate with maximum effectiveness. Norms are shaped both by the expectations
of the group members and by the behavior of the therapist. The therapist is enormously
influential in norm setting—in fact, it is a function that the leader cannot avoid. Norms
constructed early in the group have considerable perseverance. The therapist is thus well
advised to go about this important function in an informed, deliberate manner.
HOW DOES THE LEADER SHAPE NORMS?
There are two basic roles the therapist may assume in a group: technical expert and model-

setting participant. In each of these roles, the therapist helps to shape the norms of the
group.
The Technical Expert
When assuming the role of technical expert, therapists deliberately slip into the traditional
garb of expert and employ a variety of techniques to move the group in a direction they
consider desirable. They explicitly attempt to shape norms during their early preparation
of clients for group therapy. In this procedure, described fully in chapter 10, therapists
carefully instruct clients about the rules of the group, and they reinforce the instruction in
two ways: first, by backing it with the weight of authority and experience and, second, by
presenting the rationale behind the suggested mode of procedure in order to enlist the
clients’ support.
At the beginning of a group, therapists have at their disposal a wide choice of
techniques to shape the group culture. These range from explicit instructions and
suggestions to subtle reinforcing techniques. For example, as I described earlier, the leader
must attempt to create an interactional network in which the members freely interact rather
than direct all their comments to or through the therapist. To this end, therapists may
implicitly instruct members in their pregroup interviews or in the first group sessions; they
may, repeatedly during the meetings, ask for all members’ reactions to another member or
toward a group issue; they may ask why conversation is invariably directed toward the
therapist; they may refuse to answer questions when addressed; they may ask the group to
engage in exercises that teach clients to interact—for example, asking each member of the
group in turn to give his or her first impressions of every other member; or therapists may,
in a much less obtrusive manner, shape behavior by rewarding members who address one
another—therapists may nod or smile at them, address them warmly, or shift their posture
into a more receptive position. Exactly the same approaches may be applied to the myriad
of other norms the therapist wishes to inculcate: self-disclosure, open expression of
emotions, promptness, self-exploration, and so on.
Therapists vary considerably in style. Although many prefer to shape norms explicitly,
all therapists, to a degree often greater than they suppose, perform their tasks through the
subtle technique of social reinforcement. Human behavior is continuously influenced by a
series of environmental events (reinforcers), which may have a positive or negative
valence and which exert their influence on a conscious or a subliminal level.
Advertising and political propaganda techniques are but two examples of a systematic
harnessing of reinforcing agents. Psychotherapy, no less, relies on the use of subtle, often
nondeliberate social reinforcers. Although few self-respecting therapists like to consider
themselves social reinforcing agents, nevertheless therapists continuously exert influence
in this manner, unconsciously or deliberately. They may positively reinforce behavior by
numerous verbal and nonverbal acts, including nodding, smiling, leaning forward, or
offering an interested “mmm” or a direct inquiry for more information. On the other hand,
therapists attempt to extinguish behavior not deemed salubrious by not commenting, not

nodding, ignoring the behavior, turning their attention to another client, looking skeptical,
raising their eyebrows, and so on. In fact research suggests that therapists who reinforce
members’ pro-group behavior indirectly are often more effective than those who prompt
such behavior explicitly.5 Any obvious verbal directive from therapists then becomes
especially effective because of the paucity of such interventions.
Every form of psychotherapy is a learning process, relying in part on operant
conditioning. Therapy, even psychoanalysis, without some form of therapist reinforcement
or manipulation is a mirage that disappears on close scrutiny.6
Considerable research demonstrates the efficacy of operant techniques in the shaping of
group behavior.7 Using these techniques deliberately, one can reduce silences8 or increase
personal and group comments, expressions of hostility to the leader, or intermember
acceptance.9 Though there is evidence that they owe much of their effectiveness to these
learning principles, psychotherapists often eschew this evidence because of their
unfounded fear that such a mechanistic view will undermine the essential human
component of the therapy experience. The facts are compelling, however, and an
understanding of their own behavior does not strip therapists of their spontaneity. After all,
the objective of using operant techniques is to foster authentic and meaningful
engagement. Therapists who recognize that they exert great influence through social
reinforcement and who have formulated a central organizing principle of therapy will be
more effective and consistent in making therapeutic interventions.
The Model-Setting Participant
Leaders shape group norms not only through explicit or implicit social engineering but
also through the example they set in their own group behavior. 10 The therapy group
culture represents a radical departure from the social rules to which clients are
accustomed. Clients are asked to discard familiar social conventions, to try out new
behavior, and to take many risks. How can therapists best demonstrate to their clients that
new behavior will not have the anticipated adverse consequences?
One method, which has considerable research backing, is modeling: Clients are
encouraged to alter their behavior by observing their therapists engaging freely and
without adverse effects in the desired behavior. Bandura has demonstrated in many well-
controlled studies that individuals may be influenced to engage in more adaptive behavior
(for example, the overcoming of specific phobias)11 or less adaptive behavior (for
example, unrestrained aggressivity)12 through observing and assuming other’s behavior.
The leader may, by offering a model of nonjudgmental acceptance and appreciation of
others’ strengths as well as their problem areas, help shape a group that is health oriented.
If, on the other hand, leaders conceptualize their role as that of a detective of
psychopathology, the group members will follow suit. For example, one group member
had actively worked on the problems of other members for months but had steadfastly
declined to disclose her own problems. Finally in one meeting she confessed that one year

earlier she had had a two-month stay in a state psychiatric hospital. The therapist
responded reflexively, “Why haven’t you told us this before?”
This comment, perceived as punitive by the client, served only to reinforce her fear and
discourage further self-disclosure. Obviously, there are questions and comments that will
close people down and others that will help them open up. The therapist had “opening-up”
options: for example, “I think it’s great that you now trust the group sufficiently to share
these facts about yourself,” or, “How difficult it must have been for you in the group
previously, wanting to share this disclosure and yet being afraid to do so.”
The leader sets a model of interpersonal honesty and spontaneity but must also keep in
mind the current needs of the members and demonstrate behavior that is congruent with
those needs. Do not conclude that group therapists should freely express all feelings. Total
disinhibition is no more salubrious in therapy groups than in other forms of human
encounter and may lead to ugly, destructive interaction. The therapist must model
responsibility and appropriate restraint as well as honesty. We want to engage our clients
and allow ourselves to be affected by them. In fact, “disciplined personal involvement” is
an invaluable part of the group leader’s armamentarium.13 Not only is it therapeutic to our
clients that we let them matter to us, we can also use our own reactions as valuable data
about our clients—provided we know ourselves well enough.†
Consider the following therapeutically effective intervention:
• In the first session of a group of business executives meeting for a five-day human
relations laboratory, a twenty-five-year-old, aggressive, swaggering member who
had obviously been drinking heavily proceeded to dominate the meeting and make
a fool of himself. He boasted of his accomplishments, belittled the group,
monopolized the meeting, and interrupted, outshsituation—feedback about how
angry or hurt he had made others feel, or interpretations about the meaning and
cause of his behavior—failed. Then my co-leader commented sincerely, “You know
what I like about you? Your fear and lack of confidence. You’re scared here, just
like me. We’re all scared about what will happen to us this week.” That statement
permitted the client to discard his facade and, eventually, to become a valuable
group member. Furthermore, the leader, by modeling an empathic, nonjudgmental
style, helped establish a gentle, accepting group culture.
This effective intervention required that the co-leader first recognize the negative
impact of this member’s behavior and then supportively articulate the vulnerability that
lay beneath the offensive behavior.14
Interacting as a group member requires, among other things, that group therapists
accept and admit their personal fallibility. Therapists who need to appear infallible offer a
perplexing and obstructing example for their clients. At times they may be so reluctant to
admit error that they become withholding or devious in their relationship with the group.
For example, in one group, the therapist, who needed to appear omniscient, was to be out
of town for the next meeting. He suggested to the group members that they meet without
him and tape-record the meeting, and he promised to listen to the tape before the next

session. He forgot to listen to the tape but did not admit this to the group. Consequently,
the subsequent meeting, in which the therapist bluffed by avoiding mention of the
previous leaderless session, turned out to be diffuse, confusing, and discouraging.
Another example involves a neophyte therapist with similar needs. A group member
accused him of making long-winded, confusing statements. Since this was the first
confrontation of the therapist in this young group, the members were tense and perched on
the edge of their chairs. The therapist responded by wondering whether he didn’t remind
the client of someone from the past. The attacking member clutched at the suggestion and
volunteered his father as a candidate; the crisis passed, and the group members settled
back in their chairs. However, it so happened that previously this therapist had himself
been a member of a group (of psychotherapy students) and his colleagues had repeatedly
focused on his tendency to make long-winded, confusing comments. In fact, then, what
had transpired was that the client had seen the therapist quite correctly but was persuaded
to relinquish his perceptions. If one of the goals of therapy is to help clients test reality and
clarify their interpersonal relationships, then this transaction was antitherapeutic. This is
an instance in which the therapist’s needs were given precedence over the client’s needs in
psychotherapy.†
Another consequence of the need to be perfect occurs when therapists become overly
cautious. Fearing error, they weigh their words so carefully, interacting so deliberately that
they sacrifice spontaneity and mold a stilted, lifeless group. Often a therapist who
maintains an omnipotent, distant role is saying, in effect, “Do what you will; you can’t
hurt or touch me.” This pose may have the counterproductive effect of aggravating a sense
of interpersonal impotence in clients that impedes the development of an autonomous
group.
• In one group a young man named Les had made little movement for months
despite vigorous efforts by the leader. In virtually every meeting the leader
attempted to bring Les into the discussion, but to no avail. Instead, Les became
more defiant and withholding, and the therapist became more active and insistent.
Finally Joan, another member, commented to the therapist that he was like a
stubborn father treating Les like a stubborn son and was bound and determined to
make Les change. Les, she added, was relishing the role of the rebellious son who
was determined to defeat his father. Joan’s comment rang true for the therapist; it
clicked with his internal experience, and he acknowledged this to the group and
thanked Joan for her comments.
The therapist’s behavior in this example was extremely important for the group. In
effect, he said, I value you the members, this group, and this mode of learning.
Furthermore, he reinforced norms of self-exploration and honest interaction with the
therapist. The transaction was helpful to the therapist (unfortunate are the therapists who
cannot learn more about themselves in their therapeutic work) and to Les, who proceeded
to explore the payoff in his defiant stance toward the therapist.
Occasionally, less modeling is required of the therapist because of the presence of some
ideal group members who fulfill this function. In fact, there have been studies in which

selected model-setting members were deliberately introduced into a group.15 In one study,
researchers introduced trained confederates (not clients but psychology graduate students)
into two outpatient groups.16 The plants pretended to be clients but met regularly in group
discussions with the therapists and supervisors. Their role and behavior were planned to
facilitate, by their personal example, self-disclosure, free expression of affect,
confrontation with the therapists, silencing of monopolists, clique busting, and so on. The
two groups were studied (through participant-administered cohesiveness questionnaires
and sociometrics) for twenty sessions. The results indicated that the plants, though not the
most popular members, were regarded by the other participants as facilitating therapy;
moreover, the authors concluded (though there were no control groups) that the plants
served to increase group cohesiveness.
Although a trained plant would contribute a form of deceit incompatible with the
process of group therapy, the use of such individuals has intriguing clinical implications.
For example, a new therapy group could be seeded with an ideal group therapy member
from another group, who then continued therapy in two groups. Or an individual who had
recently completed group therapy satisfactorily might serve as a model-setting auxiliary
therapist during the formative period of a new group. Perhaps an ongoing group might
choose to add new members in advance of the graduation of senior members, rather than
afterward, to capitalize on the modeling provided by the experienced and successful senior
members.
These possibilities aside, it is the therapist who, wittingly or unwittingly, will continue
to serve as the chief model-setting figure for the group members. Consequently, it is of the
utmost importance that the therapist have sufficient self-confidence to fulfill this function.
If therapists feel uncomfortable, they will be more likely to encounter difficulties in this
aspect of their role and will often veer to one extreme or the other in their personal
engagement in the group: either they will fall back into a comfortable, concealed
professional role, or they will escape from the anxiety and responsibility inherent in the
leader’s role by abdicating and becoming simply one of the gang.†17
Neophyte therapists are particularly prone to these positions of exaggerated activity or
inactivity in the face of the emotional demands of leading therapy groups. Either extreme
has unfortunate consequences for the development of group norms. An overly concealed
leader will create norms of caution and guardedness. A therapist who retreats from
authority will be unable to use the wide range of methods available for the shaping of
norms; furthermore, such a therapist creates a group that is unlikely to work fruitfully on
important transference issues.
The issue of the transparency of the therapist has implications far beyond the task of
norm setting.† When therapists are self-disclosing in the group, not only do they model
behavior, but they perform an act that has considerable significance in many other ways
for the therapeutic process. Many clients develop conflicted and distorted feelings toward
the therapist; the transparency of the therapist facilitates members working through their
transference. I shall discuss the ramifications of therapist transparency in great detail in
chapter 7. Let us turn now from this general discussion of norms to the specific norms that

enhance the power of group therapy.
EXAMPLES OF THERAPEUTIC GROUP NORMS
The Self-Monitoring Group
It is important that the group begin to assume responsibility for its own functioning. If this
norm fails to develop, a passive group ensues, whose members are dependent on the
leader to supply movement and direction. The leader of such a group, who feels fatigued
and irritated by the burden of making everything work, is aware that something has gone
awry in the early development of the group. When I lead groups like this, I often
experience the members of the group as moviegoers. It’s as though they visit the group
each week to see what’s playing; if it happens to interest them, they become engaged in
the meeting. If not, “Too bad, Irv! Hope there’ll be a better show next week!” My task in
the group then is to help members understand that they are the movie. If they do not
perform, there is no performance: the screen is blank.
From the very beginning, I attempt to transfer the responsibility of the group to the
members. I keep in mind that in the beginning of a group, I am the only one in the room
who has a good definition of what constitutes a good work meeting. It is my job to teach
the members, to share that definition with them. Thus, if the group has a particularly good
meeting, I like to label it so. For example, I might comment at the end, “It’s time to stop.
It’s too bad, I hate to bring a meeting like this to an end.” In future meetings, I often make
a point of referring back to that meeting. In a young group, a particularly hard working
meeting is often followed by a meeting in which the members step back a bit from the
intensive interaction. In such a meeting, I might comment after a half hour, “I wonder how
everyone feels about the meeting today? How would you compare it with last week’s
meeting? What did we do differently last week?”
It is also possible to help members develop a definition of a good meeting by asking
them to examine and evaluate parts of a single meeting. For example, in the very early
meetings of a group, I may interrupt and remark, “I see that an hour has gone by and I’d
like to ask, ‘How has the group gone today? Are you satisfied with it? What’s been the
most involving part of the meeting so far today? The least involving part?’” The general
point is clear: I endeavor to shift the evaluative function from myself to the group
members. I say to them, in effect, “You have the ability—and responsibility—to determine
when this group is working effectively and when it is wasting its time.”
If a member laments, for example, that “the only involving part of this meeting was the
first ten minutes—after that we just chatted for forty-five minutes,” my response is: “Then
why did you let it go on? How could you have stopped it?” Or, “All of you seemed to have
known this. What prevented you from acting? Why is it always my job to do what you are
all able to do?” Soon there will be excellent consensus about what is productive and

unproductive group work. (And it will almost invariably be the case that productive work
occurs when the group maintains a here-and-now focus—to be discussed in the next
chapter.)
Self-Disclosure
Group therapists may disagree about many aspects of the group therapeutic procedure, but
there is great consensus about one issue: self-disclosure is absolutely essential in the group
therapeutic process. Participants will not benefit from group therapy unless they self-
disclose and do so fully. I prefer to lead a group with norms that indicate that self-
disclosure must occur—but at each member’s own pace. I prefer that members not
experience the group as a forced confessional, where deep revelations are wrung from
members one by one.18
During pregroup individual meetings, I make these points explicit to clients so that they
enter the group fully informed that if they are to benefit from therapy, sooner or later they
must share very intimate parts of themselves with the other group members.
Keep in mind that it is the subjective aspect of self-disclosure that is truly important.
There may be times when therapists or group observers will mistakenly conclude that the
group is not truly disclosing or that the disclosure is superficial or trivial. Often there is an
enormous discrepancy between subjective and objective self-disclosure—a discrepancy
that, incidentally, confounds research that measures self-disclosure on some standardized
scale. Many group therapy members have had few intimate confidantes, and what appears
in the group to be minor self-disclosure may be the very first time they have shared this
material with anyone. The context of each individual’s disclosure is essential in
understanding its significance. Being aware of that context is a crucial part of developing
empathy, as the following example illustrates.
• One group member, Mark, spoke slowly and methodically about his intense social
anxiety and avoidance. Marie, a young, bitter, and chronically depressed woman
bristled at the long and labored elaboration of his difficulties. At one point she
wondered aloud why others seemed to be so encouraging of Mark and excited
about his speaking, whereas she felt so impatient with the slow pace of the group.
She was concerned that she could not get to her personal agenda: to get advice
about how to make herself more likable. The feedback she received surprised her:
the members felt alienated from her because of her inability to empathize with
others. What was happening in the meeting with Mark was a case in point, they
told her. They felt that Mark’s self-disclosure in the meeting was a great step
forward for him. What interfered with her seeing what others saw? That was the
critical question. And exploring that difficulty was the “advice” the group offered.
What about the big secret? A member may come to therapy with an important secret
about some central aspect of his or her life—for example, compulsive shoplifting, secret
substance abuse, a jail sentence earlier in life, bulimia, transvestism, incest. They feel

trapped. Though they wish to work in the therapy group, they are too frightened to share
their secret with a large group of people.
In my pregroup individual sessions, I make it clear to such clients that sooner or later
they will have to share the secret with the other group members. I emphasize that they
may do this at their own pace, that they may choose to wait until they feel greater trust in
the group, but that, ultimately, the sharing must come if therapy is to proceed. Group
members who decide not to share a big secret are destined merely to re-create in the group
the same duplicitous modes of relating to others that exist outside the group. To keep the
secret hidden, they must guard every possible avenue that might lead to it. Vigilance and
guardedness are increased, spontaneity is decreased, and those bearing the secret spin an
ever-expanding web of inhibition around themselves.
Sometimes it is adaptive to delay the telling of the secret. Consider the following two
group members, John and Charles. John had been a transvestite since the age of twelve
and cross-dressed frequently but secretly. Charles entered the group with cancer. He stated
that he had done a lot of work learning to cope with his cancer. He knew his prognosis: he
would live for two or three more years. He sought group therapy in order to live his
remaining life more fully. He especially wanted to relate more intimately with the
important people in his life. This seemed like a legitimate goal for group therapy, and I
introduced him into a regular outpatient therapy group. (I have fully described this
individual’s course of treatment elsewhere.19)
Both of these clients chose not to disclose their secrets for many sessions. By that time I
was getting edgy and impatient. I gave them knowing glances or subtle invitations.
Eventually each became fully integrated into the group, developed a deep trust in the other
members, and, after about a dozen meetings, chose to reveal himself very fully. In
retrospect, their decision to delay was a wise one. The group members had grown to know
each of these two members as people, as John and Charles, who were faced with major
life problems, not as a transvestite and a cancer patient. John and Charles were justifiably
concerned that if they revealed themselves too early, they would be stereotyped and that
the stereotype would block other members from knowing them fully.
How can the group leader determine whether the client’s delay in disclosure is
appropriate or countertherapeutic? Context matters. Even though there has been no full
disclosure, is there, nonetheless, movement, albeit slow, toward increasing openness and
trust? Will the passage of time make it easier to disclose, as happened with John and
Charles, or will tension and avoidance mount?
Often hanging on to the big secret for too long may be counterproductive. Consider the
following example:
• Lisa, a client in a six-month, time-limited group, who had practiced for a few
years as a psychologist (after having trained with the group leader!) but fifteen
years earlier had given up her practice to enter the business world, where she soon
became extraordinarily successful. She entered the group because of
dissatisfaction with her social life. Lisa felt lonely and alienated. She knew that
she, as she put it, played her cards “too close to the vest”—she was cordial to

others and a good listener but tended to remain distant. She attributed this to her
enormous wealth, which she felt she must keep concealed so as not to elicit envy
and resentment from others.
By the fifth month, Lisa had yet to reveal much of herself. She retained her
psychotherapeutic skills and thus proved helpful to many members, who admired
her greatly for her unusual perceptiveness and sensitivity. But she had replicated
her outside social relationships in the here-and-now of the group, since she felt
hidden and distant from the other members. She requested an individual session
with the group leader to discuss her participation in the group. During that session
the therapist exhorted Lisa to reveal her concerns about her wealth and,
especially, her psychotherapy training, warning her that if she waited too much
longer, someone would throw a chair at her when she finally told the group she
had once been a therapist. Finally, Lisa took the plunge and ultimately, in the very
few remaining meetings, did more therapeutic work than in all the earlier meetings
combined.
What stance should the therapist take when someone reveals the big secret? To answer
that question, I must first make an important distinction. I believe that when an individual
reveals the big secret, the therapist must help him or her disclose even more about the
secret but in a horizontal rather than a vertical mode. By vertical disclosure I refer to
content, to greater in-depth disclosure about the secret itself. For example, when John
disclosed his transvestism to the group, the members’ natural inclination was to explore
the secret vertically. They asked about details of his crossdressing: “How old were you
when you started?” “Whose underclothes did you begin to wear?” “What sexual fantasies
do you have when you cross-dress?” “How do you publicly pass as a woman with that
mustache?” But John had already disclosed a great deal vertically about his secret, and it
was more important for him now to reveal horizontally: that is, disclosure about the
disclosure (metadisclosure)—especially about the interactional aspects of disclosure.20
Accordingly, when John first divulged his transvestism in the group I asked such
questions as: “John, you’ve been coming to the group for approximately twelve meetings
and not been able to share this with us. I wonder what it’s been like for you to come each
week and remain silent about your secret?” “How uncomfortable have you been about the
prospect of sharing this with us?” “It hasn’t felt safe for you to share this before now.
Today you chose to do so. What’s happened in the group or in your feelings toward the
group today that’s allowed you to do this?” “What were your fears in the past about
revealing this to us? What did you think would happen? Whom did you feel would
respond in which ways?”
John responded that he feared he would be ridiculed or laughed at or thought weird. In
keeping with the here-and-now inquiry, I guided him deeper into the interpersonal process
by inquiring, “Who in the group would ridicule you?” “Who would think you were
weird?” And then, after John selected certain members, I invited him to check out those
assumptions with them. By welcoming the belated disclosure, rather than criticizing the
delay, the therapist supports the client and strengthens the therapeutic collaboration. As a

general rule, it is always helpful to move from general statements about the “group” to
more personal statements: in other words, ask members to differentiate between the
members of the group.
Self-disclosure is always an interpersonal act. What is important is not that one
discloses oneself but that one discloses something important in the context of a
relationship to others. The act of self-disclosure takes on real importance because of its
implications for the nature of ongoing relationships; even more important than the actual
unburdening of oneself is the fact that disclosure results in a deeper, richer, and more
complex relationship with others. (This is the reason why I do not, in contrast to other
researchers,† consider self-disclosure as a separate therapeutic factor but instead subsume
it under interpersonal learning.)
The disclosure of sexual abuse or incest is particularly charged in this way. Often
victims of such abuse have been traumatized not only by the abuse itself but also by the
way others have responded in the past to their disclosure of the abuse. Not uncommonly
the initial disclosure within the victim’s family is met with denial, blame, and rejection. As
a result, the thought of disclosing oneself in the therapy group evokes fear of further
mistreatment and even retraumatization rather than hope of working through the abuse.21
If undue pressure is placed on a member to disclose, I will, depending on the problems
of the particular client and his or her stage of therapy, respond in one of several ways. For
example, I may relieve the pressure by commenting: “There are obviously some things
that John doesn’t yet feel like sharing. The group seems eager, even impatient, to bring
John aboard, while John doesn’t yet feel safe or comfortable enough.” (The word “yet” is
important, since it conveys the appropriate expectational set.) I might proceed by
suggesting that we examine the unsafe aspects of the group, not only from John’s
perspective but from other members’ perspectives as well. Thus I shift the emphasis of the
group from wringing out disclosures to exploring the obstacles to disclosure. What
generates the fear? What are the anticipated dreaded consequences? From whom in the
group do members anticipate disapprobation?
No one should ever be punished for self-disclosure. One of the most destructive events
that can occur in a group is for members to use personal, sensitive material, which has
been trustingly disclosed in the group, against one another in times of conflict. The
therapist should intervene vigorously if this occurs; not only is it dirty fighting, but it
undermines important group norms. This vigorous intervention can take many forms. In
one way or another, the therapist must call attention to the violation of trust. Often I will
simply stop the action, interrupt the conflict, and point out that something very important
has just happened in the group. I ask the offended member for his or her feelings about the
incident, ask others for theirs, wonder whether others have had similar experiences, point
out how this will make it difficult for others to reveal themselves, and so on. Any other
work in the group is temporarily postponed. The important point is that the incident be
underscored to reinforce the norm that self-disclosure is not only important but safe. Only
after the norm has been established should we turn to examine other aspects of the
incident.

Procedural Norms
The optimal procedural format in therapy is that the group be unstructured, spontaneous,
and freely interacting. But such a format never evolves naturally: much active culture
shaping is required on the part of the therapist. There are many trends the therapist must
counter. The natural tendency of a new group is to devote an entire meeting to each of the
members in rotation. Often the first person to speak or the one who presents the most
pressing life crisis that week obtains the group floor for the meeting. Some groups have
enormous difficulty changing the focus from one member to another, because a procedural
norm has somehow evolved whereby a change of topic is considered bad form, rude, or
rejecting. Members may lapse into silence: they feel they dare not interrupt and ask for
time for themselves, yet they refuse to keep the other member supplied with questions
because they hope, silently, that he or she will soon stop talking.
These patterns hamper the development of a potent group and ultimately result in group
frustration and discouragement. I prefer to deal with these antitherapeutic norms by calling
attention to them and indicating that since the group has constructed them, it has the
power to change them.
For example, I might say, “I’ve been noticing that over the past few sessions the entire
meeting has been devoted to only one person, often the first one who speaks that day, and
also that others seem unwilling to interrupt and are, I believe, sitting silently on many
important feelings. I wonder how this practice ever got started and whether or not we want
to change it.” A comment of this nature may be liberating to the group. The therapist has
not only given voice to something that everyone knows to be true but has also raised the
possibility of other procedural options.
Some groups evolve a formal “check-in” format in which each member in turn gets the
floor to discuss important events of the previous week or certain moments of great
distress. Sometimes, especially with groups of highly dysfunctional, anxious members,
such an initial structure is necessary and facilitating but, in my experience, such a formal
structure in most groups generally encourages an inefficient, taking-turns, noninteractive,
“then-and-there” meeting. I prefer a format in which troubled members may simply
announce at the beginning, “I want some time today,” and the members and the therapist
attempt, during the natural evolution of the session, to turn to each of those members.
Specialized groups, especially those with brief life spans and more deeply troubled
members, often require different procedural norms. Compromises must be made for the
sake of efficient time management, and the leader must build in an explicit structure. I will
discuss such modifications of technique in chapter 15 but for now wish only to emphasize
the general principle that the leader must attempt to structure a group in such a way as to
build in the therapeutic norms I discuss in this chapter: support and confrontation, self-
disclosure, self-monitoring, interaction, spontaneity, the importance of the group members
as the agents of help.
The Importance of the Group to Its Members

The more important the members consider the group, the more effective it becomes. I
believe that the ideal therapeutic condition is present when clients consider their therapy
group meeting to be the most important event in their lives each week. The therapist is
well advised to reinforce this belief in any available manner. If I am forced to miss a
meeting, I inform the members well in advance and convey to them my concern about my
absence. I arrive punctually for meetings. If I have been thinking about the group between
sessions, I may share some of these thoughts with the members. Any self-disclosures I
make are made in the service of the group. Though some therapists eschew such personal
disclosure, I believe that it is important to articulate how much the group matters to you.
I reinforce members when they give testimony of the group’s usefulness or when they
indicate that they have been thinking about other members during the week. If a member
expresses regret that the group will not meet for two weeks over the Christmas holidays, I
urge them to express their feelings about their connection to the group. What does it mean
to them to cherish the group? To protest its disruption? To have a place in which to
describe their concerns openly rather than submerge their longings?
The more continuity between meetings, the better. A well-functioning group continues
to work through issues from one meeting to the next. The therapist does well to encourage
continuity. More than anyone else, the therapist is the group historian, connecting events
and fitting experiences into the temporal matrix of the group. “That sounds very much like
what John was working on two weeks ago,” or, “Ruthellen, I’ve noticed that ever since
you and Debbie had that run-in three weeks ago, you have become more depressed and
withdrawn. What are your feelings now toward Debbie?”
I rarely start a group meeting, but when I do, it is invariably in the service of providing
continuity between meetings. Thus, when it seems appropriate, I might begin a meeting:
“The last meeting was very intense! I wonder what types of feelings you took home from
the group and what those feelings are now?”
In chapter 14, I will describe the group summary, a technique that serves to increase the
sense of continuity between meetings. I write a detailed summary of the group meeting
each week (an editorialized narrative description of content and process) and mail it to the
members between sessions. One of the many important functions of the summary is that it
offers the client another weekly contact with the group and increases the likelihood that
the themes of a particular meeting will be continued in the following one.
The group increases in importance when members come to recognize it as a rich
reservoir of information and support. When members express curiosity about themselves,
I, in one way or another, attempt to convey the belief that any information members might
desire about themselves is available in the group room, provided they learn how to tap it.
Thus, when Ken wonders whether he is too dominant and threatening to others, my reflex
is to reply, in effect, “Ken, there are many people who know you very well in this room.
Why not ask them?”
Events that strengthen bonds between members enhance the potency of the group. It
bodes well when group members go out for coffee after a meeting, hold long discussions
in the parking lot, or phone one another during the week in times of crisis. (Such

extragroup contact is not without potential adverse effects, as I shall discuss in detail in
chapter 11.)
Members as Agents of Help
The group functions best if its members appreciate the valuable help they can provide one
another. If the group continues to regard the therapist as the sole source of aid, then it is
most unlikely that the group will achieve an optimal level of autonomy and self-respect.
To reinforce this norm, the therapist may call attention to incidents demonstrating the
mutual helpfulness of members. The therapist may also teach members more effective
methods of assisting one another. For example, after a client has been working with the
group on some issue for a long portion of a meeting, the therapist may comment, “Reid,
could you think back over the last forty-five minutes? Which comments have been the
most helpful to you and which the least?” Or, “Victor, I can see you’ve been wanting to
talk about that for a long time in the group and until today you’ve been unable to.
Somehow Eve helped you to open up. What did she do? And what did Ben do today that
seemed to close you down rather than open you up?” Behavior undermining the norm of
mutual helpfulness should not be permitted to go unnoticed. If, for example, one member
challenges another concerning his treatment of a third member, stating, “Fred, what right
do you have to talk to Peter about that? You’re a hell of a lot worse off than he is in that
regard,” I might intervene by commenting, “Phil, I think you’ve got some negative
feelings about Fred today, perhaps coming from another source. Maybe we should get into
them. I can’t, however, agree with you when you say that because Fred is similar to Peter,
he can’t be helpful. In fact, quite the contrary has been true here in the group.”
Support and Confrontation
As I emphasized in my discussion of cohesiveness, it is essential that the members
perceive their therapy group as safe and supportive. Ultimately, in the course of therapy,
many uncomfortable issues must be broached and explored. Many clients have problems
with rage or are arrogant or condescending or insensitive or just plain cantankerous. The
therapy group cannot offer help without such traits emerging during the members’
interactions. In fact, their emergence is to be welcomed as a therapeutic opportunity.
Ultimately, conflict must occur in the therapy group, and, as I will discuss in chapter 12, it
is essential for the work of therapy. At the same time, however, too much conflict early in
the course of a group can cripple its development. Before members feel free enough to
express disagreement, they must feel safe enough and must value the group highly enough
to be willing to tolerate uncomfortable meetings.
Thus, the therapist must build a group with norms that permit conflict but only after
firm foundations of safety and support have been established. It is often necessary to
intervene to prevent the proliferation of too much conflict too early in the group, as the
following incident illustrates.

• In a new therapy group, there were two particularly hostile members, and by the
third meeting there was considerable open carping, sarcasm, and conflict. The
fourth meeting was opened by Estelle (one of these two members), emphasizing
how unhelpful the group had been to her thus far. Estelle had a way of turning
every positive comment made to her into a negative, combative one. She
complained, for example, that she could not express herself well and that there
were many things she wanted to say but she was so inarticulate she couldn’t get
them across.
When another member of the group disagreed and stated that she found Estelle to
be extremely articulate, Estelle challenged the other member for doubting her
judgment about herself. Later in the group, she complimented another member by
stating, “Ilene, you’re the only one here who’s ever asked me an intelligent
question.” Obviously, Ilene was made quite uncomfortable by this hexed
compliment.
At this point I felt it was imperative to challenge the norms of hostility and
criticism that had developed in the group, and intervened forcefully. I asked
Estelle: “What are your guesses about how your statement to Ilene makes others in
the group feel?”
Estelle hemmed and hawed but finally offered that they might possibly feel
insulted. I suggested that she check that out with the other members of the group.
She did so and learned that her assumption was correct. Not only did every
member of the group feel insulted, but Ilene also felt irritated and put off by the
statement. I then inquired, “Estelle, it looks as though you’re correct. You did
insult the group. Also it seems that you knew that this was likely to occur. But
what’s puzzling is the payoff for you. What do you get out of it?”
Estelle suggested two possibilities. First she said, “I’d rather be rejected for
insulting people than for being nice to them.” That seemed a piece of twisted logic
but nonetheless comprehensible. Her second statement was: “At least this way I
get to be the center of attention.” “Like now?” I asked. She nodded. “How does it
feel right now?” I wondered. Estelle said, “It feels good.” “How about the rest of
your life?” I asked. She responded ingenuously, “It’s lonely. In fact, this is it. This
hour and a half is the people in my life.” I ventured, “Then this group is a really
important place for you?” Estelle nodded. I commented, “Estelle, you’ve always
stated that one of the reasons you’re critical of others in the group is that there’s
nothing more important than total honesty. If you want to be absolutely honest with
us, however, I think you’ve got to tell us also how important we are to you and how
much you like being here. That you never do, and I wonder if you can begin to
investigate why it is so painful or dangerous for you to show others here how
important they are to you.”
By this time Estelle had become much more conciliatory and I was able to
obtain more leverage by enlisting her agreement that her hostility and insults did
constitute a problem for her and that it would help her if we called her on it—that

is, if we instantaneously labeled any insulting behavior on her part. It is always
helpful to obtain this type of contract from a member: in future meetings, the
therapist can confront members with some particular aspect of their behavior that
they have asked to be called to their attention. Since they experience themselves as
allies in this spotting and confrontative process, they are far less likely to feel
defensive about the intervention.
Many of these examples of therapist behavior may seem deliberate, pedantic, even
pontifical. They are not the nonjudgmental, nondirective, mirroring, or clarifying
comments typical of a therapist’s behavior in other aspects of the therapeutic process. It is
vital, however, that the therapist attend deliberately to the tasks of group creation and
culture building. These tasks underlie and, to a great extent, precede much of the other
work of the therapist.
It is time now to turn to the third basic task of the therapist: the activation and
illumination of the here-and-now.

Chapter 6
THE THERAPIST: WORKING IN THE HERE – AND – NOW
The major difference between a psychotherapy group that hopes to effect extensive and
enduring behavioral and characterological change and such groups as AA,
psychoeducational groups, cognitive-behavioral groups, and cancer support groups is that
the psychotherapy group strongly emphasizes the importance of the here-and-now
experience. Yet all group therapies, including highly structured groups, benefit from the
group therapist’s capacity to recognize and understand the here-and-now. Therapists who
are aware of the nuances of the relationships between all the members of the group are
more adept at working on the group task even when deeper group and interpersonal
exploration or interpretation is not the therapy focus.1
In chapter 2, I presented some of the theoretical underpinnings of the use of the here-
and-now. Now it is time to focus on the clinical application of the here-and-now in group
therapy. First, keep in mind this important principle—perhaps the single most important
point I make in this entire book: the here-and-now focus, to be effective, consists of two
symbiotic tiers, neither of which has therapeutic power without the other.
The first tier is an experiencing one: the members live in the here-and-now; they
develop strong feelings toward the other group members, the therapist, and the group.
These here-and-now feelings become the major discourse of the group. The thrust is
ahistorical: the immediate events of the meeting take precedence over events both in the
current outside life and in the distant past of the members. This focus greatly facilitates
the development and emergence of each member’s social microcosm. It facilitates
feedback, catharsis, meaningful self-disclosure, and acquisition of socializing techniques.
The group becomes more vital, and all of the members (not only the ones directly working
in that session) become intensely involved in the meeting.
But the here-and-now focus rapidly reaches the limits of its usefulness without the
second tier, which is the illumination of process. If the powerful therapeutic factor of
interpersonal learning is to be set in motion, the group must recognize, examine, and
understand process. It must examine itself; it must study its own transactions; it must
transcend pure experience and apply itself to the integration of that experience.
Thus, the effective use of the here-and-now requires two steps: the group lives in the
here-and-now, and it also doubles back on itself; it performs a self-reflective loop and
examines the here-and-now behavior that has just occurred.
If the group is to be effective, both aspects of the here-and-now are essential. If only the
first—the experiencing of the here-and-now—is present, the group experience will still be
intense, members will feel deeply involved, emotional expression may be high, and
members will finish the group agreeing, “Wow, that was a powerful experience!” Yet it
will also prove to be an evanescent experience: members will have no cognitive
framework that will permit them to retain the group experience, to generalize from it, to

identify and alter their interpersonal behavior, and to transfer their learning from the group
to situations back home. This is precisely the error made by many encounter group leaders
of earlier decades.
If, on the other hand, only the second part of the here-and-now—the examination of
process—is present, then the group loses its liveliness and meaningfulness. It degenerates
into a sterile intellectual exercise. This is the error made by overly formal, aloof, rigid
therapists.
Accordingly, the therapist has two discrete functions in the here-and-now: to steer the
group into the here-and-now and to facilitate the self-reflective loop (or process
commentary). Much of the here-and-now steering function can be shared by the group
members, but for reasons I will discuss later, process commentary remains to a large
extent the task of the therapist.
The majority of group therapists understand that their emphasis must be on the here-
and-now. A large survey of seasoned group therapists underscored activation of the here-
and-now as a core skill of the contemporary group therapist.2 A smaller but careful study
codified group therapists’ interpretations and found that over 60 percent of interpretations
focused on the here-and-now (either behavioral patterns or impact of behavior), while
approximately 20 percent focused on historical causes and 20 percent on motivation.3
DEFINITION OF PROCESS
The term process, used liberally throughout this text, has a highly specialized meaning in
many fields, including law, anatomy, sociology, anthropology, psychoanalysis, and
descriptive psychiatry. In interactional psychotherapy, too, process has a specific technical
meaning: it refers to the nature of the relationship between interacting individuals—
members and therapists. Moreover, as we shall see, a full understanding of process must
take into account a large number of factors, including the internal psychological worlds of
each member, interpersonal interactions, group-as-a-whole forces, and the clinical
environment of the group.†4
It is useful to contrast process with content. Imagine two individuals in a discussion.
The content of that discussion consists of the explicit words spoken, the substantive issues,
the arguments advanced. The process is an altogether different matter. When we ask about
process, we ask, “What do these explicit words, the style of the participants, the nature of
the discussion, tell about the interpersonal relationship of the participants?”
Therapists who are process-oriented are concerned not primarily with the verbal content
of a client’s utterance, but with the “how” and the “why” of that utterance, especially
insofar as the how and the why illuminate aspects of the client’s relationship to other
people. Thus, therapists focus on the metacommunicationall aspects of the message and
wonder why, from the relationship aspect, an individual makes a statement at a certain

time in a certain manner to a certain person. Some of the message’s impact is conveyed
verbally and directly; some of the message is expressed paraverbally (by nuance,
inflection, pitch, and tone); and some of the message is expressed behaviorally.†
Identifying the connection between the communication’s actual impact and the
communicator’s intent is at the heart of the therapy process.
Consider, for example, this transaction: During a lecture, a student raised her hand and
asked what year did Freud die? The lecturer replied, “1938,” only to have the student
inquire, “But, sir, wasn’t it 1939?” Since the student asked a question whose answer she
already knew, her motivation was obviously not a quest for information. (A question isn’t
a question if you know the answer.) The process of this transaction? Most likely that the
student wished to demonstrate her knowledge or wished to humiliate or defeat the
lecturer!
Frequently, the understanding of process in a group is more complex than in a two-
person interaction; we must search for the process not only behind a simple statement but
behind a sequence of statements made by several members. The group therapist must
endeavor to understand what a particular sequence reveals about the relationship between
one client and the other group members, or between clusters or cliques of members, or
between the members and the leader, or, finally, between the group as a whole and its
primary task.†
Some clinical vignettes may further clarify the concept.
• Early in the course of a group therapy meeting, Burt, a tenacious, intense,
bulldog-faced graduate student, exclaimed to the group in general and to Rose (an
unsophisticated, astrologically inclined cosmetologist and mother of four) in
particular, “Parenthood is degrading!” This provocative statement elicited
considerable response from the group members, all of whom had parents and many
of whom were parents. The free-for-all that followed consumed the remainder of
the group session.
Burt’s statement can be viewed strictly in terms of content. In fact, this is precisely what
occurred in the group; the members engaged Burt in a debate over the virtues versus the
dehumanizing aspects of parenthood—a discussion that was affect-laden but
intellectualized and brought none of the members closer to their goals in therapy.
Subsequently, the group felt discouraged about the meeting and angry with themselves and
with Burt for having dissipated a meeting.
On the other hand, the therapist might have considered the process of Burt’s statement
from any one of a number of perspectives:
1. Why did Burt attack Rose? What was the interpersonal process between them? In
fact, the two had had a smoldering conflict for many weeks, and in the previous
meeting Rose had wondered why, if Burt was so brilliant, he was still, at the age of
thirty-two, a student. Burt had viewed Rose as an inferior being who functioned
primarily as a mammary gland; once when she was absent, he referred to her as a
brood mare.

2. Why was Burt so judgmental and intolerant of nonintellectuals? Why did he
always have to maintain his self-esteem by standing on the carcass of a vanquished
or humiliated adversary?
3. Assuming that Burt’s chief intent was to attack Rose, why did he proceed so
indirectly? Is this characteristic of Burt’s expression of aggression? Or is it
characteristic of Rose that no one dares, for some unclear reason, to attack her
directly?
4. Why did Burt, through an obviously provocative and indefensible statement, set
himself up for a universal attack by the group? Although the lyrics were different,
this was a familiar melody for the group and for Burt, who had on many previous
occasions placed himself in this position. Why? Was it possible that Burt was most
comfortable when relating to others in this fashion? He once stated that he had
always loved a fight; indeed, he glowed with anticipation at the appearance of a
quarrel in the group. His early family environment was distinctively a fighting one.
Was fighting, then, a form (perhaps the only available form) of involvement for
Burt?
5. The process may be considered from the even broader perspective of the entire
group. Other relevant events in the life of the group must be considered. For the
past two months, the session had been dominated by Kate, a deviant, disruptive,
and partially deaf member who had, two weeks earlier, dropped out of the group
with the face-saving proviso that she would return when she obtained a hearing
aid. Was it possible that the group needed a Kate, and that Burt was merely filling
the required role of scapegoat?
Through its continual climate of conflict, through its willingness to spend an entire
session discussing in nonpersonal terms a single theme, was the group avoiding something
—possibly an honest discussion of members’ feelings about Kate’s rejection by the group
or their guilt or fear of a similar fate? Or were they perhaps avoiding the anticipated perils
of self-disclosure and intimacy? Was the group saying something to the therapist through
Burt (and through Kate)? For example, Burt may have been bearing the brunt of an attack
really aimed at the co-therapists but displaced from them. The therapists—aloof figures
with a proclivity for rabbinical pronouncements—had never been attacked or confronted
by the group. Their cotherapy relationship had also escaped any comment to date. Surely
there were strong, avoided feelings toward the therapists, which may have been further
fanned by their failure to support Kate and by their complicity through inactivity in her
departure from the group.
Which one of these many process observations is correct? Which one could the
therapists have employed as an effective intervention? The answer is, of course, that any
and all may be correct. They are not mutually exclusive; each views the transaction from a
slightly different vantage point. What is critical, however, is that the focus on process
begins with the therapist’s reflection on the host of factors that may underlie an
interaction. By clarifying each of these in turn, the therapist could have focused the group
on many different aspects of its life. Which one, then, should the therapist have chosen?

The therapist’s choice should be based on one primary consideration: the immediate
needs of the group. Where was the group at that particular time? The therapist had many
options. If he felt there had been too much focus on Burt of late, leaving the other
members feeling bored, uninvolved, and excluded, then he might have wondered aloud
what the group was avoiding. The therapist might have then reminded the group of
previous sessions spent in similar discussions that left them dissatisfied, or might have
helped one of the members verbalize this point by inquiring about the members’ inactivity
or apparent uninvolvement in the discussion. If he felt that the indirectness of the group
communication was a major issue he might have commented on the indirectness of Burt’s
attacks or asked the group to help clarify, via feedback, what was happening between Burt
and Rose. If he felt that an exceptionally important group event (Kate’s departure) was
being strongly avoided, then he might have focused on that event and the conspiracy of
silence around it.
In short, the therapist must determine what he or she thinks the group and its members
need most at a particular time and help it move in that direction.
• In another group, Saul sought therapy because of his deep sense of isolation. He
was particularly interested in a group therapeutic experience because he had
never before been a part of a primary group. Even in his primary family, he had
felt himself an outsider. He had been a spectator all his life, pressing his nose
against cold windowpanes, gazing longingly at warm, convivial groups within.
At Saul’s fourth therapy meeting, another member, Barbara, began the meeting
by announcing that she had just broken up with a man who had been very
important to her. Barbara’s major reason for being in therapy had been her
inability to sustain a relationship with a man, and she was profoundly distressed in
the meeting. Barbara had an extremely poignant way of describing her pain, and
the group was swept along with her feelings. Everyone in the group was very
moved; I noted silently that Saul, too, had tears in his eyes.
The group members (with the exception of Saul) did everything in their power to
offer Barbara support. They passed Kleenex; they reminded her of all her good
qualities and assets; they reassured her that she had made a wrong choice, that the
man was not good enough for her, that she was “lucky to be rid of that jerk.”
Suddenly Saul interjected, “I don’t like what’s going on here in the group today,
and I don’t like the way it’s being led” (a thinly veiled allusion to me, I thought).
He went on to explain that the group members had no justification for their
criticism of Barbara’s ex-boyfriend. They didn’t really know what he was like. They
could see him only through Barbara’s eyes, and probably she was presenting him
in a distorted way. (Saul had a personal ax to grind on this matter, having gone
through a divorce a couple of years earlier. His wife had attended a women’s
support group, and he had been the “jerk” of that group.)
Saul’s comments, of course, changed the entire tone of the meeting. The softness
and support disappeared. The room felt cold; the warm bond among the members
was broken. Everyone was on edge. I felt justifiably reprimanded. Saul’s position

was technically correct: the group was wrong to condemn Barbara’s ex-boyfriend
in such a sweeping and uncritical manner.
So much for the content. Now let’s examine the process of this interaction. First,
note that Saul’s comment had the effect of putting him outside the group. The rest
of the group was caught up in a warm, supportive atmosphere from which he
excluded himself. Recall his chief complaint that he was never a member of a
group, but always the outsider. The meeting provided an in vivo demonstration of
how that came to pass. In his fourth group meeting, Saul had, kamikaze-style,
attacked and voluntarily ejected himself from a group he wished to join.
A second issue had to do not with what Saul said but what he did not say. In the
early part of the meeting, everyone except Saul had made warm, supportive
statements to Barbara. I had no doubt that Saul felt supportive of her; the tears in
his eyes indicated that. Why had he chosen to be silent? Why did he always choose
to respond from his critical self and not from his warmer, more supportive self?
The examination of this aspect of the process led to some very important issues
for Saul. Obviously it was difficult for him to express the softer, affectionate part of
himself. He feared being vulnerable and exposing his dependent cravings. He
feared losing himself and his own uniqueness by getting too close to another and
by becoming a member of a group. Behind the aggressive, ever-vigilant, hard-
nosed defender of honesty (but a selective honesty: honesty of expression of
negative but not positive sentiments), there is often the softer, submissive child
thirsting for acceptance and love.

• In a T-group (an experiential training group) of clinical psychology interns, one
of the members, Robert, commented that he genuinely missed the contributions of
some of the members who had been generally very silent. He turned to two of these
members and asked if there was anything he or others could do that would help
them participate more. The two members and the rest of the group responded by
launching a withering attack on Robert. He was reminded that his own
contributions had not been substantial, that he was often silent for entire meetings
himself, that he had never really expressed his emotions in the group, and so forth.
Viewed at the content level, this transaction is bewildering: Robert expressed
genuine concern for the silent members and, for his solicitude, was soundly
buffeted. Viewed at the process—that is, relationship—level, however, it makes
perfectly good sense: the group members were much involved in a struggle for
dominance, and their inner response to Robert’s statement was, “Who are you to
issue an invitation to speak? Are you the host or leader here? If we allow you to
comment on our silence and suggest solutions, then we acknowledge your
dominion over us.”

• In another group, Kevin, an overbearing business executive, opened the meeting

by asking the other members—housewives, teachers, clerical workers, and
shopkeepers—for help with a problem: he had received “downsizing” orders. He
had to cut his staff immediately by 50 percent—to fire twenty of his staff of forty.
The content of the problem was intriguing, and the group spent forty-five
minutes discussing such aspects as justice versus mercy: that is, whether one
retains the most competent workers or workers with the largest families or those
who would have the greatest difficulty in finding other jobs. Despite the fact that
most of the members engaged animatedly in the discussion, which involved
important problems in human relations, the co-therapists regarded the session as
unproductive: it was impersonal, the members remained in safe territory, and the
discussion could have appropriately occurred at a dinner party or any other social
gathering. Furthermore, as time passed, it became abundantly clear that Kevin
had already spent considerable time thinking through all aspects of this problem,
and no one was able to provide him with novel approaches or suggestions. The
session was not truly a work session: instead it was a flight-from-work session.
Such a dedicated focus on content is inevitably frustrating for the group, and the
therapists began to wonder about process—that is, what this content revealed
about the nature of Kevin’s relationship to the other members. As the meeting
progressed, Kevin, on two occasions, let slip the amount of his salary (which was
more than double that of any other member). In fact, the overall interpersonal
effect of Kevin’s presentation was to make others aware of his affluence and power.
The process became even more clear when the therapists recalled the previous
meetings in which Kevin had attempted, in vain, to establish a special kind of
relationship with one of the therapists (he had sought some technical information
on psychological testing for personnel). Furthermore, in the preceding meeting,
Kevin had been soundly attacked by the group for his fundamentalist religious
convictions, which he used to criticize others’ behavior but not his own propensity
for extramarital affairs and compulsive lying. At that meeting, he had also been
termed “thick-skinned” because of his apparent insensitivity to others. However,
despite the criticism he had received, Kevin was a dominant member: he was the
most active and central figure in almost every meeting.
With this information about process, let’s examine the alternatives available to
consider. The therapists might have focused on Kevin’s bid for prestige, especially
after the attack on him and his loss of face in the previous meeting. Phrased in a
nonaccusatory manner, a clarification of this sequence might have helped Kevin
become aware of his desperate need for the group members to respect and admire
him. At the same time, the self-defeating aspects of his behavior could have been
pointed out. Despite his yearning for respect, the group had come to resent and at
times even to scorn him. Perhaps, too, Kevin was attempting to repudiate the
charge of being thick-skinned by sharing with the group in melodramatic fashion
the personal agony he experienced in deciding how to cut his staff.
The style of the therapists’ intervention would depend on Kevin’s degree of

defensiveness: if he had seemed particularly brittle or prickly, then the therapists
might have underscored how hurt he must have been at the previous meeting. If he
had been more open, they might have asked him directly what type of response he
would have liked from the others.
Other therapists might have preferred to interrupt the content discussion and
simply ask the group what Kevin’s question had to do with last week’s session. Still
another alternative would be to call attention to an entirely different type of
process by reflecting on the group’s apparent willingness to permit Kevin to occupy
center stage in the group week after week. By encouraging the members to discuss
their response to his monopolization, the therapist could have helped the group
initiate an exploration of their relationship with Kevin.
Keep in mind that therapists need not wait until they have all the answers before asking
a process question. Therapists may begin the process inquiry by simply asking the
members: “How are each of you experiencing the meeting so far?” Or they may use
slightly more inference: “You look like you are having some reaction to this.” At other
times, the therapist’s level of inference may be raised and interventions may be more
precise and interpretive: “Kevin, I have a sense that you yearn for respect here in the
group, and I wonder if the comment last week about you being ‘thick-skinned’ isn’t in
some way related to your bringing in this work dilemma.”
PROCESS FOCUS: THE POWER SOURCE OF THE
GROUP
The focus on process—on the here-and-now—is not just one of many possible procedural
orientations; on the contrary, it is indispensable and a common denominator of all
effective interactional groups. One so often hears words to this effect: “No matter what
else may be said about experiential groups (therapy groups, encounter groups, and so on),
one cannot deny that they are potent—that they offer a compelling experience for
participants.” Why are these groups potent? Precisely because they encourage process
exploration. The process focus is the power cell of the group.
A process focus is the one truly unique feature of the experiential group; after all, there
are many socially sanctioned activities in which one can express emotions, help others,
give and receive advice, confess and discover similarities between oneself and others. But
where else is it permissible, in fact encouraged, to comment, in depth, on here-and-now
behavior, on the nature of the immediately current relationship between people? Possibly
only in the parent–young child relationship, and even then the flow is unidirectional. The
parent, but not the child, is permitted process comments: “Don’t look away when I talk to
you!” “Be quiet when someone else is speaking.” “Stop saying, ‘I dunno.’”
Consider the cocktail party. Imagine confronting the narcissistic self-absorbed
individual who looks through or over you while talking to you, searching for someone

more attractive or appealing. In place of an authentic encounter, we are most likely to
comment, “Good talking with you …” or “I need to refill my drink …” The cocktail party
is not the place for process. Responding authentically and in a process-oriented fashion
would very likely thin out one’s party invitations.
Process commentary among adults is taboo social behavior; it is considered rude or
impertinent. Positive comments about another’s immediate behavior often denote a
seductive or flirtatious relationship. When an individual comments negatively about
another’s manners, gestures, speech, or physical appearance, we can be certain that the
battle is bitter and the possibility of conciliation chancy.
Why should this be so? What are the sources of this taboo? Miles, in a thoughtful
essay,5 suggests the following reasons that process commentary is eschewed in social
intercourse: socialization anxiety, social norms, fear of retaliation, and power
maintenance.
Socialization Anxiety
Process commentary evokes early memories and anxieties associated with parental
criticism of the child’s behavior. Parents comment on the behavior of children. Although
some of this process focus is positive, much more is critical and serves to control and alter
the child’s behavior. Adult process commentary often awakens old socialization-based
anxiety and is experienced as critical and controlling.
Social Norms
If individuals felt free to comment at all times on the behavior of others, social life would
become intolerably self-conscious, complex, and conflicted. Underlying adult interaction
is an implicit contract that a great deal of immediate behavior will be invisible to the
parties involved. Each party acts in the safety of the knowledge that one’s behavior is not
being noticed (or controlled) by the others; this safety provides an autonomy and a
freedom that would be impossible if each continuously dwelled on the fact that others
observe one’s behavior and are free to comment on it.
Fear of Retaliation
We cannot monitor or stare at another person too closely, because (unless the relationship
is exceedingly intimate) such intrusiveness is almost always dangerous and anxiety-
provoking and evokes retribution. There exist no forums, aside from such intentional
systems as therapy groups, for interacting individuals to test and to correct their
observations of one another.

Power Maintenance
Process commentary undermines arbitrary authority structure. Industrial organizational
development consultants have long known that an organization’s open investigation of its
own structure and process leads to power equalization—that is, a flattening of the
hierarchical pyramid. Generally, individuals high on the pyramid not only are more
technically informed but also possess organizational information that permits them to
influence and manipulate: that is, they not only have skills that have allowed them to
obtain a position of power but, once there, have such a central place in the flow of
information that they are able to reinforce their position. The more rigid the authority
structure of an organization, the more stringent are the precautions against open
commentary about process (as in, for example, the military or the church). The individual
who wishes to maintain a position of arbitrary authority is wise to inhibit the development
of any rules permitting reciprocal process observation and commentary.
In psychotherapy, process commentary involves a great degree of therapist
transparency, exposure, and even intimacy; hence many therapists resist this approach
because of their own uneasiness or anxiety. Moving into process means moving into
recognition that relationships are jointly created by both participants and has a mutual
impact.
THE THERAPIST’S TASKS IN THE HERE-AND-NOW
In the first stage of the here-and-now focus—the activating phase—the therapist’s task is
to move the group into the here-and-now. By a variety of techniques, many of which I will
discuss shortly, group leaders steer the group members away from outside material to
focus instead on their relationship with one another. Group therapists expend more time
and effort on this task early than late in the course of the group, because as the group
progresses, the members begin to share much of this task, and the here-and-now focus
often becomes an effortless and natural part of the group flow. In fact, many of the norms
described in the last chapter, which the therapist must establish in the group, foster a here-
and-now focus. For example, the leader who sets norms of interpersonal confrontation, of
emotional expressivity, of self-monitoring, of valuing the group as an important source of
information, is, in effect, reinforcing the importance of the here-and-now. Gradually
members, too, come to value the here-and-now and will themselves focus on it and, by a
variety of means, encourage their fellow members to do likewise.
It is altogether another matter with the second phase of the here-and-now orientation,
process illumination. Forces prevent members from fully sharing that task with the
therapist. Recall the T-group vignette presented earlier in which Robert commented on
process and thereby set himself apart from the other members and was viewed with
suspicion, as “not one of us.” When a group member makes observations about what is
happening in the group, the others often respond resentfully about the presumptuousness

of elevating himself or herself above the others.
If a member comments, for example, that “nothing is happening today,” or that “the
group is stuck,” or that “no one is self-revealing,” or that “there seem to be strong feelings
toward the therapist,” then that member is courting danger. The response of the other
members is predictable. They will challenge the challenging member: “You make
something happen today,” or “You reveal yourself,” or “You talk about your feelings
toward the therapist.” Only the therapist is relatively exempt from that charge. Only the
therapist has the right to suggest that others work or that others reveal themselves without
having to engage personally in the act he or she suggests.
Throughout the life of the group, the members are involved in a struggle for position in
the hierarchy of dominance. At times, the conflict around control and dominance is
flagrant; at other times, quiescent. But it never vanishes and should be explored in therapy
both because it is a rich source of material and also to prevent it from hardening into a
source of continuing, fractious conflict.
Some members strive nakedly for power; others strive subtly; others desire it but are
fearful of assertion; others always assume an obsequious, submissive posture. Statements
by members that suggest that they place themselves above or outside the group generally
evoke responses that emerge from the dominance struggle rather than from consideration
of the content of the statement. Even therapists are not entirely immune from evoking this
response; some clients are inordinately sensitive to being controlled or manipulated by the
therapist. They find themselves in the paradoxical position of applying to the therapist for
help and yet are unable to accept help because all statements by the therapist are viewed
through spectacles of distrust. This is a function of the specific pathology of some clients
(and it is, of course, good grist for the therapeutic mill). It is not a universal response of
the entire group.
The therapist is an observer-participant in the group. The observer status affords the
objectivity necessary to store information, to make observations about sequences or
cyclical patterns of behavior, to connect events that have occurred over long periods of
time. Therapists act as group historians. Only they are permitted to maintain a temporal
perspective; only they remain immune from the charge of not being one of the group, of
elevating themselves above the others. It is also only the therapists who keep in mind the
original goals of the group members and the relationship between these goals and the
events that gradually unfold in the group. The group therapist is the principal standard
bearer of the group culture, supporting and sustaining the group and pushing it forward in
its work.†6
• Two group members, Tim and Marjorie, had a sexual affair that eventually came
to light in the group. The other members reacted in various ways but none so
condemnatory nor so vehemently as Diana, a forty-five-year-old nouveau-moralist,
who criticized them both for breaking group rules: Tim, for “being too intelligent
to act like such a fool,” Marjorie for her “irresponsible disregard for her husband
and child,” and the Lucifer therapist (me) who “just sat there and let it happen.” I
eventually pointed out that, in her formidable moralistic broadside, some

individuals had been obliterated, that the Marjorie and Tim, with all their
struggles and doubts and fears, whom Diana had known for so long had suddenly
been replaced by faceless one-dimensional stereotypes. Furthermore, I was the
only one to recall, and to remind the group, of the reasons (expressed at the first
group meeting) why Diana had sought therapy: namely, that she needed help in
dealing with her rage toward a nineteen-year-old, rebellious, sexually awakening
daughter who was in the midst of a search for her identity and autonomy! From
there it was but a short step for the group, and then for Diana herself, to
understand that her conflict with her daughter was being played out in the here-
and-now of the group.
There are many occasions when the process is obvious to all the members in the group
but cannot be commented upon simply because the situation is too hot: the members are
too much a part of the interaction to separate themselves from it. In fact, often, even at a
distance, the therapist, too, feels the heat and is wary about naming the beast. Sometimes
an inexperienced therapist may naively determine it best that some group member address
an issue in the group that the leader himself feels too anxious to address. That is usually an
error: the therapist has a greater ability to speak the unspeakable and to find palatable
ways to say unpalatable things. Language is to the therapist what the scalpel is to the
surgeon.
• One neophyte therapist leading an experiential group of pediatric oncology
nurses (a support group intended to help members decrease the stress experienced
in their work) learned through collusive glances between members in the first
meeting that there was considerable unspoken tension between the young,
progressive nurses and the older, conservative nursing supervisors in the group.
The therapist felt that the issue, reaching deep into taboo regions of authority and
tradition, was too sensitive and potentially explosive to touch. His supervisor
assured him that it was too important an issue to leave unexplored and that he
should broach it, since it was highly unlikely that anyone else in the group could
do what he dared not.
In the next meeting, the therapist broached the issue in a manner that is almost
invariably effective in minimizing defensiveness: he described his own dilemma
about the issue. He told the group that he sensed a hierarchical struggle between
the junior nurses and the powerful senior nurses but that he was hesitant to bring
it up lest the younger nurses either deny it or attack the supervisors, who might be
so wounded that they would decide to scuttle the group. His comment was
enormously helpful and plunged the group into an open and constructive
exploration of a vital issue.
Articulating the dilemma in a balanced, nonblaming fashion is often the most effective
way to reduce the tension that obstructs the group’s work. Group leaders need not have a
complete answer to the dilemma—but they do need to be able to identify and speak to it.†
I do not mean that only the leader should make process comments. As I shall discuss
later, other members are entirely capable of performing this function; in fact, there are

times when their process observations will be more readily accepted than those of the
therapists.
A greater ability to recognize process in interactions, perhaps a form of emotional
intelligence, is an important outcome of group therapy that will serve members well in
life.† (Often, students observing a mature group at work are amazed by group members’
high level of psychological-mindedness.) Hence, it is a good thing for members to learn to
identify and comment on process. But it is important that they not assume this function for
defensive reasons—for example, to avoid the client role or in any other way to remove
themselves from the group work.
Thus far in this discussion I have, for pedagogical reasons, overstated two fundamental
points that I must now qualify. Those points are: (1) the here-and-now approach is an
ahistorical one, and (2) there is a sharp distinction between here-and-now experience and
here-and-now process illumination.
Strictly speaking, an ahistorical approach is an impossibility: every process comment
refers to an act that already belongs to the past. (Sartre once said, “Introspection is
retrospection.”) Not only does process commentary involve behavior that has just
transpired, but it frequently refers to cycles of behavior or repetitive acts that have
occurred in the group over weeks or months. Thus, the past events of the therapy group
are a part of the here-and-now and an integral part of the data on which process
commentary is based.
Often it is helpful to ask clients to review their past experiences in the group. If a
member feels that she is exploited every time she trusts someone or reveals herself, I often
inquire about her history of experiencing that feeling in this group. Other clients,
depending upon the relevant issues, may be encouraged to discuss such experiences as the
times they have felt most close to others, most angry, most accepted, or most ignored.
My qualification of the ahistorical approach goes even further. As I will discuss later in
a separate section, no group can maintain a total here-and-now approach. There will be
frequent excursions into the “then-and-there”—that is, into personal history and into
current life situations. In fact, such excursions are so inevitable that one becomes curious
when they do not occur. It is not that the group doesn’t deal with the past; it is what is
done with the past: the crucial task is not to uncover, to piece together, to fully understand
the past, but to use the past for the help it offers in understanding (and changing) the
individual’s mode of relating to the others in the present.
The distinction between here-and-now experience and here-and-now process
commentary is not sharp: there is much overlap. For example, low-inference commentary
(feedback) is both experience and commentary. When one member remarks that another
refuses to look at her or that she is furious at another for continually deprecating her, she is
at the same time commenting on process and involving herself in the affective here-and-
now experience of the group. Process commentary, like nascent oxygen, exists for only a
short time; it rapidly becomes incorporated into the experiential flow of the group and
becomes part of the data from which future process comments will flow.

For example, in a experiential group of mental health trainees (a group experience that
was part of their group therapy training curriculum—see chapter 17), one member, John,
began the session with an account of some extreme feelings of depression and
depersonalization. Instead of exploring the member’s dysphoria, the group immediately
began offering him practical advice about his life situation. The leader commented on the
process—on the fact that the group veered away from inquiring more about John’s
experience. The leader’s intervention seemed useful: the group members became more
emotionally engaged, and several discussed their admiration of John’s risk-taking and
their own fear of self-revelation.
Soon afterward, however, a couple of counterdependent members objected to the
leader’s intervention. They felt that the leader was dissatisfied with their performance in
the group, that he was criticizing them, and, in his usual subtle manner, was manipulating
the group to fit in with his preconceived notions of the proper conduct of a meeting. Other
members took issue with the tendency of some members to challenge every move of the
therapist. Thus, the leader’s process comments became part of the experiential ebb and
flow of the group. Even the members’ criticism of the leader (which was at first process
commentary) soon also became part of the group experience and, itself, subject to process
commentary.
Summary
The effective use of the here-and-now focus requires two steps: experience in here-and-
now and process illumination. The combination of these two steps imbues an experiential
group with compelling potency.
The therapist has different tasks in each step. First the group must be plunged into the
here-and-now experience; second, the group must be helped to understand the process of
the here-and-now experience: that is, what the interaction conveys about the nature of the
members’ relationships with one another.
The first step, here-and-now activation, becomes part of the group norm structure;
ultimately the group members will assist the therapist in this task. The second step,
process illumination, is more difficult. There are powerful injunctions against process
commentary in everyday social intercourse that the therapist must overcome. The task of
process commentary, to a large extent (but not exclusively), remains the responsibility of
the therapist and consists, as I will discuss shortly, of a wide and complex range of
behavior—from labeling single behavioral acts, to juxtaposing several acts, to combining
acts over time into a pattern of behavior, to pointing out the undesirable consequences of
a client’s behavioral patterns, to identifying here-and-now behaviors that are analogues to
the members’ behavior in the world at large, to more complex inferential explanations or
interpretations about the meaning and motivation of such behavior.

TECHNIQUES OF HERE-AND-NOW ACTIVATION
In this section I wish to describe (but not prescribe) some techniques: each therapist must
develop techniques consonant with his or her personal style. Indeed, therapists have a
more important task than mastering a technique: they must fully comprehend the strategy
and theoretical foundations upon which all effective technique must rest.
First step: I suggest that you think here-and-now. When you grow accustomed to
thinking of the here-and-now, you automatically steer the group into the here-and-now.
Sometimes I feel like a shepherd herding a flock into an ever-tightening circle. I head off
errant strays—forays into personal historical material, discussions of current life
situations, intellectualisms—and guide them back into the circle. Whenever an issue is
raised in the group, I think, “How can I relate this to the group’s primary task? How can I
make it come to life in the here-and-now?” I am relentless in this effort, and I begin it in
the very first meeting of the group.
Consider a typical first meeting of a group. After a short, awkward pause, the members
generally introduce themselves and proceed, often with help from the therapist, to tell
something about their life problems, why they have sought therapy, and, perhaps, the type
of distress they suffer. I generally intervene at some convenient point well into the meeting
and remark something like, “We’ve done a great deal here today so far. Each of you has
shared a great deal about yourself, your pain, your reasons for seeking help. But I have a
hunch that something else is also going on, and that is that you’re sizing one another up,
each arriving at some impressions of the others, each wondering how you’ll fit in with the
others. I wonder now if we could spend some time discussing what each of us has come
up with thus far.” Now this is no subtle, artful, shaping statement: it is a heavy-handed,
explicit directive. Yet I find that most groups respond favorably to such clear guidelines
and readily appreciate the therapeutic facilitation.
The therapist moves the focus from outside to inside, from the abstract to the specific,
from the generic to the personal, from the personal into the interpersonal. If a member
describes a hostile confrontation with a spouse or roommate, the therapist may, at some
point, inquire, “If you were to be angry like that with anyone in the group, with whom
would it be?” or, “With whom in the group can you foresee getting into the same type of
struggle?” If a member comments that one of his problems is that he lies, or that he
stereotypes people, or that he manipulates groups, the therapist may inquire, “What is the
main lie you’ve told in the group thus far?” or, “Can you describe the way you’ve
stereotyped some of us?” or, “To what extent have you manipulated the group thus far?”
If a client complains of mysterious flashes of anger or suicidal compulsions, the
therapist may urge the client to signal to the group the very moment such feelings occur
during the session, so that the group can track down and relate these experiences to events
in the session.
If a member describes her problem as being too passive, too easily influenced by others,
the therapist may move her directly into the issue by asking, “Who in the group could

influence you the most? The least?”
If a member comments that the group is too polite and too tactful, the therapist may ask,
“Who are the leaders of the peace-and-tact movement in the group?” If a member is
terrified of revealing himself and fears humiliation, the therapist may bring it into the
here-and-now by asking him to identify those in the group he imagines might be most
likely to ridicule him. Don’t be satisfied by answers of “the whole group.” Press the
member further. Often it helps to rephrase the question in a gentler manner, for example,
“Who in the group is least likely to ridicule you?”
In each of these instances, the therapist can deepen interaction by encouraging further
responses from the others. For example, “How do you feel about his fear or prediction that
you would ridicule him? Can you imagine doing that? Do you, at times, feel judgmental in
the group? Even simple techniques of asking group members to speak directly to one
another, to use second-person (“you”) rather than third-person pronouns, and to look at
one another are very useful.
Easier said than done! Such suggestions are not always heeded. To some group
members, they are threatening indeed, and the therapist must here, as always, employ
good timing and attempt to experience what the client is experiencing. Search for methods
that lessen the threat. Begin by focusing on positive interaction: “Toward whom in the
group do you feel most warm?” “Who in the group is most like you?” or, “Obviously,
there are some strong vibes, both positive and negative, going on between you and John. I
wonder what you most envy or admire about him? And what parts of him do you find
most difficult to accept?”
• A group meeting of elderly clients attending a psychiatric day hospital for
treatment of depression groaned with feelings of disconnection and despair. The
initial focus of the meeting was Sara—an eighty-two-year-old Holocaust survivor.
Sara lamented the persistent prejudice, hatred, and racism so prominent in the
news headlines. Feeling scared and helpless, she discussed her wartime memories
of being dehumanized by those who hated her without knowing anything about her
as a real person. Group members, including other Holocaust survivors, also
shared their tortured memories.
The group leader attempted to break into the group’s intense preoccupation with
the past by shifting into the here-and-now. What did Sara experience talking to the
group today? Did she feel that the group members were engaging her as a real
person? Why had she chosen to be different today—to speak out rather than
silence herself as she has done so often before? Could she take credit for that?
How did others feel about Sara speaking out in this meeting?
Gradually the meeting’s focus shifted from the recounting of despairing
memories to lively interaction, support for Sara, and strong feelings of member
connectivity.
Sometimes, it is easier for group members to work in tandem or in small subgroups. For
example, if they learn that there is another member with similar fears or concerns, then a

subgroup of two (or more) members can, with less threat, discuss their here-and-now
concerns.7 This may occur spontaneously or by the therapist directly creating a bridge
between specific members—for example, by pointing out that the concerns just disclosed
by one member have also been expressed by another.†
Using the conditional verb form provides safety and distance and often is miraculously
facilitative. I use it frequently when I encounter initial resistance. If, for example, a client
says, “I don’t have any response or feelings at all about Mary today. I’m just feeling too
numb and withdrawn,” I often say something like, “If you were not numb or withdrawn
today, what might you feel about Mary?” The client generally answers readily; the once-
removed position affords a refuge and encourages the client to answer honestly and
directly. Similarly, the therapist might inquire, “If you were to be angry at someone in the
group, whom would it be?” or, “If you were to go on a date with Albert (another group
member), what kind of experience might it be?”
The therapist must teach members the art of requesting and offering feedback by
explicit instruction, by modeling, or by reinforcing effective feedback.8 One important
principle to teach clients is the avoidance of global questions and observations. Questions
such as “Am I boring?” or “Do you like me?” are not usually productive. A client learns a
great deal more by asking, “What do I do that causes you to tune out?” “When are you
most and least attentive to me?” or, “What parts of me or aspects of my behavior do you
like least and most?” In the same vein, feedback such as “You’re OK” or “You’re a nice
guy” is far less useful than “I feel closer to you when you’re willing to be honest with
your feelings, like in last week’s meeting when you said you were attracted to Mary but
feared she would scorn you. I feel most distant from you when you’re impersonal and start
analyzing the meaning of every word said to you, like you did early in the meeting today.”
(These comments, like most of the therapist comments in this text, have equal applicability
in individual therapy.)
Resistance occurs in many forms. Often it appears in the cunning guise of total equality.
Clients, especially in early meetings, often respond to the therapist’s here-and-now urgings
by claiming that they feel exactly the same toward all the group members: that is, they say
that they feel equally warm toward all the members, or no anger toward any, or equally
influenced or threatened by all. Do not be misled. Such claims are never true. Guided by
your sense of timing, push the inquiry farther and help members differentiate one another.
Eventually they will disclose that they do have slight differences of feeling toward some
of the members. These slight differences are important and are often the vestibule to full
interactional participation. I explore the slight differences (no one ever said they had to be
enormous); sometimes I suggest that the client hold up a magnifying glass to these
differences and describe what he or she then sees and feels. Often resistance is deeply
ingrained and the client is heavily invested in maintaining a position that is known and
familiar even though it is undermining or personally destructive.
Resistance is not usually conscious obstinacy but more often stems from sources
outside of awareness. Sometimes the here-and-now task is so unfamiliar and
uncomfortable to the client that it is not unlike learning a new language; one has to attend

with maximal concentration in order not to slip back into one’s habitual remoteness.
Considerable ingenuity on the part of the therapist may be needed, as the following case
study shows.
• Claudia resisted participation on a here-and-now level for many sessions.
Typically she brought to the group some pressing current life problem, often one of
such crisis proportions that the group members felt trapped. First, they felt
compelled to deal immediately with the precise problem Claudia presented;
second, they had to tread cautiously because she explicitly informed them that she
needed all her resources to cope with the crisis and could not afford to be shaken
up by interpersonal confrontation. “Don’t push me right now,” she might say, “I’m
just barely hanging on.” Efforts to alter this pattern were unsuccessful, and the
group members felt discouraged in dealing with Claudia. They cringed when she
brought in problems to the meeting.
One day she opened the group with a typical gambit. After weeks of searching
she had obtained a new job but was convinced that she was going to fail and be
dismissed. The group dutifully but warily investigated the situation. The
investigation met with many of the familiar, treacherous obstacles that generally
block the path of work on outside problems. There seemed to be no objective
evidence that Claudia was failing at work. She seemed, if anything, to be trying too
hard, working eighty hours a week. The evidence, Claudia insisted, simply could
not be appreciated by anyone not there at work with her: the glances of her
supervisor, the subtle innuendos, the air of dissatisfaction toward her, the general
ambiance in the office, the failure to live up to her (selfimposed and unrealistic)
sales goals. It was difficult to evaluate what she said because she was not a highly
unreliable observer and typically downgraded herself and minimized her
accomplishments.
The therapist moved the entire transaction into the here-and-now by asking,
“Claudia, it’s hard for us to determine whether you are, in fact, failing at your job.
But let me ask you another question: What grade do you think you deserve for your
work in the group, and what do each of the others get?”
Claudia, not unexpectedly, awarded herself a “D–” and staked her claim for at
least eight more years in the group. She awarded all the other members
substantially higher grades. The therapist replied by awarding Claudia a “B” for
her work in the group and then went on to point out the reasons: her commitment
to the group, perfect attendance, willingness to help others, great efforts to work
despite anxiety and often disabling depression.
Claudia laughed it off, trying to brush off this exchange as a gag or a
therapeutic ploy. But the therapist held firm and insisted that he was entirely
serious. Claudia then insisted that the therapist was wrong, and pointed out her
many failings in the group (one of which was the avoidance of the here-and-now).
However, Claudia’s disagreement with the therapist created dissonance for her,
since it was incompatible with her long-held, frequently voiced, total confidence in

the therapist. (Claudia had often invalidated the feedback of other members in the
group by claiming that she trusted no one’s judgment except the therapist’s.)
The intervention was enormously useful and transferred the process of Claudia’s
evaluation of herself from a secret chamber lined with the distorting mirrors of her self-
perception to the open, vital arena of the group. No longer was it necessary for the
members to accept Claudia’s perception of her boss’s glares and subtle innuendoes. The
boss (the therapist) was there in the group. The whole transaction was visible to the group.
Finding the here-and-now experiential analogue of the untrustworthy “then-and-there”
reported difficulties unlocked the therapeutic process for Claudia.
I never cease to be awed by the rich, subterranean lode of data that exists in every group
and in every meeting. Beneath each sentiment expressed there are layers of invisible,
unvoiced ones. But how to tap these riches? Sometimes after a long silence in a meeting, I
express this very thought: “There is so much information that could be valuable to us all
today if only we could excavate it. I wonder if we could, each of us, tell the group about
some thoughts that occurred to us in this silence, which we thought of saying but didn’t.”
The exercise is more effective, incidentally, if you participate personally, even start it
going. Substantial empirical evidence supports the principle that therapists who employ
judicious and disciplined self-disclosure, centered in the here-and-now of the therapeutic
relationship, increase their therapeutic effectiveness and facilitate clients’ exploration and
openness.9 For example, you might say, “I’ve been feeling on edge in this silence, wanting
to break it, not wanting to waste time, but on the other hand feeling irritated that it always
has to be me doing this work for the group.” Or, “I’ve been feeling uneasy about the
struggle going on in the group between you and me, Mike. I’m uncomfortable with this
much tension and anger, but I don’t know yet how to help understand and resolve it.”
When I feel there has been a particularly great deal unsaid in a meeting, I have often
found the following technique useful: “It’s now six o’clock and we still have half an hour
left, but I wonder if you each would imagine that the meeting has ended and that you’re on
your way home. What disappointments would you have about the meeting today?”
Many of the inferences the therapist makes may be off-target. But objective accuracy is
not the issue: as long as you persistently direct the group from the nonrelevant, from the
then-and-there, to the here-and-now, you are operationally correct. For example, if a
group spends time in an unproductive meeting discussing dull, boring parties, and the
therapist wonders aloud if the members are indirectly referring to the present group
session, there is no way of determining with any certainty whether that is an accurate
statement. Correctness in this instance must be defined relativistically and pragmatically.
By shifting the group’s attention from then-and-there to here-and-now material, the
therapist performs a service to the group—a service that, consistently reinforced, will
ultimately result in a cohesive, interactional atmosphere maximally conducive to therapy.
Following this model, the effectiveness of an intervention should be gauged by its success
in focusing the group on itself.
According to this principle, the therapist might ask a group that dwells at length on the
subject of poor health or on a member’s sense of guilt over remaining in bed during times

of sickness, “Is the group really wondering about my [the therapist’s] recent illness?” Or a
group suddenly preoccupied with death and the losses each member has incurred might be
asked whether they are also concerned with the group’s impending fourweek summer
vacation. In these instances the leader attempts to make connections between the overt
content and underlying unexpressed covert group-related issues.
Obviously, these interventions would be pointless if the group had already thoroughly
worked through all the implications of the therapist’s recent absence or the impending
summer break. The technical procedure is not unlike the sifting process in any traditional
psychotherapy. Presented with voluminous data in considerable disarray, the therapist
selects, reinforces, and interprets those aspects he deems most helpful to the client at that
particular time. Not all dreams and not all parts of a dream are attended to by the therapist;
however, a dream theme that elucidates a particular issue on which the client is currently
working is vigorously pursued.
Implicit here is the assumption that the therapist knows the most propitious direction for
the group at a specific moment. Again, this is not a precise matter. What is most important
is that the therapist has formulated broad principles of ultimately helpful directions for the
group and its members—this is precisely where a grasp of the therapeutic factors is
essential.
Often, when activating the group, the therapist performs two simultaneous acts: steering
the group into the here-and-now and, at the same time, interrupting the content flow in the
group. Not infrequently, some members will resent the interruption, and the therapist must
attend to these feelings, for they, too, are part of the here-and-now. Often it is difficult for
the therapist to intervene. Early in our socialization process we learn not to interrupt, not
to change the subject abruptly. Furthermore, there are often times in the group when
everyone seems keenly interested in the topic under discussion. Even though the therapist
is certain that the group is not working, it is not easy to buck the group current. As noted
in chapter 3, social-psychological small-group research demonstrates the compelling
power of group pressure. To take a stand opposite to the perceived consensus of the group
requires considerable courage and conviction.
My experience is that the therapist faced with this as well as many other types of
dilemmas can increase the clients’ receptivity by expressing both sets of feelings to the
group. For example, “Lily, I feel very uncomfortable as you talk. I’m having a couple of
strong feelings. One is that you’re into something that is very important and painful for
you, and the other is that Jason [a new member] has been trying hard to get into the group
for the last few meetings and the group seems unwelcoming. This didn’t happen when
other new members entered the group. Why do you think it’s happening now?” Or,
“Lenore, I’ve had two reactions as you started talking. The first is that I’m delighted you
feel comfortable enough now in the group to participate, but the other is that it’s going to
be hard for the group to respond to what you’re saying because it’s very abstract and far
removed from you personally. I’d be much more interested in how you’ve been feeling
about the group the last couple of meetings. Are there some incidents or interactions
you’ve been especially tuned in to? What reactions have you had to other members here?”

There are, of course, many more such activating procedures. (In chapter 14, I describe
some basic modifications in the group structure and procedure that facilitate here-and-now
interaction in short-term specialty groups.) But my goal here is not to offer a compendium
of techniques. Rather, I describe techniques only to illuminate the underlying principle of
here-and-now activation. These group techniques, or gimmicks, are servants, not masters.
To use them injudiciously, to fill voids, to jazz up the group, to acquiesce to the members’
demands that the leader lead, is seductive but not constructive for the group.10
Overall, group leader activity correlates with outcome in a curvilinear fashion (too
much or too little activity leads to unsuccessful outcomes). Too little leader activity results
in a floundering group. Too much activation by a leader results in a dependent group that
persists in looking to the leader to supply too much.
Remember that sheer acceleration of interaction is not the purpose of these techniques.
The therapist who moves too quickly—using gimmicks to make interactions, emotional
expression, and self-disclosure too easy—misses the whole point. Resistance, fear,
guardedness, distrust—in short, everything that impedes the development of satisfying
interpersonal relations—must be permitted expression. The goal is to create not a slick-
functioning, streamlined social organization but one that functions well enough and
engenders sufficient trust for the unfolding of each member’s social microcosm. Working
through the resistances to change is the key to the production of change.
Thus, the therapist wants to go not around obstacles but through them. Ormont puts it
nicely when he points out that though we urge clients to engage deeply in the here-and-
now, we expect them to fail, to default on their contract. In fact, we want them to default
because we hope, through the nature of their failure, to identify and ultimately dispel each
member’s particular resistances to intimacy—including each member’s resistance style
(for example, detachment, fighting, diverting, self-absorption, distrust) and each member’s
underlying fears of intimacy (for example, impulsivity, abandonment, merger,
vulnerability).11
TECHNIQUES OF PROCESS ILLUMINATION
As soon as clients have been successfully steered into a here-and-now interactional
pattern, the group therapist must attend to turning this interaction to therapeutic advantage.
This task is complex and consists of several stages:
• Clients must first recognize what they are doing with other people (ranging from
simple acts to complex patterns unfolding over a long time).
• They must then appreciate the impact of this behavior on others and how it
influences others’ opinion of them and consequently its impact on their own self-
regard.
• They must decide whether they are satisfied with their habitual interpersonal style.

• They must exercise the will to change.
• They must transform intent into decision and decision into action.
• Lastly, they must solidify the change and transfer it from the group setting into their
larger life.
Each of these stages may be facilitated by some specific cognitive input by the
therapist, and I will describe each step in turn. First, however, I must discuss several prior
considerations: How does the therapist recognize process? How can the therapist help the
members assume a process orientation? How can therapists increase the client receptivity
of their process commentary?
Recognition of Process
Before therapists can help clients understand process, they must themselves learn to
recognize it: in other words, they must be able to reflect in the midst of the group
interaction and wonder, “Why is this unfolding in this group in this particular way and at
this particular time?Ӡ The experienced therapist does this naturally and effortlessly,
observing the group proceedings from several different perspectives, including the specific
individual interactions and the developmental issues in the group (see chapter 11). This
difference in perspective is the major difference in role between the client and the
therapist. Consider some clinical illustrations:
• At one meeting, Alana discloses much deep personal material. The group is
moved by her account and devotes much time to listening, to helping her elaborate
more fully, and to offering support. The therapist shares in these activities but
entertains many other thoughts as well. For example, the therapist may wonder
why, of all the members, it is invariably Alana who reveals first and most. Why
does Alana so often put herself in the role of the group member whom all the
members must nurse? Why must she always display herself as vulnerable? And
why today? And that last meeting! So much conflict! After such a meeting, one
might have expected Alana to be angry. Instead, she shows her throat. Is she
avoiding giving expression to her rage?
• At the end of a session in another group, Jay, a young, rather fragile young man
who had been inactive in the group, revealed that he was gay—his first step out of
the closet. At the next meeting the group urged him to continue. He attempted to do
so but, overcome with emotion, blocked and hesitated. Just then, with indecent
alacrity, Vicky filled the gap, saying, “Well, if no one else is going to talk, I have a
problem.”
Vicky, an aggressive forty-year-old cabdriver, who sought therapy because of
social loneliness and bitterness, proceeded to discuss in endless detail a complex
situation involving an unwelcome visiting aunt. For the experienced, process-
oriented therapist, the phrase “I have a problem” is a double entendre. Far more
trenchantly than her words, Vicky’s behavior declares, “I have a problem,” and

her problem is manifest in her insensitivity to Jay, who, after months of silence,
had finally mustered the courage to speak.
It is not easy to tell the beginning therapist how to recognize process; the acquisition of
this perspective is one of the major tasks in your education. And it is an interminable task:
throughout your career, you learn to penetrate ever more deeply into the substratum of
group discourse. This deeper vision increases the keenness of a therapist’s interest in the
meeting. Generally, beginning students who observe meetings find them far less
meaningful, complex, and interesting than do experienced therapists.
Certain guidelines, though, may facilitate the neophyte therapist’s recognition of
process. Note the simple nonverbal sense data available.† Who chooses to sit where?
Which members sit together? Who chooses to sit close to the therapist? Far away? Who
sits near the door? Who comes to the meeting on time? Who is habitually late? Who looks
at whom when speaking? Do some members, while speaking to another member, look at
the therapist? If so, then they are relating not to one another but instead to the therapist
through their speech to the others. Who looks at his watch? Who slouches in her seat?
Who yawns? Do the members pull their chairs away from the center at the same time as
they are verbally professing great interest in the group? How quickly do the group
members enter the room? How do they leave it? Are coats kept on? When in a single
meeting or in the sequence of meetings are they removed? A change in dress or grooming
not uncommonly indicates change in a client or in the atmosphere of the entire group. An
unctuous, dependent man may express his first flicker of rebellion against the leader by
wearing jeans and sneakers to a group session rather than his usual formal garb.
A large variety of postural shifts may betoken discomfort; foot flexion, for example, is a
particularly common sign of anxiety. Indeed, it is common knowledge that nonverbal
behavior frequently expresses feelings of which a person is yet unaware. The therapist,
through observing and teaching the group to observe nonverbal behavior, may hasten the
process of self-exploration.
Assume that every communication has meaning and salience within the individual’s
interpersonal schema until proven otherwise. Make use of your own reactions to each
client as a source of process data.12 Keep attending to the reactions that group members
elicit in one another. Which seem consensual reactions shared by most, and which are
unique or idiosyncratic reactions?13
Sometimes the process is clarified by attending not only to what is said but also to what
is omitted: the female member who offers suggestions, advice, or feedback to the male
members but never to the other women in the group; the group that never confronts or
questions the therapist; the topics (for example, the taboo trio: sex, money, death) that are
never broached; the individual who is never attacked; the one who is never supported; the
one who never supports or inquires—all these omissions are part of the transactional
process of the group.
• In one group, for example, Sonia stated that she felt others disliked her. When
asked who, she selected Eric, a detached, aloof man who habitually related only to

those who could be of use to him. Eric bristled, “Why me? Tell me one thing I’ve
said to you that makes you pick me.” Sonia stated, “That’s exactly the point.
You’ve never said anything to me. Not a question, not a greeting. Nothing. I just
don’t exist for you. You have no use for me.” Eric, later, at a debriefing session
after completing therapy, cited this incident as a particularly powerful and
illuminating instruction.
Physiologists commonly study the function of a hormone by removing the endocrine
gland that manufactures it and observing the changes in the hormone-deficient organism.
Similarly, in group therapy, we may learn a great deal about the role of a particular
member by observing the here-and-now process of the group when that member is absent.
For example, if the absent member is aggressive and competitive, the group may feel
liberated. Other members, who had felt threatened or restricted in the missing member’s
presence, may suddenly blossom into activity. If, on the other hand, the group has
depended on the missing member to carry the burden of self-disclosure or to coax other
members into speaking, then it will feel helpless and threatened when that member is
absent. Often this absence elucidates interpersonal feelings that previously were entirely
out of the group members’ awareness. The therapist may then encourage the group to
discuss these feelings toward the absent member both at that time and later in his or her
presence. A common myth that may need to be dispelled is that talking about a group
member when he is not present at a meeting is politically or socially incorrect. It is not
“talking behind someone’s back” and it should not lead to scapegoating, provided that the
group adopts the practice of sharing the discussion with that member at the following
meeting.
Similarly, a rich supply of data about feelings toward the therapist often emerges in a
meeting in which the therapist or a co-therapist is absent. One leader led an experiential
training group of mental health professionals composed of one woman and twelve men.
The woman, though she habitually took the chair closest to the door, felt reasonably
comfortable in the group until a leaderless meeting was scheduled when the therapist was
out of town. At that meeting the group discussed sexual feelings and experiences far more
blatantly than ever before, and the woman had terrifying fantasies of the group locking the
door and raping her. She realized how the therapist’s presence had offered her safety
against fears of unrestrained sexual behavior by the other members and against the
emergence of her own sexual fantasies. (She realized, too, the meaning of her occupying
the seat nearest the door!)
Search in every possible way to understand the relationship messages in any
communication. Look for incongruence between verbal and nonverbal behavior. Be
especially curious when there is something arrhythmic about a transaction: when, for
example, the intensity of a response seems disproportionate to the stimulus statement, or
when a response seems to be off target or to make no sense. At these times look for
several possibilities: for example, parataxic distortion (the responder is experiencing the
sender unrealistically), or metacommunication (the responder is responding, accurately,
not to the manifest content but to another level of communication), or displacement (the
responder is reacting not to the current transaction but to feelings stemming from previous

transactions). A disproportionately strong emotional reaction—what one group member
called “A Big Feeling”—may be the tip of an iceberg of deeper, historical concerns that
get reactivated in the present.
Common Group Tensions
Remember that, to some degree, certain tensions are always present in every therapy
group. Consider, for example, tensions such as the struggle for dominance, the antagonism
between mutually supportive feelings and sibling rivalrous ones, between greed and
selfless efforts to help the other, between the desire to immerse oneself in the comforting
waters of the group and the fear of losing one’s precious individuality, between the wish to
get better and the wish to stay in the group, between the wish that others improve and the
fear of being left behind. Sometimes these tensions are quiescent for months until some
event wakens them and they erupt into plain view.
Do not forget these tensions. They are omnipresent, always fueling the hidden motors of
group interaction. The knowledge of these tensions often informs the therapist’s
recognition of process. Consider, for example, one of the most powerful covert sources of
group tension: the struggle for dominance. Earlier in this chapter, I described an
intervention where the therapist, in an effort to steer a client into the here-and-now, gave
her a grade for her work in the group. The intervention was effective for that particular
person. Yet that was not the end of the story: there were later repercussions on the rest of
the group. In the next meeting, two group members asked the therapist to clarify some
remark he had made to them at a previous meeting. The remarks had been so supportive in
nature and so straightforwardly phrased that the therapist was puzzled at the request for
clarification. Deeper investigation revealed that the two members and later others, too,
were requesting grades from the therapist.
• In another experiential group of mental health professionals at several levels of
training, the leader was much impressed by the group skills of Stewart, one of the
youngest, most inexperienced members. The leader expressed his fantasy that
Stewart was a plant, that he could not possibly be just beginning his training, since
he conducted himself like a veteran with ten years’ group experience. The comment
evoked a flood of tensions. It was not easily forgotten by the group and, for
sessions to come, was periodically revived and angrily discussed. With his
comment, the therapist placed the kiss of death on Stewart’s brow, since thereafter
the group systematically challenged and deskilled him. It is to be expected that the
therapist’s positive evaluation of one member will evoke feelings of sibling rivalry
among the others.
The struggle for dominance, as I will discuss in chapter 11, fluctuates in intensity
throughout the group. It is much in evidence at the beginning of the group as members
jockey for position in the pecking order. Once the hierarchy is established, the issue may
become quiescent, with periodic flare-ups, for example, when some member, as part of his
or her therapeutic work, begins to grow in assertiveness and to challenge the established

order.
When new members enter the group, especially aggressive members who do not know
their place, who do not respectfully search out and honor the rules of the group, you may
be certain that the struggle for dominance will rise to the surface.
• In one group a veteran member, Betty, was much threatened by the entrance of a
new, aggressive woman, Rena. A few meetings later, when Betty discussed some
important material concerning her inability to assert herself, Rena attempted to
help by commenting that she, herself, used to be like that, and then she presented
various methods she had used to overcome it. Rena reassured Betty that if she
continued to talk about it openly in the group she, too, would gain considerable
confidence. Betty’s response was silent fury of such magnitude that several
meetings passed before she could discuss and work through her feelings. To the
uninformed observer, Betty’s response would appear puzzling; but in the light of
Betty’s seniority in the group and Rena’s vigorous challenge to that seniority, her
response was entirely predictable. She responded not to Rena’s manifest offer of
help but instead to Rena’s implicit communication: “I’m more advanced than you,
more mature, more knowledgeable about the process of psychotherapy, and more
powerful in this group despite your longer presence here.”
• In another group, Bea, an assertive, articulate woman, had for months been the
most active and influential member. A new member, Bob, a psychiatric social
worker (who did not reveal that fact to the group), was introduced. He was
exceedingly assertive and articulate and in his first meeting, described his life
situation with such candor and clarity that the other members were impressed and
touched. Bea’s response, however, was: “Where did you get your group therapy
training?” (Not “Did you ever have therapy training?” or, “You sound like you’ve
had some experience in examining yourself.”) The wording of Bea’s comment
clearly revealed the struggle for dominance, for she was implicitly saying: “I’ve
found you out. Don’t think you can fool me with that jargon. You’ve got a long way
to go to catch up with me!”
Primary Task and Secondary Gratification
The concepts of primary task and secondary gratification, and the dynamic tension
between the two, provide the therapist with a useful guide to the recognition of process
(and, as I will discuss later, a guide to the factors underlying a client’s resistance to
process commentary).
First some definitions. The primary task of the client is, quite simply, to achieve his or
her original goals: relief of suffering, better relationships with others, or living more
productively and fully. Yet, as we examine it more closely, the task often becomes much
more complicated. Generally one’s view of the primary task changes considerably as one
progresses in therapy. Sometimes the client and the therapist have widely different views
of the primary task. I have, for example, known clients who stated that their goal is relief

from pain (for example, from anxiety, depression, or insomnia) but who have a deeper and
more problematic goal. One woman wished that through therapy she would become so
well that she would be even more superior to her adversaries by “out mental-healthing”
them; another client wished to learn how to manipulate others even more effectively;
another wished to become a more effective seducer. These goals may be unconscious or,
even if conscious, well hidden from others; they are not part of the initial contract the
individual makes with the therapist, and yet they exert a pervasive influence in the
therapeutic work. In fact, much therapy may have to occur before some clients can
formulate an appropriate primary task.14 m
Even though their goals may evolve through the course of therapy, clients initially have
some clear conception of a primary task—generally, relief of some type of discomfort. By
methods discussed in chapter 10, therapists, in pregroup preparations of clients and in the
first group meetings, make clients aware of what they must do in the group to accomplish
their primary tasks. And yet once the group begins, very peculiar things begin to happen:
clients conscious wish for change there is a deeper commitment to avoid change—a
clinging to old familiar modes of behavior. It is often through the recognition of this
clinging (that is, resistance) that the first real opportunity for repair emerges.†
Some clinical vignettes illustrate this paradox:
• Cal, a young man, was interested in seducing the women of the group and shaped
his behavior in an effort to appear suave and charming. He concealed his feelings
of awkwardness, his desperate wish to be cool, his fear of women, and his envy of
some of the men in the group. He could never discuss his compulsive masturbation
and occasional voyeurism. When another male member discussed his disdain for
the women in the group, Cal (purring with pleasure at the withdrawal of
competition) praised him for his honesty. When another member discussed, with
much anxiety, his homosexual fantasies, Cal deliberately withheld the solace he
might have offered by sharing his own, similar fantasies. He never dared to discuss
the issues for which he entered therapy; nothing took precedence over being cool.
Another member devoted all her energies to achieving an image of mental
agility and profundity. She, often in subtle ways, continually took issue with me.
She scorned any help I offered her, and took great offense at my attempts to
interpret her behavior. Finally, I reflected that working with her made me feel I had
nothing of value to offer. That was her finest hour! She flashed a sunny smile as
she said, “Perhaps you ought to join a therapy group to work on your problem.”
Another member enjoyed an enviable position in the group because of his
girlfriend, a beautiful actress, whose picture he delighted in passing around in the
group. She was his showpiece, living proof of his natural superiority. When one
day she suddenly and peremptorily left him, he was too mortified to face the group
and dropped out of therapy.
What do these examples have in common? In each, the client gave priority not to the
declared primary task but to some secondary gratification arising in the group: a
relationship with another member, an image a client wished to project, or a group role in

which a client was the most sexually desirable, the most influential, the most wise, the
most superior. In each instance, the client’s pathology obstructed his or her pursuit of the
primary goal. Clients diverted their energies from the real work of therapy to the pursuit of
some gratification in the group. If this here-and-now behavior were available for study—if
the members could, as it were, be pulled out of the group matrix to observe their actions in
a more dispassionate manner—then the entire sequence would become part of good
therapeutic work. But that did not happen! In all these instances, the gratification took
precedence over the work to be done. Group members concealed information,
misrepresented themselves, rejected the therapist’s help, and refused to give help to one
another.
This is a familiar phenomenon in individual therapy. Long ago, Freud spoke of the
patient whose desire to remain in therapy outweighed the desire to be cured. The
individual therapist satisfies a client’s wish to be succored, to be heard, to be cradled. Yet
there is a vast, quantitative difference in this respect between individual and group
therapy. The individual therapy format is relatively insular; the group situation offers a far
greater range of secondary gratifications, of satisfying many social needs in an
individual’s life. Moreover, the gratification offered is often compelling; our social needs
to be dominant, to be admired, to be loved, to be revered are powerful indeed. For some,
the psychotherapy group provides satisfying relationships rather than being a bridge to
forming better relationships in their world at large. This presents a clinical challenge with
certain populations, such as the elderly, who have reduced opportunities for human
connection outside of the therapy group. In such instances, offering ongoing, less frequent
booster sessions, perhaps monthly, after a shorter intensive phase may be the best way to
respond to this reluctance to end therapy.15
Is the tension that exists between primary task and secondary gratification nothing more
than a slightly different way of referring to the familiar concept of resistance and acting
out? In the sense that the pursuit of secondary gratification obstructs the therapeutic work,
it may generically be labeled resistance. Yet there is an important shade of difference:
Resistance ordinarily refers to pain avoidance. Obviously, resistance in this sense is much
in evidence in group therapy, on both an individual and a group level. But what I wish to
emphasize is that the therapy group offers an abundance of secondary gratifications.
Often the therapeutic work in a group is derailed not because members are too defensively
anxious to work but because they find themselves unwilling to relinquish gratification.
Often, when the therapist is bewildered by the course of events in the therapy group, the
distinction between primary task and secondary gratification is extremely useful. It is
often clarifying for therapists to ask themselves whether the client is working on his or her
primary task. And when the substitution of secondary gratification for primary task is well
entrenched and resists intervention, therapists have no more powerful technique than
reminding the group members of the primary task—the reasons for which they seek
therapy.
The same principle applies to the entire group. It can be said that the entire group has a
primary task that consists of the development and exploration of all aspects of the

relationship of each member to each of the others, to the therapist, and to the group as an
aggregate. The therapist and, later, the group members can easily enough sense when the
group is working, when it is involved in its primary task, and when it is avoiding that task.
At times the therapist may be unclear about what a group is doing but knows that it is
not focused on either developing or exploring relationships between members. If
therapists have attended to providing the group a clear statement of its primary task, then
they must conclude that the group is actively evading the task—either because of some
dysphoria associated with the task itself or because of some secondary gratification that is
sufficiently satisfying to supplant the therapy work.
The Therapist’s Feelings
All of these guides to the therapist’s recognition and understanding of process have their
usefulness. But there is an even more important clue: the therapist’s own feelings in the
meeting, feelings that he or she has come to trust after living through many previous
similar incidents in group therapy. Experienced therapists learn to trust their feelings; they
are as useful to a therapist as a microscope or DNA mapping to a microbiologist. If
therapists feel impatient, frustrated, bored, confused, discouraged—any of the panoply of
feelings available to a human being—they should consider this valuable data and learn to
put it to work.
Remember, this does not mean that therapists have to understand their feelings and
arrange and deliver a neat interpretive corsage. The simple expression of feelings is often
sufficient to help a client proceed further.
• One therapist experienced a forty-five-year-old woman in an unreal, puzzling
manner because of her rapidly fluctuating method of presenting herself. He finally
commented, “Sharon, I have several feelings about you that I’d like to share. As
you talk, I often experience you as a competent mature woman, but sometimes I see
you as a very young, almost preadolescent child, unaware of your sexuality, trying
to cuddle, trying to be pleasing to everyone. I don’t think I can go any farther with
this now, but I wonder whether this has meaning for you.” The observation struck
deep chords in the client and helped her explore her conflicted sexual identity and
her need to be loved by everyone.
It is often very helpful to the group if you share feelings of being shut out by a member.
Such a comment rarely evokes defensiveness, because it always implies that you wish to
get closer to that person. It models important group therapy norms: risk taking,
collaboration, and taking relationships seriously.
To express feelings in the therapeutic process, the therapist must have a reasonable
degree of confidence in their appropriateness. The more you respond unrealistically to the
client (on the basis of countertransference or possibly because of pressing personal
emotional problems), the less helpful—in fact, the more antitherapeutic—will you be in
presenting these feelings as if they were the client’s problem rather than your own. You

need to use the delicate instrument of your own feelings, and to do so frequently and
spontaneously. But it is of the utmost importance that this instrument be as reliable and
accurate as possible.
Countertransference refers broadly to the reactions therapists have to their clients. It is
critically important to distinguish between your objective countertransference, reflecting
on the client’s characteristic interpersonal impact on you and others, and your subjective
countertransference—those idiosyncratic reactions that reflect more specifically on what
you, personally, carry into your relationships or interactions.16 The former is an excellent
source of interpersonal data about the client. The latter, however, says a good deal more
about the therapist. To discriminate between the two requires not only experience and
training but also deep self-knowledge. It is for this reason that I believe every therapist
should obtain personal psychotherapy . (More about this in chapter 17.)
HELPING CLIENTS ASSUME A PROCESS
ORIENTATION
It has long been known that observations, viewpoints, and insights arrived at through one’s
own efforts are valued more highly than those that are thrust upon one by another person.
The mature leader resists the temptation to make brilliant virtuoso interpretations, but
searches instead for methods that will permit clients to achieve self-knowledge through
their own efforts. As Foulkes and Anthony put it, “There are times when the therapist
must sit on his wisdom, must tolerate defective knowledge and wait for the group to arrive
at solutions.”17
The task, then, is to influence members to assume and to value the process perspective.
Many of the norm-setting activities of the leader described in chapter 5 serve this end. For
example, the therapist emphasizes process by periodically tugging the members out of the
here-and-now and inviting them to consider more dispassionately the meaning of recent
transactions. Though techniques vary depending on a therapist’s style, the intention of
these interventions is to switch on a self-reflective beacon. The therapist may, for
example, interrupt the group at an appropriate point to comment, in effect, “We are about
halfway through our time for today, and I wonder how everyone feels about the meeting
thus far?” Again, by no means do you have to understand the process to ask for members’
analyses. You might simply say, “I’m not sure what’s happening in the meeting, but I do
see some unusual things. For example, Bill has been unusually silent, Jack’s moved his
chair back three feet, Mary’s been shooting glances at me for the past several minutes.
What ideas do you all have about what’s going on today?”
A process review of a highly charged meeting is often necessary. It is important for the
therapist to demonstrate that intense emotional expression provides material for significant
learning. Sometimes you can divide such a meeting into two parts: the experiential
segment and the analysis of that experience. At other times you may analyze the process at

the following meeting; you can ask about the feelings that members took home with them
after the previous meeting, or simply solicit further thoughts they have since had about
what occurred there.
Obviously, you teach through modeling your own process orientation. There is nothing
to lose and much to gain by your sharing your perspective on the group whenever
possible. Sometimes you may do this in an effort to clarify the meeting: “Here are some of
the things I’ve seen going on today.” Sometimes you may wish to use a convenient device
such as summarizing the meeting to a late arrival, whether co-therapist or member. One
technique I use that systematically shares my process observations with members is to
write a detailed summary of the meeting afterward, including a full description of my
spoken and unspoken process observations, and mail it to the members before the next
meeting (see chapter 14). With this approach the therapist uses considerable personal and
professional disclosure in a way that facilitates the therapy work, particularly by
increasing the members’ perceptivity to the process of the group.
It is useful to encourage members to describe their views on the process of group
meetings. Many group therapy instructors who teach by leading an experiential group of
their students often begin each meeting with a report, prepared by some designated
student, of the process of the previous meeting. Some therapists learn to call upon certain
members who display unusual intuitive ability to recognize process. For example, Ormont
describes a marginal member in his group who had unusual sensitivity to the body
language of others. The therapist made a point of harnessing that talent for the service of
therapy. A question such as: “Michael, what was Pam saying to Abner with that wave of
her hand?” served a double purpose: illumination of process and helping Michael gain
centrality and respect.18
HELPING CLIENTS ACCEPT PROCESS-
ILLUMINATING COMMENTS
F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote, “I was impelled to think. God, was it difficult! The moving
about of great secret trunks.” Throughout therapy, we ask our clients to think, to shift
internal arrangements, to examine the consequences of their behavior. It is hard work, and
it is often unpleasant, frightening work. It is not enough simply to provide clients with
information or explanations; you must also facilitate the assimilation of the new
information. There are strategies to help clients in this work.
Be concerned with the framing of interpretive remarks and feedback. No comments, not
even the most brilliant ones, can be of value if their delivery is not accepted, if the client
rejects the package unopened and uninspected. The relationship, the style of delivery, and
the timing are thus as essential as the content of the message.
Clients are always more receptive to observations that are framed in a supportive

fashion. Rarely do individuals reject an observation that they distance or shut out others,
or that they are too unselfish and never ask for anything for themselves, or that they are
stingy with their feelings, or that they conceal much of what they have to offer. All of
these observations contain a supportive message: that the member has much to give and
that the observer wishes to be closer, wishes to help, wishes to know the other more
intimately.
Beware of appellations that are categorizing or limiting: they are counterproductive;
they threaten; they raise defenses. Clients reject global accusations—for example,
dependency, narcissism, exploitation, arrogance—and with good reason, since a person is
always more than any one or any combination of labels. It is far more acceptable (and
true) to speak of traits or parts of an individual—for example, “I often can sense you very
much wanting to be close to others, offering help as you did last week to Debbie. But there
are other times, like today, when I see you as aloof, almost scornful of the others. What do
you know about this part of you?”
Often in the midst of intense group conflict, members hurl important truths at one
another. Under these conditions, one cannot acknowledge the truth: it would be aiding the
aggressor, committing treason against oneself. To make the conflict-spawned truths
available for consumption, the therapist must appreciate and neutralize the defensiveness
of the combatants.
You may, for example, appeal to a higher power (the member’s desire for self-
knowledge) or increase receptivity by limiting the scope of the accusation. For example,
“Farrell, I see you now closed up, threatened, and fending off everything that Jamie is
saying. You’ve been very adroit in pointing out the weaknesses of her arguments, but what
happens is that you (and Jamie, too) end up getting nothing for yourself. I wonder if you
could take a different tack for a while and ask yourself this (and, later: Jamie, I’d like to
ask you to do the same): Is there anything in what Jamie is saying that is true for you?
What parts seem to strike an inner chord? Could you forget for a moment the things that
are not true and stay with those that are true?”
Sometimes group members, in an unusually open moment, make a statement that may
at some future time provide the therapist with great leverage. The thrifty therapist
underscores these comments in the group and stores them for later use. For example, one
man who was both proud of and troubled by his ability to manipulate the group with his
social charm, pleaded at one meeting, “Listen, when you see me smile like this, I’m really
hurting inside. Don’t let me keep getting away with it.” Another member, who tyrannized
the group with her tears, announced one day, “When I cry like this, I’m angry. I’m not
going to fall apart, so stop comforting me, stop treating me like a child.” Store these
moments of truth; they can be of great value if recalled later, in a constructive, supportive
manner, when the client is closed and defensive. In the previous example, you could
simply remind the member of her comment a few meetings ago and ask whether this (the
smiling to cover the pain or the self protective crying) is happening now.
Often it is useful to enlist the client more actively in establishing contracts. For
example, if a client has worked hard in a session on some important trait, I might say

something like: “Jane, you worked hard today and were very open to our feedback about
the way you mother others and the way you use that mothering to avoid facing your own
needs and pain. How did it feel? Did we push you too hard?” If the client agrees that the
work was helpful (as the client almost always does), then it is possible to nail down a
future contract by asking, “Then is it all right for us to keep pressing you, to give you
feedback whenever we note you doing this in future meetings?” This form of
“contracting” consolidates the therapeutic alliance and the mutual, collaborative nature of
the psychotherapy.19
PROCESS COMMENTARY: A THEORETICAL
OVERVIEW
It is not easy to discuss, in a systematic way, the actual practice of process illumination.
How can one propose crisp, basic guidelines for a procedure of such complexity and
range, such delicate timing, so many linguistic nuances? I am tempted to beg the question
by claiming that herein lies the art of psychotherapy: it will come as you gain experience;
you cannot, in a systematic way, come to it. To a degree, I believe this to be so. Yet I also
believe that it is possible to blaze crude trails, to provide the clinician with general
principles that will accelerate education without limiting the scope of artistry.
The approach I take in this section closely parallels the approach I used in the beginning
of this book to clarify the basic therapeutic factors in group therapy. At that time I asked
the questions: “How does group therapy help clients? In the group therapeutic process,
what is core and what is front?” This approach leads to the delineation of several basic
therapeutic factors and does not, I believe, constrain the therapist in any way in the choice
of methods to implement them.
In this section I proceed in a similar fashion. Here the issue is not how group therapy
helps but how process illumination leads to change. The issue is complex and requires
considerable attention, but the length of this discussion should not suggest that the
interpretive function of the therapist take precedence over other tasks.
First, let me proceed to view in a dispassionate manner the entire range of therapist
interventions. I ask of each intervention the simplistic but basic question, “How does this
intervention, this process-illuminating comment, help a client to change?” Underlying this
approach, is a set of basic operational patterns shared by all contemporary interpersonal
models of therapy.20
I begin by considering a series of process comments that a therapist made to a male
client over several sessions of group therapy:
1. You are interrupting me.
2. Your voice is tight, and your fists are clenched.

3. Whenever you talk to me, you take issue with me.
4. When you do that, I feel threatened and sometimes frightened.
5. I wonder if you don’t feel competitive with me and are trying to devalue me.
6. I’ve noticed that you’ve done the same thing with all the men in the group. Even
when they try to approach you helpfully, you strike out at them. Consequently,
they see you as hostile and threatening.
7. In the three meetings when there were no women present in the group, you were
more approachable.
8. I think you’re so concerned about your sexual attractiveness to women that you
view men only as competitors and deprive yourself of the opportunity of ever
getting close to a man.
9. Even though you always seem to spar with me, there seems to be another side to it.
You often stay after the group to have a word with me; you frequently look at me
in the group. And there’s that dream you described three weeks ago about the two
of us fighting and then falling to the ground in an embrace. I think you very much
want to be close to me, but somehow you’ve got closeness and eroticism entangled
and you keep pushing me away.
10. You are lonely here and feel unwanted and uncared for. That rekindles so many of
your feelings of unworthiness.
11. What’s happened in the group now is that you’ve distanced yourself, estranged
yourself, from all the men here. Are you satisfied with that? (Remember that one
of your major goals when you started the group was to find out why you haven’t
had any close men friends and to do something about that.)
Note, first of all, that the comments form a progression: they start with simple
observations of single acts and proceed to a description of feelings evoked by an act, to
observations about several acts over a period of time, to the juxtaposition of different acts,
to speculations about the client’s intentions and motivations, to comments about the
unfortunate repercussions of his behavior, to the inclusion of more inferential data
(dreams, subtle gestures), to calling attention to the similarity between the client’s
behavioral patterns in the here-and-now and in his outside social world. Inexperienced
group therapists sometimes feel lost because they have not yet developed an awareness of
this progressive sequence of interventions.21
In this progression, the comments become more inferential. They begin with sense-data
observations and gradually shift to complex generalizations based on sequences of
behavior, interpersonal patterns, fantasy, and dream material. As the comments become
more complex and more inferential, their author becomes more removed from the other
person—in short, more a therapist process-commentator. Members often make some of the
earlier statements to one another but, for reasons I have already presented, rarely make the
ones at the end of the sequence.

There is, incidentally, an exceptionally sharp barrier between comments 4 and 5. The
first four statements issue from the experience of the commentator. They are the
commentator’s observations and feelings; the client can devalue or ignore them but cannot
deny them, disagree with them, or take them away from the commentator. The fifth
statement (“I wonder if you don’t feel competitive with me and are trying to devalue me”)
is much more likely to evoke defensiveness and to close down constructive interactional
flow. This genre of comment is intrusive; it is a guess about the other’s intention and
motivation and is often rejected unless an important trusting, supportive relationship has
been previously established. If members in a young group make many comments of this
type to one another, they are not likely to develop a constructive therapeutic climate.22
Using the phrase “I wonder” of course softens it a bit. Where would we therapists be
without the use of “I wonder?”
But back to our basic question: how does this series (or any series of process comments)
help the client change? The answer is that the group therapist initiates change by escorting
the client through the following sequence:
1. Here is what your behavior is like. Through feedback and later through self-
observation, members learn to see themselves as seen by others.
2. Here is how your behavior makes others feel. Members learn about the impact of
their behavior on the feelings of other members.
3. Here is how your behavior influences the opinions others have of you. Members
learn that, as a result of their behavior, others value them, dislike them, find them
unpleasant, respect them, avoid them, and so on.
4. Here is how your behavior influences your opinion of yourself. Building on the
information gathered in the first three steps, clients formulate self-evaluations; they
make judgments about their self-worth and their lovability. (Recall Sullivan’s
aphorism that the self-concept is largely constructed from reflected self-
appraisals.)
Once this sequence has been developed and is fully understood by the individual, once
clients have a deep understanding that their behavior is not in their own best interests, that
the texture of relationships to others and to themselves is fashioned by their own actions,
then they have come to a crucial point in therapy: they have entered the antechamber of
change.
The therapist is now in a position to pose a question that initiates the real crunch of
therapy. The question, presented in a number of ways by the therapist but rarely in direct
form, is: Are you satisfied with the world you have created? This is what you do to others,
to others’ opinion of you, and to your opinion of yourself—are you satisfied with your
actions?n23
When the inevitable negative answer arrives (“No I am not satisfied with my actions”)
the therapist embarks on a many-layered effort to transform a sense of personal
dissatisfaction into a decision to change and then into the act of change. In one way or
another, the therapist’s interpretive remarks are designed to encourage the act of change.

Only a few psychotherapy theoreticians (for example, Otto Rank, Rollo May, Silvano
Arieti, Leslie Farber, Allen Wheelis, and Irvin Yalom24) include the concept of will in
their formulations, yet it is, I believe, implicit in most interpretive systems. I offer a
detailed discussion of the role of will in psychotherapy in my text Existential
Psychotherapy.25 For now, broad brush strokes are sufficient.
The intrapsychic agency that initiates an act, that transforms intention and decision into
action, is will. Will is the primary responsible mover within the individual. Although
analytic metapsychology has chosen to emphasize the irresponsible movers of our
behavior (that is, unconscious motivations and drives), it is difficult to do without the idea
of will in our understanding of change.26 We cannot bypass it under the assumption that it
is too nebulous and too elusive and, consequently, consign it to the black box of the
mental apparatus, to which the therapist has no access.
Knowingly or unknowingly, every therapist assumes that each client possesses the
capacity to change through willful choice. Using a variety of strategies and tactics, the
therapist attempts to escort the client to a crossroads where he or she can choose, willfully,
in the best interests of his or her own integrity. The therapist’s task is not to create will or
to infuse it into the client. That, of course, you cannot do. What you can do is to help
remove encumbrances from the bound or stifled will of the client.27
The concept of will provides a useful construct for understanding the procedure of
process illumination. The interpretive remarks of the therapist can all be viewed in terms
of how they bear on the client’s will. The most common and simplistic therapeutic
approach is exhortative: “Your behavior is, as you yourself now know, counter to your
best interests. You are not satisfied. This is not what you want for yourself. Damn it,
change!”
The expectation that the client will change is simply an extension of the moral
philosophical belief that if one knows the good (that is, what is, in the deepest sense, in
one’s best interest), one will act accordingly. In the words of St. Thomas Aquinas: “Man,
insofar as he acts willfully, acts according to some imagined good.”28 And, indeed, for
some individuals this knowledge and this exhortation are sufficient to produce therapeutic
change.
However, clients with significant and well-entrenched psychopathology will need much
more than sheer exhortation. The therapist, through interpretative comments, then
proceeds to exercise one of several other options that help clients disencumber their will.
The therapist’s goal is to guide clients to a point where they accept one, several, or all of
the following basic premises:
1. Only I can change the world I have created for myself.
2. There is no danger in change.
3. To attain what I really want, I must change.
4. I can change; I am potent.

Each of these premises, if fully accepted by a client, can be a powerful stimulant to
willful action. Each exerts its influence in a different way. Though I will discuss each in
turn, I do not wish to imply a sequential pattern. Each, depending on the need of the client
and the style of the therapist, may be effective independently of the others.
“Only I can change the world I have created for myself.”
Behind the simple group therapy sequence I have described (seeing one’s own behavior
and appreciating its impact on others and on oneself), there is a mighty overarching
concept, one whose shadow touches every part of the therapeutic process. That concept is
responsibility. Although it is rarely discussed explicitly, it is woven into the fabric of most
psychotherapeutic systems. Responsibility has many meanings—legal, religious, ethical. I
use it in the sense that a person is “responsible for” by being the “basis of,” the “cause of,”
the “author of” something.
One of the most fascinating aspects of group therapy is that everyone is born again,
born together in the group. In other words, each member starts off on an equal footing. In
the view of the others (and, if the therapist does a good job, in the view of oneself), each
gradually scoops out and shapes a life space in the group. Each member, in the deepest
sense of the concept, is responsible for this space and for the sequence of events that will
occur to him or her in the group.
The client, having truly come to appreciate this responsibility, must then accept, too,
that there is no hope for change unless he or she changes. Others cannot bring change, nor
can change bring itself. One is responsible for one’s past and present life in the group (as
well as in the outside world) and totally responsible for one’s future.
Thus, the therapist helps the client understand that the interpersonal world is arranged in
a generally predictable and orderly fashion, that it is not that the client cannot change but
that he or she will not change, that the client bears the responsibility for the creation of his
or her world and therefore the responsibility for its transmutation. The client must regain
or develop anew a sense of his or her own interpersonal agency in the world.
“There is no danger in change.”
These well-intentioned efforts may not be enough. The therapist may tug and tug at the
therapeutic cord and learn that individuals, even after being thus enlightened, still make no
significant therapeutic movement. In this case, therapists apply additional therapeutic
leverage by helping clients face the paradox of continuing to act contrary to their basic
interests. In a number of ways therapists must pose the question, “How come? Why do
you continue to defeat yourself?”
A common method of explaining “How come?” is to assume that there are formidable
obstacles to the client’s exercising willful choice, obstacles that prevent clients from
seriously considering altering their behavior. The presence of the obstacle is generally

inferred; the therapist makes an “as if” assumption: “You behave as if you feel some
considerable danger would befall you if you were to change. You fear to act otherwise for
fear that some calamity will befall you.” The therapist helps the client clarify the nature of
the imagined danger and then proceeds, in several ways, to detoxify, to disconfirm the
reality of this danger.
The client’s reason may be enlisted as an ally. The process of identifying and naming
the fantasized danger may, in itself, enable one to understand how far removed one’s fears
are from reality. Another approach is to encourage the client, in carefully calibrated doses,
to commit the dreaded act in the group. The fantasized calamity does not, of course,
ensue, and the dread is gradually extinguished. This is often the pivotal piece of effective
therapy. Change is probably not possible, let alone enduring, without the client’s having a
lived experience of direct disconfirmation of pathogenic beliefs. Insight alone is unlikely
to be effective. This principle cuts powerfully across different schools of therapy.†
For example, suppose a client avoids any aggressive behavior because at a deep level he
fears that he has a dammed-up reservoir of homicidal fury and must be constantly vigilant
lest he unleash it and eventually face retribution from others. An appropriate therapeutic
strategy is to help the client express aggression in small doses in the group: pique at being
interrupted, irritation at members who are habitually late, anger at the therapist for
charging him money, and so on. Gradually, the client is helped to relate openly to the other
members and to demythologize himself as a homicidal being. Although the language and
the view of human nature are different, this is precisely the same approach to change used
in systematic desensitization—a major technique of behavior therapy.
“To attain what I really want, I must change.”
Another explanatory approach used by many therapists to deal with a client who
persists in behaving counter to his or her best interests is to consider the payoffs of that
individual’s behavior. Although the person’s behavior sabotages many of his or her mature
needs and goals, at the same time it satisfies another set of needs and goals. In other
words, the client has conflicting motivations that cannot be simultaneously satisfied. For
example, a male client may wish to establish mature heterosexual relationships; but at
another, often unconscious, level, he may wish to be nurtured, to be cradled endlessly, to
avoid the abandonment that he anticipates as the punishment for his adult strivings or, to
use an existential vocabulary, to be sheltered from the terrifying freedom of adulthood.
Obviously, the client cannot satisfy both sets of wishes: he cannot establish an adult
heterosexual relationship with a woman if he also says (and much more loudly), “Take
care of me, protect me, nurse me, let me be a part of you.”
It is important to clarify this paradox for the client. We might, for example, point out:
“Your behavior makes sense if we assume that you wish to satisfy the deeper, earlier, more
primitive need.” We try to help the client understand the nature of his conflicting desires,
to choose between them, to relinquish those that cannot be fulfilled except at enormous
cost to his integrity and autonomy. Once the client realizes what he really wants (as an

adult) and that his behavior is designed to fulfill opposing growth-retarding needs, he
gradually concludes: To attain what I really want, I must change.
“I can change; I am potent.”
Perhaps the major therapeutic approach to the question “How come you act in ways
counter to your best interests?” is to offer explanation. The therapist says, in effect, “You
behave in certain fashions because … ,” and the “because” clause generally involves
motivational factors outside the client’s awareness. It is true that the previous two options
I have discussed also proffer explanation but—and I will clarify this shortly—the purpose
of the explanation (the nature of the leverage exerted on will) is quite different in the two
approaches.
What type of explanation does the therapist offer the client? And which explanations are
correct, and which incorrect? Which “deep”? Which “superficial”? It is at this juncture
that the great metapsychological controversies of the field arise, since the nature of
therapists’ explanations are a function of the ideological school to which they belong.
I think we can sidestep the ideological struggle by keeping a fixed gaze on the function
of the interpretation, on the relationship between explanation and the final product:
change. After all, our goal is change. Self-knowledge, derepression, analysis of
transference, and self-actualization—all are worthwhile, enlightened pursuits, all are
related to change, preludes to change, cousins and companions to change; and yet they are
not synonymous with change.
Explanation provides a system by which we can order the events in our lives into some
coherent and predictable pattern. To name something and to place it into a causal sequence
is to experience it as being under our control. No longer is our behavior or our internal
experience frightening, inchoate, out of control; instead, we behave (or have a particular
inner experience) because … . The “because” offers us mastery (or a sense of mastery that,
phenomenologically, is tantamount to mastery). It offers us freedom and self-efficacy.† As
we move from a position of being motivated by unknown forces to a position of
identifying and controlling those forces, we move from a passive, reactive posture to an
active, acting, changing posture.
If we accept this basic premise—that a major function of explanation in psychotherapy
is to provide the client with a sense of personal mastery—it follows that the value of an
explanation should be measured by this criterion. To the extent that it offers a sense of
potency, a causal explanation is valid, correct, or “true.” Such a definition of truth is
completely relativistic and pragmatic. It argues that no explanatory system has hegemony
or exclusive rights, that no system is the correct, fundamental one or the “deeper” (and
therefore better) one.
Therapists may offer the client any of several interpretations to clarify the same issue;
each may be made from a different frame of reference, and each may be “true.” Freudian,
interpersonal, object relations, self psychology, attachment theory, existential,

transactional analytic, Jungian, gestalt, transpersonal, cognitive, behavioral explanations—
all of these may be true simultaneously. None, despite vehement claims to the contrary,
have sole rights to the truth. After all, they are all based on imaginary, as if structures.
They all say, “You are behaving (or feeling) as if such and such a thing were true.” The
superego, the id, the ego; the archetypes; the masculine protest; the internalized objects;
the selfobject; the grandiose self and the omnipotent object; the parent, child, and adult
ego state—none of these really exists. They are all fictions, all psychological constructs
created for semantic convenience. They justify their existence only by virtue of their
explanatory powers.29
Do we therefore abandon our attempts to make precise, thoughtful interpretations? Not
at all. We only recognize the purpose and function of the interpretation. Some may be
superior to others, not because they are deeper but because they have more explanatory
power, are more credible, provide more mastery, and are therefore more useful. Obviously,
interpretations must be tailored to the recipient. In general, therapeutic interventions are
more effective if they make sense, if they are logically consistent with sound supporting
arguments, if they are bolstered by empirical observation, if they “feel” right or are
congruent and “click” with a client’s frame of reference and internal world, and if they can
be generalized and applied to many analogous situations in the client’s life.
Higher-order interpretations generally offer a novel explanation to the client for some
large pattern of behavior (as opposed to a single trait or act). The novelty of the therapist’s
explanation stems from his or her objective vantage point and unusual frame of reference,
which permits an original synthesis of data. Indeed, often the data is material that the
client has generally overlooked or that is outside his or her awareness.
If pushed, to what extent am I willing to defend this relativistic thesis? When I present
this position to students, they respond with such questions as: Does that mean that an
astrological explanation is also valid in psychotherapy? Such questions make me uneasy,
but I have to respond affirmatively. If an astrological or shamanistic or magical
explanation enhances a sense of mastery and leads to inner, personal change, then it is a
valid explanation. There is much evidence from cross-cultural psychiatric research to
support this position; the explanation must be consistent with the values and with the
frame of reference of the human community in which the client dwells. In most primitive
cultures, it is often only the magical or the religious explanation that is acceptable, and
hence valid and effective.30
Psychoanalytic revisionists make an analogous point and argue that reconstructive
attempts to capture historical “truth” are futile; it is far more important to the process of
change to construct plausible, meaningful, personal narratives.31 The past is not static:
every experienced therapist knows that the process of exploration and understanding alters
the recollection of the past. In fact, current neurobiological research tells us that every
time we access an old memory we automatically alter it according to our current context,
and the revised memory is then returned to long-term storage in place of the original
memory.32
An interpretation, even the most elegant one, has no benefit if the client does not hear it.

Therapists should take pains to review their evidence with the client and present the
explanation clearly. (Be clear: if you cannot be crystal-clear, it is likely that the
explanation is rickety or that you yourself do not understand it. The reason is not, as often
has been claimed, that you are speaking directly to the client’s unconscious.)
Do not always expect the client to accept an interpretation. Sometimes the client hears
the same interpretation many times until one day it seems to “click.” Why does it click
that one day? Perhaps the client just came across some corroborating data from new
events in the environment or from the surfacing in fantasy or dreams of some previously
unconscious material. Note also that the interpretation will not click until the client’s
relationship with the therapist is just right. For example, a group member who feels
threatened and competitive with the therapist is unlikely to be helped by any interpretation
(except one that clarifies the transference). Even the most thoughtful interpretation will
fail because the client may feel defeated or humiliated by the proof of the therapist’s
superior perceptivity. An interpretation becomes maximally effective only when it is
delivered in a context of acceptance and trust.
Sometimes a client will accept from another member an interpretation that he or she
would not accept from the therapist. (Remember, group members are entirely capable of
making interpretations as useful as those of the therapists, and members will be receptive
to these interpretations provided the other member has accepted the client role and does
not offer interpretations to acquire prestige, power, or a favored position with the leader.)
A comprehensive discussion of the types of effective interpretations would require
describing the vast number of explanatory schools and group therapy models—a task well
beyond the scope of this book.33 However, three venerable concepts are so deeply
associated with interpretation that they deserve coverage here:
1. The use of the past
2. Group-as-a-whole process commentary
3. Transference
I will discuss the first two in the remainder of this chapter. So many interpretative
systems involve transference (indeed, traditional analytic theory decrees that only the
transference interpretation can be effective) that I have devoted the next chapter entirely to
the issue of transference and transparency.
THE USE OF THE PAST
Too often, explanation is confused with “originology” (the study of origins). Although, as
I have discussed, an explanatory system may effectively postulate a “cause” of behavior
from any of a large number of perspectives, many therapists continue to believe that the
“real,” the “deepest,” causes of behavior are only to be found in the past. This position
was staunchly defended by Freud, a committed psychosocial archaeologist. To the very

end of his life, he relinquished neither his search for the primordial (that is, the earliest)
explanation nor his tenacious insistence that successful therapy hinges on the excavation
of the earliest layers of life’s memories. The idea that the present is only a small fraction
of the individual’s life and that contemporary life is shaped by the overwhelmingly large
contributions made by the past is powerfully embedded in the Western world’s view of
time.34 This view understandably results in an emphasis on the past in traditional
psychodynamic textbooks35 of group therapy.
However, the powerful and unconscious factors that influence human behavior are by
no means limited to the past. Current analytic theory makes a distinction between the past
unconscious (the child within the adult) and the present unconscious (the currently
existing unconscious thoughts, fantasies, and impulses that influence our feelings and
actions). 36 Furthermore, as I shall discuss, the future, as well as the past and the present,
is also a significant determinant of behavior.
The past may affect our behavior through pathways fully described by traditional
psychoanalytic theorists and by learning theorists (strange bedfellows). However, the “not
yet,” the future, is a no less powerful determinant of behavior, and the concept of future
determinism is fully defensible. We have at all times within us a sense of purpose, an
idealized self, a series of goals for which we strive, a death toward which we veer. These
factors, both conscious and unconscious, all arch into the future and profoundly influence
our behavior. Certainly the knowledge of our isolation, our destiny, and our ultimate death
deeply influences our conduct and our inner experience. Though we generally keep them
out of awareness, the terrifying contingencies of our existence play upon us without end.
We either strive to dismiss them by enveloping ourselves in life’s many diversions, or we
attempt to vanquish death by faith in an afterlife or by striving for symbolic immortality in
the form of children, material monuments, and creative expression. In addition to the
explanatory potency of the past and the future, there is a third temporal concept that
attempts to explain behavior: the Galilean concept of causality, which focuses on the
present—on the impact of current forces.
In summary, explanations ensue from the exploration of the concentric rings of
conscious and unconscious current motivations that envelop our clients. Take one
example: clients may have a need to attack, which covers a layer of dependency wishes
that they do not express for fear of rejection. Note that we need not ask how they got to be
so dependent. In fact, the future (a person’s anticipation of rejection) plays a more central
role in the interpretation. Thus, as we hurtle through space, our behavioral trajectory may
be thought of as triply influenced: by the past—the nature and direction of the original
push; by the future—the goal that beckons us; and by the present—the current field forces
operating upon it. Consider this clinical example:
• Two clients, Ellen and Carol, expressed strong sexual feelings toward the male
therapist of the group. (Both women, incidentally, had histories—indeed, chief
complaints—of masochistic sexual gratification.) At one meeting, they discussed
the explicit content of their sexual fantasies about the therapist. Ellen fantasized
her husband being killed; herself having a psychotic breakdown; the therapist

hospitalizing her and personally nurturing her, rocking her, and caring for all her
bodily needs. Carol had a different set of fantasies. She wondered whether the
therapist was well cared for at home. She frequently fantasized that something
happened to his wife and that she would care for him by cleaning his house and
cooking his meals.
The shared sexual attraction (which, as the fantasies indicate, was not genital-
sexual) had for Ellen and Carol very different explanations. The therapist pointed
out to Ellen that throughout the course of the group, she had suffered frequent
physical illness or severe psychological relapses. He wondered whether, at a deep
level, she felt as though she could get his love and that of the other members only
by a form of selfimmolation. If this was the case, however, it never worked. More
often than not, she discouraged and frustrated others. Even more important was
the fact that as long as she behaved in ways that caused her so much shame, she
could not love herself. He emphasized that it was crucial for her to change the
pattern, because it defeated her in her therapy: she was afraid to get better, since
she felt that to do so would entail an inevitable loss of love and nurturance.
In his comments to Carol, the therapist juxtaposed several aspects of her
behavior: her self-derogation, her refusal to assume her rights, her inability to get
men interested in her. Her fantasy of taking care of the therapist was illustrative of
her motivations: she believed that if she could be self-sacrificing enough, if she
could put the therapist deeply into her debt, then she should, in reciprocal fashion,
receive the love she sought. However, Carol’s search for love, like Ellen’s, always
failed. Her eternal ingratiation, her dread of self-assertion, her continued self-
devaluation succeeded only in making her appear dull and spiritless to those
whose regard she most desired. Carol, like Ellen, whirled about in a vicious circle
of her own creation: the more she failed to obtain love, the more frantically she
repeated the same self-destructive pattern—the only course of behavior she knew
or dared to enact. It was a neatly contained, self-reinforcing, and self-defeating
cycle.
So here we have two clients with a similar behavioral pattern: “sexual” infatuation with
the therapist. Yet the therapist offered two different interpretations reflecting two different
dynamic pathways to psychological masochism. In each, the therapist assembled several
aspects of the client’s behavior in the group as well as fantasy material and suggested that,
if certain “as if” assumptions were made (for example, that Ellen acted as if she could
obtain the therapist’s love only by offering herself as severely damaged, and that Carol
acted as if she could obtain his love only by so serving him and thus place him in her
debt), then the rest of the behavior “made sense.”
Both interpretations were potent and had a significant impact on future behavior. Yet
neither broached the question “How did you get to be that way? What happened in your
earlier life to create such a pattern?” Both dealt instead with currently existing patterns:
the desire for love, the conviction that it could be obtained only in certain ways, the
sacrifice of autonomy, the resulting shame, the ensuing increased need for a sign of love,

and so on.
One formidable problem with explanations based on the distant past is that they contain
within them the seeds of therapeutic despair. Thus the paradox: if we are fully determined
by the past, whence comes the ability to change? As is evident in such later works as
Analysis Terminable and Interminable, Freud’s uncompromising deterministic view led
him to, but never through, this Gordian knot.
The past, moreover, no more determines the present and the future than it is determined
by them. The past exists for each of us only as we constitute it in the present against the
horizon of the future. Jerome Frank remind us that clients, even in prolonged therapy,
recall only a minute fraction of their past experience and may selectively recall and
synthesize the past so as to achieve consistency with their present view of themselves.37 In
the same way that a client (as a result of therapy) alters her self-image, she may
reconstitute the past. She may, for example, recall long-forgotten positive experiences with
parents; she may humanize them and, rather than experiencing them solipsistically (as
figures who existed by virtue of their service to herself), begin to understand them as
harried, well-intentioned individuals struggling with the same overwhelming facts of the
human condition that she faces herself. Once she reconstitutes the past, a new past can
further influence her self-appraisal; however, it is the reconstitution, not simply the
excavation, of the past that is crucial. Note an allied research finding: effective therapy
generates further recollection of past memories, which in turn further modify the
reconstitution of the past.38
If explanations are not to be sought from an originological perspective, and if the most
potent focus of the group is the ahistorical here-and-now, does the past therefore play no
role at all in the group therapeutic process? By no means! The past is an incessant visitor
to the group and an even more incessant visitor to the inner world of each of the members
during the course of therapy. Not infrequently, for example, a discussion of the past plays
an important role in the development of group cohesiveness by increasing intermember
understanding and acceptance.
The past is often invaluable in conflict resolution. Consider, for example, two members
locked in a seemingly irreconcilable struggle, each of whom finds many aspects of the
other repugnant. Often a full understanding of the developmental route whereby each
arrived at his or her particular viewpoint can rehumanize the struggle. A man with a regal
air of hauteur and condescension may suddenly seem understandable, even winsome,
when we learn of his immigrant parents and his desperate struggle to transcend the
degradation of a slum childhood. Individuals benefit through being fully known by others
in the group and being fully accepted; knowing another’s process of becoming is a rich
and often indispensable adjunct to knowing the person.
An ahistorical here-and-now interactional focus is never fully attainable. Discussions of
future anticipations, both feared and desired, and of past and current experiences, are an
inextricable part of human discourse. What is important in group therapy is the accent; the
past is the servant, not the master. It is important in that it explicates the current reality of
the client, who is in the process of unfolding in relation to the other group members. As

Rycroft states, “It makes better sense to say that the analyst makes excursions into
historical research in order to understand something which is interfering with his present
communication with the patient (in the same way that a translator might turn to history to
elucidate an obscure text) than to say that he makes contact with the patient in order to
gain access to biographical data.”39
To employ the past in this manner involves an anamnestic technique differing from that
often employed in individual therapy. Rather than a careful global historical survey, group
therapists periodically attempt a sector analysis in which they explore the development of
some particular interpersonal stance. Consequently, many other aspects of a client’s past
remain undiscussed in group therapy. It is not uncommon, for example, for group
therapists to conclude a course of successful therapy with a client and yet be unfamiliar
with many significant aspects of the individual’s early life.
The lack of explicit discussion of the past in the ongoing therapy group does not
accurately reflect the consideration of the past occurring within each client during therapy.
The intensive focus on the here-and-now does not, of course, have as its final goal the
formation of enduring relationships among group members. That is a way station, it is a
dress rehearsal for the work that must be done with family and friends—the truly
important individuals in a client’s life.
At the end of therapy, clients commonly report significant attitudinal improvements in
relationships that have rarely been explicitly discussed in the group. Many of these
involve family members with whom one has had a relationship stretching far back into the
past. Many clients, in fact, change their feelings about family members who are long dead.
So the past plays a role in the working-through process, and the therapist should be aware
of this silent, important homework. Yet it is an implicit role. To make repetitive use of the
group meeting for explicit discussion of the past would sacrifice the therapeutic potency of
the here-and-now interactional focus.
GROUP – AS – A – WHOLE PROCESS COMMENTARY
Some group leaders choose to focus heavily on group-as-a-whole phenomena. In their
comments, these leaders frequently refer to the “group” or “we” or “all of us.” They
attempt to clarify the relationship between the group and its primary task, or between the
group and the leader or one of its members, a subgroup, or some shared concern. Recall,
for a moment, the “parenthood is degrading” incident described earlier in this chapter. In
that incident the therapist had many process commentary options, some of which were
group-as-a-whole explanations. He might, for example, have raised the issue of whether
the “group” needed a scapegoat and whether, with Kate gone, Burt filled the scapegoat
role; or whether the “group” was actively avoiding an important issue—that is, their guilty
pleasure and fears about Kate’s departure.
Throughout this text I weave in comments related to group-as-a-whole phenomena: for

example, norm setting, the role of the deviant, scapegoating, emotional contagion, role
suction, subgroup formation, group cohesiveness, group pressure, the regressive
dependency fostered by group membership, the group’s response to termination, to the
addition of new members, to the absence of the leader, and so on. In addition to these
common group phenomena, earlier editions of this book described some comprehensive
group-as-a-whole approaches, particularly the work of Wilfred Bion, which offers an
elaborate description of the psychology of groups and the unconscious forces that obstruct
effective group functioning. 40 His approach, also known as the Tavistock approach,
persists as a useful model for understanding group-as-a-whole dynamics. Its emphasis,
however, on an inscrutable, detached, leader who serves as “conductor” of the group and
limits his participation solely to group-as-a-whole interpretations has resulted in the
abandonment of the Tavistock approach for group psychotherapy. Tavistock conferences,
however, are still used as an educational vehicle to inform participants about the nature of
group forces, leadership, and authority. (See www.yalom.com for fourth edition discussion
of Bion’s contributions.)
There is little question of the importance of group-as-a-whole phenomena. All group
leaders would agree that inherent forces in a group significantly influence behavior;
individuals behave differently in a group than they do in dyads (a factor that, as I will
discuss in chapter 9, confounds the selection of group therapy members). There is wide
agreement that an individual’s behavior cannot be fully understood without an
appreciation of his or her social and environmental context. But there remains the question
of how best to apply this knowledge in the course of the therapy group. Examining the
rationale of group-as-a-whole commentary provides some guidelines.
Rationale of Group-as-a-Whole Process Commentary
Group-as-a-whole phenomena influence the clinical course of the group in two significant
ways: they can act in the service of the group, and they can impede effective group
therapy.
Group-as-a-whole forces acting in the service of therapy. I have, throughout this text,
already considered many therapeutic uses of group-as-a-whole phenomena: for example,
many of the major therapeutic factors, such as cohesiveness—the esprit de corps of the
entire group—obviously relate to group-as-a-whole properties, and therapists are, in fact,
harnessing group-as-a-whole forces when they facilitate the development of cohesiveness.
However, it does not follow that the leader must make explicit group-as-a-whole
comments.
Group-as-a-whole forces impeding therapy. There are times when group-as-a-whole
processes significantly impede therapy, and then commentary is necessary. In other words,
the purpose of a group-as-a-whole interpretation is to remove some obstacle that has
arisen to obstruct the progress of the entire group.41 The two common types of obstacle
are anxiety-laden issues and antitherapeutic group norms.

http://www.yalom.com

Anxiety-Laden Issues
Often some issue arises in the group that is so threatening that the members refuse to
confront the problem and take some evasive action. This evasion takes many forms, all of
which are commonly referred to as group flight—a regression from the group’s normal
functions. Here is a clinical example of flight from an anxiety-laden issue:
• Six members were present at the twenty-fifth group meeting; one member, John,
was absent. For the first time, and without previous mention, one of the members,
Mary, brought her dog to the meeting. The group members, usually animated and
active, were unusually subdued and nonproductive. Their speech was barely
audible, and throughout the meeting they discussed safe topics on a level of
impersonality appropriate to a large social gathering or cocktail party. Much of
the content centered on study habits (three of the members were graduate
students), examinations, and teachers (especially their untrustworthiness and
defects). Moreover, the senior member of the group discussed former members who
had long since departed from the group—the “good old days” phenomenon.
Mary’s dog (a wretched, restless creature who spent most of the group session
noisily licking its genitals) was never mentioned.
Finally, the therapist, thinking he was speaking for all the group members,
brought up the issue of Mary’s having brought her dog to the meeting. Much to the
therapist’s surprise, Mary—a highly unpopular, narcissistic member—was
unanimously de fended. Everyone denied that the dog was in any way distracting,
leaving the protesting therapist dangling in the wind.
The therapist considered the entire meeting as a “flight” meeting and, accordingly,
made appropriate group-as-a-whole interpretations, which I will discuss shortly. But first,
what is the evidence that such a meeting is in flight? And flight from what? First, consider
the age of the group. In a young group, meeting, say, for the third time—such a session
may be a manifestation not of resistance but of the group members’ uncertainty about their
primary task and of their groping to establish procedural norms. However, this group had
already met for many months and had consistently operated at a more mature level.
It becomes very evident that the group was in a flight mode when we examine the
preceding group meeting. At that meeting, John, the member absent from the meeting
under consideration, had been twenty minutes late and happened to walk down the
corridor at the precise moment when a student opened the door of the adjoining
observation room in order to enter it. For the few seconds while the door was open, John
heard the voices of the other group members and saw a room full of observers viewing the
group; moreover, the observers at that moment happened to be giggling at some private
joke. John, like all the group members, had of course been told that the group was being
observed by students. Nevertheless, this shocking and irreverent confirmation stunned
him. When John, in the last moments of the meeting, was finally able to discuss it with the
other members, they were equally stunned. John, as I mentioned, did not show up for the
next session.

This event was a catastrophe of major proportions for the entire group—as it would be
for any group. It raised serious questions in the minds of the members. Was the therapist to
be trusted? Was he, like his colleagues in the observation room, inwardly giggling at
them? Was anything he said genuine? Was the group, once perceived as a deeply human
encounter, in fact a sterile, contrived, laboratory specimen being studied dispassionately
by a therapist who probably felt closer allegiance to “them” (the others, the observers)
than to the group members?
Despite—or, rather, because of—the magnitude of these painful group issues, the group
declined to confront the matter. Instead, it engaged in flight behavior, which now begins to
be understandable. Exposed to an outside threat, the group members banded tightly
together for protection. They spoke softly about safe topics so as to avoid sharing anything
with the outside menace (the observers and, through association, the therapist). The
therapist was unsupported when he asked about the obviously distracting behavior of
Mary’s dog. The “good old days” was a reference to and yearning for those bygone times
when the group was pure and verdant and the therapist could be trusted. The discussion of
examinations and untrustworthy teachers was also a thinly veiled expression of attitudes
toward the therapist.
The precise nature and timing of the intervention is largely a matter of individual style.
Some therapists, myself included, tend to intervene when they sense the presence of group
flight even though they do not clearly understand its source. I may, for example, comment
that I feel puzzled or uneasy about the meeting and inquire, “Is there something the group
is not talking about today?” or “Is the group avoiding something?” or “I have a sense
there’s a ‘hidden agenda’ today; could we talk about this?”
I may increase the power of my inquiry by citing the evidence for such a conclusion—
for example, the whispering, the shift toward neutral topics and a noninteractive,
impersonal mode of communication, my experience of being left out or of being deserted
by the others when I mentioned the obvious distraction of the dog. Furthermore, I might
add that the group is strangely avoiding all discussion both of the previous meeting and of
John’s absence today. In one way or another, however, the problems of the group as a
whole must be addressed before any meaningful interpersonal work can resume.
In this clinical example, would we be satisfied merely with getting the group back on
the track of discussing more meaningful personal material? No! More is needed: the issues
being avoided were too crucial to the group’s existence to be left submerged. This
consideration was particularly relevant in this group, whose members had insufficiently
explored their relationship to me. Therefore, I repeatedly turned the group’s attention back
to the main issue (their trust and confidence in me) and tried not to be misled by substitute
behavior—for example, the group’s offering another theme for discussion, perhaps even a
somewhat charged one. My task was not simply to circumvent the resistance, to redirect
the group to work areas, but to plunge the members into the source of the resistance—in
other words, not around anxiety, but through it.
Another clue to the presence and strength of resistance is the group’s response to
therapists’ resistance-piercing commentary. If therapists’ comments, even when repeated,

fall on deaf ears, if therapists feel ignored by the group, if they find it extraordinarily
difficult to influence the meeting, then it is clear that the resistance is powerful and that
the group needs to be addressed as well as the individual members. It is not an easy
undertaking. It is anxiety-provoking to buck the entire group, and therapists may feel
deskilled in such meetings.
The group may also avoid work by more literal flight—absence or tardiness. Whatever
the form, however, the result is the same: in the language of the group dynamicist,
locomotion toward the attainment of group goals is impeded, and the group is no longer
engaged in its primary task.
Not uncommonly, the issue precipitating the resistance is discussed symbolically. I have
seen groups deal with their uneasiness about observers metaphorically by long discussions
about other types of confidentiality violation: for example, public posting of grades for a
school course, family members opening one another’s mail, and invasive credit company
computers. Discomfort about the therapist’s absence may prompt discussions of parental
inaccessibility or death or illness. Generally, the therapist may learn something of what is
being resisted by pondering the question “Why is this particular topic being discussed, and
why now?”
An experience in a therapy group at the height of the 2003 SARS (Severe Acute
Respiratory Syndrome) epidemic may be illustrative.
• A group in a partial hospitalization program for depressed seniors was canceled
for several weeks and finally reconvened, but with the proviso that all participants
were required to wear uncomfortable and oppressive face masks (heeding the
recommendation of infection control) that obscured nonverbal communication. The
meeting was characterized by unusually hostile comments about deprivations:
uncaring adult children, incompetent public health officials, unavailable,
neglectful therapists. Soon the members began to attack one another and the group
seemed on the brink of total disintegration.
The therapist, also struggling with the restrictive mask, asked for a “process
check”—that is, he asked the group to stop for a moment and reflect on what was
happening so far in the meeting. The members all agreed that they hated what the
SARS crisis had done to their group. The masks not only were physically irritating,
but they also blocked them from feeling close to others in the group. They realized,
too, that the generalized anger in the group was misplaced, but they did not know
what to do with their strong feelings.
The therapist made a group-as-a-whole interpretation: “There’s a sort of
paradox here today: it’s evident that you cherish this group and are angry at being
deprived of it, yet, on the other hand, the anger you experience and express
threatens the warm supportive group atmosphere you so value.” A lot of head
nodding followed the therapist’s interpretation, and the anger and divisiveness
soon dissipated.

Antitherapeutic Group Norms
Another type of group obstacle warranting a group-as-a-whole interpretation occurs when
antitherapeutic group norms are elaborated by the group. For example, a group may
establish a “take turns” format in which an entire meeting is devoted, sequentially, to each
member of the group. “Taking turns” is a comfortable or convenient procedure, but it is an
undesirable norm, because it discourages free interaction in the here-and-now.
Furthermore, members are often forced into premature self-disclosure and, as their turn
approaches, may experience extreme anxiety or even decide to terminate therapy. Or a
group may establish a pattern of devoting the entire session to the first issue raised in that
session, with strong invisible sanctions against changing the subject. Or there may be a
“Can you top this?” format in which the members engage in a spiraling orgy of self-
disclosure. Or the group may develop a tightly knit, closed pattern that excludes outlying
members and does not welcome new ones.
To intervene effectively in such instances, therapists may need to make a group-as-a-
whole interpretation that clearly describes the process and the deleterious effects the
taking-turns format has on the members or on the group and emphasizes that there are
alternatives to this mode of opening each meeting.
Frequently a group, during its development, bypasses certain important phases or never
incorporates certain norms into its culture. For example, a group may develop without
ever going through a period of challenging or confronting the therapist. Or a group may
develop without a whisper of intermember dissension, without status bids or struggles for
control. Or a group may meet at length with no hint of real intimacy or closeness arising
among the members. Such avoidance is a collaborative result of the group members
implicitly constructing norms dictating this avoidance.
Therapists who sense that the group is providing a one-sided or incomplete experience
for the members often facilitate the progress of the group work by commenting on the
missing aspect of the group’s life. (Such an intervention assumes, of course, that there are
regularly recurring, predictable phases of small group development with which the
therapist is familiar—a topic I will discuss in chapter 11.)
The Timing of Group Interventions
For pedagogical reasons, I have discussed interpersonal phenomena and group-as-a-whole
phenomena as though they were quite distinct. In practice, of course, the two often
overlap, and the therapist is faced with the question of when to emphasize the
interpersonal aspects of the transaction and when to emphasize the group-as-a-whole
aspects. This matter of clinical judgment cannot be neatly prescribed. As in any
therapeutic endeavor, judgment develops from experience (particular supervised
experience) and from intuition. As Melanie Klein stated, “It is a most precious quality in
an analyst to be able at any moment to pick out the point of urgency.”42

The point of urgency is far more elusive in group therapy than in individual treatment.
As a general rule, however, an issue critical to the existence or functioning of the entire
group always takes precedence over narrower interpersonal issues. As an illustration, let
me return to the group that engaged in whispering, discussion of neutral topics, and other
forms of group flight during the meeting after a member had inadvertently discovered the
indiscreet group observers. In that meeting, Mary, who had been absent at the previous
meeting, brought her dog. Under normal circumstances, this act would clearly have
become an important group issue: Mary had consulted neither with the therapist nor with
other members about bringing her dog to the group; she was, because of her narcissism, an
unpopular member, and her act was representative of her insensitivity to others. However,
in this meeting there was a far more urgent issue—one threatening the entire group—and
the dog was discussed not from the aspect of facilitating Mary’s interpersonal learning but
as he was used by the group in its flight. Only later, after the obstacle to the group’s
progress had been worked through and removed, did the members return to a meaningful
consideration of their annoyance about Mary bringing the dog.
To summarize, group-as-a-whole forces are continuously at play in the therapy group.
The therapist needs to be aware of them in order to harness group forces in the service of
therapy and to counter them when they obstruct therapy.†

Chapter 7
THE THERAPIST: TRANSFERENCE AND
TRANSPARENCY
Having discussed the mechanisms of therapeutic change in group therapy, the tasks of the
therapist, and the techniques by which the therapist accomplishes these tasks, I turn in this
chapter from what the therapist must do in the group to how the therapist must be. Do you,
as therapist, play a role? To what degree are you free to be yourself? How “honest” can
you be? How much transparency can you permit yourself?
Any discussion of therapist freedom should begin with transference, which can be either
an effective therapeutic tool or a set of shackles that encumbers your every movement. In
his first and extraordinarily prescient essay on psychotherapy (the final chapter of Studies
on Hysteria [1895]), Freud noted several possible impediments to the formation of a good
working relationship between client and therapist.1 Most of them could be resolved easily,
but one stemmed from deeper sources and resisted efforts to banish it from the therapeutic
work. Freud labeled this impediment transference, since it consisted of attitudes toward
the therapist that had been “transferred” from earlier attitudes toward important figures in
the client’s life. These feelings toward the therapist were “false connections”—new
editions of old impulses.
Freud soon realized, however, that transference was far from being an impediment to
therapy; on the contrary, if used properly, it could be the therapist’s most effective tool.2
What better way to help the clients recapture the past than to allow them to reexperience
and reenact ancient feelings toward parents through the current relationship to the
therapist? Furthermore, the intense and conflicted relationship that often develops with the
therapist, which he termed the transference neurosis, was amenable to reality testing; the
therapist could treat it and, in so doing, simultaneously treat the infantile conflict.
Although some of these terms may seem dated, many of today’s psychotherapeutic
approaches, including cognitive therapy, acknowledge a concept similar to transference
but refer to it as the client’s “schema.”3
Although considerable evolution in theory and technique has occurred in
psychoanalysis over the past half century, until recently some basic principles regarding
the role of transference in psychoanalytic therapy have endured with relatively little
change:4
1. Analysis of transference is the major therapeutic task of the therapist.
2. Because the development (and then the resolution) of transference is crucial, it is
important that therapists facilitate its development by remaining opaque, so that
the client can encloak them in transferred feelings and attitudes, much as one
might dress a mannequin after one’s own fancy. (This is the rationale behind the
“blank screen” role of the analyst, a role that enjoys little currency these days even
among traditional analysts.)

3. The most important type of interpretation the therapist can make is one that
clarifies some aspect of transference. (In the early days of analysis the transference
interpretation was referred to as the “mutative interpretation.”)
In recent decades, however, many analysts have shifted their assumptions as they have
recognized the importance of other factors in the therapeutic process. Judd Marmor, a
prominent American analyst, anticipated this evolution in a 1973 article in which he
wrote, “Psychoanalysts have begun, in general, to feel more free to enter into active
communicative exchanges with patients instead of remaining bound to the incognito
‘neutral mirror’ model of relative silence and impassivity.”5 More recently, Stephen
Mitchell, a leader in relational approaches to mainstream psychoanalysis commented:
Many patients are now understood to be suffering not from conflictual infantile
passions that can be tamed and transformed through reason and understanding but
from stunted personal development. Deficiencies in caregiving in the earliest years
are understood to have contributed to interfering with the emergence of a fully
centered, integrated sense of self, of the patient’s own subjectivity. What the
patient needs is not clarification or insight so much as a sustained experience of
being seen, personally engaged, and, basically valued and cared about.6
Mitchell and many others argue that the “curative” factor in both individual and group
therapy is the relationship, which requires the therapist’s authentic engagement and
empathic attunement to the client’s internal emotional and subjective experience.†7 Note
that this new emphasis on the nature of the relationship means that psychotherapy is
changing its focus from a one-person psychology (emphasizing the client’s pathology) to a
two-person psychology (emphasizing mutual impact and shared responsibility for the
relationship).†8 In this model, the therapist’s emotional experience in the therapy is a
relevant and powerful source of data about the client. How to make wise use of this data
will be elaborated shortly. Few would quarrel with the importance of the development,
recognition, and resolution of transference in individual, dynamically oriented therapy.o
Psychoanalysts disagree about the degree of permissible therapist disclosure—ranging
from extensive disclosure9 to complete opaqueness.10 But they do agree that transference
is “inappropriate, intense, ambivalent, capricious, and tenacious”11 and agree also about
the centrality of the transference and the key role of the interpretation of transference in
analytic treatment. The difference between analytic schools centers mainly on whether
“transference is everything or almost everything.”12
In group therapy the problem is not the importance of transference work; it is the
priority of this work relative to other therapeutic factors in the treatment process. The
therapist cannot focus solely on transference and at the same time perform the variety of
tasks necessary to build a group that can make use of the important group therapeutic
factors.
The difference between group therapists who consider the resolution of therapist-client
transference as the paramount therapeutic factor13 and those who attach equal importance
to the interpersonal learning that ensues from relationships between members and from

other therapeutic factors is more than theoretical: in practice, they use markedly different
techniques. The following vignettes from a group led by a formal British analyst who
made only transference interpretations illustrate this point:
• At the twentieth meeting, the members discussed at great length the fact that they
did not know one another’s first names. They then dealt with the general problem
of intimacy, discussing, for example, how difficult it was to meet and really know
people today. How does one make a really close friend? Now, on two occasions
during this discussion, a member had erred or forgotten the surname of another
member. From this data the group leader made the transference interpretation that
by forgetting the others’ names, the members were expressing a wish that all the
other members would vanish so that each could have the therapist’s sole attention.
• In another session, two male members were absent, and four women members
bitterly criticized the one male client present, who was gay, for his detachment and
narcissism, which precluded any interest in the lives or problems of others. The
therapist suggested that the women were attacking the male client because he did
not desire them sexually. Moreover, he was an indirect target; the women really
wanted to attack the therapist for his refusal to engage them sexually.
In each instance, the therapist selectively attended to the data and, from the vantage
point of his particular conception of the paramount therapeutic factor—that is,
transference resolution—made an interpretation that was pragmatically correct, since it
focused the members’ attention on their relationship with the leader. However, in my view,
these therapist-centered interpretations are incomplete, for they deny important
intermember relationships. In fact, in the first vignette, the members, in addition to their
wish for the therapist’s sole attention, were considerably conflicted about intimacy and
about their desires and fears of engaging with one another. In the second vignette, the male
client had in fact been self-absorbed and detached from the other members of the group,
and it was exceedingly important for him to recognize and understand his behavior.
Any mandate that limits group therapists’ flexibility renders them less effective. I have
seen some therapists hobbled by a conviction that they must at all times remain totally
anonymous and neutral, others by their crusade to be at all times totally “honest” and
transparent, and still others by the dictum that they must make interpretations only of
transference or only of mass group phenomena, or, even more stringently, only of mass
group transference.
The therapist’s approach to the group can amplify or moderate the expression of
members’ transferences. If the therapist emphasizes his centrality, the group will become
more regressive and dependent. In contrast, if the therapist values the peer interactions and
peer transferences as primary expressions and not merely as displacements from the
therapist, then the intensity of the transference experience in the group will be better
modulated.14
In this chapter I make the following points about transference:
1. Transference does occur in therapy groups; indeed, it is omnipresent and radically

influences the nature of the group discourse.
2. Without an appreciation of transference and its manifestations, the therapist will
often not be able to understand fully the process of the group.
3. Therapists who ignore transference considerations may seriously misunderstand
some transactions and confuse rather than guide the group members; therapists
who attend only to the transference aspects of their relationships with members
may fail to relate authentically to them.
4. There are clients whose therapy hinges on the resolution of transference distortion;
there are others whose improvement will depend on interpersonal learning
stemming from work not with the therapist but with another member, around such
issues as competition, exploitation, or sexual and intimacy conflicts; and there are
many clients who choose alternative therapeutic pathways in the group and derive
their primary benefit from other therapeutic factors entirely.
5. Transference distortions between group members can be worked with as
effectively, and perhaps even more effectively, than transference reactions to the
therapist.15
6. Attitudes toward the therapist are not all transference based: many are reality
based, and others are irrational but flow from other sources of irrationality inherent
in the dynamics of the group. (As Freud recognized, not all group phenomena can
be explained on the basis of individual psychology.)16
7. By maintaining flexibility, you may make good therapeutic use of these irrational
attitudes toward you, without at the same time neglecting your many other
functions in the group.
TRANSFERENCE IN THE THERAPY GROUP
Every client, to a greater or lesser degree, perceives the therapist incorrectly because of
transference distortions, sometimes even before beginning therapy. One psychiatrist tells
the story of going out to meet a new client in the waiting room and having the client
dispute that the therapist was who he said he was because he was so physically different
from the client’s imaginings of him.17 Few clients are entirely conflict free in their
attitudes toward such issues as parental authority, dependency, God, autonomy, and
rebellion—all of which are often personified in the person of the therapist. These
distortions are continually at play under the surface of the group discourse. Indeed, hardly
a meeting passes without some clear token of the powerful feelings evoked by the
therapist.
Witness the difference in the group when the therapist enters. Often the group may have
been engaged in animated conversation only to lapse into heavy silence at the sight of the

therapist. (Someone once said that the group therapy meeting officially begins when
suddenly nothing happens!) The therapist’s arrival not only reminds the group of its task
but also evokes early constellations of feelings in each member about the adult, the
teacher, the evaluator. Without the therapist, the group feels free to frolic; the therapist’s
presence is experienced as a stern reminder of the responsibilities of adulthood.
Seating patterns often reveal some of the complex and powerful feelings toward the
leader. Frequently, the members attempt to sit as far away from you as possible. As
members filter into the meeting they usually occupy distant seats, leaving the seats on
either side of the therapist as the penalty for late arrivals; a paranoid client often takes the
seat directly opposite you, perhaps in order to watch you more closely; a dependent client
generally sits close to you, often on your right. If co-therapists sit close to each other with
only one vacant chair between them, you can bet it will be the last chair occupied. One
member, after months of group therapy, still described a feeling of great oppression when
seated between the therapists.
Over several years, for research purposes, I asked group members to fill out a
questionnaire after each meeting. One of their tasks was to rank-order every member for
activity (according to the total number of words each spoke). There was excellent
intermember reliability in their ratings of the other group members but exceedingly poor
reliability in their ratings of the group therapist. In the same meetings some clients rated
the therapist as the most active member, whereas others considered him the least active.
The powerful and unrealistic feelings of the members toward the therapist prevented an
accurate appraisal, even on this relatively objective dimension.
One client, when asked to discuss his feelings toward me, stated that he disliked me
greatly because I was cold and aloof. He reacted immediately to his disclosure with
intense discomfort. He imagined possible repercussions: I might be too upset by his attack
to be of any more help to the group; I might retaliate by kicking him out of the group; I
might humiliate him by mocking him for some of the lurid sexual fantasies he had shared
with the group; or I might use my psychiatric wizardry to harm him in the future.
On another occasion many years ago, a group noted that I was wearing a copper
bracelet. When they learned it was for tennis elbow, their reaction was extreme. They felt
angry that I should be superstitious or ascribe to any quack cures. (They had berated me
for months for being too scientific and not human enough!) Some suggested that if I
would spend more time with my clients and less time on the tennis court, everyone would
be better off. One woman, who idealized me, said that she had seen copper bracelets
advertised in a local magazine, but guessed that mine was more special—perhaps
something I had bought in Switzerland.
Some members characteristically address all their remarks to the therapist, or speak to
other members only to glance furtively at the therapist at the end of their statement. It is as
though they speak to others in an attempt to reach the therapist, seeking the stamp of
approval for all their thoughts and actions. They forget, as it were, their reasons for being
in therapy: they continuously seek to gain conspiratorial eye contact; to be the last to leave
the session; to be, in a multitude of ways, the therapist’s favorite child.

One middle-aged woman dreamed that the group therapy room was transformed into
my living room, which was bare and unfurnished. The other group members were not
there; instead, the room was crowded with my family, which consisted of several sons. I
introduced her to them, and she felt intense warmth and pleasure. Her association to the
dream was that she was overjoyed at the thought that there was a place for her in my
home. Not only could she furnish and decorate my house (she was a professional interior
designer) but, since I had only sons (in her dream), there was room for a daughter.
Transference is so powerful and so ubiquitous that the dictum “the leader shall have no
favorites” seems to be essential for the stability of every working group. Freud suggested
that group cohesiveness, curiously, derives from the universal wish to be the favorite of
the leader and the mutual identifications the group members make with the idealized
leader.18 Consider the prototypic human group: the sibling group. It is rife with intense
rivalrous feelings: each child wishes to be the favorite and resents all rivals for their
claims to parental love. The older child wishes to rob the younger of privileges or to
eliminate the child altogether. And yet each realizes that the rival children are equally
loved by their parents and that therefore one cannot destroy one’s siblings without
incurring parental wrath and thus destroying oneself.
There is only possible solution: equality. If one cannot be the favorite, then there must
be no favorite at all. Everyone is granted an equal investment in the leader, and out of this
demand for equality is born what we have come to know as group spirit. Freud is careful
to remind us that the demand for equality applies only to the other members. They do not
wish to be equal to the leader. Quite the contrary: they have a thirst for obedience—a “lust
for submission,” as Erich Fromm put it.19 I shall return to this shortly. We have regrettably
often witnessed the marriage of weak, devitalized, and demoralized followers to
charismatic, often malignantly narcissistic group leaders.20
Freud was very sensitive to the powerful and irrational manner in which group members
view their leader, and he systematically analyzed this phenomenon and applied it to
psychotherapy.21 Obviously, however, the psychology of member and leader has existed
since the earliest human groupings, and Freud was not the first to note it.† To cite only one
example, Tolstoy in the nineteenth century was keenly aware of the subtle intricacies of
the member-leader relationship in the two most important groups of his day: the church
and the military. His insight into the overvaluation of the leader gives War and Peace
much of its pathos and richness. Consider Rostov’s regard for the Tsar:
He was entirely absorbed in the feeling of happiness at the Tsar’s being near. His
nearness alone made up to him by itself, he felt, for the loss of the whole day. He
was happy, as a lover is happy when the moment of the longed-for meeting has
come. Not daring to look around from the front line, by an ecstatic instance
without looking around, he felt his approach. And he felt it not only from the
sound of the tramping hoofs of the approaching cavalcade, he felt it because as the
Tsar came nearer everything grew brighter, more joyful and significant, and more
festive. Nearer and nearer moved this sun, as he seemed to Rostov, shedding
around him rays of mild and majestic light, and now he felt himself enfolded in

that radiance, he heard his voice—that voice caressing, calm, majestic, and yet so
simple. And Rostov got up and went out to wander about among the campfires,
dreaming of what happiness it would be to die—not saving the Emperor’s life (of
that he did not dare to dream), but simply to die before the Emperor’s eyes. He
really was in love with the Tsar and the glory of the Russian arms and the hope of
coming victory. And he was not the only man who felt thus in those memorable
days that preceded the battle of Austerlitz: nine-tenths of the men in the Russian
army were at that moment in love, though less ecstatically, with their Tsar and the
glory of the Russian arms.22
Indeed, it would seem that submersion in the love of a leader is a prerequisite for war.
How ironic that more killing has probably been done under the aegis of love than of
hatred!
Napoleon, that consummate leader of men, was, according to Tolstoy, not ignorant of
transference, nor did he hesitate to utilize it in the service of victory. In War and Peace,
Tolstoy had him deliver this dispatch to his troops on the eve of battle:
Soldiers! I will myself lead your battalions. I will keep out of fire, if you, with your
habitual bravery, carry defeat and disorder into the ranks of the enemy. But if
victory is for one moment doubtful, you will see your Emperor exposed to the
enemy’s hottest attack, for there can be no uncertainty of victory, especially on this
day, when it is a question of the honor of the French infantry, on which rests the
honor of our nation.23
As a result of transference, the therapy group may impute superhuman powers to the
leaders. Therapists’ words are given more weight and wisdom than they carry. Equally
astute contributions made by other members are ignored or distorted. All progress in the
group is attributed to you, the therapist. Your errors, faux pas, and absences are seen as
deliberate techniques that you employ to stimulate or provoke the group for its own good.
Groups, including groups of professional therapists, overestimate your power and
knowledge. They believe that there are great calculated depths to each of your
interventions, that you predict and control all the events of the group. Even when you
confess puzzlement or ignorance, this, too, is regarded as part of your clever technique,
intended to have a particular effect on the group.
Ah, to be the favorite child—of the parent, of the leader! For many group members, this
longing serves as an internal horizon against which all other group events are silhouetted.
However much each member cares for the other members of the group, however much
each is pleased to see others work and receive help, there is a background of envy, of
disappointment, that one is not basking alone in the light of the leader. The leader’s
inquiries into these domains—who gets the most attention? Who gets the least? Who
seems most favored by the leader?—almost invariably plunge the members into a
profitable examination of the group’s innards.
This desire for sole possession of the leader and the ensuing envy and greed lie deeply
embedded in the substructure of every group. An old colloquialism for the genital organs

is “privates.” However, today many therapy groups discuss sexuality with ease, even
relish. The “privates” of a group are more likely to be the fee structure: money often acts
as the electrodes upon which condense much of the feeling toward the leader. The fee
structure is an especially charged issue in many mental health clinics, which bill members
according to a sliding fee scale based on income. How much one pays is often one of the
group’s most tightly clutched secrets, since differing fees (and the silent, insidious
corollary: different rights, different degrees of ownership) threaten the very cement of the
group: equality for all members. Therapists often feel awkward talking about money:
Group discussion of money and fees may open difficult issues for the therapist such as
income, perceived greed, or entitlement.†
Members often expect the leader to sense their needs. One member wrote a list of major
issues that troubled him and brought it to meeting after meeting, waiting for the therapist
to divine its existence and ask him to read it. Obviously, the content of the list meant little
—if he had really wanted to work on the problems enumerated there, he could have
presented the list to the group himself. No, what was important was the belief in the
therapist’s prescience and presence. This member’s transference was such that he had
incompletely differentiated himself from the therapist. Their ego boundaries were blurred;
to know or feel something was, for him, tantamount to the therapist’s knowing and feeling
it. Many clients carry their therapist around with them. The therapist is in them, observes
their actions from over their shoulder, participates in imaginary conversations with them.
When several members of a group share this desire for an all-knowing, all-caring
leader, the meetings take on a characteristic flavor. The group seems helpless and
dependent. The members deskill themselves and seem unable to help themselves or others.
Deskilling is particularly dramatic in a group composed of professional therapists who
suddenly seem unable to ask even the simplest questions of one another. For example, in
one meeting a group may talk about loss. One member mentions, for the first time, the
recent death of her mother. Then silence. There is sudden group aphasia. No one is even
able to say, “Tell us more about it.” They are all waiting—waiting for the touch of the
therapist. No one wants to encourage anyone else to talk for fear of lessening his or her
chance of obtaining the leader’s ministrations.
Then, at other times or in other groups, the opposite occurs. Members challenge the
leader continuously. The therapist is distrusted, misunderstood, treated like an enemy.
Examples of such negative transference are common. One client, just beginning the group,
expended considerable energy in an effort to dominate the other members. Whenever the
therapist attempted to point this out, the client regarded his intentions as malicious: the
therapist was interfering with his growth; the therapist was threatened by him and was
attempting to keep him subservient; or, finally, the therapist was deliberately blocking his
progress lest he improve too quickly and thus diminish the therapist’s income. Both of
these polarized positions—slavish idealization and unrelenting devaluation, reflect
destructive group norms and represent an antigroup position that demands the therapist’s
attention.24
In a group of adult female incest survivors, I, the only male in the group, was

continually challenged. Unlike my female co-therapist, I could do no right. My appearance
was attacked—my choice of neckties, my wearing socks that were not perfectly matched.
Virtually every one of my interventions was met with criticism. My silence was labeled
disinterest, and my support was viewed with suspicion. When I did not inquire deeply
enough into the nature of their abuse, I was accused of lacking interest and empathy.
When I did inquire, I was accused of being a “closet pervert” who got sexual kicks from
listening to stories of sexual violation. Though I had known that transferential anger from
a group of female abuse victims would be inevitable and useful to the therapy process, and
that the attacks were against my role rather than against my person—still, the attacks were
difficult to tolerate. I began to dread each meeting and felt anxious, deskilled, and
incompetent. The transference was not just being felt or spoken, it was being enacted
powerfully.25 Not only was I attacked as a representative of the prototypical male in these
group members’ lives, but I was also being “abused” in a form of role inversion. This
offered a useful window into the experience of the group members who all too often felt
dread, bullied, and lacking in skill. Understanding the nature of transference and not
retaliating with countertransference rage was essential in retaining a therapeutic posture.
In another group a paranoid client, who had a long history of broken leases and lawsuits
brought against her by landlords, re-created her litigiousness in the group. She refused to
pay her small clinic bill, claiming that there was an error in the account, but she could not
find the time to come to talk to the clinic administrator. When the therapist reminded her
on a number of occasions of the account, she compared him to a Jewish slumlord or a
greedy capitalist who would have liked her to damage her health permanently by slaving
in an environmentally toxic factory.
Another member habitually became physically ill with flu symptoms whenever she
grew depressed. The therapist could find no way to work with her without her feeling he
was accusing her of malingering—a replay of the accusatory process in her relationships
in her family. When one therapist, on a couple of occasions, accepted a Life Saver from a
female member, another member responded strongly and accused him both of mooching
and of exploiting the women in the group.
Many irrational reasons exist for these attacks on the therapist, but some stem from the
same feelings of helpless dependency that result in the worshipful obedience I have
described. Some clients (“counterdependents”) respond counterphobically to their
dependency by incessantly defying the leader. Others validate their integrity or potency by
attempting to triumph over the big adversary, feeling a sense of exhilaration and power
from twisting the tail of the tiger and emerging unscathed.
The most common charge members level against the leader is that of being too cold, too
aloof, too inhuman. This charge has some basis in reality. For both professional and
personal reasons, as I shall discuss shortly, many therapists do keep themselves hidden
from the group. Also, their role of process commentator requires a certain distance from
the group. But there is more to it. Although the members insist that they wish therapists to
be more human, they have the simultaneous counterwish that they be more than human.
(See my novel The Schopenhauer Cure [pp. 221–253] for a fictional portrayal of this

phenomenon.)
Freud often made this observation. In The Future of an Illusion, he based his
explanation for religious belief on the human being’s thirst for a superbeing.26 It seemed
to Freud that the integrity of the group depended on the existence of some superordinate
figure who, as I discussed earlier, fosters the illusion of loving each member equally. Solid
group bonds become chains of sand if the leader is lost. If the general perishes in battle, it
is imperative that the news be kept secret, or panic might break out. So, too, for the leader
of the church. Freud was fascinated by a 1903 novel called When It Was Dark, in which
Christ’s divinity was questioned and ultimately disproved.27 The novel depicted
catastrophic effects on Western European civilization; previously stable social institutions
deconstituted one by one, leaving only social chaos and ideological rubble.
Hence, there is great ambivalence in the members’ directive to the leader to be “more
human.” They complain that you tell them nothing of yourself, yet they rarely inquire
explicitly. They demand that you be more human yet excoriate you if you wear a copper
bracelet, accept a Life Saver, or forget to tell the group that you have conversed with a
member over the phone. They prefer not to believe you if you profess puzzlement or
ignorance. The illness or infirmity of a therapist always arouses considerable discomfort
among the members, as though somehow the therapist should be beyond biological
limitation. The followers of a leader who abandons his or her role are greatly distressed.
(When Shakespeare’s Richard II laments his hollow crown and gives vent to his
discouragement and need for friends, his court bids him to be silent.)
A group of psychiatry residents I once led put the dilemma very clearly. They often
discussed the “big people” out in the world: their therapists, group leaders, supervisors,
and the adult community of senior practicing psychiatrists. The closer these residents
came to completing their training, the more important and problematic the big people
became. I wondered aloud whether they, too, might soon become “big people.” Could it be
that even I had my “big people”?
There were two opposing sets of concerns about the “big people,” and they were
equally troubling: first, that the “big people” were real, that they possessed superior
wisdom and knowledge and would dispense an honest but terrible justice to the young,
presumptuous frauds who tried to join their ranks; or, second, that the “big people”
themselves were frauds, and the members were all Dorothys facing the Oz wizard. The
second possibility had more frightening implications than the first: it brought them face-
to-face with their intrinsic loneliness and apartness. It was as if, for a brief time, life’s
illusions were stripped away, exposing the naked scaffolding of existence—a terrifying
sight, one that we conceal from ourselves with the heaviest of curtains. The “big people”
are one of our most effective curtains. As frightening as their judgment may be, it is far
less terrible than that other alternative—that there are no “big people” and that one is
finally and utterly alone.
The leader is thus seen unrealistically by members for many reasons. True transference
or displacement of affect from some prior object is one reason; conflicted attitudes toward
authority (dependency, distrust, rebellion, counterdependency) that become personified in

the therapist is another; and still another reason is the tendency to imbue therapists with
superhuman features so as to use them as a shield against existential anxiety.
An additional but entirely rational source of members’ strong feelings toward the group
therapist lies in the members’ explicit or intuitive appreciation of the therapist’s great and
real power. Group leaders’ presence and impartiality are, as I have already discussed,
essential for group survival and stability; they have the power to expel members, add new
members, and mobilize group pressure against anyone they wish.
In fact, the sources of intense, irrational feelings toward the therapist are so varied and
so powerful that transference will always occur. The therapist need not make any effort—
for example, striking a pose of unflinching neutrality and anonymity—to generate or
facilitate the development of transference. An illustrative example of transference
developing in the presence of therapist transparency occurred with a client who often
attacked me for aloofness, deviousness, and hiddenness. He accused me of manipulation,
of pulling strings to guide each member’s behavior, of not being clear and open, of never
really coming out and telling the group exactly what I was trying to do in therapy. Yet this
man was a member of a group in which I had been writing very clear, honest, transparent
group summaries and mailing them to the members before the next meeting (see chapter
14). A more earnest attempt to demystify the therapeutic process would be difficult to
imagine. When asked by some of the members about my self-disclosure in the summaries,
he acknowledged that he had not read them—they remained unopened on his desk.
As long as a group therapist assumes the responsibility of leadership, transference will
occur. I have never seen a group develop without a deep, complex underpinning of
transference. The problem is thus not evocation but resolution of transference. The
therapist who is to make therapeutic use of transference must help clients recognize,
understand, and change their distorted attitudinal set toward the leader.
How does the group resolve transference distortions? Two major approaches are seen in
therapy groups: consensual validation and increased therapist transparency.
Consensual Validation
The therapist may encourage a client to validate his or her impressions of the therapist
against those of the other members. If many or all of the group members concur in the
client’s view of and feelings toward the therapist, then it is clear that either the members’
reaction stems from global group forces related to the therapist’s role in the group or that
the reaction is not unrealistic at all—the group members are perceiving the therapist
accurately. If, on the other hand, there is no consensus, if one member alone has a
particular view of the therapist, then this member may be helped to examine the possibility
that he or she sees the therapist, and perhaps other people too, through an internal
distorting prism. In this process the therapist must take care to operate with a spirit of open
inquiry, lest it turn into a process of majority rule. There can be some truth even in the
idiosyncratic reaction of a single member.

Increased Therapist Transparency
The other major approach relies on the therapeutic use of the self. Therapists help clients
confirm or disconfirm their impressions of the therapists by gradually revealing more of
themselves. The client is pressed to deal with the therapist as a real person in the here-and-
now. Thus you respond to the client, you share your feelings, you acknowledge or refute
motives or feelings attributed to you, you look at your own blind spots, you demonstrate
respect for the feedback the members offer you. In the face of this mounting real-life data,
clients are impelled to examine the nature and the basis of their powerful fictitious beliefs
about the therapist.
We use our transparency and self-disclosure to maintain a therapeutic position with our
clients that balances us in a position midway between the client’s transference and its
therapeutic disconfirmation.† Your disclosure about the client’s impact on you is a
particularly effective intervention because it deepens understanding for the mutual impact
between therapist and group member.28
The group therapist undergoes a gradual metamorphosis during the life of the group. In
the beginning you busy yourself with the many functions necessary in the creation of the
group, with the development of a social system in which the many therapeutic factors may
operate, and with the activation and illumination of the here-and-now. Gradually, as the
group progresses, you begin to interact more personally with each of the members, and as
you become more of a fleshed-out person, the members find it more difficult to maintain
the early stereotypes they had projected onto you.
This process between you and each of the members is not qualitatively different from
the interpersonal learning taking place among the members. After all, you have no
monopoly on authority, dominance, sagacity, or aloofness, and many of the members work
out their conflicts in these areas not with the therapist (or not only with the therapist) but
with other members who happen to have these attributes.
This change in the degree of transparency of the therapist is by no means limited to
group therapy. Someone once said that when the analyst tells the analysand a joke, you
can be sure the analysis is approaching its end. However, the pace, the degree, the nature
of the therapist transparency and the relationship between this activity of the therapist and
the therapist’s other tasks in the group are problematic and deserve careful consideration.
More than any other single characteristic, the nature and the degree of therapist self-
disclosure differentiate the various schools of group therapy. Judicious therapist self-
disclosure is a defining characteristic of the interpersonal model of group psychotherapy.29
THE PSYCHOTHERAPIST AND TRANSPARENCY
Psychotherapeutic innovations appear and vanish with bewildering rapidity. Only a truly

intrepid observer would attempt to differentiate evanescent from potentially important and
durable trends in the diffuse, heterodox American psychotherapeutic scene. Nevertheless,
there is evidence, in widely varying settings, of a shift in the therapist’s basic self-
presentation. Consider the following vignettes.
• Therapists leading therapy groups that are observed through a one-way mirror
reverse roles at the end of the meeting. The clients are permitted to observe while
the therapist and the students discuss or rehash the meeting. Or, in inpatient
groups, the observers enter the room twenty minutes before the end of the session
to discuss their observations of the meeting. In the final ten minutes, the group
members react to the observers’ comments.30
• At a university training center, a tutorial technique has been employed in which
four psychiatric residents meet regularly with an experienced clinician who
conducts an interview in front of a one-way mirror. The client is often invited to
observe the postinterview discussion.
• Tom, one of two group co-therapists, began a meeting by asking a client who had
been extremely distressed at the previous meeting how he was feeling and whether
that session had been helpful to him. The co-therapist then said to him, “Tom, I
think you’re doing just what I was doing a couple of weeks ago—pressing the
clients to tell me how effective our therapy is. We both seem on a constant lookout
for reassurance. I think we are reflecting some of the general discouragement in
the group. I wonder whether the members may be feeling pressure that they have to
improve to keep up our spirits.”
• In several groups at an outpatient clinic, the therapists write a thorough
summary (see chapter 14) after each meeting and mail it to the members before the
next session. The summary contains not only a narrative account of the meeting, a
running commentary on process, and each member’s contribution to the session
but also much therapist disclosure: the therapist’s ideas about what was happening
to everyone in the group that meeting; a relevant exposition of the theory of group
therapy; exactly what the therapist was attempting to do in the meeting; the
therapist’s feelings of puzzlement or ignorance about events in the group; and the
therapist’s personal feelings during the session, including both those said and
those unsaid at the time. These summaries are virtually indistinguishable from
summaries the therapists had previously written for their own private records.
Without discussing the merits or the disadvantages of the approaches demonstrated in
these vignettes, it can be said for now that there is no evidence that these approaches
corroded the therapeutic relationship or situation. On the psychiatric ward, in the tutorial,
and in therapy groups, the group members did not lose faith in their all-too-human
therapists but developed more faith in a process in which the therapists were willing to
immerse themselves. The clients who observed their therapists in disagreement learned
that although no one true way exists, the therapists are nonetheless dedicated and
committed to finding ways of helping their clients.
In each of the vignettes, the therapists abandon their traditional role and share some of

their many uncertainties with their clients. Gradually the therapeutic process is
demystified and the therapist in a sense defrocked. The past four decades have witnessed
the demise of the concept of psychotherapy as an exclusive domain of psychiatry.
Formerly, therapy was indeed a closed-shop affair: psychologists were under surveillance
of psychiatrists lest they be tempted to practice psychotherapy rather than counseling;
social workers could do casework but not psychotherapy. Eventually these three
professions—psychiatry, psychology, and social work—joined in their resistance to the
emergence of new psychotherapy professions: the master’s-level psychologists, the
marriage and family counselors, psychiatric nurse practitioners, pastoral counselors, body
workers, movement and dance therapists, art therapists. The “eggshell” era of therapy—in
which the client was considered so fragile and the mysteries of technique so deep that only
the individual with the ultimate diploma dared treat one—is gone forever.†
Nor is this reevaluation of the therapist’s role and authority solely a modern
phenomenon. There were adumbrations of such experimentation among the earliest
dynamic therapists. For example, Sandor Ferenczi, a close associate of Freud who was
dissatisfied with the therapeutic results of psychoanalysis, continually challenged the
aloof, omniscient role of the classical psychoanalyst. Ferenczi and Freud in fact parted
ways because of Ferenczi’s conviction that it was the mutual, honest, and transparent
relationship that therapist and client created together, not the rational interpretation, that
was the mutative force of therapy.31
In his pioneering emphasis on the interpersonal relationship, Ferenczi influenced
American psychotherapy through his impact on future leaders in the field such as William
Alanson White, Harry Stack Sullivan, and Frieda Fromm-Reichman. Ferenczi also had a
significant but overlooked role in the development of group therapy, underscoring the
relational base of virtually all the group therapeutic factors.32 During his last several years,
he openly acknowledged his fallibility to clients and, in response to a just criticism, felt
free to say, “I think you may have touched upon an area in which I am not entirely free
myself. Perhaps you can help me see what’s wrong with me.”33 Foulkes, a British pioneer
group therapist, stated sixty years ago that the mature group therapist was truly modest—
one who could sincerely say to a group, “Here we are together facing reality and the basic
problems of human existence. I am one of you, not more and not less.”34
I explore therapist transparency more fully in other literary forms: two books of stories
based on my psychotherapy cases—Love’s Executioner and Momma and the Meaning of
Life—and in novels—When Nietzsche Wept (in which the client and therapist alternate
roles), and Lying on the Couch in which the therapist protagonist reruns Ferenczi’s mutual
analysis experiment by revealing himself fully to a client.35 After the publication of each
of these books, I received a deluge of letters, from both clients and therapists, attesting to
the widespread interest and craving for a more human relationship in the therapy venture.
My most recent novel, (The Schopenhauer Cure)36 is set in a therapy group in which the
therapist engages in heroic transparency.
Those therapist who attempt greater transparency argue that therapy is a rational,
explicable process. They espouse a humanistic attitude to therapy, in which the client is

considered a full collaborator in the therapeutic venture. No mystery need surround the
therapist or the therapeutic procedure; aside from the ameliorative effects stemming from
expectations of help from a magical being, there is little to be lost and probably much to
be gained through the demystification of therapy. A therapy based on a true alliance
between therapist and enlightened client reflects a greater respect for the capacities of the
client and, with it, a greater reliance on self-awareness rather than on the easier but
precarious comfort of self-deception.
Greater therapist transparency is, in part, a reaction to the old authoritarian medical
healer, who, for many centuries, has colluded with the distressed human being’s wish for
succor from a superior being. Healers have harnessed and indeed cultivated this need as a
powerful agent of treatment. In countless ways, they have encouraged and fostered a belief
in their omniscience: Latin prescriptions, specialized language, secret institutes with
lengthy and severe apprenticeships, imposing offices, and power displays of diplomas—
all have contributed to the image of the healer as a powerful, mysterious, and prescient
figure.
In unlocking the shackles of this ancestral role, the overly disclosing therapist of today
has at times sacrificed effectiveness on the altar of self-disclosure. However, the dangers
of indiscriminate therapist transparency (which I shall consider shortly) should not deter
us from exploring the judicious use of therapist self-disclosure.
The Effect of Therapist Transparency on the Therapy Group
The primary sweeping objection to therapist transparency emanates from the traditional
analytic belief that the paramount therapeutic factor is the resolution of client-therapist
transference. This view holds that the therapist must remain relatively anonymous or
opaque to foster the development of unrealistic feelings toward him or her. It is my
position, however, that other therapeutic factors are of equal or greater importance, and
that the therapist who judiciously uses his or her own person increases the therapeutic
power of the group by encouraging the development of these factors. In doing so, you gain
considerable role flexibility and maneuverability and may, without concerning yourself
about spoiling your role, directly attend to group maintenance, to the shaping of the group
norms (there is considerable research evidence that therapist self-disclosure facilitates
greater openness between group members37 as well as between family members in family
therapy38), and to here-and-now activation and process illumination. By decentralizing
your position in the group, you hasten the development of group autonomy and
cohesiveness. We see corroborating evidence from individual therapy: therapist self-
disclosure is often experienced by clients as supportive and normalizing. It fosters deeper
exploration on the client’s part.† Therapist self-disclosure is particularly effective when it
serves to engage the client authentically and does not serve to control or direct the
therapeutic relationship.†39
A leader’s personal disclosure may have a powerful and indelible effect. In a recent
publication, a member of a group led by Hugh Mullan, a well-known group therapist,

recounts a group episode that occurred forty-five years earlier. The leader was sitting with
his eyes closed in a meeting, and a member addressed him: “You look very comfortable,
Hugh, why’s that?” Hugh responded immediately, “Because I’m sitting next to a woman.”
The member never forgot that odd response. It was enormously liberating and freed him to
experience and express intensely personal material. As he put it, he no longer felt alone in
his “weirdness.”40
One objection to self-disclosure, a groundless objection, I believe, is the fear of
escalation—the fear that once you as therapist reveal yourself, the group will insatiably
demand even more. Recall that powerful forces in the group oppose this trend. The
members are extraordinarily curious about you, yet at the same time wish you to remain
unknown and powerful. Some of these points were apparent in a meeting many years ago
when I had just begun to lead therapy groups. I had just returned from leading a weeklong
residential human relations laboratory (intensive T-group; see chapter 16). Since greater
leader transparency is the rule in such groups, I returned to my therapy group primed for
greater self-revelation.
• Four members, Don, Russell, Janice, and Martha, were present at the twenty-
ninth meeting of the group. One member and my co-therapist were absent; one
other member, Peter, had dropped out of the group at the previous meeting. The
first theme that emerged was the group’s response to Peter’s termination. The
group discussed this gingerly, from a great distance, and I commented that we had,
it seemed to me, never honestly discussed our feelings about Peter when he was
present, and that we were avoiding them now, even after his departure. Among the
responses was Martha’s comment that she was glad he had left, that she had felt
they couldn’t reach him, and that she didn’t feel it was worth it to try. She then
commented on his lack of education and noted her surprise that he had even been
included in the group—an oblique swipe at the therapists.
I felt the group had not only avoided discussing Peter but had also declined to
confront Martha’s judgmentalism and incessant criticism of others. I thought I
might help Martha and the group explore this issue by asking her to go around the
group and describe those aspects of each person she found herself unable to
accept. This task proved very difficult for her, and she generally avoided it by
phrasing her objections in the past tense, as in, “I once disliked some trait in you
but now it’s different.” When she had finished with each of the members, I pointed
out that she had left me out; indeed, she had never expressed her feelings toward
me except through indirect attacks. She proceeded to compare me unfavorably with
the co-therapist, stating that she found me too retiring and ineffectual; she then
immediately attempted to undo the remarks by commenting that “Still waters run
deep” and recalling examples of my sensitivity to her.
The other members suddenly volunteered to tackle the same task and, in the
process, revealed many long-term group secrets: Don’s effeminacy, Janice’s
slovenliness and desexualized grooming, and Russell’s lack of empathy with the
women in the group. Martha was compared to a golf ball: “tightly wound up with

an enamel cover.” I was attacked by Don for my deviousness and lack of interest in
him.
The members then asked me to go around the group in the same manner as they
had done. Being fresh from a seven-day T-group and no admirer of generals who
led their army from the rear, I took a deep breath and agreed. I told Martha that
her quickness to judge and condemn others made me reluctant to show myself to
her, lest I, too, be judged and found wanting. I agreed with the golf ball metaphor
and added that her judgmentalism made it difficult for me to approach her, save as
an expert technician. I told Don that I felt his gaze on me constantly; I knew he
desperately wanted something from me, and that the intensity of his need and my
inability to satisfy that need often made me very uncomfortable. I told Janice that I
missed a spirit of opposition in her; she tended to accept and exalt everything that
I said so uncritically that it became difficult at times to relate to her as an
autonomous adult.
The meeting continued at an intense, involved level, and at its end the observers
expressed grave concerns about my behavior. They felt that I had irrevocably
relinquished my leadership role and become a group member, that the group would
never be the same, and that, furthermore, I was placing my co-therapist, who
would return the following week, in an untenable position.
In fact, none of these predictions materialized. In subsequent meetings, the
group plunged more deeply into work; several weeks were required to assimilate
the material generated in that single meeting. In addition, the group members,
following the model of the therapist, related to one another far more forthrightly
than before and made no demands on me or my co-therapist for escalated self-
disclosure.
There are many different types of therapist transparency, depending on the therapist’s
personal style and the goals in the group at a particular time. Therapists may self-disclose
to facilitate transference resolution; or to model therapeutic norms; or to assist the
interpersonal learning of the members who wanted to work on their relationship with the
group leader; or to support and accept members by saying, in effect, “I value and respect
you and demonstrate this by giving of myself”?
• An illustrative example of therapist disclosure that facilitated therapy occurred in
a meeting when all three women members discussed their strong sexual attraction
to me. Much work was done on the transference aspects of the situation, on the
women being attracted to a man who was obviously professionally off-limits and
unattainable, older, in a position of authority, and so on. I then pointed out that
there was another side to it. None of the women had expressed similar feelings
toward my co-therapist (also male); furthermore, other female clients who had
been in the group previously had had the same feelings. I could not deny that it
gave me pleasure to hear these sentiments expressed, and I asked them to help me
look at my blind spots: What was I doing unwittingly to encourage their positive
response?

My request opened up a long and fruitful discussion of the group members’
feelings about both therapists. There was much agreement that the two of us were
very different: I was more vain, took much more care about my physical
appearance and clothes, and had an exactitude and preciseness about my
statements that created about me an attractive aura of suaveness and confidence.
The other therapist was sloppier in appearance and behavior: he spoke more often
when he was unsure of what he was going to say; he took more risks, was willing
to be wrong, and, in so doing, was more often helpful to the clients. The feedback
sounded right to me. I had heard it before and told the group so. I thought about
their comments during the week and, at the following meeting, thanked the group
and told them that they had been helpful to me.
Making errors is commonplace: it is what is done with the error that is often critical in
therapy. Therapists are not omniscient, and it is best to acknowledge that.
• After an angry exchange between two members, Barbara and Susan, the group
found it difficult to repair the damage experienced by Barbara. Although Barbara
was eventually able to work through her differences with Susan, she continued to
struggle with how she had been left so unprotected by the group therapist.
Numerous attempts at explanation and understanding failed to break the impasse,
until I stated: “I regret what happened very much. I have to acknowledge that
Susan’s criticism of you took me by surprise—it hit like a tropical storm, and I was
at a loss for words. It took me some time to regroup, but by then the damage had
been done. If I knew then what I know now, I would have responded differently. I
am sorry for that.”
Rather than feeling that I was not competent because I had missed something of
great importance, Barbara felt relieved and said that was exactly what she needed
to hear. Barbara did not need me to be omnipotent—she wanted me to be human,
to be able to acknowledge my error, and to learn from what happened so that it
would be less likely to occur in the future.

• Another illustrative clinical example occurred in the group of women incest
survivors that I mentioned earlier in this chapter. The withering anger toward me
(and, to a slightly lesser degree, toward my female co-therapist) had gotten to us,
and toward the end of one meeting, we both openly discussed our experience in the
group. I revealed that I felt demoralized and deskilled, that everything I tried in the
group had failed to be helpful, and furthermore that I felt anxious and confused in
the group. My co-leader discussed similar feelings: her discomfort about the
competitive way the women related to her and about the continual pressure placed
on her to reveal any abuse that she may have experienced. We told them that their
relentless anger and distrust of us was fully understandable in the light of their
past abuse but, nonetheless, we both wanted to shriek, “These were terrible things
that happened to you, but we didn’t do them.”
This episode proved to be a turning point for the group. There was still one

member (who reported having undergone savage ritual abuse as a child) who
continued in the same vein (“Oh, you’re uncomfortable and confused! What a
shame! What a shame! But at least now you know how it feels”). But the others
were deeply affected by our admission. They were astounded to learn of our
discomfort and of their power over us, and gratified that we were willing to
relinquish authority and to relate to them in an open, egalitarian fashion. From
that point on, the group moved into a far more profitable work phase.
In addition, the “now you know how it feels” comment illuminated one of the
hidden reasons for the attacks on the therapist. It was an instance of the group
member both demonstrating and mastering her experience of mistreatment by
being the aggressor rather than the mistreated.
It was constructive for the therapists to acknowledge and work with these feelings
openly rather than simply continue experiencing them.41 Being so intensely devalued is
unsettling to almost all therapists, especially in the public domain of the group. Yet it also
creates a remarkable therapeutic opportunity if therapists can maintain their dignity and
honestly address their experience in the group.†

These clinical episodes illustrate some general principles that prove useful to the
therapist when receiving feedback, especially negative feedback:
1. Take it seriously. Listen to it, consider it, and respond to it. Respect the clients and
let their feedback matter to you; if you don’t, you merely increase their sense of
impotence.
2. Obtain consensual validation: Find out how other members feel. Determine
whether the feedback is primarily a transference reaction or is in fact a piece of
reality about you. If it is reality, you must confirm it; otherwise, you impair rather
than facilitate your clients’ reality testing.
3. Check your internal experience: Does the feedback fit? Does it click with your
internal experience?
With these principles as guidelines, the therapist may offer such responses as: “You’re
right. There are times when I feel irritated with you, but at no time do I feel I want to
impede your growth, seduce you, get a voyeuristic pleasure from listening to your account
of your abuse, or slow your therapy so as to earn more money from you. That simply isn’t
part of my experience of you.” Or: “It’s true that I dodge some of your questions. But
often I find them unanswerable. You imbue me with too much wisdom. I feel
uncomfortable by your deference to me. I always feel that you’ve put yourself down very
low, and that you’re always looking up at me.” Or: “I’ve never heard you challenge me so
directly before. Even though it’s a bit scary for me, it’s also very refreshing.” Or: “I feel
restrained, very unfree with you, because you give me so much power over you. I feel I
have to check every word I say because you give so much weight to all of my statements.”
Note that these therapist disclosures are all part of the here-and-now of the group. I am

advocating that therapists relate authentically to clients in the here-and-now of the therapy
hour, not that they reveal their past and present in a detailed manner—although I have
never seen harm in therapists’ answering such broad personal questions as whether they
are married or have children, where they are going on vacation, where they were brought
up, and so on. Some therapists carry it much further and may wish to describe some
similar personal problems they encountered and overcame. I personally have rarely found
this useful or necessary.42p
A study of the effects of therapist disclosure on a group over a sevenmonth period noted
many beneficial effects from therapist transparency.43 First, therapist disclosure was more
likely to occur when therapeutic communication among members was not taking place.
Second, the effect of therapist disclosure was to shift the pattern of group interaction into a
more constructive, sensitive direction. Finally, therapist self-disclosure resulted in an
immediate increase in cohesiveness. Yet many therapists shrink from self-disclosure
without being clear about their reasons for doing so. Too often, perhaps, they rationalize
by cloaking their personal inclinations in professional garb. There is little doubt, I believe,
that the personal qualities of a therapist influence professional style, choice of ideological
school, and preferred clinical models.†
In debriefing sessions after termination I have often discussed therapist disclosure with
clients. The great majority have expressed the wish that the therapist had been more open,
more personally engaged in the group. Very few would have wanted therapists to have
discussed more of their private life or personal problems with them. A study of individual
therapy had the same findings—clients prefer and in fact thrive on therapist engagement
and prefer therapists who are “not too quiet.”44 No one expressed a preference for full
therapist disclosure.
Furthermore, there is evidence that leaders are more transparent than they know. The
issue is not that we reveal ourselves—that is unavoidable45—rather, it is what use we
make of our transparency and our clinical honesty. Some self-revelation is inadvertent or
unavoidable—for example, pregnancy, bereavement, and professional accomplishments.46
In some groups, particularly homogeneous groups with a focus such as substance abuse,
sexual orientation, or specific medical illness (see chapter 15), leaders will likely be asked
about their personal relationship to the common group focus: Have they had personal
experience with substance abuse? Are they gay? Have they personally had the medical
disease that is the focus of the group? Therapists need to reveal the relevant material about
themselves that helps group members realize that the therapist can understand and
empathize with the clients’ experiences. That does not mean, however, that the therapist
must provide extensive personal historical details. Such revelations are usually unhelpful
to the therapy because they blur the difference in role and function between the therapist
and the group members.
Though members rarely press a therapist for inappropriate disclosure, occasionally one
particular personal question arises that group therapists dread. It is illustrated in a dream of
a group member (the same member who likened the therapist to a Jewish slumlord): “The
whole group is sitting around a long table with you (the therapist) at the head. You had in

your hand a slip of paper with something written on it. I tried to snatch it away from you
but you were too far away.” Months later, after this woman had made some significant
personal changes, she recalled the dream and added that she knew all along what I had
written on the paper but hadn’t wanted to say it in front of the group. It was my answer to
the question, “Do you love me?” This is a threatening question for the group therapist.
And there is a related and even more alarming follow-up question: “How much do you
love each of us?” or, “Whom do you love best?”
These questions threaten the very essence of the psychotherapeutic contract. They
challenge tenets that both parties have agreed to keep invisible. They are but a step away
from a commentary on the “purchase of friendship” model: “If you really care for us,
would you see us if we had no money?” They come perilously close to the ultimate,
terrible secret of the psychotherapist, which is that the intense drama in the group room
plays a smaller, compartmentalized role in his or her life. As in Tom Stoppard’s play
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, key figures in one drama rapidly become
shadows in the wings as the therapist moves immediately onto the stage of another drama.
Only once have I been blasphemous enough to lay this bare before a group. A therapy
group of psychiatry residents was dealing with my departure (for a year’s sabbatical
leave). My personal experience during that time was one of saying good-bye to a number
of clients and to several groups, some of which were more emotionally involving for me
than the resident group. Termination work was difficult, and the group members attributed
much of the difficulty to the fact that I had been so involved in the group that I was
finding it hard to say good-bye. I acknowledged my involvement in the group but
presented to them the fact that they knew but refused to know: I was vastly more
important to them than they were to me. After all, I had many clients; they had only one
therapist. They were clearly aware of this imbalance in their psychotherapeutic work with
their own clients, and yet had never applied it to themselves. There was a gasp in the
group as this truth, this denial of specialness, this inherent cruelty of psychotherapy, hit
home.

The issue of therapist transparency is vastly complicated by widely publicized instances
of therapist-client sexual abuse. Unfortunately, the irresponsible or impulse-ridden
therapists who, to satisfy their own needs, betray their professional and moral covenant
have not only damaged their own clients but caused a backlash that has damaged the trust
in the client-therapist relationship everywhere.
Many professional associations have taken a highly reactionary stance toward the
professional relationship. Feeling threatened by legal action, they advise therapists to
practice defensively and always keep potential litigation in mind. The lawyers and juries,
they say, will reason that “where there is smoke, there is fire” and that since every
therapist-client encounter started down the slippery slope of slight boundary crossings,
human interactions between client and therapist are in themselves evidence of
wrongdoing. Consequently, professional organizations warn therapists to veer away from

the very humanness that is the core of the therapeutic relationship. An article with a high
Victorian tone in a 1993 issue of the American Journal of Psychiatry,47 for example,
advocated a stifling formality and warned psychiatrists not to offer their clients coffee or
tea, not to address them by their first names, not to use their own first names, never to run
over the fifty-minute time period, never to see any client during the last working hour of
the day (since that is when transgressions most often occur), never to touch a client—even
an act such as squeezing the arm or patting the back of an AIDS patient who needs
therapeutic touch should be scrutinized and documented.q Obviously, these instructions
and the sentiment behind them are deeply corrosive to the therapeutic relationship. To
their credit, the authors of the 1993 article recognized the antitherapeutic impact of their
first article and wrote a second paper five years later aimed at correcting the overreaction
generated by the first article. The second article makes a plea for common sense and for
recognition of the importance of the clinical context in understanding or judging boundary
issues in therapy. They encourage therapists to obtain consultation or supervision
whenever they are uncertain about their therapeutic posture or interventions.48
But moderation in all things. There is a proper place for therapist concealment, and the
most helpful therapist is by no means the one who is most fully and most consistently self-
disclosing. Let us turn our attention to the perils of transparency.
Pitfalls of Therapist Transparency
Some time ago I observed a group led by two neophyte therapists who were at that time
much dedicated to the ideal of therapist transparency. They formed an outpatient group
and conducted themselves in an unflinchingly honest fashion, expressing openly in the
first meetings their uncertainty about group therapy, their inexperience, their self-doubts,
and their personal anxiety. One might admire their courage, but not their results. In their
overzealous obeisance to transparency, they neglected their function of group
maintenance, and the majority of the members dropped out of the group within the first six
sessions.
Untrained leaders who undertake to lead groups with the monolithic credo “Be
yourself” as a central organizing principle for all other technique and strategy generally
achieve not freedom but restriction. The paradox is that freedom and spontaneity in
extreme form can result in a leadership role as narrow and restrictive as the traditional
blank-screen leader. Under the banner of “Anything goes if it’s genuine,” the leader
sacrifices flexibility.49
Consider the issue of timing. The fully open neophyte therapists I just mentioned
overlooked the fact that leadership behavior that may be appropriate at one stage of
therapy may be quite inappropriate at another. If clients need initial support and structure
to remain in the group, then it is the therapist’s task to provide it.
The leader who strives only to create an atmosphere of egalitarianism between member
and leader may in the long run provide no leadership at all. Effective leader role behavior

is by no means unchanging; as the group develops and matures, different forms of
leadership are required.50 “The honest therapist” as Parloff states, “is one who attempts to
provide that which the client can assimilate, verify and utilize.”51 Ferenczi years ago
underscored the necessity for proper timing. The analyst, he said, must not admit his flaws
and uncertainty too early.52 First, the client must feel sufficiently secure in his own
abilities before being called upon to face defects in the one on whom he leans.r
Research on group members’ attitudes toward therapist self-disclosure shows that
members are sensitive to the timing and the content of disclosure. 53 Therapists’
disclosures that are judged as harmful in early phases of the group are considered
facilitative as a group matures. Furthermore, members who have had much group therapy
experience are far more desirous of therapist self-disclosure than are inexperienced group
members. Content analysis demonstrates that members prefer leaders who disclose
positive ambitions (for example, personal and professional goals) and personal emotions
(loneliness, sadness, anger, worries, and anxieties); they disapprove of a group leader’s
expressing negative feelings about any individual member or about the group experience
(for example, boredom or frustration).54 Not all emotions can be expressed by the
therapist. Expressing hostility is almost invariably damaging and often irreparable,
contributing to premature termination and negative therapy outcomes.†
Is full disclosure even possible in the therapy group or in the outside world? Or
desirable? Some degree of personal and interpersonal concealment are an integral
ingredient of any functioning social order. Eugene O’Neill illustrated this in dramatic form
in the play The Iceman Cometh.55 A group of derelicts live, as they have for twenty years,
in the back room of a bar. The group is exceedingly stable, with many well-entrenched
group norms. Each man maintains himself by a set of illusions (“pipe dreams,” O’Neill
calls them). One of the most deeply entrenched group norms is that no members challenge
another’s pipe dreams. Then enters Hickey, the iceman, a traveling salesman, a totally
enlightened therapist, a false prophet who believes he brings fulfillment and lasting peace
to each man by forcing him to shed his self-deceptions and stare with unblinking honesty
at the sun of his life. Hickey’s surgery is deft. He forces Jimmy Tomorrow (whose pipe
dream is to get his suit out of hock, sober up, and get a job “tomorrow”) to act now. He
gives him clothes and sends him, and then the other men, out of the bar to face today.
The effects on each man and on the group are calamitous. One commits suicide, others
grow severely depressed, “the life goes out of the booze,” the men attack one another’s
illusions, the group bonds disintegrate, and the group veers toward dissolution. In a
sudden, last-minute convulsive act, the group labels Hickey psychotic, banishes him, and
gradually reestablishes its old norms and cohesion. These “pipe dreams”—or “vital lies,”
as Henrik Ibsen called them in The Wild Duck56—are often essential to personal and social
integrity. They should not be taken lightly or impulsively stripped away in the service of
honesty.
Commenting on the social problems of the United States, Victor Frankl once suggested
that the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast be counterbalanced by a Statue of

Responsibility on the West Coast.57 In the therapy group, freedom becomes possible and
constructive only when it is coupled with responsibility. None of us is free from impulses
or feelings that, if expressed, could be destructive to others. I suggest that we encourage
clients and therapists to speak freely, to shed all internal censors and filters save one—the
filter of responsibility to others.
I do not mean that no unpleasant sentiments are to be expressed; indeed, growth cannot
occur in the absence of conflict. I do mean, however, that responsibility, not total
disclosure, is the superordinate principle.† The therapist has a particular type of
responsibility—responsibility to clients and to the task of therapy. Group members have a
human responsibility toward one another. As therapy progresses, as solipsism diminishes,
as empathy increases, they come to exercise that responsibility in their interactions among
themselves.
Thus, your raison d’être as group therapist is not primarily to be honest or fully
disclosing. You must be clear about why you reveal yourself. Do you have a clear
therapeutic intent or is countertransference influencing your approach? What impact can
you anticipate from your self-disclosure? In times of confusion about your behavior, you
may profit from stepping back momentarily to reconsider your primary tasks in the group.
Therapist self-disclosure is an aid to the group because it sets a model for the clients and
permits some members to reality-test their feelings toward you. When considering a self-
disclosure, ask yourself where the group is now. Is it a concealed, overly cautious group
that may profit from a leader who models personal self-disclosure? Or has it already
established vigorous self-disclosure norms and is in need of other kinds of assistance?
Again, you must consider whether your behavior will interfere with your group-
maintenance function. You must know when to recede into the background. Unlike the
individual therapist, the group therapist does not have to be the axle of therapy. In part,
you are midwife to the group: you must set a therapeutic process in motion and take care
not to interfere with that process by insisting on your centrality.
An overly restricted definition of the role of group therapist—whether based on
transparency or any other criterion—may cause the leader to lose sight of the individuality
of each client’s needs. Despite your group orientation, you must retain some individual
focus; not all clients need the same thing. Some, perhaps most, clients need to relax
controls; they need to learn how to express their affect—anger, love, tenderness, hatred.
Others, however, need the opposite: they need to gain impulse control because their
lifestyles are already characterized by labile, immediately acted-upon affect.
One final consequence of more or less unlimited therapist transparency is that the
cognitive aspects of therapy may be completely neglected. As I noted earlier, mere
catharsis is not in itself a corrective experience. Cognitive learning or restructuring (much
of which is provided by the therapist) seems necessary for the client to be able to
generalize group experiences to outside life; without this transfer or carryover, we have
succeeded only in creating better, more gracious therapy group members. Without the
acquisition of some knowledge about general patterns in interpersonal relationships, the
client may, in effect, have to rediscover the wheel in each subsequent interpersonal

transaction.

Chapter 8
THE SELECTION OF CLIENTS
Good group therapy begins with good client selection. Clients improperly assigned to a
therapy group are unlikely to benefit from their therapy experience. Furthermore, an
improperly composed group may end up stillborn, never having developed into a viable
treatment mode for any of its members. It is therefore understandable that contemporary
psychotherapy researchers are actively examining the effects of matching clients to
psychotherapies according to specific characteristics and attributes.1
In this chapter I consider both the research evidence bearing on selection and the
clinical method of determining whether a given individual is a suitable candidate for group
therapy. In chapter 9, on group composition, I will examine a different question: once it
has been decided that a client is a suitable group therapy candidate, into which specific
group should he or she go? These two chapters focus particularly on a specific type of
group therapy: the heterogeneous outpatient group with the ambitious goals of
symptomatic relief and characterological change. However, as I shall discuss shortly,
many of these general principles have relevance to other types of groups, including the
shorter-term problem-oriented group. Here, as elsewhere in this book, I employ the
pedagogic strategy of providing the reader with fundamental group therapy principles plus
strategies for adapting these principles to a variety of clinical situations. † There is no
other reasonable educative strategy. Such a vast number of problem-specific groups exist
(see also chapter 15) that one cannot focus separately on selection strategy for each
specific one—nor would a teacher wish to. That would result in too narrow and too rigid
an education. The graduate of such a curriculum would be unable to adapt to the forms
that group therapy may take in future years. Once students are grounded in the
prototypical psychotherapy group they will have the base which will permit them to
modify technique to fit diverse clinical populations and settings.
Effectiveness of group therapy. Let us begin with the most fundamental question in
client selection: Should the client—indeed, any client—be sent to group therapy? In other
words, how effective is group therapy? This question, often asked by individual therapists
and always asked by third-party payers, must be addressed before considering more subtle
questions of client selection. The answer is unequivocal. Group therapy is a potent
modality producing significant benefit to its participants.2
A great deal of research has also attempted to determine the relative efficacy of group
versus individual therapy, and the results are clear: there is considerable evidence that
group therapy is at least as efficacious as individual therapy. An excellent, early review of
the thirty-two existing well-controlled experimental studies that compared individual and
group therapys indicates that group therapy was more effective than individual therapy in
25 percent of the studies. In the other 75 percent, there were no significant differences
between group and individual therapy.3 In no study was individual therapy more effective.
A more recent review using a rigorous meta-analysist demonstrated similar findings.4

Other reviews, some including a greater number of studies (but less rigorously controlled),
have reached similar conclusions and underscore that group therapy is also more efficient
than individual therapy (from the standpoint of therapist resources) by a factor of two to
one and perhaps as much as four to one.5
Research indicates further that group therapy has specific benefits: It is for example
superior to individual therapy in the provision of social learning, developing social
support, and improving social networks, factors of great importance in reducing relapse
for clients with substance use disorders.6 It is more effective than individual approaches
for obesity7 (an effect achieved in part through reducing stigma), and for clients with
medical illness—clients learn to enhance self-efficacy better from peers than from
individual therapy.8 Adding group therapy to the treatment of women who are survivors of
childhood sexual abuse provides benefits beyond individual therapy: it results in greater
empowerment and psychological well-being.9
The evidence for the effectiveness of group therapy is so persuasive that some experts
advocate that group therapy be utilized as the primary model of contemporary
psychotherapy.10 Individual therapy, however, may be preferable for clients who require
active clinical management, or when relationship issues are less important and personal
insight and understanding are particularly important.11
So far, so good! We can be confident (and each of us should convey this confidence to
sources of referral and to third-party payers) that group therapy is an effective treatment
modality.
One might reasonably expect the research literature to yield useful answers to the
question of which clients do best in group therapy and which are better referred to another
form of therapy. After all, here’s all that needs to be done: Describe and measure a
panoply of clinical and demographic characteristics before clients are randomly assigned
to group therapy or to other modalities and then correlate these characteristics with
appropriate dependent variables, such as therapy outcome, or perhaps some intervening
variable, such as attendance, mode of interaction, or cohesiveness.
But the matter turns out to be far more complex. The methodological problems are
severe, not least because a true measure of psychotherapy outcome is elusive. The client
variables used to predict therapy outcome are affected by a host of other group, leader, and
comember variables that confound the research enterprise.†12 Clients drop out of therapy;
many obtain ancillary individual therapy; group therapists vary in competence and
technique; and initial diagnostic technique is unreliable and often idiosyncratic. An
enormous number of clients are needed to obtain enough therapy groups for the results to
be statistically significant. Although standardized therapies are required to ensure that
each of the treatment modalities is delivering proper therapy, still each person and each
group is exquisitely complex and cannot simplify itself in order to be precisely measured.
Hence in this chapter I draw on relevant research but also rely heavily on clinical
experience—my own and that of others.

CRITERIA FOR EXCLUSION
Question: How do group clinicians select clients for group psychotherapy? Answer: The
great majority of clinicians do not select for group therapy. Instead, they deselect. Given a
pool of clients, experienced group therapists determine that certain ones cannot possibly
work in a therapy group and should be excluded. And then they proceed to accept all the
other clients.
That approach seems crude. We would all prefer the selection process to be more
elegant, more finely tuned. But, in practice, it is far easier to specify exclusion than
inclusion criteria; one characteristic is sufficient to exclude an individual, whereas a more
complex profile must be delineated to justify inclusion.
Keep in mind that there are many group therapies, and exclusion criteria apply only for
the type of group under consideration. Almost all clients (there are exceptions) will fit into
some group. A characteristic that excludes someone from one group may be the exact
feature that secures entry into another group. A secretive, non–psychologically minded
client with anorexia nervosa, for example, is generally a poor candidate for a long-term
interactional group, but may be ideal for a homogeneous, cognitive-behavioral eating-
disorders group.†
There is considerable clinical consensus that clients are poor candidates for a
heterogeneous outpatient therapy group if they are brain-damaged,13 paranoid,14
hypochondriacal,15 addicted to drugs or alcohol,16 acutely psychotic, 17 or sociopathic.†
But such dry lists are of less value than identifying underlying principles. Here is the
major guideline: clients will fail in group therapy if they are unable to participate in the
primary task of the group, be it for logistical, intellectual, psychological, or interpersonal
reasons . This consideration is even more compelling for brief, time-limited groups, which
are particularly unforgiving of poor client selection.†
What traits must a client possess to participate in the primary task of the dynamic,
interactional therapy group? They must have a capacity and willingness to examine their
interpersonal behaviors, to self-disclose, and to give and receive feedback. Unsuitable
clients tend to construct an interpersonal role that proves detrimental to themselves as well
as to the group. In such instances the group becomes a venue for re-creating and
reconfirming maladaptive patterns without the possibility of learning or change.
Consider sociopathic clients, for example, who are exceptionally poor candidates for
outpatient interactional group therapy. Characteristically, these individuals are destructive
in the group. Although early in therapy they may become important and active members,
they will eventually manifest their basic inability to relate, often with considerable
dramatic and destructive impact, as the following clinical example illustrates.
• Felix, a highly intelligent thirty-five-year-old man with a history of alcoholism,
transiency, and impoverished interpersonal relationships, was added with two
other new clients to an ongoing group, which had been reduced to three by the

recent graduation of members. The group had shrunk so much that it seemed in
danger of collapsing, and the therapists were anxious to reestablish its size. They
realized that Felix was not an ideal candidate, but they had few applicants and
decided to take the risk. In addition, they were somewhat intrigued by his stated
determination to change his lifestyle. (Many sociopathic individuals are forever
“reaching a turning point in life.”)
By the third meeting, Felix had become the social and emotional leader of the
group, seemingly able to feel more acutely and suffer more deeply than the other
members. He presented the group, as he had the therapists, with a largely
fabricated account of his background and current life situation. By the fourth
meeting, as the therapists learned later, he had seduced one of the female members
and, in the fifth meeting, he spearheaded a discussion of the group’s dissatisfaction
with the brevity of the meetings. He proposed that the group, with or without the
permission of the therapist, meet more often, perhaps at one of the members’
homes, without the therapist. By the sixth meeting, Felix had vanished, without
notifying the group. The therapists learned later that he had suddenly decided to
take a 2,000-mile bicycle trip, hoping to sell an article about it to a magazine.
This extreme example illustrates many of the reasons why the inclusion of a sociopathic
individual in a heterogeneous ambulatory group is ill advised: his social front is deceptive;
he often consumes such an inordinate amount of group energy that his departure leaves the
group bereft, puzzled, and discouraged; he rarely assimilates the group therapeutic norms
and instead often exploits other members and the group as a whole for his immediate
gratification. Let me emphasize that I do not mean that group therapy per se is
contraindicated for sociopathic clients. In fact, a specialized form of group therapy with a
more homogeneous population and a wise use of strong group and institutional pressure
may well be the treatment of choice.18
Most clinicians agree that clients in the midst of some acute situational crisis are not
good candidates for group therapy; they are far better treated in crisis-intervention therapy
in an individual, family, or social network format.19 Deeply depressed suicidal clients are
best not admitted to an interactionally focused heterogeneous therapy group either. It is
difficult for the group to give them the specialized attention they require (except at
enormous expense of time and energy to the other members); furthermore, the threat of
suicide is too taxing, too anxiety provoking, for the other group members to manage.20
Again, that does not mean that group therapy per se (or group therapy in combination with
individual therapy) should be ruled out. A structured homogeneous group for chronic
suicidality has been reported to be effective.21
Good attendance is so necessary for the development of a cohesive group that it is wise
to exclude clients who, for any reason, may not attend regularly. Poor attendance may be
due to unpredictable and hard-to-control work demands, or it may be an expression of
initial resistance to therapy. I do not select individuals whose work requires extensive
travel that would cause them to miss even one out of every four or five meetings.
Similarly, I am hesitant to select clients who must depend on others for transportation to

the group or who would have a very long commute to the group. Too often, especially
early in the course of a group, a client may feel neglected or dissatisfied with a meeting,
perhaps because another member may have received the bulk of the group time and
attention, or the group may have been busy building its own infrastructure—work that
may not offer obvious immediate gratification. Deep feelings of frustration may, if
coupled with a long, strenuous commute, dampen motivation and result in sporadic
attendance.
Obviously, there are many exceptions: some therapists tell of clients who faithfully fly
to meetings from remote regions month after month. As a general rule, however, the
therapist does well to heed this factor. For clients who live at considerable distance and
have equivalent groups elsewhere, it is in everyone’s interests to refer them to a group
closer to home.
These clinical criteria for exclusion are broad and crude. Some therapists have
attempted to arrive at more refined criteria through systematic study of clients who have
failed to derive benefit from group therapy. Let me examine the research on one category
of unsuccessful clients: the group therapy dropouts.
Dropouts
There is evidence that premature termination from group therapy is bad for the client and
bad for the group. In a study of thirty-five clients who dropped out of long-term
heterogeneous interactional outpatient groups in twelve or fewer meetings, I found that
only three reported themselves as improved.22 Moreover, those three individuals had only
marginal symptomatic improvement. None of the thirty-five clients left therapy because
they had satisfactorily concluded their work; they had all been dissatisfied with the
therapy group experience. Their premature terminations had, in addition, an adverse effect
on the remaining members of the group, who were threatened and demoralized by the
early dropouts. In fact, many group leaders report a “wave effect,” with dropouts begetting
other dropouts. The proper development of a group requires membership stability; a rash
of dropouts may delay the maturation of a group for months.
Early group termination is thus a failure for the individual and a detriment to the
therapy of the remainder of the group. Unfortunately, it is common across the
psychotherapies. A recent empirical analysis concluded that 47 percent of all clients leave
psychotherapy (group and individual therapy as well) prematurely.23 Even in expert hands
some dropouts are unavoidable, no doubt because of the complex interplay of client,
group, and therapist variables.24 Consider the dropout rates displayed in table 8.1: group
therapy attrition ranges from 17 percent to 57 percent. Although this rate is no higher than
the dropout rate from individual therapy, the dropout phenomenon is of more concern to
group therapists because of the deleterious effects of dropouts on the rest of the group.
A study of early dropouts may help establish sound exclusion criteria and, furthermore,
may provide an important goal for the selection process. If, in the selection process, we

learn merely to screen out members destined to drop out of therapy, that in itself would
constitute a major achievement. Although the early terminators are not the only failures in
group therapy, they are unequivocal failures.† We may, I think, dismiss as unlikely the
possibility that early dropouts will have gained something positive that will manifest itself
later. A relevant outcome study of encounter group participants noted that individuals who
had a negative experience in the group did not, when studied six months later, “put it all
together” and enjoy a delayed benefit from the group experience. 25 If they left the group
shaken or discouraged, they were very likely to remain that way. (One exception to the
rule may be individuals who enter in some urgent life crisis and terminate therapy as soon
as the crisis is resolved.)
Keep in mind that the study of group dropouts tells us little about the group continuers;
group continuation is a necessary but insufficient factor in successful therapy, although
evidence exists that clients who continue in treatment and avoid premature or forced
ending achieve the best therapy outcomes.26
Reasons for Premature Termination
A number of rigorous studies of group therapy in various settings (ambulatory, day
hospital, Veterans Administration clinics, and private practice, including both
heterogeneous groups and homogeneous groups for problems such as grief or depression,
and conducted in an interactional manner or along cognitive-behavioral lines) have
convergent findings.27,28 These studies demonstrate that clients who drop out prematurely
from group therapy are likely, at the initial screening or in the first few meetings, to have
one or more of the following characteristics:
• Lower psychological-mindedness
• Reduced capacity to think about emotions without action
• Lower motivation
• More reactive than reflective
• Less positive emotion
• Greater denial
• Higher somatization
• Abuse of substances
• Greater anger and hostility
• Lower socioeconomic class and social effectiveness
• Lower intelligence
• Lack of understanding of how group therapy works
• The experience or expectation of cultural insensitivity

• Less likable (at least according to therapists)
TABLE 8.1 Group Therapy Dropout Rates
These conclusions suggest that, unfortunately, the rich get richer and the poor get
poorer. What a paradox! The clients who have the least skills and attributes needed for
working in a group—the very ones who most need what the group has to offer—are those
most likely to fail! It is this paradox (along with economic issues) that has stimulated
attempts to modify the therapy group experience sufficiently with different structures and
outreach to accommodate more of these at-risk clients.†
Keep in mind that these characteristics should therefore be seen as cautions rather than
absolute contraindications. The person who fails in one group or in one type of group may
do well in a different one. We should aim to reduce, not eliminate dropouts. If we create
groups that never experience a dropout, then it may be that we are setting our bar for entry
too high, thus eliminating clients in need who we may in fact be able to help.
I will discuss one final study here in great detail, since it has considerable relevance for
the selection process.29 I studied the first six months of nine therapy groups in a university
outpatient clinic and investigated all clients who terminated in twelve or fewer meetings.
A total of ninety-seven clients were involved in these groups (seventy-one original

members and twenty-six later additions); of these, thirty-five were early dropouts.
Considerable data were generated from interviews and questionnaire studies of the
dropouts and their therapists as well as from the records and observations of the group
sessions and historical and demographic data from the case records.
An analysis of the data suggested nine major reasons for the clients’ dropping out of
therapy:
1. External factors
2. Group deviancy
3. Problems of intimacy
4. Fear of emotional contagion
5. Inability to share the therapist
6. Complications of concurrent individual and group therapy
7. Early provocateurs
8. Inadequate orientation to therapy
9. Complications arising from subgrouping
Usually more than one factor is involved in the decision to terminate. Some factors are
more closely related to external circumstances or to enduring character traits that the client
brings to the group, and thus are relevant to the selection process, whereas others are
related to the therapist or to problems arising within the group (for example, the therapist’s
skill and competence, client-therapist interaction variables, and the group culture itself)†
and thus are more relevant to therapist technique (I will discuss these issues in chapters 10
and 11). Most relevant to the establishment of selection criteria are the clients who
dropped out because of external factors, group deviancy, and problems of intimacy.

External Factors. Logistical reasons for terminating therapy (for example, irreconcilable
scheduling conflicts, moving out of the geographic area) played a negligible role in
decisions to terminate. When this reason was offered by the client, closer study usually
revealed group-related stress that was more pertinent to the client’s departure.
Nevertheless, in the initial screening session, the therapist should always inquire about any
pending major life changes, such as a move. There is considerable evidence that therapy
aimed at both symptom relief and making major changes in the clients’ underlying
character structure is not a brief form of therapy—a minimum of six months is necessary†
—and that clients should not be accepted into such therapy if there is a considerable
likelihood of forced termination within the next few months. Such individuals are better
candidates for shorter-term, problem-oriented groups.
External stress was considered a factor in the premature dropout of several clients who
were so disturbed by external events in their lives that it was difficult for them to expend
the energy for involvement in the group. They could not explore their relationships with

other group members while they were consumed with the threat of disruption of
relationships with the most significant people in their lives. It seemed especially pointless
and frustrating to them to hear other group members discuss their problems when their
own problems seemed so compelling. Among the external stresses were severe marital
discord with impending divorce, impending career or academic failure, disruptive
relationship with family members, bereavement, and severe physical illness. In such
instances referrals should be made to groups explicitly designed to deal with such
situations: acute grief, for example, is generally a time-limited condition, and the acutely
bereaved client is best referred to a short-term bereavement group.30
Note an important difference! If the goal is specifically (and nothing more than) to get
rid of the pain of a break up, then a brief, problem-oriented therapy is indicated. But if the
client wishes to change something in himself that causes him to thrust himself repetitively
into such painful situations (for example, he continues to become involved with women
who invariably leave him), then longer-term group work is indicated.
The importance of external stress as a factor in premature group termination was
difficult to gauge, since often it appeared secondary to internal forces. A client’s psychic
turmoil may cause disruption of his or her life situation so that secondary external stress
occurs; or a client may focus on an external problem, magnifying it as a means of escaping
anxiety originating from the group therapy. Several clients considered external stress the
chief reason for termination; but in each instance, careful study suggested that external
stress was at best a contributory but not sufficient cause for the dropout. Undue focusing
on external events often seemed to be one manifestation of a denial mechanism that was
helping the client avoid something perceived as dangerous in the group.
In the selection process, therefore, consider an unwarranted focusing on external stress
an unfavorable sign for intensive group therapy, whether it represents an extraordinary
amount of stress or a manifestation of denial.

Group Deviancy. The study of clients who drop out of therapy because they are group
deviants offers a rich supply of information relevant to the selection process. But first the
term deviant must be carefully defined. Almost every group member is deviant in the
sense of representing an extreme in at least one dimension—for example, the youngest
member, the only unmarried member, the sickest, the only Asian-American, the only
student, the angriest, the quietest.
However, one-third of the dropouts in my study deviated significantly from the rest of
the group in areas crucial to their group participation, and this deviancy and its
repercussions were considered the primary reason for their premature termination. The
clients’ behavior in the group varied from those who were silent to those who were loud,
angry group disrupters, but all were isolates and were perceived by the therapists and by
the other members as retarding the progress of the group.
The group and the therapists said of all these members that they “just didn’t fit in.”

Indeed, often the deviants said that of themselves. This distinction is difficult to translate
into objectively measurable factors. The most commonly described characteristics are lack
of psychological-mindedness and lack of interpersonal sensitivity. These clients were
often of lower socioeconomic status and educational level than the rest of the group. The
therapists, when describing the deviants’ group behavior, emphasized that they slowed the
group down. They functioned on a different level of communication from that of the rest
of the group. They remained at the symptom-describing, advice-giving and -seeking, or
judgmental level and avoided discussion of immediate feelings and here-and-now
interaction. Similar results are reported by others.31
An important subcategory of dropouts had chronic mental illness and were making a
marginal adjustment. They had sealed over and utilized much denial and suppression and
were obviously different from other group members in their dress, mannerisms, and
comments. Given the negative psychological impact of high expressed emotionality on
clients with chronic mental illness such as schizophrenia, an intensive interactional group
therapy would be contraindicated in their treatment. Structured, supportive, and
psychoeducational groups are more effective.†
Two clients in the study who did not drop out differed vastly from the other members in
their life experience. One had a history of prostitution, the other had prior problems with
drug addiction and dealing. However, these clients did not differ from the others in ways
that impeded the group’s progress (psychological insight, interpersonal sensitivity, and
effective communication) and never became group deviants.

Group Deviancy: Empirical Research. Considerable social-psychological data from
laboratory group researchu32 helps us understand the fate of the deviant in the therapy
group. Group members who are unable to participate in the group task and who impede
group progress toward the completion of the task are much less attracted to the group and
are motivated to terminate membership.33 Individuals whose contributions fail to match
high group standards for interaction have a high dropout rate, and the tendency to drop out
is particularly marked among individuals who have a lower level of self-esteem.34
The task of group therapy is to engage in meaningful communication with the other
group members, to reveal oneself, to give valid feedback, and to examine the hidden and
unconscious aspects of one’s feelings, behavior, and motivation. Individuals who fail at
this task often lack the required amount of psychological-mindedness, are less
introspective, less inquisitive, and more likely to use self-deceptive defense mechanisms.
They also may be reluctant to accept the role of client and the accompanying implication
that some personal change is necessary.
Research has shown that the individuals who are most satisfied with themselves and
who are inclined to overestimate others’ opinions of them tend to profit less from the
group experience.35 One study demonstrated that group members who did not highly
value or desire personal changes were likely to terminate the group prematurely.36

Questionnaire studies demonstrate that therapy group members who cannot accurately
perceive how others view them are more likely to remain peripheral members.37
What happens to individuals who are unable to engage in the basic group task and are
perceived by the group and, at some level of awareness, by themselves as impeding the
group? Schachter has demonstrated that communication toward a deviant is high initially
and then drops off sharply as the group rejects the deviant member.38
Much research has demonstrated that a member’s satisfaction with the group depends
on his or her position in the group communication network 39 and the degree to which that
member is considered valuable by the other members of the group.40 It also has been
demonstrated that the ability of the group to influence an individual depends partly on the
attractiveness of the group for that member and partly on the degree to which the member
communicates with the others in the group.41 An individual’s status in a group is conferred
by the group, not seized by the individual. Lower status diminishes personal well-being
and has a negative impact on one’s emotional experience in social groups.42 This is an
important finding, and we will return to it: Lower group status diminishes personal well-
being; in other words, it is antitherapeutic.
It is also well known from the work of Sherif43 and Asch44 that an individual will often
be made exceedingly uncomfortable by a deviant group role, and there is evidence that
such individuals will manifest progressively more anxiety and unease if unable to speak
about their position.45 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles demonstrated that deviant group
members (members considered “out of the group” by the other members or who grossly
misperceived the group norms) had virtually no chance of benefiting from the group and
an increased likelihood of suffering negative consequences.46
To summarize, experimental evidence suggests that the group deviant, compared with
other group members, derives less satisfaction from the group, experiences anxiety, is less
valued by the group, is less likely to be influenced by or to benefit from the group, is more
likely to be harmed by the group, and is far more likely to terminate membership.
These experimental findings coincide with the experience of deviants in the therapy
groups I studied. Of the eleven deviants, one did not terminate prematurely—a middle-
aged, isolated, rigidly defended man. This man managed to continue in the group because
of the massive support he received in concurrent individual therapy. However, he not only
remained an isolate in the group but, in the opinion of the therapists and the other
members, he impeded the progress of the group. What happened in that group was
remarkably similar to the phenomena in Schachter’s laboratory groups described above.47
At first, considerable group energy was expended on the deviant; eventually the group
gave up, and the deviant was, to a great extent, excluded from the communicational
network. But the group could never entirely forget the deviant, who slowed the pace of the
work. If there is something important going on in the group that cannot be talked about,
there will always be a degree of generalized communicative inhibition. With a
disenfranchised member, the group is never really free; in a sense, it cannot move much
faster than its slowest member.

Now, let’s apply these research findings and clinical observations to the selection
process. The clients who will assume a deviant role in therapy groups are not difficult to
identify in screening interviews. Their denial, their de-emphasis of intrapsychic and
interpersonal factors, their unwillingness to be influenced by interpersonal interaction, and
their tendency to attribute dysphoria to somatic and external environmental factors will be
evident in a carefully conducted interview. Some of these individuals stand out by virtue
of significantly greater impairment in function. They are often referred to group therapy
by their individual therapists, who feel discouraged or frustrated by the lack of progress.
Occasionally, postponing entry into group therapy to provide more time for some clients
to benefit from pharmacotherapy and to consolidate some stability make may group
therapy possible at a later time, but in conjunction with individual treatment and
management, not in place of it.
Thus, it is not difficult to identify these clients. Clinicians often err in assuming that
even if certain clients will not click with the rest of the group, they will nevertheless
benefit from the overall group support and the opportunity to improve their socializing
techniques. In my experience, this expectation is not realized. The referral is a poor one,
with neither the client nor the group profiting. Eventually the group will extrude the
deviant. Therapists also tend to divest overtly and covertly from such clients, putting their
therapautic energies into those clients who reward the effort.48
Rigid attitudes coupled with proselytizing desires may rapidly propel an individual into
a deviant position. A very difficult client to work with in long-term groups is the
individual who employs fundamentalist religious views in the service of denial. The
defenses of this client are often impervious to ordinarily potent group pressures because
they are bolstered by the norms of another anchor group—the particular religious sect. To
tell the client that he or she is applying certain basic tenets with unrealistic literalness is
often ineffective, and a frontal assault on these defenses merely rigidifies them.
To summarize, it is important that the therapist screen out clients who are likely to
become marked deviants in the group for which they are being considered. Clients become
deviants because of their interpersonal behavior in the group sessions, not because of a
deviant lifestyle or history. There is no type of past behavior too deviant for a group to
accept once therapeutic group norms have been established. I have seen individuals who
have been involved with prostitution, exhibitionism, incest, voyeurism, kleptomania,
infanticide, robbery, and drug dealing accepted by middle-class straight groups.

Problems of Intimacy. Several clients dropped out of group therapy because of conflicts
associated with intimacy, manifested in various ways: (1) schizoid withdrawal, (2)
maladaptive self-disclosure (promiscuous self-disclosures or pervasive dread of self-
disclosure), and (3) unrealistic demands for instant intimacy.v
Several clients who were diagnosed as having schizoid personality disorder (reflecting
their social withdrawal, interpersonal coldness, aloofness, introversion, and tendency
toward autistic preoccupation) experienced considerable difficulty relating and

communicating in the group. Each had begun the group with a resolution to express
feelings and to correct previous maladaptive patterns of relating. They failed to
accomplish this aim and experienced frustration and anxiety, which in turn further blocked
their efforts to speak. Their therapists described their group role as “isolate,” “silent
member,” “peripheral,” and “nonrevealer.”
Most of these group members terminated treatment thoroughly discouraged about the
possibility of ever obtaining help from group therapy. Early in the course of a new group, I
have occasionally seen such clients leave the group having benefited much from
therapeutic factors such as universality, identification, altruism, and development of
socializing techniques. If they remain in the group, however, the group members, in time,
often grow impatient with the schizoid member’s silence and weary of drawing them out
(“playing twenty questions,” as one group put it) and turn against them.
Another intimacy-conflicted client dropped out for different reasons: his fears of his
own aggression against other group members. He originally applied for treatment because
of a feeling of wanting to explode: “a fear of killing someone when I explode … which
results in my staying far away from people.” He participated intellectually in the first four
meetings he attended, but was frightened by the other members’ expression of emotion.
When a group member monopolized the entire fifth meeting with a repetitive, tangential
discourse, he was enraged with the monopolizer and with the rest of the group members
for their complacency in allowing this to happen and, with no warning, abruptly
terminated therapy.
Other clients experienced a constant, pervasive dread of self-disclosure, which
precluded participation in the group and ultimately resulted in their dropping out. Still
others engaged in premature, promiscuous self-disclosure and abruptly terminated. Some
clients made such inordinate demands on their fellow group members for immediate,
prefabricated intimacy that they created a nonviable group role for themselves. One early
dropout unsettled the group in her first meeting by announcing to the group that she
gossiped compulsively and doubted that she would be able to maintain people’s
confidentiality.
Clients with severe problems in the area of intimacy present a particular challenge to
the group therapist both in selection and in therapeutic management (to be considered in
chapter 13). The irony is that these individuals are the very ones for whom a successful
group experience could be particularly rewarding. A study of experiential groups found
that individuals with constricted emotionality, who are threatened by the expression of
feelings by others, and have difficulty experiencing and expressing their own emotional
reactions learn more and change more than others as a result of their group experience,
even though they are significantly more uncomfortable in the group.49 Therefore, these
clients, whose life histories are characterized by ungratifying interpersonal relationships,
stand to profit much from successfully negotiating an intimate group experience. Yet, if
their interpersonal history has been too deprived, they will find the group too threatening
and will drop out of therapy more demoralized than before.50 Clients who crave social
connectedness but are hampered by poor interpersonal skills are particularly prone to

psychological distress.51 These individuals are frustrated and distressed being in a group
bursting with opportunities for connectedness that they cannot access for themselves.52
Thus, clients with problems in intimacy represent at the same time a specific indication
and contraindication for group therapy. The problem, of course, is how to identify and
screen out those who will be overwhelmed in the group. If only we could accurately
quantify this critical cutoff point! The prediction of group behavior from pretherapy
screening sessions is a complex task that I will discuss in detail in the next chapter.
Individuals with severe character and narcissistic pathology and a pervasive dread of
self-disclosure may be unfavorable candidates for interactional group therapy. But if such
individuals are dissatisfied with their interpersonal styles, express a strong motivation for
change, and manifest curiosity about their inner lives, then they stand a better chance of
benefiting from a therapy group. The group interaction may cause these individuals
intense anxiety about losing their sense of self and autonomy. They crave connectedness
yet fear losing themselves in that very process. Interpersonal defenses against these
vulnerabilities, such as withdrawal, devaluation, or self-aggrandizement, may push the
group member into a deviant group role.53 Mildly or moderately schizoid clients and
individuals with avoidant personality disorder, on the other hand, are excellent candidates
for group therapy and rarely fail to benefit from it.
Greater caution should be exercised when the therapist is seeking a replacement
member for an already established, fast-moving group. Often, combining individual and
group therapy may be necessary to launch or sustain vulnerable clients in the group. The
added support and containment provided by the individual therapist may diminish the
sense of risk for the client.54

Fear of Emotional Contagion. Several clients who dropped out of group therapy reported
being adversely affected by hearing the problems of the other group members. One man
stated that during his three weeks in the group, he was very upset by the others’ problems,
dreamed about them every night, and relived their problems during the day. Other clients
reported being upset by one particularly disturbed client in each of their groups. They
were all frightened by seeing aspects of the other client in themselves and feared that they
might become as mentally ill as the severely disturbed client or that continued exposure to
that member would evoke a personal regression. Another client in this category who
bolted from the first group meeting thirty minutes early and never returned described a
severe revulsion toward the other group members: “I couldn’t stand the people in the
group. They were repulsive. I got upset seeing them trying to heap their problems on top
of mine. I didn’t want to hear their problems. I felt no sympathy for them and couldn’t
bear to look at them. They were all ugly, fat, and unattractive.” This client had a lifelong
history of being upset by other people’s illnesses and avoiding sick people. Once when her
mother fainted, she “stepped over her” to get away rather than trying to help. Other
clinicians have noted that clients in this category have a long-term proclivity to avoid sick
people, and, if they had been present at an accident were the first to leave or tended to

look the other way.55
Such concern about contagion has many possible dynamics. Many clients with
borderline personality disorder report such fears (it is a common phenomenon in inpatient
group therapy), and it is often regarded as a sign of permeable ego boundaries and an
inability to differentiate oneself from significant others in one’s environment.
A fear of emotional contagion, unless it is extremely marked and clearly manifest in the
pretherapy screening procedure, is not a particularly useful index for selection or
exclusion for a group. Generally, it is difficult to predict this behavior from screening
interviews. Furthermore, fear of emotional contagion is not in itself sufficient cause for
failure. Therapists who are sensitive to the problem can deal with it effectively in the
therapeutic process. Occasionally, clients must gradually desensitize themselves: I have
known individuals who dropped out of several therapy groups but who persevered until
they were finally able to remain in one. These attitudes by no means rule out group
therapy. The therapist may help by clarifying for the client the crippling effects of his or
her attitudes toward others’ distress. How can one develop friendships if one cannot bear
to hear of another’s difficulties? If the discomfort can be contained, the group may well
offer the ideal therapeutic format for such a client.

Other Reasons. The other reasons for group therapy dropouts—inability to share the
therapist, complications of concurrent individual and group therapy, early provocateurs,
problems in orientation to therapy, and complications arising from subgrouping—were
generally a result less of faulty selection than of faulty therapeutic technique; they will be
discussed in later chapters. None of these categories, though, belongs solely under the
rubric of selection or therapy technique. For example, some clients terminated because of
an inability to share the therapist. They never relinquished the notion that progress in
therapy was dependent solely on the amount of goods (time, attention, and so on) they
received from the group therapist.
Although it may have been true that these clients tended to be excessively dependent
and authority oriented, it was also true that they had been incorrectly referred to group
therapy. They had all been in individual therapy, and the group was considered a method
of therapy weaning. Obviously, group therapy is not a modality to be used to facilitate the
termination phase of individual therapy, and the therapist, in pretherapy screening, should
be alert to inappropriate client referrals. Sometimes clients’ strong reluctance to relinquish
individual therapy will prevent them engaging in group therapy.†
As we saw in earlier chapters, there is compelling evidence that the strength of the
therapeutic alliance predicts therapy outcome. Conversely, problems with the alliance,
such as client-therapist disagreement about the goals, tasks, or therapy relationship, are
associated with premature terminations and failure. A study of ten dropouts noted that
several clients had been inadequately prepared for the group.56 The therapist had been
unclear about the reasons for placing them in a group. No clear set of goals had been
formulated, and some clients were suspicious of the therapists’ motives—questioning

whether they had been placed in the group simply because the group needed a warm body.
Some were wounded by being placed in a group with significantly dysfunctional
members. They took this as a statement of the therapist’s judgment of their condition.
Some were wounded simply by being referred to a group, as though they were being
reduced from a state of specialness to a state of ordinariness. Still others left the group
because of a perceived imbalance in the giving-receiving process. They felt that they gave
far more than they received in the group.
CRITERIA FOR INCLUSION
The most important clinical criterion for inclusion is the most obvious one: motivation.57
The client must be highly motivated for therapy in general and for group therapy in
particular. It will not do to start group therapy because one has been sent—whether by
spouse, probation officer, individual therapist, or any individual or agency outside oneself.
Many erroneous prejudgments of the group may be corrected in the preparation procedure
(see chapter 10), but if you discern a deeply rooted unwillingness to accept responsibility
for treatment or deeply entrenched unwillingness to enter the group, you should not accept
that person as a group therapy member.
Most clinicians agree that an important criterion for inclusion is whether a client has
obvious problems in the interpersonal domain: for example, loneliness, shyness and social
withdrawal, inability to be intimate or to love, excessive competitiveness, aggressivity,
abrasiveness, argumentativeness, suspiciousness, problems with authority, narcissism, an
inability to share, to empathize, to accept criticism, a continuous need for admiration,
feelings of unlovability, fears of assertiveness, obsequiousness, and dependency. In
addition, of course, clients must be willing to take some responsibility for these problems
or, at the very least, acknowledge them and entertain a desire for change.
Some clinicians suggest group therapy for clients who do not work well in individual
therapy as a result of their limited ability to report on events in their life (because of blind
spots or because of ego syntonic character pathology.)58
Impulsive individuals who find it difficult to control the need to act immediately on
their feelings usually work better in groups than in individual therapy.59 The therapist
working with these clients in individual therapy often finds it difficult to remain both
participant and observer, whereas in the group these two roles are divided among the
members: some members may, for example, rush to battle with the impulsive client, while
others egg them on (“Let’s you and him fight”), and others act as disinterested, reliable
witnesses whose testimony the impulsive client is often far more willing to trust than the
therapist’s.
In cases where interpersonal problems are not paramount (or not obvious to the client),
group therapy may still be the treatment of choice. For example, clients who are extremely
intellectualized may do better with the affective stimuli available in a group. Other clients

fare poorly in individual therapy because of severe problems in the transference: they may
not be able to tolerate the intimacy of the dyadic situation, either so distorting the
therapeutic relationship or becoming so deeply involved with (or oppositional to) the
therapist that they need the reality testing offered by other group members to make therapy
possible. Others are best treated in a group because they characteristically elicit strong
negative counter-transference from an individual therapist.60
• Grant, a thirty-eight-year-old man referred to group therapy by his female
individual therapist, struggled with anger and a near-phobic avoidance of
tenderness or dependence that he believed was related to physical abuse he
suffered at the hands of his brutal father. When his young son’s physical
playfulness became frightening to him, he sought individual therapy because of his
concern that he would be an inadequate or abusive father.
At first the individual therapy progressed well, but soon the therapist became
uneasy with Grant’s aggressive and crude sexual feelings toward her. She became
particularly concerned when Grant suggested that he could best express his
gratitude to her through sexual means. Stymied in working this through, yet
reluctant to end the therapy because of Grant’s gains, the therapist referred him to
a therapy group, hoping that the concurrent group and individual format would
dilute the intensity of the transference and countertransference. The group offered
so many alternatives for both relatedness and confrontation that Grant’s treatment
was able to proceed effectively in both venues.
Many clients seek therapy without an explicit interpersonal complaint. They may cite
the common problems that propel the contemporary client into therapy: a sense of
something missing in life, feelings of meaninglessness, diffuse anxiety, anhedonia, identity
confusion, mild depression, self-derogation or self-destructive behavior, compulsive
workaholism, fears of success, alexithymia.61 But if one looks closely, each of these
complaints has its interpersonal underpinnings, and each generally may be treated as
successfully in group therapy as in individual therapy.62
Research on Inclusion Criteria
Any systematic approach to defining criteria for inclusion must issue from the study of
successful group therapy participants. Unfortunately, as I discussed at the beginning of
this chapter, such research is extraordinarily difficult to control. I should note that
prediction of outcome in individual therapy research is equally difficult, and recent
reviews stress the paucity of successful, clinically relevant research.63
In a study of forty clients in five outpatient therapy groups through one year of group
therapy, my colleagues and I attempted to identify factors that were evident before group
therapy that might predict successful outcome.64 Outcome was evaluated and correlated
with many variables measured before the start of therapy. Our results indicated that none
of the pretherapy factors measured were predictive of success in group therapy, including

level of psychological sophistication, therapists’ prediction of outcome, previous self-
disclosure, and demographic data. However, two factors measured early in therapy (at the
sixth and the twelfth meetings) predicted success one year later: the clients’ attraction to
the group and the clients’ general popularity in the group.65 The finding that popularity
correlated highly with successful outcome has some implications for selection, because
researchers have found that high self-disclosure, activity in the group, and the ability to
introspect were some of the prerequisites for group popularity.66 Recall that popularity and
status in a group accrues to individuals who model the behaviors that advance the group’s
achievement of its goals.67
The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles study (see chapter 16) demonstrated that, in pregroup
testing, those who were to profit most from the group were those who highly valued and
desired personal change; who viewed themselves as deficient both in understanding their
own feelings and in their sensitivity to the feelings of others; who had high expectations
for the group, anticipating that it would provide relevant opportunities for communication
and help them correct their deficiencies.68
Melnick and Rose, in a project involving forty-five encounter group members,
determined at the start of the group each member’s risk-taking propensity and expectations
about the quality of interpersonal behavior to be experienced in the group. They then
measured each member’s actual behavior in the group (including self-disclosure, feedback
given, risk taking, verbal activity, depth of involvement, attraction to the group).69 They
found that both high-risk propensity and more favorable expectations correlated with
therapeutically favorable behavior in the group.
The finding that a positive expectational set is predictive of favorable outcome has
substantial research support: the more a client expects therapy—either group or individual
—to be useful, the more useful will it be.†70 The role of prior therapy is important in this
regard: experienced clients have more positive and more realistic expectations of therapy.
Agreement between therapist and client about therapy expectations strengthens the
therapeutic alliance, which also predicts better therapy outcome.71 This relationship
between positive expectational set and positive outcome has important implications not
only for the selection process but also for the preparation of clients for therapy. As I will
discuss in chapter 10, it is possible, through proper preparation, to create a favorable
expectational set.
The Client’s Effect on Other Group Members
Other inclusion criteria become evident when we consider the other members of a group
into which the client may be placed. Thus far, for pedagogical clarity, I have
oversimplified the problem by attempting to identify only absolute criteria for inclusion or
exclusion. Unlike individual therapy recruitment, where we need consider only whether
the client will profit from therapy and whether he or she and a specific therapist can
establish a working relationship, recruitment for group therapy cannot, in practice, ignore

the other group members.
It is conceivable, for example, that a depressed suicidal client or a compulsive talker
might derive some benefit from a group, but also that such a client’s presence would
render the group less effective for several other members. Group therapists not only
commit themselves to the treatment of everyone they bring into the group, they also
commit all of their other members to that individual. For example, Grant, the client
described earlier in this chapter, elicited very powerful reactions from the women in the
early phases of his group therapy. At one point a female member of the group responded
to one of a series of Grant’s angry attacks with, “I am trying to understand where Grant is
coming from, but how much longer must I sacrifice myself and my progress for his
therapy?”
Conversely, there may be clients who would do well in a variety of treatment modalities
but are placed in a group to meet some specific group needs. For example, some groups at
times seem to need an aggressive member, or a strong male, or a soft feminine member.
While clients with borderline personality disorder often have a stormy course of therapy,
some group therapists intentionally introduce them into a group because of their beneficial
influence on the group therapy process. Generally, such individuals are more aware of
their unconscious, less inhibited, and less dedicated to social formality, and they may lead
the group into a more candid and intimate culture. Considerable caution must be
exercised, however, in including a member whose ego strength is significantly less than
that of the other members. If these clients have socially desirable behavioral traits and are
valued by the other members because of their openness and deep perceptivity, they will
generally do very well. If, however, their behavior alienates others, and if the group is so
fast moving or threatening that they retard the group rather than lead it, then they will be
driven into a deviant role and their experience is likely to be countertherapeutic.
The Therapist’s Feeling Toward the Client
One final, and important, criterion for inclusion is the therapist’s personal feeling toward
the client. Regardless of the source, the therapist who strongly dislikes or is disinterested
in a client (and cannot understand or alter that reaction) should refer that person
elsewhere. This caveat is obviously relative, and you must establish for yourself which
feelings would preclude effective therapy.
It is my impression that this issue is somewhat more manageable for group therapists
than for individual therapists. With the consensual validation available in the group from
other members and from the co-therapist, many therapists find that they are more often
able to work through initial negative feelings toward clients in group therapy than in
individual therapy. Nonetheless there is evidence that therapist hostility often results in
premature termination in group therapy.72 As therapists gain experience and self-
knowledge, they usually develop greater generosity and tolerance and find themselves
actively disliking fewer and fewer clients. Often the antipathy the therapist experiences
reflects the client’s characteristic impact on others and thus constitutes useful data for

therapy.†
AN OVERVIEW OF THE SELECTION PROCEDURE
The material I have presented thus far about selection of clients may seem disjunctive. I
can introduce some order by applying to this material a central organizing principle—a
simple punishment-reward system. Clients are likely to terminate membership in a therapy
group prematurely—and hence are poor candidates—when the punishments or
disadvantages of group membership outweigh the rewards or the anticipated rewards. By
“punishments” and “disadvantages,” I mean the price the client must pay for group
membership, including an investment of time, money, and energy as well as a variety of
uncomfortable feelings arising from the group experience, including anxiety, frustration,
discouragement, and rejection.
The client should play an important role in the selection process. It is preferable that
one deselect oneself before entering the group rather than undergo the discomfort of
dropping out of the group. However, the client can make a judicious decision only if
provided with sufficient information: for example, the nature of the group experience, the
anticipated duration of therapy, and what is expected of him or her in the group (see
chapter 10).
The rewards of membership in a therapy group consist of the various satisfactions
members obtain from the group. Let us consider those rewards, or determinants of group
cohesiveness, that are relevant to the selection of clients for group therapy.73
Members are satisfied with their groups (attracted to their groups and likely to continue
membership in them) if:
1. They view the group as meeting their personal needs—that is, their goals in
therapy.
2. They derive satisfaction from their relationships with the other members.
3. They derive satisfaction from their participation in the group task.
4. They derive satisfaction from group membership vis-à-vis the outside world.
These are important factors. Each, if absent or of negative value, may outweigh the
positive value of the others and result in premature termination. Let us consider each in
turn.
Does the Group Satisfy Personal Needs?
The explicit personal needs of group members are at first expressed in their chief
complaint, their purpose for seeking therapy. These personal needs are usually couched in

terms of relief from suffering or, less frequently, in terms of self-understanding or personal
growth. Several factors are important here: there must be significant personal need; the
group must be viewed as an agent with the potential of meeting that need; and the group
must be seen, in time, as making progress toward meeting that need.
Clients must, of course, have some discomfort in their lives to provide the required
motivation for change. The relationship between discomfort and suitability for group
therapy is not linear but curvilinear. Clients with too little discomfort (coupled with only a
modest amount of curiosity about groups or themselves) are usually unwilling to pay the
price for group membership.
Clients with moderately high discomfort may, on the other hand, be willing to pay a
high price, provided they have faith or evidence that the group can and will help. From
where does this faith arise? There are several possible sources:
• Endorsement of group therapy by the mass media, by friends who have had a
successful group therapy experience, or by a previous individual therapist,
referring agency, or physician
• Explicit preparation by the group therapist (see chapter 10)
• Belief in the omniscience of authority figures
• Observing or being told about improvement of other group members
• Observing changes in oneself occurring early in group therapy
Clients with exceedingly high discomfort stemming from extraordinary environmental
stress, internal conflicts, inadequate ego strength, or some combination of these may be so
overwhelmed with anxiety that many of the activities of the long-term dynamic group
seem utterly irrelevant. Initially groups are unable to meet highly pressing personal needs.
Dynamic, interactional group therapy is not effective or efficient in management of
intense crisis and acute psychological distress.
Greatly disturbed clients may be unable to tolerate the frustration that occurs as the
group gradually evolves into an effective therapeutic instrument. They may demand
instant relief, which the group cannot supply—it is not designed to do so. Or they may
develop anxiety-binding defenses that are so interpersonally maladaptive (for example,
extreme projection or somatization) as to make the group socially nonviable for them.
Again, it is not group therapy per se that is contraindicated for clients with exceedingly
high discomfort, but longer-term dynamic group therapy. These acutely disturbed clients
may be excellent candidates for a crisis group or for a specialized problem-oriented group
—for example, a cognitive-behavioral group for clients with depression or panic
disorder.† There too, however, they will need to participate in the group work; the
difference is in the nature and focus of the work.74
Some clients facing an urgent major decision like divorce, abortion, or relinquishing
custody of a child may not be good candidates for a dynamic group. But later, after the
decision has been made, they may benefit from group therapy in dealing with the
psychological and social ramifications of their choice.

Individuals variously described as non–psychologically minded, nonintrospective, high
deniers, psychological illiterates, psychologically insensitive, and alexithymic may be
unable to perceive the group as meeting their personal needs. In fact, they may perceive an
incompatibility between their personal needs and the group goals. Psychological-
mindedness is a particularly important variable, because it helps individuals engage in the
“work” of therapy75 that produces positive outcomes. Without it, clients may reason,
“How can looking at my relations with the group members help me with my bad nerves?”
Satisfaction from Relationships with Other Members
Group members derive satisfaction from their relationships with other group members,
and often this source of attraction to the group may dwarf the others. The importance of
relationships among members both as a source of cohesiveness and as a therapeutic factor
was fully discussed in chapter 3, and I need pause here only to reflect that it is rare for a
client to continue membership in the prolonged absence of interpersonal satisfaction.
The development of interpersonal satisfaction may be a slow process. Psychotherapy
clients are often contemptuous of themselves and are therefore likely to be initially
contemptuous of their fellow group members. They have had, for the most part, few
gratifying interpersonal relationships in the past and have little trust or expectation of
gaining anything from close relationships with the other group members. Often they may
use the therapist transitionally: by relating positively to the therapist at first, they may
more easily grow closer to one another.76
Satisfaction from Participation in Group Activities
The satisfaction that clients derive from participation in the group task is largely
inseparable from the satisfaction they derive from relationships with the other members.
The group task—to achieve a group culture of intimacy, acceptance, introspection,
understanding, and interpersonal honesty—is fundamentally interpersonal, and research
with a wide variety of groups has demonstrated that participation in the group task is an
important source of satisfaction for the group members.77 Clients who cannot introspect,
reveal themselves, care for others, or manifest their feelings will derive little gratification
from participation in group activities. Such clients include many of the types discussed
earlier: for example, the schizoid personality, clients with other types of overriding
intimacy problems, the deniers, the somatizers, the organically impaired, and the mentally
retarded. These individuals are better treated in a homogeneous, problem-specific group
that has a group task consonant with their abilities.
Satisfaction from Pride in Group Membership
Members of many kinds of groups derive satisfaction from membership because the

outside world regards their group as highly valued or prestigious. Not so for therapy
groups because of members’ share. Therapy group members will, however, usually
develop some pride in their group: for example, they will defend it if it is attacked by new
members. They may feel superior to outsiders—to those “in denial,” to individuals who
are as troubled as they but lack the good sense to join a therapy group. If clients manifest
extraordinary shame at membership and are reluctant to reveal their membership to
intimate friends or even to spouses, then their membership will appear to them dissonant
with the values of other important anchor groups. It is not likely that such clients will
become deeply attracted to the group. Occasionally, outside groups (family, military, or,
more recently, industry) will exert pressure on the individual to join a therapy group.78
Groups held together only by such coercion are tenuous at first, but the evolving group
process may generate other sources of cohesiveness.
SUMMARY
Selection of clients for group therapy is, in practice, a process of deselection: group
therapists exclude certain clients from consideration and accept all others. Although
empirical outcome studies and clinical observation have generated few inclusion criteria,
the study of failures in group therapy, especially of clients who drop out early in the
course of the group, provides important exclusion criteria.
Clients should not be placed in a group if they are likely to become groups deviants.
Deviants stand little chance of benefiting from the group experience and a fair chance of
being harmed by it. A group deviant is one who is unable to participate in the group task.
Thus, in a heterogeneous, interactional group, a deviant is one who cannot or will not
examine himself and his relationship with others, especially with the other members of the
group. Nor can he accept his responsibility for his life difficulties. Low psychological-
mindedness is a key criterion for exclusion from a dynamic therapy group.
Clients should be excluded from long-term groups if they are in the midst of a life crisis
that can be more efficiently addressed in brief, problem-specific groups or in other therapy
formats.
Conflicts in the sphere of intimacy represent both indication and contraindication for
group therapy. Group therapy can offer considerable help in this domain—yet if the
conflicts are too extreme, the client will choose to leave (or be extruded) by the group.
The therapist’s task is to select those clients who are as close as possible to the border
between need and impossibility. If no markers for exclusion are present, the vast majority
of clients seeking therapy can be treated in group therapy.

Chapter 9
THE COMPOSITION OF THERAPY GROUPS
A chapter on group composition might at first glance seem anachronistic in the
contemporary practice of group psychotherapy. Economic and managed care pressures on
today’s group therapist may make the idea of mindfully composing a psychotherapy group
seem an impractical luxury. How can one think about the ideal method of composing
therapy groups when pressures for target symptom relief, homogeneous groups, structured
meetings, and brevity of therapy are the order of the day? Moreover, empirical research
indicates that the briefer and more structured the group, the less important are
compositional issues.1 To make matters worse, research in group composition is doubtless
one of the most complex and confusing areas in the group therapy literature. So what is
the point of including a chapter on group composition in this text?
In this chapter my aim is to show that the principles of group composition are relevant
in all forms of therapy groups, even the most structured and seemingly homogeneous.
Group composition principles help group leaders understand the process within each
group and tailor their work to meet the requirements of each client. If therapists fail to
attend to issues of diversity in interpersonal, cognitive, personality, and cultural
dimensions, they will fall prey to a simplistic and ineffective “one-size-fits-all” approach
to group therapy. The research on group composition is voluminous and complex. Readers
who are less interested in research detail may prefer in this chapter to focus on the section
summaries and the final overview.
Let us begin with a thought experiment. Imagine the following situation: An ambulatory
mental health clinic or counseling center with ten group therapists ready to form groups
and seventy clients who, on the basis of the selection criteria outlined thus far, are suitable
group therapy candidates. Is there an ideal way to compose these ten groups?
Or imagine this more common, analogous situation: An intake coordinator deems a
client a suitable candidate for group therapy, and there are several groups operating in the
clinic, each with one vacancy. Into which group should the client go? Which group would
offer the best fit?† Both situations raise a similar question: Is there a superior method of
composing or blending a group? Will the proper blend of individuals form an ideal group?
Will the wrong blend remain inharmonious and never coalesce into a working group?
I believe that it is important to establish valid compositional principles to help us
determine which clients should go into which groups. We grope in the dark if we try to
build a group or fill a vacancy without any knowledge of the organization of the total
system. The stakes are high: first, a number of comembers will be affected by the decision
to introduce a particular client into a group, and second, the brief frame of contemporary
group treatment leaves little time for correction of errors.
As in preceding chapters, I will devote particular attention to groups with ambitious
goals that focus on here-and-now member interaction. But principles of composition also

apply to homogeneous, problem-specific, cognitive-behavioral, or psychoeducational
groups. Keep in mind that even in such groups, homogeneity in one dimension, such as
diagnosis, can initially mask important heterogenity (for example, stage and severity of
illness) that may powerfully interfere with the group’s ability to work well together.
First, let me clarify what I mean by right and wrong “blends.” Blends of what? What
are the ingredients of our blend? Which of the infinite number of human characteristics
are germane to the composition of an interactional therapy group? Since each member
must continually communicate and interact with the other members, it is the interaction of
members that will dictate the fate of a group. Therefore, if we are to deal intelligently with
group composition, we must aim for a mix that will allow the members to interact in some
desired manner. The entire procedure of group composition and selection of group
members is thus based on the important assumption that we can, with some degree of
accuracy, predict the interpersonal or group behavior of an individual from pretherapy
screening. Are we able to make that prediction?
THE PREDICTION OF GROUP BEHAVIOR
In the previous chapter, I advised against including individuals whose group behavior
would render their own therapy unproductive and impede the therapy of the rest of the
group. Generally, predictions of the group behavior of individuals with extreme, fixed,
maladaptive interpersonal behavior (for example, the sociopathic or the floridly manic
client) are reasonably accurate: in general, the grosser the pathology, the greater the
predictive accuracy.
In everyday clinical practice, however, the problem is far more subtle. Most clients who
apply for treatment have a wider repertoire of behavior, and their ultimate group behavior
is far less predictable. Let us examine the most common procedures used to predict
behavior in the group.
The Standard Diagnostic Interview
The most common method of screening clients for groups is the standard individual
interview. The interviewer, on the basis of data on environmental stresses, personal
history, and inferences about motivation for treatment and ego strength, attempts to predict
how the individual will behave in the group. These predictions, based on observations of a
client’s behavior in the dyadic situation, are often hazy and inaccurate. Later in the chapter
I will present some strategies to increase the validity of these preliminary inferences.
One of the traditional end products of the mental health interview is a diagnosis that, in
capsule form, is meant to summarize the client’s condition and convey useful information
from practitioner to practitioner. But does it succeed in offering practical information?

Group therapists will attest it does not! Psychiatric diagnoses based on standard
classificatory systems (for example, DSM-IV-TR) are, at best, of limited value as an
indicator of interpersonal behavior. Diagnostic nomenclature was never meant for this
purpose; it stemmed from a disease-oriented medical discipline. It is based primarily on
the determination of syndromes according to aggregates of certain signs and symptoms.
Personality is generally classified in a similar fashion, emphasizing discrete categories of
interpersonal behavior rather than describing interpersonal behavior as it is actually
manifested.2
The 2000 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV-TR) is an
improvement over earlier psychiatric diagnostic systems, and it pays far more attention to
personality. It codes personality on a specific axis (Axis II) and recognizes that an
individual may demonstrate clustering of personality pathology in more than one area,
apart from (or in addition to) Axis I psychiatric disorders. The DSM-IV-TR provides a
sharper demarcation between severe and less severe personality disorders and in general
has a more empirical foundation than previous DSM systems.3
Nonetheless, the DSM-IV-TR, along with the most recent International Classification
of Disease (ICD-10), has marked limitations for practitioners working with clients whose
interpersonal distress and disturbance do not fit neatly into syndrome definitions.
Contemporary diagnosis also emphasizes discrete and observable behavior, with little
attention paid to the inner life of the individual.4
Overall, the standard intake interview has been shown to have little value in predicting
subsequent group behavior.5 For example, one study of thirty clients referred to group
therapy demonstrated that the intake interviewers’ ratings of five important factors—
motivation for group therapy, verbal skills, chronicity of problems, history of object
relations, and capacity for insight—had no predictive value for the client’s subsequent
group behavior (for example, verbal activity and responsivity to other members and to the
leader).6
That a diagnostic label fails to predict much about human behavior should neither
surprise nor chagrin us. No label or phrase can adequately encompass an individual’s
essence or entire range of behavior.7 Any limiting categorization is not only erroneous but
offensive, and stands in opposition to the basic human foundations of the therapeutic
relationship. In my opinion, the less we think (during the process of psychotherapy) in
terms of diagnostic labels, the better. (Albert Camus once described hell as a place where
one’s identity was eternally fixed and displayed on personal signs: Adulterous Humanist,
Christian Landowner, Jittery Philosopher, Charming Janus, and so on.8 To Camus, hell is
where one has no way of explaining oneself, where one is fixed, classified—once and for
all time.)
Standard Psychological Testing
The standard psychological diagnostic tests—among them the Rorschach test, the

Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), the Thematic Apperception Test
(TAT), the Sentence Completion test, and the Draw-a-Person test—have failed to yield
predictions of value to the group therapist.9
Specialized Diagnostic Procedures
The limited value of standard diagnostic procedures suggests that we need to develop new
methods of assessing interpersonal behavior. Slowly, the field is beginning to assess
personality traits and tendencies more accurately to improve our methods of matching
clients to therapy.10 Recent clinical observations and research suggest several promising
directions in two general categories:
1. A formulation of an interpersonal nosological system. If the critical variable in
group therapy selection is interpersonal in nature, why not develop an
interpersonally based diagnostic scheme?
2. New diagnostic procedures that directly sample group-relevant behavior
An Interpersonal Nosological System. The first known attempt to classify mental illness
dates back to 1700 B.C.,11 and the intervening centuries have seen a bewildering number
of systems advanced, each beset with its own internal inconsistency. The majority of
systems have classified mental illness according to either symptoms or presumed etiology.
The advent of the object-relations and interpersonal systems of conceptualizing
psychopathology, together with the increase in the number of people seeking treatment for
less severe problems in living,12 stimulated more sophisticated attempts to classify
individuals according to interpersonal styles of relating.† In previous generations
psychotherapy researchers interested in the impact of personality variables on the
individual’s participation in groups measured such variables as externalization and
resistance,13 perceived mastery and learned resourcefulness, 14 dogmatism,15 preference
for high or low structure,16 social avoidance,17 locus of control,18 interpersonal trust,19
and social risk-taking propensity.20
It is of interest to note that some of the contemporary empirical schema of interpersonal
relationships draw heavily from earlier clinical conceptualizations. Karen Horney’s
midcentury model has been particularly relevant in new formulations. Horney viewed
troubled individuals as moving exaggeratedly and maladaptively toward, against, or away
from other people and described interpersonal profiles of these types and various
subtypes.21
Bowlby’s work on attachment22 has also spawned new work that categorizes
individuals on the basis of four fundamental styles of relationship attachment: 1) secure;
2) anxious; 3) detached or dismissive and avoidant; and 4) fearful and avoidant.23 Some
therapists feel that these attachment styles are so important that the therapist’s recognition
and appropriate therapeutic responsiveness to them may make or break treatment.24

Contemporary interpersonal theorists† have attempted to develop a classification of
diverse interpersonal styles and behavior based on data gathered through interpersonal
inventories (often the Inventory of Interpersonal Problems, IIP).25 They then place this
information onto a multidimensional, interpersonal circumplex (a schematic depiction of
interpersonal relations arranged around a circle in two-dimensional space; see figure
9.1).26
Two studies that used the interpersonal circumplex in a twelve-session training group of
graduate psychology students generated the following results:
1. Group members who were avoidant and dismissive were much more likely to
experience other group members as hostile.
2. Group members who were anxious about or preoccupied with relationships saw
other members as friendly.
3. Strongly dominant individuals resist group engagement and may devalue or
discount the group.27
FIGURE 9.1 Interpersonal Circumplex
An illustrative example of this type of research may be found in a well-constructed
study that tested the comparative effectiveness of two kinds of group therapy and
attempted to determine the role of clients’ personality traits on the results.28 The
researchers randomly assigned clients seeking treatment for loss and complicated grief (N
= 107) to either a twelve-session interpretive/expressive or a supportive group therapy.
Client outcome assessments included measures of depression, anxiety, self-esteem, and
social adjustment. Before therapy, each client was given the NEO-Five Factor Inventory
(NEO-FFI), which measures five personality variables: neuroticism, extraversion,
openness, conscientiousness, and agreeableness.29 What did the study find?
1. Both group therapies were demonstrably effective, although the interpretive group
generated much greater affect and anxiety among the group members.
2. One personality factor, neuroticism, predicted poorer outcome in both types of
group.
3. Three factors predicted good outcomes with both treatments: extraversion,

conscientiousness, and openness.
4. The fifth factor, agreeableness predicted success in the interpretive/ expressive
group therapy but not in the supportive group therapy.
The authors suggest that the agreeableness factor is particularly important in sustaining
relatedness in the face of the challenging work associated with this form of intensive
group therapy.
Two other personality measures relevant to group therapy outcome have also been
studied in depth: psychological-mindedness30 and the Quality of Object Relations (QOR)
Scale.31w Both of these measures have the drawback of requiring that the client participate
in a 30–60-minute semistructured interview (in contrast to the relative ease of a client self-
report instrument such as the NEO-FFI).
Psychological-mindedness predicts good outcome in all forms of group therapy.
Psychologically minded clients are better able to work in therapy—to explore, reflect, and
understand. Furthermore, such clients are more accountable to themselves and responsible
to comembers.32 Clients with higher QOR scores, which reflect greater maturity in their
relationships, are more likely to achieve positive outcomes in interpretive/expressive,
emotionactivating group therapy. They are more trusting and able to express a broader
range of negative and positive emotions in the group. Clients with low QOR scores are
less able to tolerate this more demanding form of therapy and do better in supportive,
emotion-suppressing group formats.33
Once we identify a key problematic interpersonal area in a client, an interesting
question arises: do we employ a therapy that avoids or addresses that area of
vulnerability? The large NIMH study of time-limited therapy in the treatment of
depression demonstrated that clients do not necessarily do well when matched to the form
of therapy that appears to target their specific problems. For example, clients with greater
interpersonal difficulty did less well in the interpersonal therapy. Why would that be?
The answer is that some interpersonal competence is required to make use of
interpersonal therapy. Clients with greater interpersonal dysfunction tend to do better in
cognitive therapy, which requires less interpersonal skill. Conversely, clients with greater
cognitive distortions tend to achieve better results with interpersonal therapy than with
cognitive therapy. An additional finding of the NIMH study is that perfectionistic clients
tend to do poorly in time-limited therapies, often becoming preoccupied with the looming
end of therapy and their disappointment in what they have accomplished.34
Summary: Group compositional research is still a soft science. Nonetheless, some
practical treatment considerations flow from the research findings. Several key principles
can guide us in composing intensive interactional psychotherapy groups:
• Clients will re-create their typical relational patterns within the microcosm of the
group.
• Personality and attachment variables are more important predictors of in-group
behavior than diagnosis alone.

• Clients require a certain amount of interpersonal competence to make the best use
of interactional group therapy.
• Clients who are rigidly domineering or dismissive will impair the work of the
therapy group.
• Members eager for engagement and willing to take social risks will advance the
group’s work.
• Psychologically minded clients are essential for an effective, interactional therapy
group; with too few such clients, a group will be slow and ineffective.
• Clients who are less trusting, less altruistic, or less cooperative will likely struggle
with interpersonal exploration and feedback and may require more supportive
groups.
• Clients with high neuroticism or perfectionism will likely require a longer course of
therapy to effect meaningful change in symptoms and functioning.
Direct Sampling of Group-Relevant Behavior. The most powerful method of predicting
group behavior is to observe the behavior of an individual who is engaged in a task closely
related to the group therapy situation. 35 In other words, the closer we can approximate the
therapy group in observing individuals, the more accurately we can predict their in-group
behavior. Substantial research evidence supports this thesis. An individual’s behavior will
show a certain consistency over time, even though the people with whom the person
interacts change—as has been demonstrated with therapist-client interaction and small
group interaction.36 For example, it has been demonstrated that a client seen by several
individual therapists in rotation will be consistent in behavior (and, surprisingly, will
change the behavior of each of the therapists!).37
Since we often cannot accurately predict group behavior from an individual interview,
we should consider obtaining data on behavior in a group setting. Indeed, business and
government have long found practical applications for this principle. For example, in
screening applicants for positions that require group-related skills, organizations observe
applicants’ behavior in related group situations. A group interview test has been used to
select Air Force officers, public health officers, and many types of public and business
executives and industry managers. Universities have also made effective use of group
assessment to hire academic faculty.38
This general principle can be refined further: group dynamic research also demonstrates
that behavior in one group is consistent with behavior in previous groups, especially if the
groups are similar in composition,39 in group task,40 in group norms,41 in expected role
behavior,42 or in global group characteristics (such as climate or cohesiveness).43 In other
words, even though one’s behavior is broadly consistent from one group to the next, the
individual’s specific behavior in a new group is influenced by the task and the structural
properties of the group and by the specific interpersonal styles of the other group
members.
The further implication, then, is that we can obtain the most relevant data for prediction

of group behavior by observing an individual behave in a group that is as similar as
possible to the one for which he or she is being considered. How can we best apply this
principle? The most literal application would be to arrange for the applicant to meet with
the therapy group under consideration and to observe his or her behavior in this setting. In
fact, some clinicians have attempted just that: they invite prospective members to visit the
group on a trial basis and then ask the group members to participate in the selection
process.44 Although there are several advantages to this procedure (to be discussed in
chapter 11), I find it clinically unwieldy: it tends to disrupt the group; the members are
disinclined to reject a prospective member unless there is some glaring incompatibility;
furthermore, prospective members may not act naturally when they are on trial.
An interesting research technique with strong clinical implications is the waiting-list
group—a temporary group constituted from a clinic waiting list. Clinicians observe the
behavior of a prospective group therapy member in this group and, on the basis of the data
they obtain there, refer the individual to a specific therapy or research group. In an
exploratory study, researchers formed four groups of fifteen members each from a group
therapy waiting list; the groups met once a week for four to eight weeks.45 Waiting-list
group behavior of the clients not only predicted their behavior in their subsequent long-
term therapy group but also enhanced the clients’ engagement in their subsequent therapy
group. They concluded, as have other researchers using a group diagnostic procedure for
clients applying for treatment, that clients did not react adversely to the waiting-list
group.46 It is challenging to lead waiting list groups. It requires an experienced leader who
has the skill to sustain a viable group in an understaffed setting dealing with vulnerable
and often demoralized clients.47
In one well-designed project, thirty clients on a group therapy waiting list were placed
into four one-hour training sessions. The sessions were all conducted according to a single
protocol, which included an introduction to here-and-now interaction.48 The researchers
found that each client’s verbal participation and interpersonal responsivity in the training
sessions correlated with their subsequent behavior during their first sixteen group therapy
sessions. These findings were subsequently replicated in another, larger project.49

Summary: A number of studies attest to the predictive power of observed pretherapy
group behavior. Furthermore, there is a great deal of corroborating evidence from human
relations and social-psychological group research that subsequent group behavior may be
satisfactorily predicted from pretherapy waiting or training groups.†

The Interpersonal Intake Interview. For practitioners or clinics facing time or resource
pressures, the use of trial groups may be an intriguing but highly impractical idea. A less
accurate but more pragmatic method of obtaining similar data is an interpersonally
oriented interview in which the therapist tests the prospective group client’s ability to deal

with the interpersonal here-and-now reality. Is the client able to comment on the process
of the intake interview or to understand or accept the therapist’s process commentary? For
example, is the client obviously tense but denies it when the therapist asks? Is the client
able and willing to identify the most uncomfortable or pleasant parts of the interview? Or
comment on how he or she wishes to be thought of by the therapist?
Detailed inquiry should be made into the client’s interpersonal and group relationships,
relationships with early chums, closest prolonged friendships, and degree of intimacy with
members of both sexes. Many of Harry Stack Sullivan’s interview techniques are of great
value in this task.50 It is informative, for example, when inquiring about friendships to ask
for the names of best friends and what has become of them. It is valuable to obtain a
detailed history of formal and informal groups, childhood and adult cliques, fraternities,
club memberships, gangs, teams, elected offices, and informal roles and status positions. I
find it valuable to ask the client to give a detailed description of a typical twenty-four
hours and to take particular note of the way the client’s life is peopled.
The predictive power of this type of interview has yet to be determined empirically, but
it seems to me far more relevant to subsequent group behavior than does the traditional
intake clinical interview. This interview approach has become a standard assessment
component in interpersonal therapy (IPT) and cognitive behavioral analysis system
psychotherapy (CBASP).51
Fifty years ago, Powdermaker and Frank described an interpersonal relations interview
that correctly predicted several patterns of subsequent group therapy behavior, such as
“will dominate the group by a flood of speech and advice”; “will have considerable
difficulty in showing feelings but will have compulsion to please the therapist and other
members”; “will be bland and socially skillful, tending to seek the leader’s attention while
ignoring the other members”; “will have a wait-and-see attitude”; or “will have a sarcastic,
superior ‘show-me’ attitude and be reluctant to discuss his problems.”52 Contemporary
psychotherapists have made an important addition to this approach: they emphasize the
client’s beliefs and expectations about relationships, which give form to the client’s
interpersonal behavior. This behavior in turn pulls characteristic responses from others.53
Such a sequence is illustrated in the following vignette, which also illustrates the
necessity of the therapist attending to his own emotional and behavioral reactions and
responses to the client.
• Connie, a woman in her forties, was referred by her family physician for group
therapy because of her social anxiety, dysthymia, and interpersonal isolation.
Immediately on entering the office she told me she had a “bone to pick” with me.
“How could you leave a message on my answering machine calling me Connie
and yourself Doctor So-and-so? Don’t you understand the power imbalance that
perpetuates? Haven’t you heard of feminism and empowerment? Do you treat all
the women you know like this, or only your clients?”
I was at first stunned, and then felt threatened and angry. After a few moments’
reflection I considered that she indeed had a point, and I acknowledged my

carelessness.
Later in the session I asked whether we might explore the extent of her anger,
and we soon began discussing her expectation that she would be silenced and
devalued in this process, as she had been so many times in the past. I told her that
she had, in a sense, presented a powerful test to me—hoping, perhaps, that I would
not take the bait, that I would not confirm her expectations about how her world
always treats her, a pattern that often resulted in her feeling rebuked, attacked, and
shut down. I suggested that she no doubt came to these beliefs honestly and that
they reflected her experiences in life. She may well initially relate to the group
members in the same way that she did with me, but she did have a choice. She
could make the group experience yet another in a series of angry rejections, or she
could begin a process of learning and understanding that could interrupt this self-
fulfilling prophecy.
Summary
Group behavior can be predicted from a pretherapy encounter. Of all the prediction
methods, the traditional intake individual interview oriented toward establishing a
diagnosis appears the least accurate, and yet it is the most commonly used. An
individual’s group behavior will vary depending on internal psychological needs, the
manner of expressing them, the interpersonal composition and the norms of the group. A
general principle, however, is that the more similar the intake procedure is to the actual
group situation, the more accurate will be the prediction of a client’s behavior . The most
promising single clinical method may be observation of a client’s behavior in an intake,
role-play, or waiting-list group. If circumstances and logistics do not permit this method, I
recommend that group therapists modify their intake interview to focus primarily on a
client’s interpersonal functioning.
PRINCIPLES OF GROUP COMPOSITION
To return now to the central question: Given ideal circumstances—a large number of
client applicants, plenty of time, and a wealth of information by which we can predict
behavior—how then to compose the therapy group?
Perhaps the reason for the scarcity of interest in the prediction of group behavior is that
the information available about the next step—group composition—is even more
rudimentary. Why bother refining tools to predict group behavior if we do not know how
to use this information? Although all experienced clinicians sense that the composition of
a group profoundly influences its character, the actual mechanism of influence has eluded
clarification.54 I have had the opportunity to study closely the conception, birth, and
development of more than 250 therapy groups—my own and my students’—and have

been struck repeatedly by the fact that some groups seem to jell immediately, some more
slowly, and other groups founder painfully and either fail entirely or spin off members and
emerge as working groups only after several cycles of attrition and addition of members. It
has been my impression that whether a group jells is only partly related to the competence
or efforts of the therapist or to the number of “good” members in the group. To a degree,
the critical variable is some as yet unclear blending of the members.
A clinical experience many years ago vividly brought this principle home to me. I was
scheduled to lead a six-month experiential group of clinical psychology interns, all at the
same level of training and approximately the same age. At the first meeting, over twenty
participants appeared—too many for one group—and I decided to break them into two
groups, and asked the participants simply to move in random fashion around the room for
five minutes and at the end of that time position themselves at one or the other end of the
room. Thereafter, each group met for an hour and a half, one group immediately following
the other.
Although superficially it might appear that the groups had similar compositions, the
subtle blending of personalities resulted in each having a radically different character. The
difference was apparent in the first meeting and persisted throughout the life of the groups.
One group assumed an extraordinarily dependent posture. In the first meeting, I arrived on
crutches with my leg in a cast because I had injured my knee playing football a couple of
days earlier. Yet the group made no inquiry about my condition. Nor did they themselves
arrange the chairs in a circle. (Remember that all were professional therapists, and most
had led therapy groups!) They asked my permission for such acts as opening the window
and closing the door. Most of the group life was spent analyzing their fear of me, the
distance between me and the members, my aloofness and coldness.
In the other group, I wasn’t halfway through the door before several members asked,
“Hey, what happened to your leg?” The group moved immediately into hard work, and
each of the members used his or her professional skills in a constructive manner. In this
group I often felt unnecessary to the work and occasionally inquired about the members’
disregard of me.
This “tale of two groups” underscores the fact that the composition of the groups
dramatically influenced the character of their subsequent work. If the groups had been
ongoing rather than time limited, the different environments they created might eventually
have made little difference in the beneficial effect each group had on its members. In the
short run, however, the members of the first group felt more tense, more deskilled, and
more restricted. Had it been a therapy group, some members might have felt so
dissatisfied that they would have dropped out of the group. The group was dominated by
what Nitsun describes as “antigroup” forces (elements present in each group that serve to
undermine the group’s work).55 Because of their narrower range of experience in the
group, they learned less about themselves than the members of the other group did.
A similar example may be drawn from two groups in the Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles
group study.56 These two short-term groups were randomly composed but had an identical
leader—a tape recording that provided instructions about how to proceed at each meeting

(the Encountertape Program). Within a few meetings, two very different cultures emerged.
One group was dependably obedient to the taped instructions and faithfully followed all
the prescribed exercises. The other group developed a disrespectful tone to the tape, soon
referring to it as “George.” It was common for these members to mock the tape. For
example, when the tape gave an instruction to the group, one member commented
derisively, “That’s a great idea, George!” Not only was the culture different for these
groups, but so was the outcome. At the end of the thirty-hour group experience—ten
meetings—the irreverent group had an appreciably better outcome.
Thus, we can be certain that composition affects the character and process of the group.
Still, we are a long way from concluding that a given method X composes a group more
effectively than method Y does. Group therapy outcome studies are complex, and rigorous
research has not yet defined the relationship between group composition and the ultimate
criterion: therapy outcome. Despite some promising work using the personality variables
reviewed earlier in this chapter, we still must rely largely on nonsystematic clinical
observations and studies stemming from nontherapy settings.
Clinical Observations
The impressions of individual clinicians on the effects of group composition must be
evaluated with caution. The lack of a common language for describing behavior, the
problems of outcome evaluation, the theoretical biases of the therapist, and the limited
number of groups that any one clinician may treat all limit the validity of clinical
impressions in this area.
There appears to be a general clinical sentiment that heterogeneous groups have
advantages over homogeneous groups for long-term intensive interactional group
therapy.†57 Homogeneous groups, on the other hand, have many advantages if the
therapist wishes to offer support for a shared problem or help clients develop skills to
obtain symptomatic relief over a brief period.58 Even with these groups, however,
composition is not irrelevant. A homogeneous group for men with HIV or women with
breast cancer will be strongly affected by the stage of illness of the members. An
individual with advanced disease may represent the other members’ greatest fears and lead
to members’ disengagement or withdrawal.59
Even in highly specialized, homogeneous, manual-guided group therapies, such as
groups for individuals dealing with a genetic predisposition to developing breast or
colorectal cancer, the therapist can expect composition to play a substantial role.60 Like
the group of psychology interns described earlier, some therapy groups quickly come
together, whereas others stumble along slowly, even with the same leader.
In general, though, homogeneous groups jell more quickly, become more cohesive, offer
more immediate support to group members, are better attended, have less conflict, and
provide more rapid relief of symptoms . However, many clinicians believe that they do not
lend themselves to long-term psychotherapeutic work with ambitious goals of personality

change. The homogeneous group, in contrast to the heterogeneous group, has a tendency
to remain at superficial levels and is a less effective medium for the altering of character
structure.
The issue becomes clouded when we ask, “Homogeneous for what?” “Heterogeneous
for what?” “For age?” “Sex?” “Symptom complex?” “Marital status?” “Education?”
“Socioeconomic status?” “Verbal skills?” “Psychosexual development?” “Psychiatric
diagnostic categories?” “Interpersonal needs?” Which of these are the critical variables? Is
a group composed of women with bulimia or seniors with depression homogeneous
because of the shared symptom, or heterogeneous because of the wide range of personality
traits of the members?
A number of authors seek to clarify the issue by suggesting that the group therapist
strive for maximum heterogeneity in the clients’ conflict areas and patterns of coping, and
at the same time strive for homogeneity of the clients’ degree of vulnerability and capacity
to tolerate anxiety. For example, a homogeneous group of individuals who all have major
conflicts about hostility that they dealt with through denial could hardly offer therapeutic
benefit to its members. However, a group with a very wide range of vulnerability (loosely
defined as ego strength) will, for different reasons, also be retarded: the most vulnerable
member will place limits on the group, which will become highly restrictive to the less
vulnerable ones. Foulkes and Anthony suggest blending diagnoses and disturbances to
form a therapeutically effective group. The greater the span between the polar types, the
higher the therapeutic potential.61 But the head and tail of the group both must stay
connected to the body of the group for therapeutic benefit to emerge.
Unfolding from these clinical observations is the rule that a degree of incompatibility
must exist between the client and the interpersonal culture of the group if change is to
occur. This principle—that change is preceded by a state of dissonance or incongruity—is
backed by considerable clinical and social-psychological research; I will return to it later
in this chapter. In the absence of adequate ego strength, however, group members cannot
profit from the dissonance.
Therefore, for the long-term intensive therapy group, the rule that will serve clinicians
in good stead is: heterogeneity for conflict areas and homogeneity for ego strength. We
seek heterogeneity of individuals with regard to gender, level of activity or passivity,
thinking and feeling, and interpersonal difficulties, but homogeneity with regard to
intelligence, capacity to tolerate anxiety, and ability to give and receive feedback and to
engage in the therapeutic process.
But heterogeneity must not be maintained at the price of creating a group isolate.
Consider the age variable: If there is one sixty-year-old member in a group of young
adults, that individual may choose (or be forced) to personify the older generation. Thus,
this member is stereotyped (as are the younger members), and the required interpersonal
honesty and intimacy will fail to materialize. A similar process may occur in an adult
group with a lone late adolescent who assumes the unruly teenager role. Yet there are
advantages to having a wide age spread in a group. Most of my ambulatory groups have
members ranging in age from twenty-five to sixty-five. Through working out their

relationships with other members, they come to understand their past, present, and future
relationships with a wider range of significant people: parents, peers, and children.
Sexual orientation, cultural, and ethno-racial factors similarly need to be considered.
Group members from minority backgrounds will need to trust that other group members
are willing to consider each individual’s specific context and not to view that individual as
a stereotype of his culture.†
Some therapists employ another concept—role heterogeneity—in their approach to
group composition. Their primary consideration when adding a new member is what role
in the group is open. Theoretically, such an orientation seems desirable. Practically,
however, it suffers from lack of clarity. An extraordinary range of therapy group roles
have been suggested: task leader, social-emotional leader, provocateur, doctor’s helper,
help-rejecting complainer, self-righteous moralist, star, fight/flight leader, dependency
leader, pairing leader, group hysteric, technical executive leader, social secretary, group
stud, group critic, group romantic, guardian of democracy, timekeeper, aggressive male,
vigilante of honesty, the sociable role, the structural role, the divergent role, the cautionary
role, the scrutinizer, the innocent, the scapegoat, the intellectualizer, the child, the puritan,
the reintegrater, and so on. Can we expand the list arbitrarily and indefinitely by including
all behavior trait constellations? Or is there a fixed set of roles, constant from group to
group, that members are forced to fill? Until we have some satisfactory frame of reference
to deal with these questions, asking “What role is open in the group?” will contribute little
toward an effective approach to group composition.
Clinical experience demonstrates that groups do better if some members can be
exemplars and advocates of constructive group norms. Placing one or two “veterans” of
group therapy into a new group may pay large dividends. Conversely, we can sometimes
predict that clients will fit poorly with a particular group because of the likelihood that
they will assume an unhealthy role in it. Consider this clinical illustration:
• Eve, a twenty-nine-year-old woman with prominent narcissistic personality
difficulties, was evaluated for group therapy. She was professionally successful but
interpersonally isolated, and she experienced chronic dysthymia that was only
partially ameliorated with antidepressants. When she came to my office for a
pregroup consultation, within minutes I experienced her as brittle, explosive,
highly demanding, and devaluing of others. In many ways, Eve’s difficulties echoed
those of another woman, Lisa, who had just quit this group (thereby creating the
opening for which Eve was being evaluated). Lisa’s intense, domineering need to
be at the center of the group, coupled with an exquisite vulnerability to feedback,
had paralyzed the group members, and her departure had been met with clear
relief by all. At another time, this group and Eve could have been a constructive fit.
So soon after Lisa’s departure, however, it was very likely that Eve’s characteristic
style of relating would trigger strong feelings in the group of “here we go again,”
shifting the group members back into feelings that they had just painfully
processed. An alternative group for Eve was recommended.
One final clinical observation. As a supervisor and researcher, I had an opportunity to

study closely the entire thirty-month course of an ambulatory group led by two competent
psychiatric residents. The group consisted of seven members, all in their twenties, six of
whom could be classified as having schizoid personality disorder. The most striking
feature of this homogeneous group was its extraordinary dullness. Everything associated
with the group meetings, tape recordings, written summaries, and supervisory sessions
seemed low-keyed and plodding. Often nothing seemed to be happening: there was no
discernible movement individually among the members or in the group as a whole. And
yet attendance was near perfect, and the group cohesiveness extraordinarily high.
At that time many ambulatory groups in the Stanford outpatient clinic were part of a
study involving the measurement of group cohesiveness. This homogeneous schizoid
group scored higher on cohesiveness (measured by self-administered questionnaires) than
any other group. Since all the group participants in the Stanford clinic during this period
were subjects in outcome research,62 thorough evaluations of clinical progress were
available at the end of one year and again at thirty months. The members of this group,
both the original members and the replacements, did extraordinarily well and underwent
substantial characterological changes as well as complete symptomatic remission. In fact,
few other groups I’ve studied have had comparably good results. My views about group
composition were influenced by this group, and I have come to attach great importance to
group stability, attendance, and cohesiveness.
Although in theory I agree with the concept of composing a group of individuals with
varied interpersonal stresses and needs, I feel that in practice it may be a spurious issue.
Given the limited predictive value of our traditional screening interview, it is probable that
our expectations exceed our abilities if we think we can achieve the type of subtle balance
and personality interlocking necessary to make a real difference in group functioning. For
example, although six of the seven members in the group I just discussed were diagnosed
as schizoid personalities, they differed far more than they resembled one another. This
apparently homogeneous group, contrary to the clinical dictum, did not remain at a
superficial level and effected significant personality changes in its members. Although the
interaction seemed plodding to the therapists and researchers, it did not to the participants.
None of them had ever had intimate relationships, and many of their disclosures, though
objectively unremarkable, were subjectively exciting first-time disclosures.
Many so-called homogeneous groups remain superficial, not because of homogeneity
but because of the psychological set of the group leaders and the restricted group culture
they fashion. Therapists who organize a group of individuals around a common symptom
or life situation must be careful not to convey powerful implicit messages that generate
group norms of restriction, a search for similarities, submergence of individuality, and
discouragement of self-disclosure and interpersonal honesty. Norms, as I elaborated in
chapter 5, once set into motion, may become self-perpetuating and difficult to change. We
should aim to reduce negative outcomes by forming groups with members who offer care,
support, mutual engagement, regular attendance, and openness, but composition itself is
not always destiny.†
What about gender and group composition? Some authors, arguing from theory or

clinical experience, advocate single-gender groups, but the limited empirical research does
not support this.63 Men in all-male groups are less intimate and more competitive, whereas
men in mixed-gender groups are more self-disclosing and less aggressive. Unfortunately,
the benefit of gender heterogeneity does not accrue to the women in these groups: women
in mixed-gender groups may become less active and deferential to the male participants.
Men may do poorly in mixed-gender groups composed of only one or two men and
several women; men in this instance may feel peripheral, marginalized, and isolated.64
OVERVIEW
It would be most gratifying at this point to integrate these clinical and experimental
findings, to point out hitherto unseen lines of cleavage and coalescence, and to emerge
with a crisp theory of group composition that has firm experimental foundations as well as
immediate practicality. Unfortunately, the data do not permit such a definitive synthesis.
But there is value in highlighting major research findings that pertain to group
composition.
The culture and functioning of every group—its ethos, values, and modus vivendi—will
be influenced by the composition of its members. Our approach to composition must be
informed by our understanding of the group’s tasks. The group must be able to respond to
members’ needs for emotional support and for constructive challenge. In psychotherapy
groups we should aim for a composition that balances similarity and divergence in
interpersonal engagement and behavior; relationship to authority; emotional bonding; and
task focus. Moreover, it is essential that members agree with the values that guide the
therapeutic enterprise.
The research also points to certain unequivocal findings. The composition of a group
does make a difference and influences many aspects of group function.† A group’s
composition influences certain predictable short-term characteristics—for example, high
cohesion and engagement, high conflict, high flight, high dependency. Furthermore, we
can, if we choose to use available procedures, predict to some degree the group behavior
of the individual.
What we are uncertain of, however, is the relationship between any of these group
characteristics and the ultimate therapy outcome of the group members. Furthermore, we
do not know how much the group leader may alter these characteristics of the group or
how long an ongoing group will manifest them. We do know, however, that cohesive
groups with higher engagement generally produce better clinical outcomes.†
In practice there are two major theoretical approaches to group composition: the
homogeneous and the heterogeneous approach. Let us examine briefly the theoretical
underpinnings of these two approaches. Underlying the heterogeneous approach to
composition are two theoretical rationales that may be labeled the social microcosm
theory and the dissonance theory. Underlying the homogeneous group composition

approach is the group cohesiveness theory.
The Heterogeneous Mode of Composition
The social microcosm theory postulates that because the group is regarded as a miniature
social universe in which members are urged to develop new methods of interpersonal
interaction, the group should be heterogeneous in order to maximize learning
opportunities. It should resemble the real social universe by being composed of
individuals of different sexes, professions, ages, and socioeconomic and educational
levels. In other words, it should be a demographic assortment.
The dissonance theory as applied to group therapy also suggests a heterogeneous
compositional approach, but for a different reason. Learning or change is likely to occur
when the individual, in a state of dissonance, acts to reduce that dissonance. Dissonance
creates a state of psychological discomfort and propels the individual to attempt to achieve
a more consonant state. Individuals who find themselves in a group in which membership
has many desirable features (for example, hopes of alleviation of suffering, attraction to
the leader and other members) but which, at the same time, makes tension-producing
demands (for example, self-disclosure or interpersonal confrontation) will experience a
state of dissonance or imbalance.65
Similarly, a state of discomfort occurs when, in a valued group, one finds that one’s
interpersonal needs are unfulfilled or when one’s customary style of interpersonal
behavior produces discord. The individual in these circumstances will search for ways to
reduce discomfort—for example, by leaving the group or, preferably, by beginning to
experiment with new forms of behavior. To facilitate the development of adaptive
discomfort, the heterogeneous argument suggests that clients be exposed to other
individuals in the group who will not reinforce neurotic positions by fulfilling
interpersonal needs but instead will be frustrating and challenging, making clients aware
of different conflict areas and also demonstrating alternative interpersonal modes.
Therefore, it is argued, a group should include members with varying interpersonal
styles and conflicts. It is a delicate balance, because if frustration and challenge are too
great, and the staying forces (the attraction to the group) too small, no real asymmetry or
dissonance occurs; the individual does not change but instead physically or
psychologically leaves the group. If, on the other hand, the challenge is too small, no
learning occurs; members will collude, and exploration will be inhibited. The dissonance
theory thus argues for a broad personality assortment.
The Homogeneous Mode of Composition
The cohesiveness theory, underlying the homogeneous approach to group composition,
postulates, quite simply, that attraction to the group is the intervening variable critical to
outcome and that the paramount aim should be to assemble a cohesive, compatible group.

Summary
How can we reconcile or decide between these two approaches? First, note that no group
therapy research supports the dissonance model. There is great clinical consensus (my
own included) that group therapy clients should be exposed to a variety of conflict areas,
coping methods, and conflicting interpersonal styles, and that conflict in general is
essential to the therapeutic process. However, there is no empirical evidence that
deliberately composed heterogeneous groups facilitate therapy, and I have just cited
modest evidence to the contrary.
On the other hand, a large body of small-group research supports the cohesiveness
concept. Interpersonally compatible therapy groups will develop greater cohesiveness.
Members of cohesive groups have better attendance, are more able to express and tolerate
hostility, are more apt to attempt to influence others, and are themselves more readily
influenced. Members with greater attraction to their group have better therapeutic
outcome; members who are less compatible with the other members tend to drop out of the
group. Members with the greatest interpersonal compatibility become the most popular
group members, and group popularity is highly correlated with successful outcome.
The fear that a homogeneous group will be unproductive, constricted, or conflict free or
that it will deal with a only narrow range of interpersonal concerns is unfounded, for
several reasons. First, there are few individuals whose pathology is indeed monolithic—
that is, who, despite their chief conflict area, do not also encounter conflicts in intimacy or
authority, for example. Second, the group developmental process may demand that clients
deal with certain conflict areas. For example, the laws of group development (see chapter
11) demand that the group ultimately deal with issues of control, authority, and the
hierarchy of dominance. In a group with several controlconflicted individuals, this phase
may appear early or very sharply. In a group lacking such individuals, other members
who are less conflicted or whose conflicts are less overt in the area of dependency and
authority may be forced nonetheless to deal with it as the group inevitably moves into this
stage of development. If certain developmentally required roles are not filled in the group,
most leaders, consciously or unconsciously, alter their behavior to fill the void.66
Furthermore—and this is an important point—no therapy group with proper leadership
can be too comfortable or fail to provide dissonance for its members, because the
members must invariably clash with the group task. To develop trust, to disclose oneself,
to develop intimacy, to examine oneself, to confront others—are all discordant tasks to
individuals who have significant problems in interpersonal relationships.
Many problem-specific brief groups can easily be transformed into a productive
interactional group with proper guidance from the leader. For example, two rigorous
studies compared homogeneous groups of clients with bulimia who were randomly
assigned to behavioral group therapy, cognitive-behavioral group therapy, or
interactional group therapy (therapy that did not explicitly address eating behavior but
instead focused entirely on interpersonal interaction). Not only did these homogeneous
interactional groups function effectively, but their outcome was in every way equal to the

cognitive-behavioral groups, including their positive effect on the eating disorder.67
On the basis of our current knowledge, therefore, I propose that cohesiveness be the
primary guideline in the composition of therapy groups. The hoped-for dissonance will
unfold in the group, provided the therapist functions effectively in the pretherapy
orientation of clients and during the early group meetings. Group integrity should be
given highest priority, and group therapists must select clients with the lowest likelihood
of premature termination. Individuals with a high likelihood of being irreconcilably
incompatible with the prevailing group ethos and culture, or with at least one other
member, should not be included in the group. It bears repeating that group cohesiveness is
not synonymous with group comfort or ease. Quite the contrary: it is only in a cohesive
group that conflict can be tolerated and transformed into productive work.
A FINAL CAVEAT
Admittedly, the idea of crafting an ideal group is seductive. It is a siren’s wail that has
lured many researchers and generated a large body of research, little of which, alas, has
proved substantial, replicable, or clinically relevant. Not only that, but, in many ways, the
topic of group composition is out of touch with the current everyday realities of clinical
practice. As noted earlier, contemporary pressures on the practice of group therapy
discourage the therapist’s attention to group composition as a relevant concern.
Many contemporary group clinicians in private practice and in public clinics are more
concerned with group integrity and survival. Generally, these clinicians have difficulty
accumulating enough clients to form and maintain groups. (And I have no doubt that this
difficulty will grow with each passing year because of the rapid increase in numbers of
practicing psychotherapists from ever more professional disciplines.) The more therapists
available, the more professional competition for clients, the harder it is to begin and
maintain therapy groups in private practice. Therapists prefer to fill their individual hours
and are reluctant to risk losing a client through referral to a therapy group. If clinicians
attempt to put some group candidates on hold while awaiting the perfect blend of group
participants—assuming that we know the formula of the blend (which we do not)—they
will never form a group. Referrals accumulate so slowly that the first prospective
members interviewed may tire of waiting and find suitable therapy elsewhere.
Thus contemporary clinicians, myself included, generally form groups by accepting,
within limits, the first suitable seven or eight candidates screened and deemed to be good
group therapy candidates. Only the crudest principles of group composition are employed,
such as having an equal number of men and women or a wide range of age, activity, or
interactional style. For example, if two males already selected for the group are
particularly passive, it is desirable to create balance by adding more active men.
Other excellent options exist in practice, however. First, the clinician may compose a
group from clients in his individual practice. As I shall discuss in chapter 15, concurrent

therapy is a highly effective format. Second, clinicians who are in a collaborative practice,
often sharing a suite of offices, may coordinate referrals and fill one group at a time. In
many communities, group therapists have successfully created a specialty practice by
marketing themselves through speaking engagements and advertising.
The therapist’s paramount task is to create a group that coheres. Time and energy spent
on delicately casting and balancing a group cannot be justified, given the current state of
our knowledge and clinical practice. I believe that therapists do better to invest their time
and energy in careful selection of clients for group therapy and in pretherapy preparation
(to be discussed in the next chapter). There is no question that composition radically
affects the group’s character, but if the group holds together and if you appreciate the
therapeutic factors and are flexible in your role, you can make therapeutic use of any
conditions (other than lack of motivation) that arise in the group.

Chapter 10
CREATION OF THE GROUP: PLACE, TIME, SIZE,
PREPARATION
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS
Before convening a group, therapists must secure an appropriate meeting place and make
a number of practical decisions about the structure of the therapy: namely, the size and the
life span of the group, the admission of new members, the frequency of meetings, and the
duration of each session. In addition, the contemporary practitioner often must negotiate a
relationship with a third-party payer, HMO, or managed care organization. 1 The tension
between therapeutic priorities and the economic priorities of managed care regarding the
scope and duration of treatment must also be addressed.2 Dissonance between therapists
and third-party administrators may have a deleterious impact on the client-therapist
relationship. † The entire practice of therapy, including therapists’ morale, will benefit
from greater partnership and less polarization.
Today clinicians have an ethical responsibility to advocate for effective therapy. They
must educate the public, destigmatize group therapy, build strong clinical practice
organizations with well-trained and properly credentialed clinicians, and urge third-party
payers to attend to the robust empirical research supporting group therapy’s
effectiveness.†
The Physical Setting
Group meetings may be held in any room that affords privacy and freedom from
distractions. In institutional settings, the therapist must negotiate with the administration to
establish inviolate time and space for therapy groups. The first step of a meeting is to form
a circle so that members can all see one another. For that reason, a seating arrangement
around a long, rectangular table or the use of sofas that seat three or four people is
unsatisfactory. If members are absent, most therapists prefer to remove the empty chairs
and form a tighter circle.
If the group session is to be videotaped or observed through a one-way mirror by
trainees, the group members’ permission must be obtained in advance and ample
opportunity provided for discussion of the procedure. Written consent is essential if any
audiovisual recording is planned. A group that is observed usually seems to forget about
the viewing window after a few weeks, but often when working through authority issues
with the leader, members again become concerned about it. If only one or two students are

regular observers, it is best to seat them in the room but outside of the group circle. This
avoids the intrusion of the mirror and allows the students to sample more of the group
affect, which inexplicably is often filtered out by the mirror. Observers should be
cautioned to remain silent and to resist any attempts of the group members to engage them
in the discussion. (See chapter 17 for further discussion about group observation.)
Open and Closed Groups
At its inception, a group is designated by its leader as open or closed. A closed group,
once begun, shuts its gates, accepts no new members except within the first 2 or 3 sessions
and meets for a predetermined length of time. An open group, by contrast, maintains a
consistent size by replacing members as they leave the group. An open group may have a
predetermined life span—for example, groups in a university student health service may
plan to meet only for the nine-month academic year. Many open groups continue
indefinitely even though every couple of years there may be a complete turnover of group
membership and even of leadership. I have known of therapy groups in psychotherapy
training centers that have endured for twenty years, being bequeathed every year or two by
a graduating therapist to an incoming student. Open groups tolerate changes in
membership better if there is some consistency in leadership. One way to achieve this in
the training setting is for the group to have two co-therapists; when the senior co-therapist
leaves, the other one continues as senior group leader, and a new co-therapist joins.3
Most closed groups are brief therapy groups that meet weekly for six months or less. A
longer closed group may have difficulty maintaining stability of membership. Invariably,
members drop out, move away, or face some unexpected scheduling incompatibility.
Groups do not function well if they become too small, and new members must be added
lest the group perish from attrition. A long-term closed-group format is feasible in a
setting that assures considerable stability, such as a prison, a military base, a long-term
psychiatric hospital, and occasionally an ambulatory group in which all members are
concurrently in individual psychotherapy with the group leader. Some therapists lead a
closed group for six months, at which time members evaluate their progress and decide
whether to commit themselves to another six months.
Some intensive partial hospitalization programs begin with an intensive phase with
closed group therapy, which is followed by an extended, less intensive open group therapy
aftercare maintenance phase. The closed phase emphasizes common concerns and
fundamental skills that are best acquired if the whole group can move in concert. The open
phase, which aims to reduce relapse, reinforces the gains made during the intensive phase
and helps clients apply their gains more broadly in their own social environments. This
model has worked well in the treatment of substance abuse, trauma, and depression.4
DURATION AND FREQUENCY OF MEETINGS

Until the mid-1960s, the length of a psychotherapy session seemed fixed: the fifty-minute
individual hour and the eighty- to ninety-minute group therapy session were part of the
entrenched wisdom of the field. Most group therapists agree that, even in well-established
groups, at least sixty minutes is required for the warm-up interval and for the unfolding
and working through of the major themes of the session. There is also some consensus
among therapists that after about two hours, the session reaches a point of diminishing
returns: the group becomes weary, repetitious, and inefficient. Many therapists appear to
function best in segments of eighty to ninety minutes; with longer sessions therapists often
become fatigued, which renders them less effective in subsequent therapy sessions on the
same day.
Although the frequency of meetings varies from one to five times a week, the
overwhelming majority of groups meet once weekly. It is often logistically difficult to
schedule multiple weekly ambulatory group meetings, and most therapists have never led
an outpatient group that meets more than once a week. But if I had my choice, I would
meet with groups twice weekly: such groups have a greater intensity, the members
continue to work through issues raised in the previous session, and the entire process takes
on the character of a continuous meeting. Some therapists meet twice weekly for two or
three weeks at the start of a time-limited group to turbocharge the intensity and launch the
group more effectively.5
Avoid meeting too infrequently. Groups that meet less than once weekly generally have
considerable difficulty maintaining an interactional focus. If a great deal has occurred
between meetings in the lives of the members, such groups have a tendency to focus on
life events and on crisis resolution.
The Time-Extended Group. In efforts to achieve “time-efficient therapy,” 6 group leaders
have experimented with many aspects of the frame of therapy, but none more than the
duration of the meeting. Today’s economically driven climate pressures therapists to
abbreviate therapy, but the opposite was true in the 1960s and 1970s, the heyday of the
encounter groups (see chapter 16), when group therapists experimented boldly with the
length of meetings. Therapists held weekly meetings that lasted four, six, even eight hours.
Some therapists chose to meet less frequently but for longer periods—for example, a six-
hour meeting every other week. Individual therapists often referred their clients to a
weekend time-extended group. Some group therapists referred their entire group for a
weekend with another therapist or, more commonly, conducted a marathon meeting with
their own group sometime during the course of therapy.
The “marathon group” was widely publicized during that time in U.S. magazines,
newspapers, and fictionalized accounts.† It met for a prolonged session, perhaps lasting
twenty-four or even forty-eight hours, with little or no time permitted for sleep.
Participants were required to remain together for the entire designated time. Meals were
served in the therapy room, and sleep, if needed, was snatched during quick naps in the
session or in short scheduled sleep breaks. The emphasis of the group was on total self-
disclosure, intensive interpersonal confrontation, and affective involvement and
participation. Later the time-extended format was adapted by such commercial enterprises

as est and Lifespring; today, these large group awareness training programs have virtually
disappeared.7
Proponents of the time-extended group claimed that it accelerated group development,
intensified the emotional experience, and efficiently condensed a lengthy course of
therapy into a day or a weekend.† The emotional intensity and fatigue resulting from lack
of sleep was also thought to accelerate the abandonment of social facades. The results of
marathon group therapy reported in the mass media and in scientific journals at the time
were mind-boggling, exceeding even today’s claims of the personality-transforming
effects of new miracle drugs: “Eighty percent of the participants undergo significant
change as the result of a single meeting”; 8 “ninety percent of 400 marathon group
members considered the meeting as one of the most significant and meaningful
experiences of their lives”;9 “marathon group therapy represents a breakthrough in
psychotherapeutic practice”;10 “the marathon group has become a singular agent of
change which allows rapidity of learning and adaptation to new patterns of behavior not
likely to occur under traditional arrangements”; 11 “if all adults had been in a marathon,
there would be no more war; if all teenagers had been in a marathon, there would be no
more juvenile delinquency”;12 and so on.
Yet despite these claims, the marathon movement has come and gone. The therapists
who still regularly or periodically hold time-extended group meetings represent a small
minority of practitioners. Though there have been occasional recent reports of intensive,
and effective, retreat weekends for various conditions ranging from substance abuse to
bulimia, 13 these enterprises consist of a comprehensive program that includes group
therapy, psychoeducation, and clear theory rather than a reliance on the intensive
confrontation and fatigue characteristic of the marathon approach. This approach is also
used today to augment weekly group therapy for clients with cancer, in the form of an
intensive weekend retreat for skill building, reflection, and meditation.14
Nonetheless, it is important to inform ourselves about the marathon movement—not
because it has much current usage, nor to pay homage to it as a chapter in the history of
psychotherapy, but because of what it reveals about how therapists make decisions about
clinical practice. Over the past several decades, psychotherapy in general and group
therapy in particular have been taken by storm by a series of ideological and stylistic fads.
Reliance on the fundamentals and on well-constructed research is the best bulwark against
will-o’-the-wisp modes of therapy dominated by the fashion of the day.
Many therapeutic fads come and go so quickly that research rarely addresses the issues
they raise. Not so for the time-extended meeting, which has spawned a considerable
research literature. Why? For one thing, the format lends itself to experimentation: it is far
easier to do outcome research on a group that lasts, say, one day than on one that lasts for
six months: there are fewer dropouts, fewer life crises, no opportunities for subjects to
obtain ancillary therapy. Another reason is that time-extended groups arose in an
organization (the National Training Laboratories—see chapter 16) that had a long tradition
of coupling innovation and research.

The highly extravagant claims I quoted above were based entirely on anecdotal reports
of various participants or on questionnaires distributed shortly after the end of a meeting—
an exceedingly unreliable approach to evaluation. In fact, any outcome study based solely
on interviews, testimonials, or client self-administered questionnaires obtained at the end
of the group is of questionable value. At no other time is the client more loyal, more
grateful, and less objective about a group than at termination, when there is a powerful
tendency to recall and to express only positive, tender feelings. Experiencing and
expressing negative feelings about the group at this point would be unlikely for at least
two reasons: (1) there is strong group pressure at termination to participate in positive
testimonials—few group participants, as Asch15 has shown, can maintain their objectivity
in the face of apparent group unanimity; and (2) members reject critical feelings toward
the group at this time to avoid a state of cognitive dissonance: in other words, once an
individual invests considerable emotion and time in a group and develops strong positive
feelings toward other members, it becomes difficult to question the value or activities of
the group. To do so thrusts the individual into a state of uncomfortable dissonance.
Research on marathon groups is plagued with a multitude of design defects. 16 Some
studies failed to employ proper controls (for example, a non–time-extended comparison
group). Others failed to sort out the effects of artifact and other confounding variables. For
example, in a residential community of drug addicts, an annual marathon group was
offered to rape survivors. Because the group was offered only once a year, the participants
imbued it with value even before it took place.17
The rigorous controlled studies comparing differences in outcome between time-
extended and non–time-extended groups conclude that there is no evidence for the
efficacy of the time-extended format. The positive results reported in a few studies were
unsystematic and evaporated quickly.18
Is it possible, as is sometimes claimed, that a time-extended meeting accelerates the
maturation of a therapy group, that it increases openness, intimacy, and cohesiveness and
thus facilitates insight and therapeutic breakthroughs? My colleagues and I studied the
effect of a six-hour meeting on the development of cohesiveness and of a here-and-now,
interactive communicational mode.19 We followed six newly formed groups in an
ambulatory mental health program for the first sixteen sessions. Three of the groups held a
six-hour first session, whereas the other three held a six-hour eleventh session.20
We found that the marathon session did not favorably influence the communication
patterns in subsequent meetings.21 In fact, there was a trend in the opposite direction: after
the six-hour meetings, the groups appeared to engage in less here-and-now interaction.
The influence of the six-hour meeting on cohesiveness was quite interesting. In the three
groups that held a six-hour initial meeting, there was a trend toward decreased
cohesiveness in subsequent meetings. In the three groups that held a six-hour eleventh
meeting, however, there was a significant increase in cohesiveness in subsequent
meetings. Thus, timing is a consideration: it is entirely possible that, at a particular
juncture in the course of a group, a time-extended session may help increase member
involvement in the group. Hence, the results showed that cohesiveness can be accelerated

but not brought into being by time-extended meetings.
During the 1960s and 1970s, many therapists referred individual therapy patients to
weekend marathon groups; in the 1980s, many sent patients to intensive large-group
awareness training weekends (for example, est and Lifespring). Is it possible that an
intensive, affect-laden time-extended group may open up a client who is stuck in therapy?
My colleagues and I studied thirty-three such clients referred by individual therapists for a
weekend encounter group. We assigned them to one of three groups: two affect-evoking
gestalt marathons and a control group (a weekend of meditation, silence, and tai chi).22
Six weeks later, the experimental subjects showed slight but significant improvement in
their individual therapy compared to the control subjects. By twelve weeks, however, all
differences had disappeared, and there were no remaining measurable effects on the
process of individual therapy.
The marathon group phenomenon makes us mindful of the issue of transfer of learning.
There is no question that the time-extended group can evoke powerful affect and can
encourage members to experiment with new behavior. But does a change in one’s
behavior in the group invariably beget a change in one’s outside life? Clinicians have long
known that change in the therapy session is not tantamount to therapeutic success, that
change, if it is to be consolidated, must be carried over into important outside
interpersonal relationships and endeavors and tested again and again in these natural
settings. Of course therapists wish to accelerate the process of change, but the evidence
suggests that the duration of treatment is more influential than the number of treatments.
The transfer of learning is laborious and demands a certain irreducible amount of time.23
Consider, for example, a male client who, because of his early experience with an
authoritarian, distant, and harsh father, tends to see all other males, especially those in a
position of authority, as having similar qualities. In the group he may have an entirely
different emotional experience with a male therapist and perhaps with some of the male
members. What has he learned? Well, for one thing he has learned that not all men are
frightening bastards—at least there are one or two who are not. Of what lasting value is
this experience to him? Probably very little unless he can generalize the experience to
future situations. As a result of the group, the individual learns that at least some men in
positions of authority can be trusted. But which ones? He must learn how to differentiate
among people so as not to perceive all men in a predetermined manner. A new repertoire
of perceptual skills is needed. Once he is able to make the necessary discriminations, he
must learn how to go about forming relationships on an egalitarian, distortion-free basis.
For the individual whose interpersonal relationships have been impoverished and
maladaptive, these are formidable and lengthy tasks that often require the continual testing
and reinforcement available in the long-term therapeutic relationship.
BRIEF GROUP THERAPY

Brief group therapy is rapidly becoming an important and widely used therapy format. To
a great extent, the search for briefer forms of group therapy is fueled by economic
pressures. Managed care plans and HMOs strive relentlessly for briefer, less expensive,
and more efficient forms of therapy.x A survey of managed care administrators responsible
for the health care of over 73 million participants24 noted that they were interested in the
use of more groups but favored brief, problem-homogeneous, and structured groups. In the
same survey, a range of therapists favored process, interpersonal, and psychodynamic
group therapy without arbitrary time restrictions. Other factors also favor brief therapy: for
example, many geographic locations have high service demands and low availability of
mental health professionals; here, brevity translates into greater access to services.
How long is “brief”? The range is wide: some clinicians say that fewer than twenty to
twenty-five visits is brief,25 others sixteen to twenty sessions, 26 and still others fifty or
sixty meetings.27 Inpatient groups may be thought of as having a life span of a single
session (see chapter 15). Perhaps it is best to offer a functional rather than a temporal
definition: a brief group is the shortest group life span that can achieve some specified
goal—hence the felicitous term “time-efficient group therapy”.28 A group dealing with an
acute life crisis, such as a job loss, might last four to eight sessions, whereas a group
addressing major relationship loss, such as divorce or bereavement, might last twelve to
twenty sessions. A group for dealing with a specific symptom complex, such as eating
disorders or the impact of sexual abuse, might last eighteen to twenty-four sessions. A
“brief” group with the goal of changing enduring characterological problems might last
sixty to seventy sessions.29
These time frames are somewhat arbitrary, but recent explorations into the “dose-effect”
of individual psychotherapy shed some light on the question of duration of therapy.30 This
research attempts to apply the drug dose-response curve model to individual
psychotherapy by studying large numbers of clients seeking psychotherapy in ambulatory
settings. Typically the form of therapy provided is eclectic, integrating supportive,
exploratory, and cognitive therapy approaches without the use of therapy manuals.
Although no comparable dose-effect research in group therapy has been reported, it seems
reasonable to assume that there are similar patterns of response to group therapy.
Researchers note that clients with less disturbance generally require fewer therapy hours
to achieve a significant improvement. Remoralization can occur quickly, and eight
sessions or fewer are sufficient to return many clients to their precrisis level. The vast
majority of clients with more chronic difficulties require about fifty to sixty sessions to
improve, and those with significant personality disturbances require even more. The
greater the impairment in trust or emotional deprivation and the earlier in development the
individual has suffered loss or trauma, the greater the likelihood that a brief therapy will
be insufficient. Failure of prior brief therapies is also often a sign of the need for a longer
therapy.31
Whatever the precise length of therapy, all brief psychotherapy groups (excluding
psychoeducational groups) share many common features. They all strive for efficiency;

they contract for a discrete set of goals and attempt to stay focused on goal attainment;
they tend to stay in the present (with either a here-and-now focus or a “there-and-now”
recent-problem-oriented focus); they attend throughout to the temporal restrictions and the
approaching ending of therapy; they emphasize the transfer of skills and learning from the
group to the real world; their composition is often homogeneous for some problem,
symptomatic syndrome, or life experience; they focus more on interpersonal than on
intrapersonal concerns.32
A course of brief group therapy need not be viewed as the definitive treatment. Instead
it could be considered an installment of treatment—an opportunity to do a piece of
important, meaningful work, which may or may not require another installment in the
future.33
When leading a brief therapy group, a group therapist must heed some general
principles:
• The brief group is not a truncated long-term group;34 group leaders must have a
different mental set: they must clarify goals, focus the group, manage time, and be
active and efficient. Since groups tend to deny their limits, leaders of brief groups
must act as group timekeeper, periodically reminding the group how much time
has passed and how much remains. The leader should regularly make comments
such as: “This is our twelfth meeting. We’re two-thirds done, but we still have six
more sessions. It might be wise to spend a few minutes today reviewing what
we’ve done, what goals remain, and how we should invest our remaining time.”
• Leaders must also attend to the transfer of learning, encouraging clients to apply
what they have learned in the group to their situations outside the group. They
must emphasize that treatment is intended to set change in motion, but not
necessarily to complete the process within the confines of the scheduled treatment.
The work of therapy will continue to unfold long after the sessions stop.
• Leaders should attempt to turn the disadvantages of time limitations into an
advantage. Since the time-limited therapy efforts of Carl Rogers, we have known
that imposed time limits may increase efficiency and energize the therapy.35 Also,
the fixed, imminent ending may be used to heighten awareness of existential
dimensions of life: time is not eternal; everything ends; there will be no magic
problem solver; the immediate encounter matters; the ultimate responsibility rests
within, not without.36
• Keep in mind that the official name of the group does not determine the work of
therapy. In other words, just because the group is made up of recently divorced
individuals or survivors of sex abuse does not mean that the focus of the group is
“divorce” or “sexual abuse.” It is far more effective for the group’s focus to be
interactional, directed toward those aspects of divorce or abuse that have
ramifications in the here-and-now of the group. For example, clients who have
been abused can work on their shame, their rage, their reluctance to ask for help,
their distrust of authority (that is, the leaders), and their difficulty in establishing

intimate relationships. Groups of recently divorced members will work most
profitably not by a prolonged historical focus on what went wrong in the marriage
but by examining each member’s problematic interpersonal issues as they manifest
in the here-and-now of the group. Members must be helped to understand and
change these patterns so that they do not impair future relationships.
• The effective group therapist should be flexible and use all means available to
increase efficacy. Techniques from cognitive or behavioral therapy may be
incorporated into the interactional group to alleviate symptomatic distress. For
example, the leader of a group for binge eating may recommend that members
explore the relationship between their mood and their eating in a written journal, or
log their food consumption, or meditate to reduce emotional distress. But this is by
no means essential. Brief group work that focuses on the interpersonal concerns
that reside beneath the food-related symptoms is as effective as brief group work
that targets the disordered eating directly.37 In other words, therapists can think of
symptoms as issuing from disturbances in interpersonal functioning and alleviate
the symptom by repairing the interpersonal disturbances.†
• Time is limited, but leaders must not make the mistake of trying to save time by
abbreviating the pregroup individual session. On the contrary, leaders must
exercise particularly great care in preparation and selection. The most important
single error made by busy clinics and HMOs is to screen new clients by phone and
immediately introduce them into a group without an individual screening or
preparatory session. Brief groups are less forgiving of errors than long-term
groups. When the life of the group is only, say, twelve sessions, and two or three of
those sessions are consumed by attending to an unsuitable member who then drops
out (or must be asked to leave), the cost is very high: the development of the group
is retarded, levels of trust and cohesion are slower to develop, and a significant
proportion of the group’s precious time and effectiveness is sacrificed.
• Use the pregroup individual meeting not only for standard group preparation but
also to help clients reframe their problems and sharpen their goals so as to make
them suitable for brief therapy.38 Some group therapists will use the first group
meeting to ask each client to present his/her interpersonal issues and treatment
goals.39
Some clinicians have sought ways to bridge the gap between brief and longer-term
treatment. One approach is to follow the brief group with booster group sessions
scheduled at greater intervals, perhaps monthly, for another six months.40 Another
approach offers clients a brief group but provides them with the option of signing on for
another series of meetings. One program primarily for clients with chronic illness consists
of a series of twelve-week segments with a two-week break between segments. 41
Members may enter a segment at any time until the sixth week, at which time the group
becomes a closed group. A client may attend one segment and then choose at some later
point to enroll for another segment. The program has the advantage of keeping all clients,
even the long-term members, goal-focused, as they reformulate their goals each segment.

Are brief groups effective? Outcome research on brief group therapy has increased
substantially over the past ten years. An analysis of forty-eight reports of brief therapy
groups (both cognitive-behavioral and dynamic /interpersonal) for the treatment of
depression demonstrated that groups that meet, on average, for twelve sessions produced
significant clinical improvement: group members were almost three times more likely to
improve than clients waiting for treatment.42 Furthermore, therapy groups add
substantially to the effect of pharmacotherapy in the treatment of depression.43 Brief
groups for clients with loss and grief have also been proven effective and are significantly
more effective than no treatment. 44 Both expressive-interpretive groups and supportive
groups have demonstrated significant effects with this clinical population.45
A study of brief interpersonal group therapy for clients with borderline personality
disorder reported improvement in clients’ mood and behavior at the end of twenty-five
sessions.46 Brief group therapy is also effective in the psychological treatment of the
medically ill:47 it improves coping and stress management, reduces mood and anxiety
symptoms, and improves self-care.
Some less salubrious findings have also been reported. In a comparison study of short-
term group, long-term group, brief individual, and long-term individual therapies, the
short-term group was the least effective of the four modalities.48 In a study in which
subjects were randomly assigned to short-term group treatment and short-term individual
treatment, the investigators found significant improvement in both groups and no
significant differences between them—except that subjectively the members preferred
brief individual to brief group treatment.49
In sum, research demonstrates the effectiveness of brief group therapy. However, there
is no evidence that brief therapy is superior to longer-term therapy.50 In other words, if
brief groups are necessary, we can lead them with confidence: we know there is much we
can offer clients in the brief format. But don’t be swept away by the powerful
contemporary press for efficiency. Don’t make the mistake of believing that a brief,
streamlined therapy approach offers clients more than longer-term therapy. One of the
architects of the NIMH Collaborative Treatment of Depression Study, one of the largest
psychotherapy trial conducted, has stated that the field has likely oversold the power of
brief psychotherapy.51
Size of the Group
My own experience and a consensus of the clinical literature suggest that the ideal size of
an interactional therapy group is seven or eight members, with an acceptable range of five
to ten members. The lower limit of the group is determined by the fact that a critical mass
is required for an aggregation of individuals to become an interacting group. When a
group is reduced to four or three members, it often ceases to operate as a group; member
interaction diminishes, and therapists often find themselves engaged in individual therapy
within the group. The groups lack cohesiveness, and although attendance may be good, it

is often due to a sense of obligation rather than a true alliance. Many of the advantages of
a group, especially the opportunity to interact and analyze one’s interaction with a large
variety of individuals, are compromised as the group’s size diminishes. Furthermore,
smaller groups become passive, suffer from stunted development, and frequently develop
a negative group image.52 Obviously the group therapist must replace members quickly,
but appropriately. If new members are unavailable, therapists do better to meld two small
groups rather than to continue limping along with insufficient membership in both.
The upper limit of therapy groups is determined by sheer economic principles. As the
group increases in size, less and less time is available for the working through of any
individual’s problems. Since it is likely that one or possibly two clients will drop out of the
group in the course of the initial meetings, it is advisable to start with a group slightly
larger than the preferred size; thus, to obtain a group of seven or eight members, many
therapists start a new group with eight or nine. Starting with a group size much larger than
ten in anticipation of dropouts may become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Some members will
quit because the group is simply too large for them to participate productively. Larger
groups of twelve to sixteen members may meet productively in day hospital settings,
because each member is likely to have many other therapeutic opportunities over the
course of each week and because not all members will necessarily participate in each
group session.
To some extent, the optimal group size is a function of the duration of the meeting: the
longer the meeting, the larger the number of participants who can profitably engage in the
group. Thus, many of the marathon therapy groups of past years had as many sixteen
members. Groups such as Alcoholics Anonymous and Recovery, Inc. that do not focus on
interaction may range from twenty to eighty. Psychoeducational groups for conditions
such as generalized anxiety may meet effectively with twenty to thirty participants. These
groups actively discourage individual disclosure and interaction, relying instead on the
didactic imparting of information about anxiety and stress reduction.53 Similar findings
have been reported in the treatment of panic disorder and agoraphobia.54
The large-group format has also been used with cancer patients, often with training in
stress reduction and self-management of illness symptoms and medical treatment side
effects. These groups may contain forty to eighty participants meeting weekly for two
hours over a course of six weeks.55 If you think of the health care system as a pyramid,
large groups of this type are part of the broad base of accessible, inexpensive treatment at
the system’s entry level. For many, this provision of knowledge and skills is sufficient.
Clients who require more assistance may move up the pyramid to more focused or
intensive interventions.56
A range of therapeutic factors may operate in these groups. Large homogeneous groups
normalize, destigmatize, activate feelings of universality, and offer skills and knowledge
that enhance self-efficacy. AA groups use inspiration, guidance, and suppression; the large
therapeutic community relies on group pressure and interdependence to encourage reality
testing, to combat regression, and to instill a sense of individual responsibility toward the
social community.

Group size is inversely proportional to interaction. One study investigated the
relationship between group size and the number of different verbal interactions initiated
between members in fifty-five inpatient therapy groups. The groups ranged in size from
five to twenty participants. A marked reduction in interactions between members was
evident when group size reached nine members, and another when it reached seventeen
members. The implication of the research is that, in inpatient settings, groups of five to
eight offer the greatest opportunity for total client participation.57
Several studies of non-therapy groups suggest that as the size of a group increases, there
is a corresponding tendency for members to feel disenfranchised and to form cliques and
disruptive subgroups.58 Furthermore, only the more forceful and aggressive members are
able to express their ideas or abilities.59 A comparison of twelve-member and five-
member problem-solving groups indicates that the larger groups experience more
dissatisfaction and less consensus.60
PREPARATION FOR GROUP THERAPY
There is great variation in clinical practice regarding individual sessions with clients prior
to group therapy. Some therapists, after seeing prospective clients once or twice in
selection interviews, do not meet with them individually again, whereas others continue
individual sessions until the client starts in the group. If several weeks are required to
accumulate sufficient members, the therapist is well advised to continue to meet with each
member periodically to prevent significant attrition. Even in settings with plenty of
appropriate group therapy referrals it is important to maintain client momentum and
interest. One way to do this is to set a firm start date for the group and then focus
energetically on recruitment and assessment. A group leader may need to invest twenty to
twenty-five hours to assemble one group.
Some therapists prefer to see the client several times in individual sessions in order to
build a relationship that will keep members in the group during early periods of
discouragement and disenchantment. It is my clinical impression that the more often
clients are seen before entering the group, the less likely they are to terminate prematurely
from the group. Often the first step in the development of bonds among members is their
mutual identification with a shared person: the therapist. Keep in mind that the purpose of
the individual pregroup sessions is to build a therapeutic alliance. To use the sessions
primarily for anamnestic purposes is not a good use of clinical time; it suggests to the
client that anamnesis is central to the therapy process.
One other overriding task must be accomplished in the pregroup interview or
interviews: the preparation of the client for group therapy. If I had to choose the one area
where research has the greatest relevance for practice, it would be in the preparation of
clients for group therapy. There is highly persuasive evidence that pregroup preparation
expedites the course of group therapy. Group leaders must achieve several specific goals

in the preparatory procedure:
• Clarify misconceptions, unrealistic fears, and expectations
• Anticipate and diminish the emergence of problems in the group’s development
• Provide clients with a cognitive structure that facilitates effective group
participation
• Generate realistic and positive expectations about the group therapy
Misconceptions About Group Therapy
Certain misconceptions and fears about group therapy are so common that if the client
does not mention them, the therapist should point them out as potential problems. Despite
powerful research evidence on the efficacy of group therapy, many people still believe that
group therapy is second-rate. Clients may think of group therapy as cheap therapy—an
alternative for people who cannot afford individual therapy or a way for managed health
care systems to increase profits. Others regard it as diluted therapy because each member
has only twelve to fifteen minutes of the therapist’s time each week. Still others believe
that the raison d’être of group therapy is to accommodate a number of clients that greatly
exceeds the number of staff therapists.
Let us examine some surveys of public beliefs about group therapy. A study of 206
college students consisting of students seeking counseling and a comparable number of
psychology students identified three common misconceptions:
1. Group therapy is unpredictable or involves a loss of personal control—for
example, groups may coerce members into self-disclosure.
2. Group therapy is not as effective as individual therapy because effectiveness is
proportional to the attention received from the therapist.
3. Being in a group with many individuals with significant emotional disturbance is
in itself detrimental.61
A British National Health Service study of sixty-nine moderately distressed clients
seeking therapy reported that more than 50 percent declared that they would not enter
group therapy even if no other treatment were available. Concerns cited included the fear
of ridicule and shame, the lack of confidentiality, and the fear of being made worse
through some form of contagion. What are some of the sources of this strong antigroup
bias? For many clients seeking therapy, difficulties with their peer and social group or
family is the problem. Hence, groups in general are distrusted, and the individual therapy
setting is considered the protected, safe, and familiar zone. This is particularly the case for
those with no prior experience in therapy.62
In general, the media and fictional portrayals of group therapy are vastly inaccurate and
often portray therapy groups in a mocking, ridiculing fashion.y Reality television shows
may also play a role. They speak to our unconscious fears of being exposed and extruded

from our group because we are found to be defective, deficient, stimulate envy or are
deemed to be the “weakest link.”63 Whatever their sources, such misconceptions and
apprehensions must be countered; otherwise these strong negative expectations may make
successful group therapy outcome unlikely.†
Nor are these unfavorable expectations limited to the general public or to clients. A
survey of psychiatric residents found similar negative attitudes toward the efficacy of
group therapy.64 Lack of exposure in one’s training is part of the problem, but the strength
of resistances to remedying these training shortfalls suggest that antigroup attitudes may
be deeply rooted and even unconscious. Thus, it should not surprise us to find such
attitudes within institutional and administrative leadership.
In addition to evaluative misconceptions, clients usually harbor procedural
misconceptions and unrealistic interpersonal fears. Many of these are evident in the
following dream, which a client reported at her second pregroup individual session shortly
before she was to attend her first group meeting:
• I dreamed that each member of the group was required to bring cookies to the
meeting. I went with my mother to buy the cookies that I was to take to the meeting.
We had great difficulty deciding which cookies would be appropriate. In the
meantime, I was aware that I was going to be very late to the meeting, and I was
becoming more and more anxious about getting there on time. We finally decided
on the cookies and proceeded to go to the group. I asked directions to the room
where the group was to meet, and was told that it was meeting in room 129A. I
wandered up and down a long hall in which the rooms were not numbered
consecutively and in which I couldn’t find a room with an “A.” I finally discovered
that 129A was located behind another room and went into the group. When I had
been looking for the room, I had encountered many people from my past, many
people whom I had gone to school with and many people whom I had known for a
number of years. The group was very large, and about forty or fifty people were
milling around the room. The members of the group included members of my
family—most specifically, two of my brothers. Each member of the group was
required to stand in front of a large audience and say what they thought was their
difficulty and why they were there and what their problems were. The whole dream
was very anxiety-provoking, and the business of being late and the business of
having a large number of people was very distracting.
Several themes are abundantly clear in this dream. The client anticipated the first group
meeting with considerable dread. Her concern about being late reflected a fear of being
excluded or rejected by the group. Furthermore, since she was starting in a group that had
already been meeting for several weeks, she feared that the others had progressed too far,
that she would be left behind and could never catch up. (She could not find a room with an
“A” marked on it.) She dreamed that the group would number forty or fifty. Concerns
about the size of the group are common; members fear that their unique individuality will
be lost as they become one of the mass. Moreover, clients erroneously apply the model of
the economic distribution of goods to the group therapeutic experience, assuming that the

size of the crowd is inversely proportional to the goods received by each individual.
The dream image of each member confessing problems to the group audience reflects
one of the most basic and pervasive fears of individuals entering a therapy group: the
horror of having to reveal oneself and to confess shameful transgressions and fantasies to
an alien audience. What’s more, members imagine a critical, scornful, ridiculing, or
humiliating response from the other members. The experience is fantasized as an
apocalyptic trial before a stern, uncompassionate tribunal. The dream also suggests that
pregroup anticipation resulted in a recrudescence of anxiety linked to early group
experiences, including those of school, family, and play groups. It is as if her entire social
network—all the significant people and groups she had encountered in her life—would be
present in this group. (In a metaphorical sense, this is true: to the degree that she had been
shaped by other groups and other individuals, to the degree that she internalized them, she
would carry them into the group with her since they are part of her character structure;
furthermore, she would, transferentially, re-create in the therapy group her early
significant relationships.)
It is clear from the reference to room 129 (an early schoolroom in her life) that the
client was associating her impending group experience with a time in her life when few
things were more crucial than the acceptance and approval of a peer group. Furthermore,
she anticipated that the therapist would be like her early teachers: an aloof, unloving
evaluator.
Closely related to the dread of forced confession is the concern about confidentiality.
The client anticipated that there would be no group boundaries, that every intimacy she
disclosed would be known by every significant person in her life. Other common concerns
of individuals entering group therapy, not evident in this dream, include a fear of mental
contagion, of being made sicker through association with ill comembers. Often, but not
exclusively, this is a preoccupation of clients with fragile ego boundaries who lack a solid,
stable sense of self.
The anxiety about regression in an unstructured group and being helpless to resist the
pull to merge and mesh with others can be overwhelming. In part, this concern is also a
reflection of the self-contempt of individuals who project onto others their feelings of
worthlessness. Such dynamics underlie the common query, “How can the blind lead the
blind?” Convinced that they themselves have nothing of value to offer, some clients find it
inconceivable that they might profit from others like themselves. Others fear their own
hostility. If they ever unleash their rage, they think, it will engulf them as well as others.
The notion of a group where anger is freely expressed is terrifying, as they think silently,
“If others only knew what I really thought about them.”
All of these unrealistic expectations that, unchecked, lead to a rejection or a blighting of
group therapy can be allayed by adequate preparation of the client. Before outlining a
preparation procedure, I will consider four problems commonly encountered early in the
course of the group that may be ameliorated by preparation before therapy begins.

Common Group Problems
1. One important source of perplexity and discouragement for clients early in therapy
is perceived goal incompatibility. They may be unable to discern the congruence
between group goals (such as group integrity, construction of an atmosphere of
trust, and an interactional focus) and their individual goals (relief of suffering).
What bearing, members may wonder, does a discussion of their personal reactions
to other members have on their symptoms of anxiety, depression, phobias,
impotence, or insomnia?
2. A high turnover in the early stages of a group is, as I have discussed, a major
impediment to the development of an effective group. The therapist, from the very
first contact with a client, should discourage irregular attendance and premature
termination. The issue is more pressing than in individual therapy, where absences
and tardiness can be profitably investigated and worked through. In the initial
stages of the group, irregular attendance results in a discouraged and disconnected
group.
3. Group therapy, unlike individual therapy, often does not offer immediate comfort.
Clients may be frustrated by not getting enough “airtime” in the first few meetings,
they may feel deprived of their specialness,† or they may feel anxious about the
task of direct interpersonal interaction. The therapist should anticipate and address
this frustration and anxiety in the preparatory procedure. This is a particular
challenge for clients who have found individual therapy to be narcissistically
gratifying.
4. Subgrouping and extragroup socializing, which has been referred to as the
Achilles’ heel of group therapy, may be encountered at any stage of the group. This
complex problem will be considered in detail in chapter 12. Here it is sufficient to
point out that the therapist may begin to shape the group norms regarding
subgrouping in the very first contact with the clients.
A System of Preparation
There are many approaches to preparing clients for group therapy. The simplest and most
practical in the harried world of everyday clinical practice is to offer the client the
necessary information in the pregroup interview (s). I am careful to set aside sufficient
time for this presentation. I attempt to see clients at least twice before introducing them
into the group. But even if I see someone only once, I reserve at least half the time to
address each of the foregoing misconceptions and initial problems of group therapy.
Misconceptions should be explored in detail and each one corrected by an accurate and
complete discussion. I share with the client my predictions about the early problems in
therapy and present a conceptual framework and clear guidelines for effective group
behavior. Each client’s preparation must be individualized according to the presenting

complaints, questions and concerns raised in the interview, and level of sophistication
regarding the therapy process. Two situations require particular attention from the
therapist: the therapy neophyte and the client who presents with cross-cultural issues. The
client who has never been in any form of therapy may find group therapy particularly
challenging and may require additional pregroup individual preparation.† Clients from
other cultures may be particularly threatened by the intimate personal exposure in the
group. The pregroup preparation sessions provide the therapist the opportunity to explore
the impact of the client’s culture on his or her attitudes, beliefs, and identity and to
demonstrate the therapist’s genuine willingness to enter the client’s world.65
I have found a preparatory interview with the following objectives to be of considerable
value:
1. Enlist clients as informed allies. Give them a conceptual framework of the
interpersonal basis of pathology and how therapy works.
2. Describe how the therapy group addresses and corrects interpersonal problems.
3. Offer guidelines about how best to participate in the group, how to maximize the
usefulness of group therapy.
4. Anticipate the frustrations and disappointments of group therapy, especially of the
early meetings.
5. Offer guidelines about duration of therapy. Make a contract about attendance in
group.
6. Instill faith in group therapy; raise expectations about efficacy.
7. Set ground rules about confidentiality and subgrouping.
Now, to flesh out each of these points in turn.
1. First, I present clients with a brief explanation of the interpersonal theory of
psychiatry, beginning with the statement that although each person manifests his or her
problems differently, all who seek help from psychotherapy have in common the basic
difficulty of establishing and maintaining close and gratifying relationships with others. I
remind them of the many times in their lives that they have undoubtedly wished to clarify
a relationship, to be really honest about their positive and negative feelings with someone
and get reciprocally honest feedback. The general structure of society, however, does not
often permit such open communication. Feelings are hurt, relationships are ruptured,
misunderstandings arise, and, eventually, communication ceases.
2. I describe the therapy group, in simple, clear language, as a social laboratory in
which such honest interpersonal exploration is not only permitted but encouraged. If
people are conflicted in their methods of relating to others, then a social situation
encouraging honest interaction provides a precious opportunity to learn many valuable
things about themselves. I emphasize that working on their relationships directly with
other group members will not be easy; in fact, it may even be stressful. But it is crucial
because if they can completely understand and work out their relationships with the other

group members, there will be an enormous carryover into their outside world: they will
discover pathways to more rewarding relationships with significant people in their life
now and with people they have yet to meet.
3. I advise members that the way to use therapy best is to be honest and direct with their
feelings in the group at that moment, especially their feelings toward the other group
members and the therapists. I emphasize this point many times and refer to it as the core
of group therapy. I say that clients may, as they develop trust in the group, reveal intimate
aspects of themselves, but that the group is not a forced confessional and that people have
different rates of developing trust and revealing themselves. The group is a forum for risk
taking, I emphasize, and I urge members to try new types of behavior in the group setting.
4. I predict certain stumbling blocks and warn clients that they may feel puzzled and
discouraged in the early meetings. It will, at times, not be apparent how working on group
problems and intermember relationships can be of value in solving the problems that
brought them to therapy. This puzzlement, I stress, is to be expected in the typical therapy
process. I tell them that many people at first find it painfully difficult to reveal themselves
or to express directly positive or negative feelings, and I discuss the tendency to withdraw
emotionally, to hide feelings, to let others express one’s feelings, to form concealing
alliances with others. I also predict that they are likely to develop feelings of frustration or
annoyance with the therapist and that they will expect answers that the therapist cannot
supply. Help will often be forthcoming from other group members, however difficult it
may be for them to accept this fact.
5. For clients entering an open-ended psychotherapy group I emphasize that the
therapeutic goals of group therapy are ambitious because we desire to change behavior
and attitudes many years in the making. Treatment is therefore gradual and may be long,
often with no important change occurring for months. I strongly urge clients to stay with
the group and to ignore any inclination to leave the group before giving it a real chance. It
is almost impossible to predict the eventual effectiveness of the group during the first
dozen meetings. Thus, I urge them to suspend judgment and to make a good-faith
commitment of at least twelve meetings before even attempting to evaluate the ultimate
usefulness of the group. For clients who are entering a briefer group therapy, I say that the
group offers an outstanding opportunity to do a piece of important work that they can
build upon in the future. Each session is precious, and it is in their interest and the interest
of the other group members to attend each one of the limited number scheduled.
6. It is vitally important for the therapist to raise expectations, to instill faith in group
therapy, and to dispel the false notion that group therapy is second-class therapy. Research
tells us that clients who enter therapy expecting it to be successful will exert much greater
effort in the therapy, will develop a stronger therapeutic alliance, and are significantly
more likely to succeed.66 This effect of client pretherapy expectancies is even greater for
less structured therapies that may generate more client anxiety and uncertainty.67 In my
preparation, therefore, I provide a brief description of the history and development of
group therapy—how group therapy passed from a stage during World War II when it was
valued for its economic advantages (that is, it allowed psychotherapists to reach a large

number of people in need), to its current position in the field, where it clearly has
something unique to offer and is often the treatment of choice. I inform clients that
psychotherapy outcome studies demonstrate that group therapy is as efficacious as any
mode of individual therapy.
7. There are a few ground rules. Nothing is more important than honestly sharing
perceptions and feelings about oneself and other members in the group. Confidentiality, I
state, is as essential in group therapy as it is in any therapist-client relationship. For
members to speak freely, they must have confidence that their statements will remain
within the group. In my group therapy experience, I can scarcely recall a single significant
breach of confidence and can therefore reassure group members on this matter.z68
It is important not to corrode client trust regarding confidentiality. However, at the same
time, in the spirit of obtaining informed consent for treatment, I also inform the client of
my mandatory professional duties to report certain offenses.69 In virtually all jurisdictions
the therapist must report situations in which the actions of the client are, or will
imminently be, harmful to self or others. Occasionally, members may inquire whether they
can relate aspects of the group therapy discussion with a spouse or a confidant. I urge
them to discuss only their own experience: the other members’ experiences and certainly
their names should be kept in strictest confidence.
In addition to the ground rules of honesty and confidentiality, I make a point of
discussing the issue of contacts outside the group between members which, in one form or
another, will occur in every psychotherapy group. Two particularly important points must
be stressed:
1. The group provides an opportunity for learning about one’s problems in social
relationships; it is not an assembly for meeting and making social friends. On the contrary,
if the group is used as a source of friends it loses its therapeutic effectiveness. In other
words, the therapy group teaches one how to develop intimate, long-term relationships, but
it does not provide these relationships. It is a bridge, not the destination. It is not life but a
dress rehearsal for life.
2. If by chance or design, however, members do meet outside the group, it is their
responsibility to discuss the salient aspects of that meeting inside the group. It is
particularly useless for therapists to prohibit extragroup socializing or, for that matter, to
declare any injunctions about client behavior. Almost invariably during the therapy, group
members will engage in some outside socializing and in the face of the therapist’s
prohibition may be reluctant to disclose it in the group. As I shall elaborate in the next
chapter, extragroup relationships are not harmful per se (in fact, they may be extremely
important in the therapeutic process); what impedes therapy is the conspiracy of silence
that often surrounds such meetings.
An approach of injunction and prohibition merely draws group members into the issue
of rule setting and rule breaking. It is far more effective to explain at length why certain
actions may interfere with therapy. With subgrouping, for example, I explain that
friendships among group members often prevent them from speaking openly to one

another in the group. Members may develop a sense of loyalty to a dyadic relationship and
may thus hesitate to betray the other by reporting their conversations back to the group.
Yet such secrecy will conflict with the openness and candor so essential to the therapy
process. The primary task of therapy group members is, I remind them, to learn as much
as possible about the way each individual relates to each other person in the group. All
events that block that process ultimately obstruct therapy. Occasionally group members
may wish to make a secret disclosure to the group leader. Almost always it is best that the
disclosure be shared with the group. Group leaders must never, in advance, agree to
secrecy but instead promise to use discretion and their best clinical judgment.
This strategy of providing full information to the members about the effects of
extragroup socializing provides the therapist with far greater leverage than the strategy of
the ex cathedra “thou shall not.” If group members engage in secretive subgrouping, you
do not have to resort to the ineffectual, misdirected “Why did you break my rules?” but
instead can plunge into the heart of resistance by inquiring, “How come you’re sabotaging
your own therapy?”

In summary, this cognitive approach to group therapy preparation has several goals: to
provide a rational explanation of the therapy process; to describe what types of behavior
are expected of group members; to establish a contract about attendance; to raise
expectations about the effects of the group; to predict (and thus to ameliorate) problems
and discomfort in early meetings. Underlying these words is the process of demystification
. Therapists convey the message that they respect the client’s judgment and intelligence,
that therapy is a collaborative venture, that leaders are experts who operate on a rational
basis and are willing to share their knowledge with the client. One final point is that
comprehensive preparation also enables the client to make an informed decision about
whether to enter a therapy group.
Though this discussion is geared toward a longer-term interactional group, its basic
features may be adapted to any other type of group therapy. In brief therapy groups
relying on different therapeutic factors—for example, cognitive-behavioral groups—the
relevant details of the presentation would have to be altered, but every therapy group
profits from preparation of its members.† If clinical exigencies preclude a thorough
preparation, then a short preparation is better than none at all. In chapter 15, I describe a
three-minute preparation I provide at the start of an acute inpatient group.
Other Approaches to Preparation
Straightforward cognitive preparation presented a single time to a client may not be
sufficiently powerful. Clients are anxious during their pregroup interviews and often recall
astonishingly little of the content of the therapist’s message or grossly misunderstand key
points. For example, some group participants whom I asked to remain in the group for
twelve sessions before evaluating its usefulness understood me to say that the group’s

entire life span would be twelve sessions.
Consequently, it is necessary to repeat and to emphasize deliberately many key points
of the preparation both during the pregroup sessions and during the first few sessions of
the group. For my ambulatory groups that meet once a week, I prepare a weekly written
summary that I mail out to all the group members after each session (see chapter 14).
These summaries provide an excellent forum to repeat in writing essential parts of the
preparation procedure. When a new member joins an ongoing group, I provide additional
preparation by requesting that he or she read the group summaries of the previous six
meetings.
Many therapists have described other methods to increase the potency of the
preparatory procedure. Some have used another group member to sponsor and to prepare a
new member.70 Others have used a written document for the new client to study before
entering a group. The appendix to this book contains an example of a written handout to
be used as a supplement for preparing clients entering a group. It stresses focusing on the
here-and-now, assuming personal responsibility, avoiding blaming others, avoiding giving
suggestions and fostering dependency, learning to listen to others, becoming aware both of
feelings and of thoughts, and attempting to experiment with intimacy and with new
behavior. We emphasize feedback and offer prospective members specific instructions
about how to give and receive feedback: for example, be specific, give it as soon as
possible, be direct, share the positive and the negative, tell how the other makes you feel,
don’t deal with why but with what you see and feel, acknowledge the feedback, don’t
make excuses, seek clarification, think about it, and beware of becoming defensive.71
Other preparation techniques include observation of an audiotape or videotape of
meetings.† For reasons of confidentiality, this must be a professionally marketed tape in
the public domain or a tape of a simulated group meeting with staff members or
professional actors playing the roles of members. The scripts may be deliberately designed
to demonstrate the major points to be stressed in the preparatory phase.
An even more powerful mode of preparing clients is to provide them with personal
training in desired group behavior.†72 Several experiential formats have been described.
One brief group therapy team, for example, employs a two-part preparation. First, each
group member has an individual meeting to establish a focus and goals for therapy.
Afterward, prospective group members participate in an experiential single-session
workshop at which eighteen to twenty clients perform a series of carefully selected
structured interactional exercises, some involving dyads, some triads, and some the entire
group.73
Another study used four preparatory sessions, each of which focused on a single
concept of pregroup training: (1) using the here-and-now, (2) learning how to express
feelings, (3) learning to become more self-disclosing, and (4) becoming aware of the
impact one has and wishes to have on others. The researchers handed out cognitive
material in advance and designed structured group exercises to provide experiential
learning about each concept.74 Other projects use role playing to simulate group therapy

interaction.75
In general, the more emotionally alive and relevant the preparation is, the greater its
impact will be. Some research suggests that it is the active, experiential rather than the
cognitive or passive, observing component of the pretraining that may have the greatest
impact.76
Much current preparation research centers on the client’s motivation and change
readiness.aa77 The focus on motivation as a target for intervention (rather than a
prerequisite for treatment) originated in the treatment of addiction and has subsequently
been applied effectively for clients with eating disorders and perpetrators of sexual abuse
—clinical populations well recognized for denial and resistance to change.78
In the future, we can expect interactive computer technology to generate even more
effective preparatory programs. However, the existing approaches, used singly or in
combination, can be highly effective. Much research evidence, to which I now turn, attests
to the general effectiveness of these techniques.
Research Evidence
In a controlled experiment, my colleagues and I tested the effectiveness of a brief
cognitive preparatory session.79 Of a sample of sixty clients awaiting group therapy, half
were seen in a thirty-minute preparatory session, and the other half were seen for an equal
period in a conventional interview dedicated primarily to history-taking. Six therapy
groups (three of prepared clients, three of unprepared clients) were organized and led by
group therapists unaware that there had been an experimental manipulation. (The
therapists believed only that all clients had been seen in a standard intake session.) A study
of the first twelve meetings demonstrated that the prepared groups had more faith in
therapy (which, in turn, positively influences outcome) and engaged in significantly more
group and interpersonal interaction than did the unprepared groups, and that this
difference was as marked in the twelfth meeting as in the second.80 The research design
required that identical preparation be given to each participant. Had the preparation been
more thorough and more individualized for each client, its effectiveness might have been
greater.
The basic design and results of this project—a pregroup preparation sample, which is
then studied during its first several group therapy meetings and shown to have a superior
course of therapy compared with a sample that was not properly prepared—has been
replicated many times. The clinical populations have varied, and particular modes of
preparation and process and outcome variables have grown more sophisticated. But the
amount of corroborative evidence supporting the efficacy on both group processes and
client outcomes of pregroup preparation is impressive. 81 Furthermore, few studies fail to
find positive effects of preparation on clients’ work in group therapy.82
Pregroup preparation improves attendance83 and increases self-disclosure, self-

exploration, and group cohesion,84 although the evidence for lower dropout rates is less
consistent.85 Prepared group members express more emotion;86 assume more personal
responsibility in a group;87 disclose more of themselves;88 show increased verbal, work-
oriented participation; 89 are better liked by the other members;90 report less anxiety;91 are
more motivated to change;92 show a significant decrease in depression;93 improve in
marital adjustment and ability to communicate;94 are more likely to attain their primary
goals in therapy;95 and have fewer erroneous conceptions about the group procedure.96
Research shows that cognitive preparation of clients in lower socioeconomic classes
results in greater involvement, group activity, and self-exploration.97 Even notoriously
hard to engage populations, such as domestic abusers, respond very positively to measures
aimed at enhancing attendance and participation.98
In summary, a strong research consensus endorses the value of pregroup client
preparation. Most of the findings demonstrate the beneficial impact of preparation on
intervening variables; a direct effect on global client outcome is more difficult to
demonstrate because the contributions of other important therapy variables obscure the
effect of preparation.99
The Rationale Behind Preparation
Let us consider briefly the rationale behind preparation for group therapy. The first
meetings of a therapy group are both precarious and vitally important: many members
grow unnecessarily discouraged and terminate therapy, and the group is in a highly fluid
state and maximally responsive to the influence of the therapist—who has the opportunity
to help the group elaborate therapeutic norms. The early meetings are a time of
considerable client anxiety, both intrinsic, unavoidable anxiety and extrinsic, unnecessary
anxiety.
The intrinsic anxiety issues from the very nature of the group. Individuals who have
encountered lifelong disabling difficulties in interpersonal relationships will invariably be
stressed by a therapy group that demands not only that they attempt to relate deeply to
other members but also that they discuss these relationships with great candor. In fact, as I
noted in chapter 9, clinical consensus and empirical research both indicate that anxiety
seems to be an essential condition for the initiation of change.100 In group therapy, anxiety
arises not only from interpersonal conflict but from dissonance, which springs from one’s
desire to remain in the group while at the same time feeling highly threatened by the group
task. An imposing body of evidence, however, demonstrates that there are limits to the
adaptive value of anxiety in therapy.101 An optimal degree of anxiety enhances motivation
and increases vigilance, but excessive anxiety will obstruct one’s ability to cope with
stress. White notes, in his masterful review of the evidence supporting the concept of an
exploratory drive, that excessive anxiety and fear are the enemies of environmental
exploration; they retard learning and decrease exploratory behavior in proportion to the
intensity of the fear.102 In group therapy, crippling amounts of anxiety may prevent the

introspection, interpersonal exploration, and testing of new behavior essential to the
process of change.
Much of the anxiety experienced by clients early in the group is not intrinsic to the
group task but is extrinsic, unnecessary, and sometimes iatrogenic. This anxiety is a
natural consequence of being in a group situation in which one’s expected behavior, the
group goals, and their relevance to one’s personal goals are exceedingly unclear. Research
with laboratory groups demonstrates that if the group’s goals, the methods of goal
attainment, and expected role behavior are ambiguous, the group will be less cohesive and
less productive and its members more defensive, anxious, frustrated, and likely to
terminate membership.103
Effective preparation for the group will reduce the extrinsic anxiety that stems from
uncertainty. By clarifying the group goals, by explaining how group and personal goals are
confluent, by presenting unambiguous guidelines for effective behavior, by providing the
client with an accurate formulation of the group process, the therapist reduces uncertainty
and the accompanying extrinsic anxiety.
A systematic preparation for group therapy by no means implies a rigid structuring of
the group experience. I do not propose a didactic, directive approach to group therapy but,
on the contrary, suggest a technique that will enhance the formation of a freely interacting,
autonomous group. By averting lengthy ritualistic behavior in the initial sessions and by
diminishing initial anxiety stemming from ambiguity, the group is enabled to plunge
quickly into group work.
Although some group therapists eschew systematic preparation for the group, all group
therapists attempt to clarify the therapeutic process and the behavior expected of clients:
Differences between therapists or between therapeutic schools are largely in the timing
and style of preparation. By subtle or even subliminal verbal and nonverbal reinforcement,
even the most nondirective therapist attempts to persuade a group to accept his or her
values about what is or is not important in the group process.104
Bureaucratic considerations add another component to preparation: informed consent.
Contemporary therapists are under increasing pressure to provide (and to document in the
record that it has been provided) sufficient information about treatment benefits, side
effects, costs, and alternatives to make an informed choice about their therapy.105
Furthermore, informed consent cannot be dispensed with in a single discussion but must
be revisited on a timely basis. Obtaining informed consent is rapidly evolving into a
standard of practice enshrined in the Ethics Guidelines of the American Psychological
Association106 and the American Psychiatric Association.107 Though this procedure may
seem onerous, it is here to stay, and adaptive therapists must find a way to transform it into
something useful: periodic frank discussions about the course of therapy convey respect
for the client and strengthen the therapeutic alliance.
One final practical observation about preparation is in order. Group therapists often find
themselves pressed to find group members. A sudden loss of members may provoke
therapists into hasty activity to rebuild the group, often resulting in the selection of

unsuitable, inadequately prepared members. The therapist then has to assume the position
of selling the group to the prospective member—a position that is generally obvious to the
client. The therapist does better to continue the group with reduced membership, to select
new members carefully, and then to present the group in such a way as to maximize a
client’s desire to join it. In fact, research indicates that the more difficult it is to enter a
group and the more one wants to join, the more the individual will subsequently value the
group.108 This is the general principle underlying initiation rites to fraternities and arduous
selection and admission criteria for many organizations. An applicant cannot but reason
that a group so difficult to join must be very valuable indeed.

Chapter 11
IN THE BEGINNING
The work of the group therapist begins long before the first group meeting. As I have
already emphasized, successful group outcome depends largely on the therapist’s effective
performance of the pretherapy tasks. In previous chapters, I discussed the crucial
importance of proper group selection, composition, setting, and preparation. In this
chapter I consider the birth and development of the group: first, the stages of development
of the therapy group, and then problems of attendance, punctuality, membership turnover,
and addition of new members—important issues in the life of the developing group.
FORMATIVE STAGES OF THE GROUP
Every therapy group, with its unique cast of characters and complex interaction, undergoes
a singular development. All the members begin to manifest themselves interpersonally,
each creating his or her own social microcosm. In time, if therapists do their job
effectively, members will begin to understand their interpersonal style and eventually to
experiment with new behavior. Given the richness of human interaction, compounded by
the grouping of several individuals with maladaptive styles, it is obvious that the course of
a group over many months or years will be complex and, to a great degree, unpredictable.
Nevertheless, group dynamic forces operate in all groups to influence their development,
and it is possible to describe an imperfect but nonetheless useful schema of developmental
phases.
One well-known group developmental theory postulates five stages: forming, storming,
norming, performing, and adjourning.1 This simple, rhythmic phrase captures well the
range of group development models articulated by diverse researchers and applies to both
time-limited and open-ended groups.†2
In general, groups are first preoccupied with the tasks of initial member engagement
and affiliation. This phase is followed by one with a focus on control, power, status,
competition, and individual differentiation. Next comes a long, productive working phase
marked by intimacy, engagement, and genuine cohesion. The final stage is termination of
the group experience. These models also share a premise that development is epigenetic—
that is, each stage builds on the success of preceding ones. Hence, early developmental
failures will express themselves throughout the group’s life. Another premise of
development is that groups are likely to regress under conditions threatening group
integrity.†
As group development unfolds, we see shifts in group member behavior and
communication. As the group matures, increased empathic, positive communication will
be evident. Members describe their experience in more personal, affective and less

intellectual ways. Group members focus more on the here-and-now, are less avoidant of
productive conflict, offer constructive feedback, are more disclosing, and are more
collaborative. Advice is replaced with exploration, and the group is more interactional,
self-directed and less leader centered.3 This developmental shift to more meaningful work
has also been demonstrated repeatedly in reliable studies of task and work groups and
correlates significantly with enhanced productivity and achievement.4
There are compelling reasons for you as the therapist to familiarize yourself with the
developmental sequence of groups. If you are to perform your task of assisting the group
to form therapeutic norms and to prevent the establishment of norms that hinder therapy,
then you must have a clear conception of the optimal development of a therapy group. If
you are to diagnose group blockage and to intervene strategically to encourage healthy
development, you must have a sense of favorable and of flawed development.
Furthermore, knowledge of a broad developmental sequence will provide you with a sense
of mastery and direction in the group; a confused and anxious leader engenders similar
feelings in the group members.
The First Meeting
The first group therapy session is invariably a success. Clients (as well as neophyte
therapists) generally anticipate it with such dread that they are always relieved by the
actual event. Any actions therapists take to reduce clients’ anxiety and unease are
generally useful. It is often helpful to call members a few days before the first meeting to
reestablish contact and remind them of the group’s beginning. Greeting group members
outside the group room before the first meeting or posting signs on the hallway directing
clients to the group room for the first meeting are easy and reassuring steps to take.
Some therapists begin the meeting with a brief introductory statement about the purpose
and method of the group (especially if they have not thoroughly prepared the clients
beforehand); others may simply mention one or two basic ground rules—for example,
honesty and confidentiality. The therapist may suggest that the members introduce
themselves; if the therapist instead remains silent, invariably some member will suggest
that the members introduce themselves. In North American groups the use of first names
is usually established within minutes. Then a very loud silence ensues, which, like most
psychotherapy silences, seems eternal but lasts only a few seconds.
Generally, the silence is broken by the individual destined to dominate the early stages
of the group, who will say, “I guess I’ll get the ball rolling,” or words to that effect.
Usually that person then recounts his or her reasons for seeking therapy, which often
elicits similar descriptions from other members. An alternative course of events occurs
when a member (perhaps spurred by the tension of the group during the initial silence)
comments on his or her social discomfort or fear of groups. This remark may stimulate
related comments from others who have similar feelings.
As I stressed in chapter 5, the therapist wittingly or unwittingly begins to shape the

norms of the group at its inception. This task can be more efficiently performed while the
group is still young. The first meeting is therefore no time for the therapist to be passive
and inactive;5 in chapter 5 I described a number of techniques to shape norms in a
beginning group.
The Initial Stage: Orientation, Hesitant Participation, Search for Meaning, Dependency
Two tasks confront members of any newly formed group. First, they must understand how
to achieve their primary task—the purpose for which they joined the group. Second, they
must attend to their social relationships in the group so as to create a niche for themselves
that will provide not only the comfort necessary to achieve their primary task but also
gratification from the sheer pleasure of group membership. In many groups, such as
athletic teams, college classrooms, and work settings, the primary task and the social task
are well differentiated.6 In therapy groups, although this fact is not often appreciated at
first by members, the tasks are confluent—a fact vastly complicating the group experience
of socially ineffective individuals.
Several simultaneous concerns are present in the initial meetings. Members, especially
if not well prepared by the therapist, search for the rationale of therapy; they may be
confused about the relevance of the group’s activities to their personal goals in therapy.
The initial meetings are often peppered with questions reflecting this confusion. Even
months later, members may wonder aloud, “How is this going to help? What does all this
have to do with solving my problems?”
At the same time, the members are attending to their social relationships: they size up
one another and the group. They search for viable roles for themselves and wonder
whether they will be liked and respected or ignored and rejected. Although clients
ostensibly come to a therapy group for treatment, social forces impel them to invest most
of their energy in a search for approval, acceptance, respect, or domination. To some,
acceptance and approval appear so unlikely that they defensively reject or depreciate the
group by mentally derogating the other members and by reminding themselves that the
group is unreal and artificial, or that they are too special to care about a group that requires
sacrificing even one particle of their prized individuality. Many members are particularly
vulnerable at this time.†7
In the beginning, the therapist is well advised to keep one eye on the group as a whole,
and the other eye on each individual’s subjective experience in this new group. Members
wonder what membership entails. What are the admission requirements? How much must
one reveal or give of oneself? What type of commitment must one make? At a conscious
or near-conscious level, they seek the answers to questions such as these and maintain a
vigilant search for the types of behavior that the group expects and approves. Most clients
crave both a deep, intimate one-to-one connection and a connection to the whole group.†8
Occasionally, however, a member with a very tenuous sense of self may fear losing his
identity through submersion in the group. If this fear is particularly pronounced it may

impede engagement in the group. For such individuals, differentiation trumps belonging.9
If the early group is puzzled, testing, and hesitant, then it is also dependent. Overtly and
covertly, members look to the leader for structure and answers as well as for approval and
acceptance. Many comments and reward-seeking glances are cast at you as members seek
to gain approval from authority. Your early comments are carefully scrutinized for
directives about desirable and undesirable behavior. Clients appear to behave as if
salvation emanates solely or primarily from you, if only they can discover what it is you
want them to do. There is considerable realistic evidence for this belief: you have a
professional identity as a healer, you host the group by providing a room, you prepare
members, and you charge a fee for your services. All of this reinforces their expectation
that you will take care of them. Some therapists unwittingly compound this belief by
absorbing the client projections of special powers and unconsciously offering unfulfillable
promise of succor.10
The existence of initial dependency thus stems from many sources: the therapeutic
setting, the therapist’s behavior, a morbid dependency state on the part of the client and, as
I discussed in chapter 7, the many irrational sources of the members’ powerful feelings
toward the therapist. Among the strongest of these is the human need for an omnipotent,
omniscient, all-caring parent or rescuer—a need that colludes with the infinite human
capacity for self-deception to create a yearning for and a belief in a superbeing.†
In young groups, the members’ fantasies play in concert to result in what Freud referred
to as the group’s “need to be governed by unrestricted force, its extreme passion for
authority, its thirst for obedience.”11 (Yet, who is God’s god? I have often thought that the
higher suicide rate among psychiatrists relative to other specialists is one tragic
commentary on this dilemma.12 Psychotherapists who are deeply depressed and who know
that they must be their own superbeing, their own ultimate rescuer, are more likely than
many of their clients to plunge into final despair.)
The content and communicational style of the initial phase tends to be relatively
stereotyped and restricted, resembling the interaction occurring at a cocktail party or
similar transient social encounters. Problems are approached rationally; the client
suppresses irrational aspects of his concerns in the service of support, etiquette, and group
tranquillity. Thus, at first, groups may endlessly discuss topics of apparently little
substantive interest to any of the participants; these cocktail party issues, however, serve
as a vehicle for the first interpersonal exploratory forays. Hence, the content of the
discussion is less important than the unspoken process: members size up one another, they
attend to such things as who responds favorably to them, who sees things the way they do,
whom to fear, whom to respect.
In the beginning, therapy groups often spend time on symptom description, previous
therapy experience, medications, and the like. The members often search for similarities.
Members are fascinated by the notion that they are not unique in their misery, and most
groups invest considerable energy in demonstrating how the members are similar. This
process often offers considerable relief to members (see the discussion of universality in
chapter 1) and provides part of the foundation for group cohesiveness. These first steps set

the stage for the later deeper engagement that is a prerequisite for effective therapy.13
Giving and seeking advice is another characteristic of the early group: clients seek
advice for problems with spouses, children, employers, and so on, and the group attempts
to provide some practical solution. As discussed in chapter 1, this guidance is rarely of
functional value but serves as a vehicle through which members can express mutual
interest and caring. It is also a familiar mode of communication that can be employed
before members understand how to work fully in the here-and-now.
In the beginning the group needs direction and structure. A silent leader will amplify
anxiety and foster regression.† This phenomenon occurs even in groups of
psychologically sophisticated members. For example, a training group of psychiatry
residents led by a silent, nondirective leader grew anxious at their first meeting and
expressed fears of what could happen in the group and who might become a casualty of
the experience. One member spoke of a recent news report of a group of seemingly
“normal” high school students who beat a homeless man to death. Their anxiety lessened
when the leader commented that they were all concerned about the harmful forces that
could be unleashed as a result of joining this group of seemingly “normal” residents.
The Second Stage: Conflict, Dominance, Rebellion
If the first core concern of a group is with “in or out,” then the next is with “top or
bottom.”14 In this second, “storming” stage, the group shifts from preoccupation with
acceptance, approval, commitment to the group, definitions of accepted behavior, and the
search for orientation, structure, and meaning, to a preoccupation with dominance, control,
and power. The conflict characteristic of this phase is among members or between
members and leader. Each member attempts to establish his or her preferred amount of
initiative and power. Gradually, a control hierarchy, a social pecking order, emerges.
Negative comments and intermember criticism are more frequent; members often
appear to feel entitled to a one-way analysis and judgment of others. As in the first stage,
advice is given but in the context of a different social code: social conventions are
abandoned, and members feel free to make personal criticism about a complainer’s
behavior or attitudes. Judgments are made of past and present life experiences and styles.
It is a time of “oughts” and “shoulds” in the group, a time when the “peercourt” 15 is in
session. Members make suggestions or give advice, not as a manifestation of deep
acceptance and understanding—sentiments yet to emerge in the group—but in the service
of jockeying for position.
The struggle for control is part of the infrastructure of every group. It is always present,
sometimes quiescent, sometimes smoldering, sometimes in full conflagration. If there are
members with strong needs to dominate, control may be the major theme of the early
meetings. A dormant struggle for control often becomes more overt when new members
are added to the group, especially new members who do not “know their place” and,
instead of making obeisance to the older members in accordance with their seniority, make

strong early bids for dominance.
The emergence of hostility toward the therapist is inevitable in the development of a
group. Many observers have emphasized an early stage of ambivalence to the therapist
coupled with resistance to self-examination and self-disclosure. Hostility toward the leader
has its source in the unrealistic, indeed magical, attributes with which clients secretly
imbue the therapist. Their expectations are so limitless that they are bound to be
disappointed by any therapist, however competent. Gradually, as they recognize the
therapist’s limitations, reality sets in and hostility to the leader dissipates.
This is by no means a clearly conscious process. The members may intellectually
advocate a democratic group that draws on its own resources but nevertheless may, on a
deeper level, crave dependency and attempt first to create and then destroy an authority
figure. Group therapists refuse to fill the traditional authority role: they do not lead in the
ordinary manner; they do not provide answers and solutions; they urge the group to
explore and to employ its own resources. The members’ wish lingers, however, and it is
usually only after several sessions that the group members come to realize that the
therapist will frustrate their yearning for the ideal leader.
Yet another source of resentment toward the leader lies in the gradual recognition by
each member that he or she will not become the leader’s favorite child. During the
pretherapy session, each member comes to harbor the fantasy that the therapist is his or
her very own therapist, intensely interested in the minute details of that client’s past,
present, and fantasy world. In the early meetings of the group, however, each member
begins to realize that the therapist is no more interested in him or her than in the others;
seeds are sown for the emergence of rivalrous, hostile feelings toward the other members.
Each member feels, in some unclear manner, betrayed by the therapist. Echoes of prior
issues with siblings may emerge and members begin to appreciate the importance of peer
interactions in the work of the group.†
These unrealistic expectations of the leader and consequent disenchantment are by no
means a function of childlike mentality or psychological naivete. The same phenomena
occur, for example, in groups of professional psychotherapists. In fact, there is no better
way for the trainee to appreciate the group’s proclivity both to elevate and to attack the
leader than to be a member of a training or therapy group and to experience these
powerful feelings firsthand. Some theorists16 take Freud’s Totem and Taboo†17 literally
and regard the group’s pattern of relationship with the leader as a recapitulation of the
primal horde patricide. Freud does indeed suggest at one point that modern group
phenomena have their prehistoric analogues in the mist of ancient, primal horde events:
“Thus the group appears to us as a revival of the primal horde. Just as primitive man
survives potentially in every individual, so the primal horde may arise once more out of
any random collection; insofar as men are habitually under the sway of group formation,
we recognize in it the survival of the primal horde.”18 The primal horde is able to free
itself from restrictive, growth-inhibiting bonds and progress to a more satisfying existence
only after the awesome leader has been removed.
The members are never unanimous in their attack on the therapist. Invariably, some

champions of the therapist will emerge from the group. The lineup of attackers and
defenders may serve as a valuable guide for the understanding of characterological trends
useful for future work in the group. Generally, the leaders of this phase, those members
who are earliest and most vociferous in their attack, are heavily conflicted in the area of
dependency and have dealt with intolerable dependency yearnings by reaction formation.
These individuals, sometimes labeled counterdependents, 19 are inclined to reject prima
facie all statements by the therapist and to entertain the fantasy of unseating and replacing
the leader.
For example, approximately three-fourths of the way through the first meeting of a
group for clients with bulimia, I asked for the members’ reflections on the meeting: How
had it gone for them? Disappointments? Surprises? One member, who was to control the
direction of the group for the next several weeks, commented that it had gone precisely as
she had expected; in fact, it had been almost disappointingly predictable. The strongest
feeling that she had had thus far, she added, was anger toward me because I had asked one
of the members a question that evoked a brief period of weeping. She had felt then,
“They’ll never break me down like that!” Her first impressions were very predictive of her
behavior for some time to come. She remained on guard and strove to be self-possessed
and in control at all times. She regarded me not as an ally but as an adversary and was
sufficiently forceful to lead the group into a major emphasis on control issues for the first
several sessions.
If therapy is to be successful, counterdependent members must at some point experience
their flip side and recognize and work through deep dependency cravings. The challenge
in their therapy is first to understand that their counterdependent behavior often evokes
rebuke and rejection from others before their wish to be nourished and protected can be
experienced or expressed.
Other members invariably side with the therapist. They must be helped to investigate
their need to defend the therapist at all costs, regardless of the issue involved.
Occasionally, clients defend you because they have encountered a series of unreliable
objects and misperceive you as extraordinarily frail; others need to preserve you because
they fantasize an eventual alliance with you against other powerful members of the group.
Beware that you do not unknowingly transmit covert signals of personal distress to which
the rescuers appropriately respond.
Many of these conflicted feelings crystallize around the issue of the leader’s name. Are
you to be referred to by professional title (Dr. Jones or, even more impersonally, the doctor
or the counselor) or by first name? Some members will immediately use the therapist’s
first name or even a diminutive of the name, before inquiring about the therapist’s
preference. Others, even after the therapist has wholeheartedly agreed to proceeding on a
first-name basis, still cannot bring themselves to mouth such irreverence and continue to
bundle the therapist up in a professional title. One client, a successful businessman who
had been consistently shamed and humiliated by a domineering father insisted on
addressing the therapist as “Doctor” because he claimed this was a way to ensure that he
was getting his money’s worth.

Although I have posited disenchantment and anger with the leader as a ubiquitous
feature of small groups, by no means is the process constant across groups in form or
degree. The therapist’s behavior may potentiate or mitigate both the experience and the
expression of rebellion. Thus, one prominent sociologist, who has for many years led
sensitivity-training groups of college students, reports that inevitably there is a powerful
insurrection against the leader, culminating in the members removing him or her bodily
from the group room.20 I, on the other hand, led similar groups for more than a decade and
never encountered a rebellion so extreme that members physically ejected me from the
room. Such a difference can be due only to differences in leader styles and behavior. What
kind of leader evokes the most negative responses? Generally it is those who are
ambiguous or deliberately enigmatic; those who are authoritative yet offer no structure or
guidelines; or those who covertly make unrealistic promises to the group early in
therapy.21
This stage is often difficult and personally unpleasant for group therapists. Let me
remind neophyte therapists that you are essential to the survival of the group. The
members cannot afford to liquidate you: you will always be defended. For your own
comfort, however, you must learn to discriminate between an attack on your person and an
attack on your role in the group. The group’s response to you is similar to transference
distortion in individual therapy in that it is not directly related to your behavior, but its
source in the group must be understood from both an individual psychodynamic and a
group dynamic viewpoint.
Therapists who are particularly threatened by a group attack protect themselves in a
variety of ways.†22 Once I was asked to act as a consultant for two therapy groups, each
approximately twenty-five sessions old, that had developed similar problems: both groups
seemed to have reached a plateau, no new ground appeared to have been broken for
several weeks, and the members seemed to have withdrawn their interest in the groups. A
study of current meetings and past protocols revealed that neither group had yet directly
dealt with any negative feelings toward the therapists. However, the reasons for this
inhibition were quite different in the two groups. In the first group, the two co-therapists
(first-time leaders) had clearly exposed their throats, as it were, to the group and, through
their obvious anxiety, uncertainty, and avoidance of hostility-laden issues, pleaded frailty.
In addition, they both desired to be loved by all the members and had been at all times so
benevolent and so solicitous that an attack by the group members would have appeared
unseemly and ungrateful.
The therapists of the second group had forestalled an attack in a different fashion: they
remained aloof, Olympian figures whose infrequent, ostensibly profound interventions
were delivered in an authoritarian manner. At the end of each meeting, they summarized,
often in unnecessarily complex language, the predominant themes and each member’s
contributions. To attack these therapists would have been both impious and perilous.
Therapist countertransference in these two instances obstructed the group’s work.
Placing one’s own emotional needs ahead of the group’s needs is a recipe for failure.23
Either of these two leadership styles tends to inhibit a group; suppression of important

ambivalent feelings about the therapist results in a counterproductive taboo that opposes
the desired norm of interpersonal honesty and emotional expression. Furthermore, an
important model-setting opportunity is lost. The therapist who withstands an attack
without being either destroyed or vindictive but instead responds by attempting to
understand and work through the sources and effects of the attack demonstrates to the
group that aggression need not be lethal and that it can be expressed and understood in the
group.
One of the consequences of suppression of therapist-directed anger for the two groups
in question, and for most groups, is the emergence of displaced, off-target aggression. For
example, one group persisted for several weeks in attacking doctors. Previous unfortunate
experiences with doctors, hospitals, and individual therapists were described in detail,
often with considerable group consensus on the injustices and inhumanity of the medical
profession. In one group, a member attacked the field of psychotherapy by bringing in a
Psychology Today article that purported to prove that psychotherapy is ineffective. At
other times, police, teachers, and other representatives of authority are awarded similar
treatment.
Scapegoating of other members is another off-target manifestation. It is highly
improbable for scapegoating to persist in a group in the absence of the therapist’s
collusion. The leader who cannot be criticized openly generally is the source of
scapegoating. Peer attack is a safer way of expressing aggression and rivalry or of
elevating one’s status in the group. Added to this dynamic is the group members’
unconscious need to project unacceptable aspects of self onto a group member in an
attempt to reduce the risk of personal rejection by the group. At its worst, this scapegoated
member can be sacrificed by the group under the covert and misguided belief that if only
it were not for this one member, the group would become a utopia.24
Yet another source of group conflict originates in the intrinsic process of change.
Rigidly entrenched attitudes and behavioral patterns are challenged by other members, and
each individual is faced with the discomfort of letting go of old patterns. A useful
paradigm of change in group work consists of the sequence of unfreezing, change, and
refreezing. 25 The stage of “unfreezing” naturally entails a degree of challenge and
conflict. Individuals adhere to their beliefs about relationships and cling to what is familiar
to them. At first many clients lack the ability to examine themselves and to accept
feedback. Gradually clients acquire the capacity to participate, feel emotion, and then
reflect on that experience. Once that is possible, harmful, habitual patterns of behavior can
be altered.26
The Third Stage: Development of Cohesiveness
A third commonly recognized formative phase of a group is the development of mature
group cohesiveness. After the previous period of conflict, the group gradually develops
into a cohesive unit. Many varied phrases with similar connotations have been used to

describe this phase: in-group consciousness;27 common goal and group spirit;28
consensual group action, cooperation, and mutual support;29 group integration and
mutuality; 30 we-consciousness unity;31 support and freedom of communication;32 and
establishment of intimacy and trust between peers.
In this phase the interpersonal world of the group is one of balance, resonance, safety,
increased morale, trust, and self-disclosure.33 Some members reveal the real reason they
have come for treatment: sexual secrets and long-buried transgressions are shared.
Postgroup coffee meetings may be arranged. Attendance improves, and clients evince
considerable concern about missing members.
The chief concern of the group is with intimacy and closeness. If we characterize
clients’ concerns in the first phase as “in or out” and the second as “top or bottom,” then
we can think of the third phase as “near or far.” The members’ primary anxieties have to
do with not being liked, not being close enough to others, or being too close to others.34
Although there may be greater freedom of self-disclosure in this phase, there may also
be communicational restrictions of another sort: often the group suppresses all expression
of negative affect in the service of cohesion. Compared with the previous stage of group
conflict, all is sweetness and light, and the group basks in the glow of its newly discovered
unity.35 Eventually, however, the glow will pale and the group embrace will seem
ritualistic unless differentiation and conflict in the group are permitted to emerge. Only
when all affects can be expressed and constructively worked through in a cohesive group
does the group become a mature work group—a state lasting for the remainder of the
group’s life, with periodic short-lived recrudescences of each of the earlier phases. Thus
one may think of the stage of growing cohesiveness as consisting of two phases: an early
stage of great mutual support (group against external world) and a more advanced stage of
group work or true teamwork in which tension emerges not out of the struggle for
dominance but out of each member’s struggle with his or her own resistances.
Overview
Now that I have outlined the early stages of group development, let me qualify my
statements lest the novice take the proposed developmental sequence too literally. The
developmental phases are in essence constructs—entities that exist for the group leaders’
semantic and conceptual convenience. Although the research shows persuasively, using
different measures, client populations, and formal change theories, that group
development occurs, the evidence is less clear on whether there is a precise, inviolate
sequence of development. At times the development appears linear; at other times it is
cyclical with a reiterative nature.36 It is also apparent that the boundaries between phases
are not clearly demarcated and that a group does not permanently graduate from one
phase.
Another approach to group development research is to track the course of particular
variables such as cohesion,37 emotionality,38 or intimacy39 through the course of the

group. No linear course exists. In considering group development, think of replacing an
automobile wheel: one tightens the bolts one after another just enough so that the wheel is
in place; then the process is repeated, each bolt being tightened in turn, until the wheel is
entirely secure. In the same way, phases of a group emerge, become dominant, and then
recede, only to have the group return to the same issues with greater thoroughness later.
Thus, it is more accurate to speak of developmental tasks rather than developmental
phases or a predictable developmental sequence. We may, for example, see a sequence of
high engagement and low conflict, followed by lower engagement and higher conflict,
followed by a return to higher engagement.40 Hamburg suggests the term cyclotherapy to
refer to this process of returning to the same issues but from a different perspective and
each time in greater depth.41 Often a therapy group will spend considerable time dealing
with dominance, trust, intimacy, fears, the relationship between the co-therapists, and then,
months later, return to the same topic from an entirely different perspective.
The group leader is well advised to consider not only the forces that promote the
group’s development, but also those that have been identified as antigroup.42 These
common forces encompass individual and societal resistance to joining—the fear of
merging; the fear of loss of one’s sense of independence; the loss of one’s fantasy of
specialness; the fear of seeking but being turned away.
THE IMPACT OF CLIENTS ON GROUP
DEVELOPMENT
The developmental sequence I have described perhaps accurately portrays the unfolding of
events in a theoretical, unpeopled therapy group and is much like the major theme of an
ultramodern symphony that is unintelligible to the untrained ear. In the group, obfuscation
derives from the richness and unpredictability of human interaction, which complicates
the course of treatment and yet contributes to its excitement and challenge.
My experience is that the development of therapy groups is heavily and invariably
influenced by chance—by the particular and unique composition of the group. Often the
course of the group is set by a single member, generally the one with the loudest
interpersonal pathology. By loudest I refer not to severity of pathology but to pathology
that is most immediately manifest in the group. For example, in the first meeting of a
group of incest victims, a member made a number of comments to the effect that she was
disappointed that so many members were present whose healing was at such an earlier
state than hers. Naturally, this evoked considerable anger from the others, who attacked
her for her condescending remarks. Before long this group developed into the angriest,
and least caring, group I’d ever encountered. We cannot claim that this one member put
anger into the group. It would be more accurate to say that she acted as a lightning rod to
release anger that was already present in each of the participants. But had she not been in
the group, it is likely that the anger may have unfolded more slowly, perhaps in a context

of more safety, trust, and cohesiveness. Groups that do not start well face a far more
difficult challenge than ones that follow the kind of developmental sequence described in
this chapter.
Many of the very individuals who seek group therapy struggle with relating and
engaging. That is often why they seek therapy. Many say of themselves, “I am not a group
person.”43 A group composed of several such individuals will doubtless struggle with the
group tasks more than a group containing several members who have had constructive and
effective experience with groups.44
Other individuals who may alter typical group developmental trends include those with
monopolistic proclivities, exhibitionism, promiscuous self-disclosure, or an unbridled
inclination to exert control. Not infrequently, such individuals receive covert
encouragement from the therapist and other group members. Therapists value these clients
because they provide a focus of irritation in the group, stimulate the expression of affect,
and enhance the interest and excitement of a meeting. The other members often initially
welcome the opportunity to hide behind the protagonist as they themselves hesitantly
examine the terrain.
In a study of the dropouts of nine therapy groups, I found that in five of them, a client
with a characteristic pattern of behavior fled the therapy group within the first dozen
meetings.45 These clients (“early provocateurs”) differed from one another dynamically
but assumed a similar role in the group: They stormed in, furiously activated the group,
and then vanished. The therapists described their role in the group in such terms as
“catalysts,” “targets,” “hostile interpreters,” or “the only honest one.” Some of these early
provocateurs were active counterdependents and challenged the therapist early in the
group. One, for example, challenged the leader in the third meeting in several ways: he
suggested that the members hold longer meetings and regular leaderless meetings, and,
only half jokingly, tried to launch an investigation into the leader’s personal problems.
Other provocateurs prided themselves on their honesty and bluntness, mincing no words in
giving the other members candid feedback. Still others, heavily conflicted in intimacy,
both seeking it and fearing it, engaged in considerable self-disclosure and exhorted the
group to reciprocate, often at a reckless pace. Although the early provocateurs usually
claimed that they were impervious to the opinions and evaluations of others, in fact they
cared very much and, in each instance, deeply regretted the nonviable role they had
created for themselves in the group.46
Therapists must recognize this phenomenon early in the group and, through clarification
and interpretation of their role, help prevent these individuals from committing social
suicide. Perhaps even more important, therapists must recognize and discontinue their own
covert encouragement of the early provocateur’s behavior. It is not uncommon for
therapists to be stunned when the early provocateur drops out. They may so welcome the
behavior of these clients that they fail to appreciate the client’s distress as well as their
own dependence on these individuals for keeping the group energized.
It is useful for therapists to take note of their reactions to the absence of the various
members of the group. If some members are never absent, you may fantasize their

absences and your reaction to it. Consider what thoughts, feelings, fantasies and actions
these individuals generate in you, and what they do to generate that impact.47 If you dread
the absence of certain members, feeling that there would be no life in the group that day,
then it is likely that there is too much burden on those individuals and so much secondary
gratification that they will not be able to deal with their primary task in therapy. Given the
responsibility projected onto them, they may well be considered a form of scapegoat,
although a positively viewed one, at least at first.ab
I believe much of the confusion about group development is that each group is, at the
same time, like all groups, like some groups, and like no other group! Of course, all
therapy groups go through some change as they proceed. Of course there is some early
awkwardness, as the group deals with its raison d’être and its boundaries. Of course this is
followed by some tension and by repeated attempts to develop intimacy. And of course all
groups must face termination—the final phase. And from time to time, but only from time
to time, one encounters a group that runs “on schedule.”
Some time ago at an A. K. Rice two-week group workshop, I took part in an intergroup
exercise in which the sixty participants were asked to form four groups in any manner they
wished and then to study the ongoing relationships among the groups. The sixty
participants, in near panic, stampeded from the large room toward the four rooms
designated for the four small groups. The panic, an inevitable part of this exercise,
probably stemmed from primitive fears of exclusion from a group.48 In the group in which
I participated, the first words spoken after approximately sixteen members had entered the
room were, “Close the door. Don’t let anyone else in!” The first act of the group was to
appoint an official doorkeeper. Once the group’s boundaries were defined and its identity
vis-à-vis the outside world established, the group turned its attention to regulating the
distribution of power by speedily electing a chairman, before multiple bids for leadership
could immobilize the group. Only later did the group experience and discuss feelings of
trust and intimacy and then, much later, feelings of sadness as the group approached
termination.
In summary, there are some advantages to group therapists’ possessing some broad
schema of a group developmental sequence: It enables them to maintain objectivity and to
chart the voyage of a group despite considerable yawing, and to recognize if a group never
progresses past a certain stage or omits some. At times, therapists may demand something
for which the group is not yet ready: mutual caring and concern develop late in the group;
in the beginning, caring may be more pro forma as members view one another as
interlopers or rivals for the healing touch of the therapist. The therapist who is aware of
normative group development is able to remain more finely tuned to the group.
But there is a downside to the clinical application of group developmental ideas. The
inexperienced therapist may take them too seriously and use them as a template for
clinical practice. I have seen beginning therapists exert energy on forcing a group, in
procrustean fashion, to progress in lockstep through set phases. Such formulaic therapy—
and it grows more common in these days of standardized therapy via treatment manual—
lessens the possibility of real therapist-client engagement. The sacrifice of realness, of

authenticity, in the therapeutic relationship is no minor loss: It is the loss of the very heart
of psychotherapy.
Certainly, the first generations of psychotherapy manuals diminished the authenticity of
therapy by their slavish attention to adherence to the model. More contemporary therapy
manuals do less micromanaging of treatment and provide more scope for therapist
flexibility and naturalness.49
Psychotherapy, whether with a group or with an individual client, should be a shared
journey of discovery. There is danger in every system of “stages”—in the therapist having
fixed, preconceived ideas and procedural protocols in any kind of growth-oriented therapy.
It is precisely for this reason that some trends forced on the field by managed care are so
toxic.
In the mid-1970s, I began the first group for cancer patients with Katy Weers, a
remarkable woman with advanced breast cancer. She often railed about the harm brought
to the field by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s “stages” of dying, and dreamed of writing a book
to refute this concept. To experience the client against a template of stages interferes with
the very thing so deeply desired by clients: “therapeutic presence.” Katy and I both
suspected that therapists cloaked themselves in the mythology of “stages” to muffle their
own death anxiety.
MEMBERSHIP PROBLEMS
The early developmental sequence of a therapy group is powerfully influenced by
membership problems. Turnover in membership, tardiness, and absence are facts of life in
the developing group and often threaten its stability and integrity. Considerable
absenteeism may redirect the group’s attention and energy away from its developmental
tasks toward the problem of maintaining membership. It is the therapist’s task to
discourage irregular attendance and, when necessary, to replace dropouts appropriately by
adding new members.
Turnover
In the normal course of events, a substantial number of members drop out of
interactionally based groups in the first twelve meetings (see table 8.1). If two or more
members drop out, new members are usually added—but often a similar percentage of
these additions drop out in their first dozen or so meetings. Only after this does the group
solidify and begin to engage in matters other than those concerning group stability.
Generally, by the time clients have remained in the group for approximately twenty
meetings, they have made the necessary long-term commitment. In an attendance study of
five groups, there was considerable turnover in membership within the first twelve

meetings, a settling in between the twelfth and twentieth, and near-perfect attendance,
with excellent punctuality and no dropouts, between the twentieth and forty-fifth meetings
(the end of the study).50 Most studies demonstrate the same findings.51 It is unusual for the
number of later dropouts to exceed that of earlier phases.52 In one study in which attrition
in later phases was higher, the authors attributed the large numbers of later dropouts to
mounting discomfort arising from the greater intimacy of the group. Some groups had a
wave of dropouts; one dropout seemed to seed others. As noted in chapter 8, prior or
concurrent individual therapy substantially reduces the risk of premature termination.53
In general, short-term groups report lower dropout rates.54 In closed, time-limited
groups, it is useful to start with a large enough number of clients that the group can
withstand some attrition and yet be sufficiently robust for the duration of the group’s
course. Too large a starting size invites dropouts from individuals who will feel detached
and peripheral to the group. Starting with nine or ten members is probably ideal in this
situation.
Attendance and Punctuality
Despite the therapist’s initial encouragement of regular attendance and punctuality,
difficulties usually arise in the early stages of a group. At times the therapist, buffeted by
excuses from clients—baby-sitting problems, vacations, transportation difficulties, work
emergencies, out-of-town guests—becomes resigned to the impossibility of synchronizing
the schedules of eight busy people. Resist that course! Tardiness and irregular attendance
usually signify resistance to therapy and should be regarded as they are in individual
therapy. When several members are often late or absent, search for the source of the group
resistance; for some reason, cohesiveness is limited and the group is foundering. If a group
solidifies into a hard-working cohesive group, then—mirabile dictu—the baby-sitting and
scheduling problems vanish and there may be perfect attendance and punctuality for many
months.
At other times, the resistance is individual rather than group based. I am continually
amazed by the transformation in some individuals, who for long periods have been tardy
because of “absolutely unavoidable” contingencies—for example, periodic business
conferences, classroom rescheduling, child care emergencies—and then, after recognizing
and working through the resistance, become the most punctual members for months on
end. One periodically late member hesitated to involve himself in the group because of his
shame about his impotence and homosexual fantasies. After he disclosed these concerns
and worked through his feelings of shame, he found that the crucial business commitments
responsible for his lateness—commitments that, he later revealed, consisted of perusing
his mail—suddenly evaporated.
Whatever the basis for resistance, it is behavior that must, for several reasons, be
modified before it can be understood and worked through. For one thing, irregular
attendance is destructive to the group. It is contagious and leads to group demoralization.

Obviously, it is impossible to work on an issue in the absence of the relevant members.
Few exercises are more futile than addressing the wrong audience by deploring irregular
attendance with the group members who are present—the regular, punctual participants.
Groups are generally supportive of individuals who are genuinely trying to attend
regularly but fall short, in contrast to their intolerance of those who lack real commitment
to the group.
Various methods of influencing attendance have been adopted by therapists. During
pretherapy interviews, many therapists stress the importance of regular attendance. Clients
who appear likely to have scheduling or transportation problems are best referred for
individual therapy, as are those who must be out of town once a month or who, a few
weeks after the group begins, plan an extended out-of-town vacation. Charging full fees
for missed sessions is standard practice. Many private practitioners set a fixed monthly
fee, which is not reduced for missed meetings for any reason.
There are few more resistant group clients than men who have physically abused their
partners. At the same time, there is robust evidence that group interventions are effective
with this population, if the men continue in treatment. However, dropout rates of 40–60
percent within three months are not uncommon. Clinicians working with this population
have tackled the problem of poor motivation directly with intensive pregroup training,
including psychoeducational videos to increase empathy for the victims and inform
abusers about the physiology and psychology of violence. 55 An even simpler intervention
has proven powerfully effective. In a study of 189 men, group leaders who reached out
actively via phone calls, expressions of concern, and personalized alliance-building
measures produced dramatic results. These simple, low-tech interventions significantly
increased both attendance and tenure in both interpersonal and cognitive-behavioral group
therapies and significantly reduced the incidence of domestic violence.56
It is critical that the therapist be utterly convinced of the importance of the therapy
group and of regular attendance. The therapist who acts on this conviction will transmit it
to the group members. Thus, therapists should arrive punctually, award the group high
priority in their own schedule, and, if they must miss a meeting, inform the group of their
absence weeks in advance. It is not uncommon to find that therapist absence or group
cancellation may be followed by poor attendance.
• Upon arriving at a psychotherapy group for elderly men, I discovered that half
the group of eight was absent. Illness, family visits, and conflicting appointments
all conspired to diminish turnout. As I surveyed the room strewn with empty chairs,
one man spoke up and suggested with some resignation that we cancel the group
since so many members were away. My first reaction was one of quiet relief at the
prospect of unexpected free time in my day. My next thought was that canceling the
meeting was a terrible message to those present. In fact, the message would echo
the diminishment, isolation, and unwantedness that the men felt in their lives.
Therefore I suggested that it might be even more important than ever to meet today.
The men actively embraced my comment as well as my suggestion that we remove
the unnecessary chairs and tighten the circle so that we could hear one another

better.
A member who has a poor attendance record (whatever the reason) is unlikely to benefit
from the group. In a study of ninety-eight group participants, Stone and his colleagues
found that poor attendance early in the group was linearly related to late dropout (at six to
twelve months).57 Thus, inconsistent attendance demands decisive intervention.
• In a new group, one member, Dan, was consistently late or absent. Whenever the
co-therapists discussed his attendance, it was clear that Dan had valid excuses: his
life and his business were in such crisis that unexpected circumstances repeatedly
arose to make attendance impossible. The group as a whole had not jelled; despite
the therapists’ efforts, other members were often late or absent, and there was
considerable flight during the sessions. At the twelfth meeting, the therapists
decided that decisive action was necessary. They advised Dan to leave the group,
explaining that his schedule was such that the group could be of little value to him.
They offered to help Dan arrange individual therapy, which would provide greater
scheduling flexibility. Although the therapists’ motives were not punitive and
although they were thorough in their explanation, Dan was deeply offended and
walked out in anger midway through the meeting. The other members, extremely
threatened, supported Dan to the point of questioning the therapists’ authority to
ask a member to leave.
Despite the initial, raucous reaction of the group, it was soon clear that the
therapists had made the proper intervention. One of the co-therapists phoned Dan
and saw him individually for two sessions, then referred him to an appropriate
therapist for individual therapy. Dan soon appreciated that the therapists were
acting not punitively but in his best interests: irregularly attending a therapy group
would not have been effective therapy for him. The group was immediately
affected: attendance abruptly improved and remained near perfect over the next
several months. The members, once they had recovered from their fear of similar
banishment, gradually disclosed their approval of the therapists’ act and their
great resentment toward Dan and, to a lesser extent, toward some of the other
members for having treated the group in such a cavalier fashion.
Some therapists attempt to improve attendance by harnessing group pressure—for
example, by refusing to hold a meeting until a predetermined number of members (usually
three or four) are present. Even without formalization of this sort, the pressure exerted by
the rest of the group is an effective lever to bring to bear on errant members. The group is
often frustrated and angered by the repetitions and false starts necessitated by irregular
attendance. The therapist should encourage the members to express their reactions to late
or absent members. Be mindful, though, that the therapist’s concern about attendance is
not always shared by the members: a young or immature group often welcomes the small
meeting, regarding it as an opportunity for more individual attention from the leader.
Similarly, be cautious not to punish the regular participants by withholding treatment in
the process of applying group pressure on the absent members.
Like any event in the group, absenteeism or tardiness is a form of behavior that reflects

an individual’s characteristic patterns of relating to others. Be sure to examine the personal
meaning of the client’s action. If Mary arrives late, does she apologize? Does Joe enter in
a thoughtless, exhibitionistic manner? Does Sally arrive late because she experiences
herself as nonentity who makes no contribution to the group’s life in any event? Does
Ralph come as he chooses because he believes nothing of substance happens without him
anyway? Does Peg ask for a recap of the events of the meeting? Is her relation with the
group such that the members provide her with a recap? If Stan is absent, does he phone in
advance to let the group know? Does he offer complex, overelaborate excuses, as though
convinced he will not be believed? Not infrequently, a client’s psychopathology is
responsible for poor attendance. For example, one man who sought therapy because of a
crippling fear of authority figures and a pervasive inability to assert himself in
interpersonal situations was frequently late because he was unable to muster the courage
to interrupt a conversation or a conference with a business associate. An obsessive-
compulsive client was late because he felt compelled to clean his desk over and over
before leaving his office.
Thus, absenteeism and lateness are part of the individual’s social microcosm and, if
handled properly, may be harnessed in the service of self-understanding. For both the
group’s and the individual’s sake, however, they must be corrected before being analyzed.
No interpretation can be heard by an absent group member. In fact, the therapist must
attend to the timing of his comments to the returning member. Clients who have been
absent or are late often enter the meeting with some defensive guilt or shame and are not
in an optimal state of receptiveness for observations about their behavior. The therapist
does well to attend first to group maintenance and norm-setting tasks and then, later, when
the timing seems right and defensiveness diminished, attempt to help the individual
explore the meaning of his or her behavior. The timing of feedback is particularly
important for members who have greater psychological vulnerability and less mature
relationships.58
Group members who must miss a meeting or arrive late should, as they were advised in
pregroup preparation, phone the therapist in advance in order to spare the group from
wasting time expressing curiosity or concern about their absence. Often, in advanced
groups, the fantasies of group members about why someone is absent provide valuable
material for the therapeutic process; in early groups, however, such speculations tend to be
superficial and unfruitful.
An important adage of interactional group therapy, which I emphasize many times
throughout this book, is that any event in the group can serve as grist for the interpersonal
mill. Even the absence of a member can generate important, previously unexplored
material.
• A group composed of four women and three men held its eighth meeting in the
absence of two of the men. Albert, the only male present, had previously been
withdrawn and submissive in the group, but in this meeting a dramatic
transformation occurred. He erupted into activity, talked about himself, questioned
the other members, spoke loudly and forcefully, and, on a couple of occasions,

challenged the therapist. His nonverbal behavior was saturated with quasi-
courtship bids directed at the women members: for example, frequent adjustment
of his shirt collar and preening of the hair at his temples. Later in the meeting, the
group focused on Albert’s change, and he realized and expressed his fear and envy
of the two missing males, both of whom were aggressive and assertive. He had
long experienced a pervasive sense of social and sexual impotence, which had
been reinforced by his feeling that he had never made a significant impact on any
group of people and especially any group of women. In subsequent weeks, Albert
did much valuable work on these issues—issues that might not have become
accessible for many months without the adventitious absence of the two other
members.
My clinical preference is to encourage attendance but never, regardless of how small the
group is, to cancel a session. There is considerable therapeutic value in the client’s
knowing that the group is always there, stable and reliable: its constancy will in time beget
constancy of attendance. I have led many small group sessions, with as few as two
members, that have proved to be critical for those attending. The technical problem with
such meetings is that without the presence of interaction, the therapist may revert to
focusing on intrapsychic processes in a manner characteristic of individual therapy and
forgo group and interpersonal issues. It is far more therapeutically consistent to focus in
depth on group and interpersonal processes even in the smallest of sessions. Consider the
following clinical example from a ten-month-old group:
• For various reasons—vacations, illnesses, resistance—only two members
attended: Wanda, a thirty-eight-year-old depressed woman with borderline
personality disorder who had twice required hospitalization, and Martin, a twenty-
three-year-old man with schizoid personality disorder who was psychosexually
immature and suffered from moderately severe ulcerative colitis.
Wanda spent much of the early part of the meeting describing the depth of her
despair, which during the past week had reached such proportions that she had
been preoccupied with suicide and, since the group therapist was out of town, had
visited the emergency room at the hospital. While there, she had surreptitiously
read her medical chart and seen a consultation note written a year earlier by the
group therapist in which he had diagnosed her as borderline. She said that she had
been anticipating this diagnosis and now wanted the therapist to hospitalize her.
Martin then recalled a fragment of a dream he had several weeks before but had
not discussed: the therapist was sitting at a large desk interviewing Martin, who
stood up and looked at the paper on which the therapist is writing. There he saw in
huge letters one word covering the entire page: IMPOTENT. The therapist helped
both Wanda and Martin discuss their feelings of awe, helpless dependence, and
resentment toward him as well as their inclination to shift responsibility and
project onto him their bad feelings about themselves.
Wanda proceeded to underscore her helplessness by describing her inability to
cook for herself and her delinquency in paying her bills, which was so extreme that

she now feared police action against her. The therapist and Martin both discussed
her persistent reluctance to comment on her positive accomplishments—for
example, her continued excellence as a teacher. The therapist wondered whether
her presentation of herself as helpless was not designed to elicit responses of
caring and concern from the other members and the therapist—responses that she
felt would be forthcoming in no other way.
Martin then mentioned that he had gone to the medical library the previous day
to read some of the therapist’s professional articles. In response to the therapist’s
question about what he really wanted to find out, Martin answered that he guessed
he really wanted to know how the therapist felt about him and proceeded to
describe, for the first time, his longing for the therapist’s sole attention and love.
Later, the therapist expressed his concern at Wanda’s reading his note in her
medical record. Since there is a realistic component to a client’s anxiety on
learning that her therapist has diagnosed her as borderline, the therapist candidly
discussed both his own discomfort at having to use diagnostic labels for hospital
records and the confusion surrounding psychiatric nosological terminology; he
recalled as best he could his reasons for using that particular label and its
implications.
Wanda then commented on the absent members and wondered whether she had
driven them from the group (a common reaction). She dwelled on her unworthiness
and, at the therapist’s suggestion, made an inventory of her baleful characteristics,
citing her slovenliness, selfishness, greed, envy, and hostile feelings toward all
those in her social environment. Martin both supported Wanda and identified with
her, since he recognized many of these feelings in himself. He discussed how
difficult it was for him to reveal himself in the group (Martin had disclosed very
little of himself previously in the group). Later, he discussed his fear of getting
drunk or losing control in other ways: for one thing, he might become indiscreet
sexually. He then discussed, for the first time, his fear of sex, his impotence, his
inability to maintain an erection, and his last-minute refusals to take advantage of
sexual opportunities. Wanda empathized deeply with Martin and, although she had
for some time regarded sex as abhorrent, expressed the strong wish (a wish, not an
intention) to help him by offering herself to him sexually. Martin then described his
strong sexual attraction to her, and later both he and Wanda discussed their sexual
feelings toward the other members of the group. The therapist made the
observation, one that proved subsequently to be of great therapeutic importance to
Wanda, that her interest in Martin and her desire to offer herself to him sexually
belied many of the items in her inventory: her selfishness, greed, and ubiquitous
hostility to others.
Although only two members were present at this meeting, they met as a group and not
as two individual clients. The other members were discussed in absentia, and previously
undisclosed interpersonal feelings between the two clients and toward the therapist were
expressed and analyzed. It was a valuable session, deeply meaningful to both participants.

It is worth noting here that talking about group members in their absence is not “talking
behind people’s backs.” A member’s absence cannot dictate what gets addressed by those
in attendance, although it is essential that absent members be brought back into the loop
upon their return. Mailing out a group summary (see chapter 14) is a good way to
accomplish this.
Dropouts
There is no more threatening problem for the neophyte group therapist (and for many
experienced therapists as well) than the dropout from group therapy. Dropouts concerned
me greatly when I first started to lead groups, and my first group therapy research was a
study of all the group participants who had dropped out of the therapy groups in a large
psychiatric clinic.59 It is no minor problem. As I discussed earlier, the group therapy
demographic research demonstrates that a substantial number of clients will leave a group
prematurely regardless of what the therapist does. In fact, some clinicians suggest that
dropouts are not only inevitable but necessary in the sifting process involved in achieving
a cohesive group.60
Consider, too, that the existence of an escape hatch may be essential to allow some
members to make their first tentative commitments to the group. The group must have
some decompression mechanism: mistakes in the selection process are inevitable,
unexpected events occur in the lives of new members, and group incompatibilities
develop. Some intensive weeklong human relations laboratories or encounter groups that
meet at a geographically isolated place lack a way of escape; on several occasions, I have
seen psychotic reactions in participants forced to continue in an incompatible group.
There are various reasons for premature termination (see chapter 8). It is often
productive to think about the dropout phenomenon from the perspective of the interaction
of three factors: the client, the group, and the therapist.61 In general, client contributions
stem from problems caused by deviancy, conflicts in intimacy and disclosure, the role of
the early provocateur, external stress, complications of concurrent individual and group
therapy, inability to share the leader, and fear of emotional contagion. Underlying all these
reasons is the potential stress early in the group. Individuals who have maladaptive
interpersonal patterns are exposed to unaccustomed demands for candor and intimacy;
they are often confused about procedure; they suspect that the group activities bear little
relevance to their problem; and, finally, they feel too little support in the early meetings to
sustain their hope.
Group factors include the consequences of subgrouping, poor compositional match of
clients, scapegoating, member-member impasses, or unresolved conflict. The therapists
also play a role: they may select members too hurriedly, they may not prepare members
adequately, they may not attend to building group cohesion, or they may be influenced by
unresolved countertransference reactions.

Preventing Dropouts. As I discussed earlier, the two most important methods of
decreasing the dropout rate are proper selection and comprehensive pretherapy
preparation. It is especially important that in the preparation procedure, the therapist make
it clear that periods of discouragement are to be expected in the therapy process. Clients
are less likely to lose confidence in a therapist who appears to have the foreknowledge that
stems from experience. In fact, the more specific the prediction, the greater its power. For
example, it may be reassuring to a socially anxious and phobic individual to anticipate that
there will be times in the group when he will wish to flee, or that he will dread coming to
the next meeting. The therapist can emphasize that the group is a social laboratory and
suggest that the client has the choice of making the group yet another instance of failure
and avoidance or, for the first time, staying in the group and experimenting, in a low-risk
situation, with new behaviors. Some groups contain experienced group members who
assume some of this predictive function, as in the following case:
• One group graduated several members and was reconstituted by adding five new
members to the remaining three veteran members. In the first two meetings, the old
members briefed the new ones and told them, among other things, that by the sixth
or seventh meeting some member would decide to drop out and then the group
would have to drop everything for a couple of meetings to persuade him to stay.
The old members went on to predict which of the new members would be the first
to decide to terminate. This form of prediction is a most effective manner of
ensuring that it is not fulfilled.
Despite painstaking preparation, however, many clients will consider dropping out.
When a member informs a therapist that he or she wishes to leave the group, a common
approach is to urge the client to attend the next meeting to discuss it with the other group
members. Underlying this practice is the assumption that the group will help the client
work through resistance and thereby dissuade him or her from terminating. This approach,
however, is rarely successful. In one study of thirty-five dropouts from nine therapy
groups (with a total original membership of ninety-seven clients), I found that every one of
the dropouts had been urged to return for another meeting, but not once did this final
session avert premature termination.62 Furthermore, there were no group continuers who
had threatened to drop out and were salvaged by this technique, despite considerable
group time spent in the effort. In short, asking the client who has decided to drop out to
return for a final meeting is usually an ineffective use of group time.
Generally, the therapist is well advised to see a potential dropout for a short series of
individual interviews to discuss the sources of group stress. Occasionally an accurate,
penetrating interpretation will keep a client in therapy.
• Joseph, an alienated client with schizoid personality disorder, announced in the
eighth meeting that he felt he was getting nowhere in the group and was
contemplating termination. In an individual session, he told the therapist
something he had never been able to say in the group—namely, that he had many
positive feelings toward a couple of the group members. Nevertheless, he insisted
that the therapy was ineffective and that he desired a more accelerated and precise

form of therapy. The therapist correctly interpreted Joseph’s intellectual criticism
of the group therapy format as a rationalization: he was, in fact, fleeing from the
closeness he had felt in the group. The therapist again explained the social
microcosm phenomenon and clarified for Joseph that in the group he was
repeating his lifelong style of relating to others. He had always avoided or fled
intimacy and no doubt would always do so in the future unless he stopped running
and allowed himself the opportunity to explore his interpersonal problems in vivo.
Joseph continued in the group and eventually made considerable gains in therapy.
In general the therapist can decrease premature termination by attending assiduously to
early phase problems. I will have much to say later in this text about self-disclosure, but
for now keep in mind that outliers—excessively active members and excessively quiet
members—are both dropout risks. Try to balance self-disclosure. It may be necessary to
slow the pace of a client who too quickly reveals deeply personal details before
establishing engagement. On the other hand, members who remain silent session after
session may become demoralized and increasingly frightened of self-disclosure.
Negative feelings, misgivings, and apprehensions about the group or the therapeutic
alliance must be addressed and not pushed underground. Moreover, the expression of
positive affects should also be encouraged and, whenever possible, modeled by the
therapist.63
Inexperienced therapists are particularly threatened by the client who expresses a wish
to drop out. They begin to fear that, one by one, their group members will leave and that
they will one day come to the group and find themselves alone in the room. (And what,
then, do they tell their group supervisor?) Therapists for whom this fantasy truly takes
hold cease to be therapeutic to the group. The balance of power shifts. They feel
blackmailed. They begin to be seductive, cajoling—anything to entice the clients back to
future meetings. Once this happens, of course, any therapeutic leverage is lost entirely.
After struggling in my own clinical work with the problem of group dropouts over
many years, I have finally achieved some resolution of the issue. By shifting my personal
attitude, I no longer have group therapy dropouts. But I do have group therapy throwouts!
I do not mean that I frequently ask members to leave a therapy group, but I am perfectly
prepared to do so if it is clear that the member is not working in the group. I am persuaded
(from my clinical experience and from empirical research findings) that group therapy is a
highly effective mode of psychotherapy. If an individual is not going to be able to profit
from it, then I want to get that person out of the group and into a more appropriate mode
of therapy , and bring someone else into the group who will be able to use what the group
has to offer.
This method of reducing dropouts is more than a specious form of bookkeeping; it
reflects a posture of the therapist that increases the commitment to work. Once you have
achieved this particular mental set, you communicate it to your clients in direct and
indirect ways. You convey your confidence in the therapeutic modality and your
expectation that each client will use the group for effective work.

Removing a Client from a Group. Taking a client out of a therapy group is an act of
tremendous significance for both that individual and the group. Hence it must be
approached thoughtfully. Once a therapist determines that a client is not working
effectively, the next step is to identify and remove all possible obstacles to the client’s
productive engagement in the group. If the therapist has done everything possible yet is
still unable to alter the situation, there is every reason to expect one of the following
outcomes: (1) the client will ultimately drop out of the group without benefit (or without
further benefit); (2) the client may be harmed by further group participation (because of
negative interaction or the adverse consequences of the deviant role—see chapter 8); or
(3) the client will substantially obstruct the group work for the remaining group members.
Hence, it is folly to adopt a laissez-faire posture: the time has come to remove the client
from the group.
How? There is no adroit, subtle way to remove a member from a group. Often the task
is better handled in an individual meeting with the client than in the group. The situation is
so anxiety-provoking for the other members that generally the therapist can expect little
constructive group discussion; moreover, an individual meeting reduces the member’s
public humiliation. It is not helpful to invite the client back for a final meeting to work
things through with the group: if the individual were able to work things through in an
open, nondefensive manner, there would have been no need to ask him or her to leave the
group in the first place. In my experience, such final working-through meetings are
invariably closed, nonproductive, and frustrating.
Whenever you remove a client from the group, you should expect a powerful reaction
from the rest of the group. The ejection of a group member stirs up deep levels of anxiety
associated with rejection or abandonment by the primal group. You may get little support
from the group, even if there is unanimous agreement among the members that the client
should have been asked to leave. Even if, for example, the client had developed a manic
reaction and was disrupting the entire group, the members will still feel threatened by your
decision.
There are two possible interpretations the members may give to your act of removing
the member. One interpretation is rejection and abandonment: that is, that you do not like
the client, you resent him, you’re angry, and you want him out of the group and out of
your sight. Who might be next?
The other interpretation (the correct one, let us hope) is that you are a responsible
mental health professional acting in the best interests of that client and of the remaining
group members. Every individual’s treatment regimen is different, and you made a
responsible decision about the fact that this form of therapy was not suited to a particular
client at this moment. Furthermore, you acted in a professionally responsible manner by
ensuring that the client will receive another form of therapy more likely to be helpful.
The remaining group members generally embrace the first, or rejection, interpretation.
Your task is to help them arrive at the second interpretation. You may facilitate the process

by making clear the reasons for your actions and sharing your decisions about future
therapy for the extruded client, such as individual therapy with you or a referral to a
colleague. Occasionally, the group may receive the decision to remove a member with
relief and appreciation. A sexually abused woman described the extrusion of a sadistic,
destructive male group member as the first time in her life that the “people in charge”
were not helpless or blind to her suffering.

The Departing Member: Therapeutic Considerations. When a client is asked to leave or
chooses to leave a group, the therapist must endeavor to make the experience as
constructive as possible. Such clients ordinarily are considerably demoralized and tend to
view the group experience as one more failure. Even if the client denies this feeling, the
therapist should still assume that it is present and, in a private discussion, provide
alternative methods of viewing the experience. For example, the therapist may present the
notion of readiness or group fit. Some clients are able to profit from group therapy only
after a period of individual therapy; others, for reasons unclear to us, are never able to
work effectively in therapy groups. It is also entirely possible that the client may achieve a
better fit and a successful course of therapy in another group, and this possibility should
be explored. In any case, you should help the removed member understand that this
outcome is not a failure on the client’s part but that, for several possible reasons, a form of
therapy has proved unsuccessful.
It may be useful for the therapist to use the final interview to review in detail the client’s
experience in the group. Occasionally, a therapist is uncertain about the usefulness or the
advisability of confronting someone who is terminating therapy. Should you, for example,
confront the denial of an individual who attributes his dropping out of the group to his
hearing difficulties when, in fact, he had been an extreme deviant and was clearly rejected
by the group? As a general principle, it is useful to consider the client’s entire career in
therapy. If the client is very likely to reenter therapy, a constructive gentle confrontation
will, in the long run, make any subsequent therapy more effective. If, on the other hand,
there is little likelihood that the client will pursue a dynamically oriented therapy, there is
little point in presenting a final interpretation that he or she will never be able to use or
extend. Test the denial. If it is deep, leave it be: there is no point in undermining defenses,
even self-deceptive ones, if you cannot provide a satisfactory substitute. Avoid adding
insight to injury.64
The Addition of New Members
Whenever the group census falls too low (generally five or fewer members), the therapist
should introduce new members. This may occur at any time during the course of the
group, but in the long-term group there are major junctures when new members are
usually added: during the first twelve meetings (to replace early dropouts) and after twelve
to eighteen months (to replace improved, graduating members). With closed, time-limited

groups, there is a narrow window of the first 3–4 weeks in which it is possible to add new
members, and yet provide them with an adequate duration of therapy.

Timing. The success of introducing new members depends in part on proper timing: there
are favorable and unfavorable times to add members. Generally, a group that is in crisis, is
actively engaged in an internecine struggle, or has suddenly entered into a new phase of
development does not favor the addition of new members; it will often reject the
newcomers or else evade confrontation with the pressing group issue and instead redirect
its energy toward them.
Examples include a group that is dealing for the first time with hostile feelings toward a
controlling, monopolistic member or a group that has recently developed such
cohesiveness and trust that a member has, for the first time, shared an extremely important
secret. Some therapists postpone the addition of new members if the group is working
well, even when the census is down to four or five. I prefer not to delay, and promptly
begin to screen candidates. Small groups, even highly cohesive ones, will eventually grow
even smaller through absence or termination and soon will lack the interaction necessary
for effective work. The most auspicious period for adding new members is during a phase
of stagnation in the group. Many groups, especially older ones, sensing the need for new
stimulation, actively encourage the therapist to add members.
In groups for women with metastatic breast cancer,65 the members were very clear
about the timing of new members joining. If the group was dealing with a very ill, dying,
or recently deceased member, the members preferred not to have new additions because
they needed all of their energy and time to address their loss and grief.

Response of the Group. A cartoon cited by a British group therapist portrays a harassed
woman and her child trying to push their way into a crowded train compartment. The child
looks up at his mother and says, “Don’t worry, Mother, at the next stop it will be our turn
to hate!”66 The parallel to new members entering the group is trenchant. Hostility to the
newcomer is evident even in the group that has beseeched the therapist to add new
members, and it may reach potent levels. The extent of the antipathy has even been
labeled “infanticide.”67
I have observed many times that when new members are slated to enter a meeting, the
old members arrive late and may even remain for a few minutes talking together
animatedly in the waiting room while the therapists and the new clients wait in the therapy
room. A content analysis of the session in which a new member or members are
introduced reveals several themes that are hardly consonant with benevolent hospitality.
The group suddenly spends far more time than in previous meetings discussing the good
old days. Long-departed group members and events of bygone meetings are avidly
recalled, as new members are guilelessly reminded, lest they have forgotten, of their

novitiate status. Old battles are reengaged to make the group as unpalatable as possible.
Similarly, members may remark on resemblances they perceive between the new
member and some past member. The newcomer may get grilled. In a meeting I once
observed in which two members were introduced, the group noted a similarity between
one of them and a past member who (the newcomer shortly learned) had committed
suicide a year before; the other client was compared to someone who had dropped out,
discouraged and unimproved, after three months of therapy. These members, unaware of
the invidiousness of their greetings, consciously felt that they were extending a welcome,
whereas in fact they projected much unpleasant emotion onto the newcomers.
A group may also express its ambivalence by discussing, in a newcomer’s first meeting,
threatening and confidence-shaking issues. For example, in its seventeenth session, in
which two new members entered, one group discussed for the first time the therapists’
competence. The members noted that the therapists were listed in the hospital catalogue as
resident-students and that they might be leading their first group. This issue—an important
one that should be discussed—was nonetheless highly threatening to new members. It is
of interest that this information was already known to several group members but had
never until that meeting been broached in the group.
There can, of course, be strong feelings of welcome and support if the group has been
searching for new members. The members may exercise great gentleness and patience in
dealing with new members’ initial fear or defensiveness. The group, in fact, may collude
in many ways to increase its attractiveness to the newcomer. Often members gratuitously
offer testimonials and describe the various ways in which they have improved. In one such
group, a newcomer asked a disgruntled, resistive woman member about her progress, and
before she could reply, two other members, sensing that she would devalue the group,
interrupted and described their own progress. Although groups may unconsciously wish to
discourage newcomers, members are generally not willing to do so by devaluing their own
group.
There are several reasons for a group’s ambivalent response to new members. Some
members who highly prize the solidarity and cohesiveness of the group may be threatened
by any proposed change to the status quo. Will the new members undermine the group?
Powerful sibling rivalry issues may be evoked at the entrance of a new drain on the
group’s supplies: members may envision newcomers as potential rivals for the therapist’s
and the group’s attention and perceive their own fantasized role as favored child to be in
jeopardy.68
Still other members, particularly those conflicted in the area of control and dominance,
may regard the new member as a threat to their position in the hierarchy of power. In one
group where a new attractive female client was being introduced, the two incumbent
female members, desperately protecting their stake, employed many prestige-enhancing
devices, including the recitation of poetry. When John Donne is quoted in a therapy group
as part of the incoming ritual, it is hardly for an aesthetic end.
A common concern of a group is that, even though new members are needed, they will
nonetheless slow the group down. The group fears that familiar material will have to be

repeated for the newcomers and that the group must recycle and relive the tedious stages
of gradual social introduction and ritualistic etiquette. This expectation fortunately proves
to be unfounded: new clients introduced into an ongoing group generally move quickly
into the prevailing level of group communication and bypass the early testing phases
characteristic of members in a newly formed group. Another, less frequent, source of
ambivalence issues from the threat posed to group members who have improved and who
fear seeing themselves in the newcomer, as they were at the beginning of their own
therapy. In order to avoid reexposure to painful past periods of life, they will frequently
shun new clients who appear as reincarnations of their earlier selves.
Commonly, the new members of the group have a unique and constructive perspective
on the group members. They see the older members as they are currently, reinforcing the
reality of the changes achieved, often admiring the veteran members’ perceptiveness,
social comfort, and interpersonal skills. This form of feedback can serve as a powerful
reminder of the value of the therapeutic work done to date. The morale of both the new
and the old members can be enhanced simultaneously.

Therapeutic Guidelines. Clients entering an ongoing group require not only the standard
preparation to group therapy I discussed in chapter 10 but also preparation to help them
deal with the unique stresses accompanying entry into an established group. Entry into any
established culture—a new living situation, job, school, hospital, and so on—produces
anxiety and, as extensive research indicates, demands orientation and support.†69 A review
of the new member’s prior experiences of joining can be instructive and identify potential
challenges that may emerge.
I tell clients that they can expect feelings of exclusion and bewilderment on entering an
unusual culture, and I reassure them that they will be allowed to enter and participate at
their own rate. New clients entering established groups may be daunted by the
sophistication, openness, interpersonal facility, and daring of more experienced members;
they may also be frightened or fear contagion, since they are immediately confronted with
members revealing more of their pathology than is revealed in the first meetings of a new
group. These contingencies should be discussed with the client. It is generally helpful to
describe to the incoming participant the major events of the past few meetings. If the
group has been going through some particularly intense, tumultuous events, it is wise to
provide an even more thorough briefing. If the group is being videotaped or the therapist
uses a written summary technique (see chapter 14), then the new member, with the group’s
permission, may be asked to view the tapes or read the summaries of the past few
meetings.
I make an effort to engage the new client in the first meeting or two. Often it is
sufficient merely to inquire about his or her experience of the meeting—something to the
effect of: “Sara, this has been your first session. What has the meeting felt like for you?
Does it seem like it will be difficult to get into the group? What concerns about your
participation are you aware of so far?” It’s often useful to help new clients assume some

control over their participation. For example, the therapist might say, “I note that several
questions were asked of you earlier. How did that feel? Too much pressure? Or did you
welcome them?” Or, “Sara, I’m aware that you were silent today. The group was deeply
engaged in business left over from meetings when you were not present. How did that
make you feel? Relieved? Or would you have welcomed questions directed at you?” Note
that all of these questions are here-and-now centered.
Many therapists prefer to introduce two new members at a time, a practice that may
have advantages for both the group and the new members. Occasionally, if one client is
integrated into the group much more easily than the other, it may backfire and create even
greater discomfort for a newcomer, who may feel that he is already lagging behind his
cohort. Nevertheless, introduction in pairs has much to recommend it: the group conserves
energy and time by assimilating two members at once; the new members may ally with
each other and thereby feel less alien.
The number of new members introduced into the group distinctly influences the pace of
absorption. A group of six or seven can generally absorb a new member with scarcely a
ripple; the group continues work with only the briefest of pauses and rapidly pulls the new
member along. On the other hand, a group of four confronted with three new members
often comes to a screeching halt as all ongoing work ceases and the group devotes all its
energy to the task of incorporating the new members. The old members will wonder how
much they can trust the new ones. Dare they continue with the same degree of self-
disclosure and risk taking? To what extent will their familiar, comfortable group be
changed forever? The new members will be searching for guidelines to behavior. What is
acceptable in this group? What is forbidden? If their reception by the established members
is not gracious, they may seek the comfort inherent in an alliance of newcomers. The
therapist who notes frequent use of “we” and “they,” or “old members” and “new
members,” should heed these signs of schism. Until incorporation is complete, little
further therapeutic work can be done.
A similar situation often arises when the therapist attempts to amalgamate two groups
that have been reduced in number. This procedure is not easy. A clash of cultures and
cliques formed along the lines of the previous groups can persist for a remarkably long
time, and the therapist must actively prepare clients for the merger. It is best in this
situation to end both groups and then resume as a totally new entity.
The introduction of new members may, if properly considered, enhance the therapeutic
process of the old members, who may respond to a newcomer in highly idiosyncratic
styles. An important principle of group therapy, which I have discussed, is that every
major stimulus presented to the group elicits a variety of responses by the group members.
The investigation of the reasons behind these different responses is generally rewarding
and clarifies aspects of character structure. For members to observe others respond to a
situation in ways remarkably different from the way they do is an arresting experience that
can provide them with considerable insight into their behavior. Such an opportunity is
unavailable in individual therapy but constitutes one of the chief strengths of the group
therapeutic format. An illustrative clinical example may clarify this point.

• A new member, Alice—forty years old, attractive, divorced—was introduced at a
group’s eighteenth meeting. The three men in the group greeted her in strikingly
different fashions.
Peter arrived fifteen minutes late and missed the introduction. For the next hour,
he was active in the group, discussing issues left over from the previous meeting as
well as events occurring in his life during the past week. He totally ignored Alice,
avoiding even glancing at her—a formidable feat in a group of six people in close
physical proximity. Later in the meeting, as others attempted to help Alice
participate, Peter, still without introducing himself, fired questions at her like a
harsh prosecuting attorney. A twenty-eight-year-old devout Catholic father of four,
Peter had sought therapy because he “loved women too much,” as he phrased it,
and had had a series of extramarital affairs. In subsequent meetings, the group
used the events of Alice’s first meeting to help Peter investigate the nature of his
“love” for women. Gradually, he came to recognize how he used women, including
his wife, as sex objects, valuing them for their genitals only and remaining
insensitive to their feelings and experiential world.
The two other men in the group, Arthur and Brian, on the other hand, were
preoccupied with Alice during her first meeting. Arthur, a twenty-four-year-old
who sought therapy because of his massive sexual inhibition, reacted strongly to
Alice and found that he could not look at her without experiencing an acute sense
of embarrassment. His discomfort and blushing were apparent to the other
members, who helped him explore far more deeply than he had previously his
relationship with the women in the group. Arthur had desexualized the other two
women in the group by establishing in his fantasy a brother-sister relationship with
them. Alice, who was attractive and available and at the same time old enough to
evoke in him affect-laden feelings about his mother, presented a special problem
for Arthur, who had previously been settling into too comfortable a niche in the
group.
Brian, on the other hand, transfixed Alice with his gaze and delivered an
unwavering broad smile to her throughout the meeting. An extraordinarily
dependent twenty-three-year-old, Brian had sought therapy for depression after the
breakup of a love affair. Having lost his mother in infancy, he had been raised by a
succession of nannies and had had only occasional contact with an aloof, powerful
father of whom he was terrified. His romantic affairs, always with considerably
older women, had invariably collapsed because of the insatiable demands he made
on the relationship. The other women in the group in the past few meetings had
similarly withdrawn from him and, with progressive candor, had confronted him
with, as they termed it, his puppy-dog presentation of himself. Brian thus
welcomed Alice, hoping to find in her a new source of succor. In subsequent
meetings, Alice proved helpful to Brian as she revealed her feeling, during her first
meeting, of extreme discomfort at his beseeching smile and her persistent sense
that he was asking for something important from her. She said that although she
was unsure of what he wanted, she knew it was more than she had to give.

Freud once compared psychotherapy to chess in that far more is known and written
about the opening and the end games than about the middle game. Accordingly, the
opening stages of therapy and termination may be discussed with some degree of
precision, but the vast bulk of therapy cannot be systematically described. Thus, the
subsequent chapters follow no systematic group chronology but deal in a general way with
the major issues and problems of later stages of therapy and with some specialized
therapist techniques.

Chapter 12
THE ADVANCED GROUP
Once a group achieves a degree of maturity and stability, it no longer exhibits easily
described, familiar stages of development. The rich and complex working-through process
begins, and the major therapeutic factors I described earlier operate with increasing force
and effectiveness. Members gradually engage more deeply in the group and use the group
interaction to address the concerns that brought them to therapy. The advanced group is
characterized by members’ growing capacity for reflection, authenticity, self-disclosure,
and feedback.1 Hence, it is impossible to formulate specific procedural guidelines for all
contingencies. In general, the therapist must strive to encourage development and
operation of the therapeutic factors. The application of the basic principles of the
therapist’s role and technique to specific group events and to each client’s therapy (as
discussed in chapters 5, 6, and 7) constitutes the art of psychotherapy, and for this there is
no substitute for clinical experience, reading, supervision, and intuition.
Certain issues and problems, however, occur with sufficient regularity to warrant
discussion. In this chapter, I consider subgrouping, conflict, self-disclosure, and
termination of therapy. In the next chapter, I discuss certain recurrent behavioral
configurations in individuals that present a challenge to the therapist and to the group.
SUBGROUPING
Fractionalization—the splitting off of smaller units—occurs in every social organization.
The process may be transient or enduring, helpful or harmful, for the parent organization.
Therapy groups are no exception. Subgroup formation is an inevitable and often disruptive
event in the life of the group, yet there too the process, if understood and harnessed
properly, may further the therapeutic work.† How do we account for the phenomenon of
subgrouping? We need to consider both individual and group factors.
Individual Factors
Members’ concerns about personal connection and status often motivate the creation of the
subgroup.† A subgroup in the therapy group arises from the belief of two or more
members that they can derive more gratification from a relationship with one another than
from the entire group. Members who violate group norms by secret liaisons are opting for
need gratification rather than for pursuit of personal change—their primary reason for
being in therapy (see the discussion of primary task and secondary gratification in chapter
6). Need frustration occurs early in therapy: for example, members with strong needs for
intimacy, dependency, sexual conquests, or dominance may soon sense the impossibility

of gratifying these needs in the group and often attempt to gratify them outside the formal
group.
In one sense, these members are “acting out”: they engage in behavior outside the
therapy setting that relieves inner tensions and avoids direct expression or exploration of
feeling or emotion. Sometimes it is only possible in retrospect to discriminate “acting out”
from acting or participating in the therapy group. Let me clarify.
Keep in mind that the course of the therapy group is a continual cycle of action and
analysis of this action. The social microcosm of the group depends on members’ engaging
in their habitual patterns of behavior, which are then examined by the individual and the
group. Acting out becomes resistance only when one refuses to examine one’s behavior.
Extragroup behavior that is not examined in the group becomes a particularly potent form
of resistance, whereas extragroup behavior that is subsequently brought back into the
group and worked through may prove to be of considerable therapeutic import.2
Group Factors
Subgrouping may be a manifestation of a considerable degree of undischarged hostility in
the group, especially toward the leader. Research on styles of leadership demonstrates that
a group is more likely to develop disruptive in-group and out-group factions under an
authoritarian, restrictive style of leadership.3 Group members, unable to express their
anger and frustration directly to the leader, release these feelings obliquely by binding
together and mobbing or scapegoating one or more of the other members.
At other times, subgrouping is a sign of problems in group development. A lack of
group cohesion will encourage members to retreat from large and complex group
relationships into simpler, smaller, more workable subgroups.
Clinical Appearance of Subgrouping
Extragroup socializing is often the first stage of subgrouping. A clique of three or four
members may begin to have telephone conversations, to meet over coffee or dinner, to
visit each other’s homes, or even to engage in business ventures together. Occasionally,
two members will become sexually involved. A subgroup may also occur completely
within the confines of the group therapy room, as members who perceive themselves to be
similar form coalitions.
There may be any number of common bonds: comparable educational level, similar
values, ethno-cultural background, similar age, marital status, or group status (for
example, the old-timer original members). Social organizations characteristically develop
opposing factions—two or more conflicting subgroups. But such is not often the case in
therapy groups: one clique forms but the excluded members lack effective social skills and
do not usually coalesce into a second subgroup.

The members of a subgroup may be identified by a general code of behavior: they may
agree with one another regardless of the issue and avoid confrontations among their own
membership; they may exchange knowing glances when a member not in the clique
speaks; they may arrive at and depart from the meeting together; their wish for friendship
overrides their commitment to examination of their behavior.4
The Effects of Subgrouping
Subgrouping can have an extraordinarily disruptive effect on the course of the therapy
group. In a study of thirty-five clients who prematurely dropped out from group therapy, I
found that eleven (31 percent) did so largely because of problems arising from
subgrouping.5 Complications arise whether the client is included in or excluded from a
subgroup.

Inclusion. Those included in a twosome or a larger subgroup often find that group life is
vastly more complicated and, ultimately, less rewarding. As a group member transfers
allegiance from the group goals to the subgroup goals, loyalty becomes a major and
problematic issue. For example, should one abide by the group procedural rules of free
and honest discussion of feelings if that means breaking a confidence established secretly
with another member?
• Christine and Jerry often met after the therapy session to have long, intense
conversations. Jerry had remained withdrawn in the group and had sought out
Christine because, as he informed her, he felt that she alone could understand him.
After obtaining her promise of confidentiality, he soon was able to reveal to her his
pedophilic obsessions and his deep distrust of the group leader. Back in the group,
Christine felt restrained by her promise and avoided interaction with Jerry, who
eventually dropped out unimproved. Ironically, Christine was an exceptionally
sensitive member of the group and might have been particularly useful to Jerry by
encouraging him to participate in the group had she not felt restrained by the
antitherapeutic subgroup norm (that is, her promise of confidentiality).
Sharing with the rest of the members what one has learned in extragroup contacts is
tricky. The leader addressing such an issue must take care to avoid situations where
members feel humiliated or betrayed.
• An older, paternal man often gave two other group members a ride. On one
occasion he invited them to watch television at his house. The visitors witnessed an
argument between the man and his wife and at a subsequent group session told
him that they felt he was mistreating his wife. The older group member felt so
betrayed by the two members, whom he had considered his friends, that he began
concealing more from the group and ultimately dropped out of treatment.
Severe clinical problems occur when group members engage in sexual relations: they

often hesitate to “besmirch” (as one client phrased it) an intimate relationship by giving it
a public airing. Freud never practiced clinical group therapy, but in 1921 he wrote a
prescient essay on group psychology in which he underscored the incompatibility between
a sexual love relationship and group cohesiveness.6 Though we may disagree with the
cornerstone of his argument (that inhibited sexual instincts contribute to the cohesive
energy of the group), his conclusions are compelling: that is, no group tie—be it race,
nationality, social class, or religious belief—can remain unthreatened by the overriding
importance that two people in love can have for each other.
Obviously, the ties of the therapy group are no exception. Members of a therapy group
who become involved in a love/sexual relationship will almost inevitably come to award
their dyadic relationship higher priority than their relationship to the group. In doing so,
they sacrifice their value for each other as helpmates in the group; they refuse to betray
confidences; rather than being honest in the group, they engage in courtship behavior—
they attempt to be charming to each other, they assume poses in the group, they perform
for each other, blotting out the therapists, other members of the group, and, most
important, their primary goals in therapy. Often the other group members are dimly aware
that something important is being actively avoided in the group discussion, a state of
affairs that usually results in global group inhibition. An unusual chance incident provided
evidence substantiating these comments.7
• A research team happened to be closely studying a therapy group in which two
members developed a clandestine sexual relationship. Since the study began
months before the liaison occurred, good baseline data are available. Several
observers (as well as the clients themselves, in postgroup questionnaires) had for
months rated each meeting along a seven-point scale for amount of affect
expressed, amount of self-disclosure, and general value of the session. In addition,
the communication-flow system was recorded with the number and direction of
each member’s statements charted on a who-to-whom matrix.
During the observation period, Bruce and Geraldine developed a sexual
relationship and kept it secret from the therapist and the rest of the group for three
weeks. During these three weeks, the data (when studied in retrospect) showed a
steep downward gradient in the scoring of the quality of the meetings, and reduced
verbal activity, expression of affect, and self-disclosure. Moreover, scarcely any
verbal exchanges between Geraldine and Bruce were recorded!
This last finding is the quintessential reason that subgrouping impedes therapy. The
primary goal of group therapy is to facilitate each member’s exploration of his or her
interpersonal relationships. Here were two people who knew each other well, had the
potential of being deeply helpful to each other, and yet barely spoke to each other in the
group.
The couple resolved the problem by deciding that one of them would drop out of the
group (not an uncommon resolution). Geraldine dropped out, and in the following
meeting, Bruce discussed the entire incident with relief and great candor. (The ratings by
both the group members and the observers indicated this meeting to be valuable, with

active interaction, strong affect expression, and much disclosure from others as well as
Bruce.)
The positive, affiliative effects of subgrouping within the therapy group may be turned
to therapeutic advantage.8 From the perspective of a general systems approach, the therapy
group is a large and dynamic group made up of several smaller subgroups. Subgrouping
occurs (and may be encouraged by the therapist) as a necessary component of elucidating,
containing, and ultimately integrating areas of conflict or distress within the group. Clients
who have difficulty acknowledging their feelings or disclosing themselves may do better if
they sense they are not alone. Hence, the therapist may actively point out functional, but
shifting, subgroups of members who share some basic intra- or interpersonal concern and
urge that the subgroup work together in the group and share the risks of disclosure as well
as the relief of universality.

Exclusion. Exclusion from the subgroup also complicates group life. Anxiety associated
with earlier peer exclusion experiences is evoked, and if it is not discharged by working-
through, it may become disabling. Often it is exceptionally difficult for members to
comment on their feelings of exclusion: they may not want to reveal their envy of the
special relationship, or they may fear angering the involved members by “outing” the
subgroup in the session.
Nor are therapists immune to this problem. I recall, a group therapist, one of my
supervisees, observed two of his group members (both married) walking arm in arm along
the street. The therapist found himself unable to bring his observation back into the group.
Why? He offered several reasons:
• He did not want to assume the position of spy or disapproving parent in the eyes of
the group.
• He works in the here-and-now and is not free to bring up nongroup material.
• The involved members would, when psychologically ready, discuss the problem.
These are rationalizations, however. There is no more important issue than the
interrelationship of the group members. Anything that happens between group members is
part of the here-and-now of the group. The therapist who is unwilling to bring in all
material bearing on member relationships can hardly expect members to do so. If you feel
yourself trapped in a dilemma—on the one hand, knowing that you must bring in such
observations and, on the other, not wanting to seem a spy—then generally the best
approach is to share your dilemma with the group, both your observations and your
personal uneasiness and reluctance to discuss them.†
Therapeutic Considerations
By no means is subgrouping, with or without extragroup socializing, invariably disruptive.

If the goals of the subgroup are consonant with those of the parent group, subgrouping
may ultimately enhance group cohesiveness. For example, a coffee group or a bowling
league may operate successfully and increase the morale of a larger social organization. In
therapy groups, some of the most significant incidents occur as a result of some
extragroup member contacts that are then fully worked through in therapy.
• Two women members who went to a dance together after a meeting discussed, in
the following meeting, their observations of each other in that purely social setting.
One of them had been far more flirtatious, even openly seductive, than she had
been in the group; furthermore, much of this was “blind spot” behavior—out of
her awareness.
• Another group scheduled a beer party for one member who was terminating.
Unfortunately, he had to leave town unexpectedly, and the party was canceled. The
member acting as social secretary notified the others of the cancellation but by
error neglected to contact one member, Jim. On the night of the party Jim waited,
in vain, at the appointed place for two hours, experiencing many familiar feelings
of rejection, exclusion, and bitter loneliness. The discussion of these reactions and
of Jim’s lack of any annoyance or anger and his feeling that his being excluded
was natural, expected, the way it should be, led to much fruitful therapeutic work
for him. When the party was finally held, considerable data was generated about
the group. Members displayed different aspects of themselves. For example, the
member who was least influential in the group because of his emotional isolation
and his inability or unwillingness to disclose himself assumed a very different role
because of his wit, store of good jokes, and easy social mannerisms. A
sophisticated and experienced member reencountered his dread of social situations
and inability to make small talk, and took refuge behind the role of host, devoting
his time busily to refilling empty glasses.

• In another group, a dramatic example of effective subgrouping occurred when
the members became concerned about one member who was in such despair that
she considered suicide. Several group members maintained a weeklong telephone
vigil, which proved to be beneficial both to that client and to the cohesiveness of
the entire group.

• The vignette of the man who liked Robin Hood, described in chapter 2, is another
example of subgrouping that enhanced therapeutic work. The client attempted to
form an extragroup alliance with every member of the group and ultimately, as a
result of his extragroup activity, arrived at important insights about his
manipulative modes of relating to peers and about his adversarial stance toward
authority figures.
The principle is clear: any contact outside a group may prove to be of value provided
that the goals of the parent group are not relinquished. If such meetings are viewed as part

of the group rhythm of action and subsequent analysis of this action, much valuable
information can be made available to the group. To achieve this end, the involved
members must inform the group of all important extragroup events. If they do not, the
disruptive effects on cohesiveness I have described will occur. The cardinal principle is: it
is not the subgrouping per se that is destructive to the group, but the conspiracy of silence
that generally surrounds it.
In practice, groups that meet only once a week often experience more of the disruptive
than the beneficial effects of subgrouping. Much extragroup socializing never comes
directly to the group’s attention, and the behavior of the involved members is never made
available for analysis in the group. For example, the extragroup relationship I described
between Christine and Jerry, in which Jerry revealed in confidence his pedophilic
obsessions, was never made known to the group. Christine disclosed the incident more
than a year later to a researcher who interviewed her in a psychotherapy outcome study.
The therapist should encourage open discussion and analysis of all extragroup contacts
and all in-group coalitions and continue to emphasize the members’ responsibility to bring
extragroup contacts into the group. The therapist who surmises from glances between two
members in the group, or from their appearance together outside the group, that a special
relationship exists between them should not hesitate to present this thought to the group.
No criticism or accusation is implied, since the investigation and understanding of an
affectionate relationship between two members may be as therapeutically rewarding as the
exploration of a hostile impasse. The therapist must attempt to disconfirm the
misconception that psychotherapy is reductionistic in its ethos, that all experience will be
reduced to some fundamental (and base) motive. Furthermore, other members must be
encouraged to discuss their reaction to the relationship, whether it be envy, jealousy,
rejection, or vicarious satisfaction.9
One practical caveat: clients engaged in some extragroup relationship that they are not
prepared to discuss in the therapy group may ask the therapist for an individual session
and request that the material discussed not be divulged to the rest of the group. If you
make such a promise, you may soon find yourself in an untenable collusion from which
extrication is difficult. I would suggest that you refrain from offering a promise of
confidentiality but instead assure the clients that you will be guided by your professional
judgment and act sensitively, in their therapeutic behalf. Though this may not offer
sufficient reassurance to all members, it will protect you from entering into awkward,
antitherapeutic pacts.
Therapy group members may establish sexual relationships with one another, but not
with great frequency. The therapy group is not prurient; clients often have sexual conflicts
resulting in such problems as impotence, nonarousal, social alienation, and sexual guilt. I
feel certain that far less sexual involvement occurs in a therapy group than in any equally
long-lasting social or professional group.
The therapist cannot, by edict, prevent the formation of sexual relations or any other
form of subgrouping. Sexual acting out and compulsivity are often symptoms of
relationship difficulties that led to therapy in the first place. The emergence of sexual

acting out in the group may well present a unique therapeutic opportunity to examine the
behavior.
Consider the clinical example of the Grand Dame described in chapter 2. Recall that
Valerie seduced Charles and Louis as part of her struggle for power with the group
therapist. The episode was, in one sense, disruptive for the group: Valerie’s husband
learned of the incident and threatened Charles and Louis, who, along with other members,
grew so distrustful of Valerie that dissolution of the group appeared imminent. How was
the crisis resolved? The group expelled Valerie, who then, somewhat sobered and wiser,
continued therapy in another group. Despite these potentially catastrophic complications,
some considerable benefits occurred. The episode was thoroughly explored within the
group, and the participants obtained substantial help with their sexual issues. For example,
Charles, who had a history of a Don Juan style of relationships with women, at first
washed his hands of the incident by pointing out that Valerie had approached him and, as
he phrased it, “I don’t turn down a piece of candy when it’s offered.” Louis also tended to
disclaim responsibility for his relationships with women, whom he customarily regarded
as a “piece of ass.” Both Charles and Louis were presented with powerful evidence of the
implications of their act—the effects on Valerie’s marriage and on their own group—and
so came to appreciate their personal responsibility for their acts. Valerie, for the first time,
realized the sadistic nature of her sexuality; not only did she employ sex as a weapon
against the therapist but, as I have already described, as a means of depreciating and
humiliating Charles and Louis.
Though extragroup subgrouping cannot be forbidden, neither should it be encouraged. I
have found it most helpful to make my position on this problem explicit to members in the
preparatory or initial sessions. I tell them that extragroup activity often impedes therapy,
and I clearly describe the complications caused by subgrouping. I emphasize that if
extragroup meetings occur, fortuitously or by design, then it is the subgroupers’
responsibility to the other members and to the group to keep the others fully informed. As
I noted in chapter 10, the therapist must help the members understand that the group
therapy experience is a dress rehearsal for life; it is the bridge, not the destination. It will
teach the skills necessary to establish durable relationships but will not provide the
relationships. If group members do not transfer their learning, they derive their social
gratification exclusively from the therapy group and therapy becomes interminable.
It is my experience that it is unwise to include two members in a group who already
have a long-term special relationship: husband and wife, roommates, business associates,
and so on. Occasionally, the situation may arise in which two members naively arrive for a
first meeting and discover that they know one another from a prior or preexisting personal
or employment relationship. It is not the most auspicious start to a group, but the therapist
must not avoid examining the situation openly and thoroughly. Is the relationship
ongoing? Will the two members be less likely to be fully open in the group? Are there
concerns about confidentiality? How will it affect other group members? Is there a better
or more workable option? A quick and a shared decision must be reached about how to
proceed.

It is possible for group therapy to focus on current long-term relationships, but that
entails a different kind of therapy group than that described in this book—for example, a
marital couples’ group, conjoint family therapy, and multiple-family therapy.†
In inpatient psychotherapy groups and day hospital programs, the problem of
extragroup relationships is even more complex, since the group members spend their
entire day in close association with one another. The following case is illustrative.
• In a group in a psychiatric hospital for criminal offenders, a subgrouping
problem had created great divisiveness. Two male members—by far the most
intelligent, articulate, and educated of the group—had formed a close friendship
and spent much of every day together. The group sessions were characterized by
an inordinate amount of tension and hostile bickering, much of it directed at these
two men, who by this time had lost their separate identities and were primarily
regarded, and regarded themselves, as a dyad. Much of the attacking was off
target, and the therapeutic work of the group had become overshadowed by the
attempt to destroy the dyad.
As the situation progressed, the therapist, with good effect, helped the group
explore several themes. First, the group had to consider that the two members
could scarcely be punished for their subgrouping, since everyone had had an equal
opportunity to form such a relationship. The issue of envy was thus introduced, and
gradually the members discussed their own longing and inability to establish
friendships. Furthermore, they discussed their feelings of intellectual inferiority to
the dyad as well as their sense of exclusion and rejection by them. The two
members had, however, augmented these responses by their actions. Both had, for
years, maintained their self-esteem by demonstrating their intellectual superiority
whenever possible. When addressing other members, they deliberately used
polysyllabic words and maintained a conspiratorial attitude, which accentuated
the others’ feelings of inferiority and rejection. Both members profited from the
group’s description of the subtle rebuffs and taunts they had meted out and came to
realize that others had suffered painful effects from their behavior.
Nota bene that my comments on the potential dangers of subgrouping apply to groups
that rely heavily on the therapeutic factor of interpersonal learning. In other types of
groups, such as cognitive-behavioral groups for eating disorders, extragroup socializing
has been shown to be beneficial in altering eating patterns.10 Twelve-step groups, self-help
groups, and support groups also make good use of extragroup contact. In support groups
of, for example, cancer patients extragroup contact becomes an essential part of the
process, and participants may be actively encouraged to contact one another between
sessions as an aid in coping with the illness and its medical treatment.11 On many
occasions, I have seen the group rally around members in deep despair and provide
extraordinary support through telephone contact.
Clinical Example

I end this section with a lengthy clinical illustration—the longest in the book. I include it
because it shows in depth not only many of the issues involved in subgrouping but also
other aspects of group therapy discussed in other chapters, including the differentiation
between primary task and secondary gratification and the assumption of personal
responsibility in therapy.
The group met twice weekly. The participants were young, ranging in age from twenty-
five to thirty-five. At the time we join the group, two women had recently graduated,
leaving only four male clients. Bill, the male lead in the drama to unfold, was a tall,
handsome thirty-two-year-old divorced dentist and had been in the group for about eight
months without making significant progress. He originally sought therapy because of
chronic anxiety and episodic depressions. He was socially self-conscious to the degree that
simple acts—for example, saying good night at a party—caused him much torment. If he
could have been granted one wish by some benevolent therapeutic muse, it would have
been to be “cool.” He was dissatisfied with work, he had no male friends, and he highly
sexualized his relationships with women. Though he had been living with a woman for a
few months, he felt neither love nor commitment toward her.
The group, waiting for new members, met for several sessions with only the four men
and established a virile, Saturday-night, male-bonding subculture. Issues that had rarely
surfaced while women were in the group frequently occupied center stage: masturbatory
practices and fantasies, fear of bullies and feelings of cowardice about fighting, concerns
about physique, lustful feelings about the large breasts of a woman who had been in the
group, and fantasies of a “gang bang” with her.
Two women were then introduced into the group, and never has a well-established
culture disintegrated so quickly. The Saturday-night camaraderie was swept away by a
flood of male dominance behavior. Bill boldly and brazenly competed for not one but both
women. The other men in the group reacted to the first meeting with the two women
members in accordance with their dynamic patterns.
Rob, a twenty-five-year-old graduate student, arrived at the meeting in lederhosen, the
only time in eighteen months of therapy he thus bedecked himself, and during the meeting
was quick to discuss, in detail, his fears of (and his attraction to) other men. Another
member made an appeal to the maternal instincts of the new female additions by
presenting himself as a fledgling with a broken wing. The remaining member removed
himself from the race by remarking, after the first forty minutes, that he wasn’t going to
join the others in the foolish game of competing for the women’s favors; besides, he had
been observing the new members and concluded that they had nothing of value to offer
him.
One of the women, Jan, was an attractive twenty-eight-year-old, divorced woman with
two children. She was a language professor who sought therapy for many reasons:
depression, promiscuity, and loneliness. She complained that she could not say no to an
attractive man. Men used her sexually: they would drop by her home for an hour or two in
the evening for sex but would not be willing to be seen with her in daylight. There was an
active willingness on her part, too, as she boasted of having had sexual relations with most

of the heads of the departments at the college where she taught. Because of poor
judgment, she was in deep financial trouble. She had written several bad checks and was
beginning to flirt with the idea of prostitution: If men were exploiting her sexually, then
why not charge them for her favors?
In the pregroup screening interviews and preparatory sessions, I realized that her
promiscuity made her a likely candidate for self-destructive sexual acting-out in the group.
Therefore, I had taken much greater pains than usual to emphasize that outside social
involvement with other group members would not be in her or the group’s best interests.
After the entrance of the two women, Bill’s group behavior altered radically: he
disclosed himself less; he preened; he crowed; he played a charming, seductive role; he
became far more deliberate and self-conscious in his actions. In short, in pursuit of
secondary sexual gratification, he appeared to lose all sense of why he was in a therapy
group. Rather than welcoming my comments to him, he resented them: he felt they made
him look bad in front of the women. He rapidly jettisoned his relationship with the men in
the group and thenceforth related to them dishonestly. For example, in the first meeting,
when one of the male members told the women he felt they had nothing of value to offer
him, Bill rushed in to praise him for his honesty, even though Bill’s real feeling at that
moment was exhilaration that the other had folded his tent and left him in sole possession
of the field of women. At this stage, Bill resisted any intervention. I tried many times
during these weeks to illuminate his behavior for him, but I might as well have tried to
strike a match in a monsoon.
After approximately three months, Jan made an overt sexual proposition to Bill, which I
learned of in a curious way. Bill and Jan happened to arrive early in the group room, and
in their conversation, Jan invited Bill to her apartment to view some pornographic movies.
Observers viewing the group through a one-way mirror had also arrived early, overheard
the proposition, and related it to me after the meeting. I felt uneasy about how the
information had been obtained; nonetheless, I brought up the incident in the next meeting,
only to have Jan and Bill deny that a sexual invitation had been made. The discussion
ended with Jan angrily stomping out midway through the meeting.
In succeeding weeks, after each meeting she and Bill met in the parking lot for long
talks and embraces. Jan brought these incidents back into the meeting but, in so doing,
incurred Bill’s anger for betraying him. Eventually, Bill made an overt sexual proposition
to Jan, who, on the basis of much work done in the group, decided it would be against her
best interests to accept. For the first time, she said no to an attractive, interested, attentive
man and received much group support for her stance.
(I am reminded of an episode Victor Frankl once told me of a man who had consulted
him on the eve of his marriage. He had had a sexual invitation from a strikingly beautiful
woman, a friend of his fiancée, and felt he could not pass it up. When would such an
opportunity come his way again? It was, he insisted, a unique, once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity! Dr. Frankl—quite elegantly, I think—pointed out that he did indeed have a
unique opportunity and, indeed, it was one that would never come again. It was the
opportunity to say “no” in the service of his responsibility to himself and his chosen

mate!)
Bill, meanwhile, was finding life in the group increasingly complex. He was pursuing
not only Jan but also Gina, who had entered the group with Jan. At the end of each
meeting, Bill struggled with such conundrums as how to walk out of the group alone with
each woman at the same time. Jan and Gina were at first very close, almost huddling
together for comfort as they entered an all-male group. It was to Bill’s advantage to
separate them, and in a number of ways he contrived to do so. Not only did Bill have a
“divide and seduce” strategy, but he also found something intrinsically pleasurable in the
process of splitting. He had had a long history of splitting and seducing roommates and,
before that, of interposing himself between his mother and his sister.
Gina had, with the help of much prior therapy, emerged from a period of promiscuity
similar to Jan’s. Compared with Jan, though, she was more desperate for help, more
committed to therapy, and committed to a relationship with her boyfriend. Consequently,
she was not eager to consummate a sexual relationship with Bill. However, as the group
progressed she developed a strong attraction to him and an even stronger determination
that, if she could not have him, neither would Jan. One day in the group, Gina
unexpectedly announced that she was getting married in three weeks and invited the group
to the wedding. She described her husband-to-be as a rather passive, clinging, ne’er-do-
well. It was only many months later that the group learned he was a highly gifted
mathematician who was considering faculty offers from several leading universities.
Thus, Gina, too, pursued secondary gratification rather than her primary task. In her
efforts to keep Bill interested in her and to compete with Jan, she misrepresented her
relationship with another man, underplaying the seriousness of her involvement until her
marriage forced her hand. Even then, she presented her husband in a fraudulently
unfavorable light so as to nourish Bill’s hopes that he still had an opportunity for a liaison
with her. In so doing, Gina sacrificed the opportunity to work in the group on her
relationship with her fiancé—one of the urgent tasks for which she had sought therapy!
After several months in the group, Jan and Bill decided to have an affair and announced
to the group their planned assignation two weeks later. The members reacted strongly. The
other two women (another had entered the group by this time) were angry. Gina felt
secretly hurt at Bill’s rejection of her, but expressed anger only at how his and Jan’s
liaison would threaten the integrity of the group. The new member, who had a relationship
with a man similar to Bill, identified with Bill’s girlfriend. Some of the men participated
vicariously, perceiving Jan as a sexual object and rooting for Bill to “score.” Another said
(and as time went by this sentiment was heard more often) that he wished Bill would
“hurry up and screw her” so that they could talk about something else in the group. He
was an anxious, timid man who had had no heterosexual experience whatsoever. The
sexual goings-on in the group were, as he phrased it, so far “out of his league” that he
could not participate in any way.
Rob, the man in the group who had had worn lederhosen at Jan and Gina’s first
meeting, silently wished that the heterosexual preoccupation of the group were different.
He had been having increasing concern about his homosexual obsessions but had delayed

discussing them in the group for many weeks because of his sense that the group would be
unreceptive to his needs and that he would lose the respect of the members, who placed
such extraordinary value on heterosexual prowess.
Eventually, however, he did discuss these issues, with some relief. It is important to
note that Bill, aside from advice and solicitude, offered Rob very little. Some ten months
later, after Rob left the group and after the Bill-Jan pairing had been worked through, Bill
disclosed his own homosexual concerns and fantasies. Had Bill, whom Rob admired very
much, shared these at the appropriate time, it might have been of considerable help to
Rob. Bill would not at that time, however, disclose anything that might encumber his
campaign to seduce Jan—another instance of how the pursuit of secondary gratification
rendered the group less effective.
Once their sexual liaison began, Jan and Bill became even more inaccessible for group
scrutiny and for therapeutic work. They began speaking of themselves as “we” and
resisted all exhortations from me and the other members to learn about themselves by
analyzing their behavior. At first it was difficult to know what was operating between the
two aside from powerful lust. I knew that Jan’s sense of personal worth was centered
outside herself. To keep others interested in her she needed, she felt, to give gifts—
especially sexual ones.
Furthermore, there was a vindictive aspect: she had previously triumphed over
important men (department chairmen and several employers) by sexual seduction. It
seemed likely that Jan felt powerless in her dealings with me. Her chief coinage with men
—sex—afforded her no significant influence over me, but it did permit an indirect victory
through the medium of Bill. I learned much later how she and Bill would gleefully romp
in bed, relishing the thought of how they had put something over on me. In the group, Bill
not only recapitulated his sexualization of relationships and his repetitive efforts to prove
his potency by yet another seduction, but he also found particularly compelling the
opportunity for Oedipal mastery—taking women away from the leader.
Thus, Bill and Jan, in a rich behavioral tapestry, displayed their dynamics and re-created
their social environment in the microcosm of the group. Bill’s narcissism and inauthentic
mode of relating to women were clearly portrayed. He often made innuendoes to the effect
that his relationship with the woman he lived with was deteriorating, thus planting a seed
of matrimonial hope in Jan’s imagination. Bill’s innuendoes colluded with Jan’s enormous
capacity for self-deception: She alone of any of the group members considered marriage to
Bill a serious possibility. When the other members tried to help her hear Bill’s primary
message—that she was not important to him, that she was merely another sexual conquest
—she reacted defensively and angrily.
Gradually, the dissonance between Bill’s private statements and the group’s
interpretations of his intentions created so much discomfort that Jan considered leaving
the group. I reminded her, as forcibly as possible, that this was precisely what I had
warned her about before she entered the group. If she dropped out of therapy, all the
important things that had happened in the group would come to naught. She had had many
brief and unrewarding relationships in the past. The group offered her the unique

opportunity to stay with a relationship and, for once, play the drama through to its end. In
the end Jan decided to stay.
Jan and Bill’s relationship was exclusive: neither related in any significant way to
anyone else in the group, except that Bill attempted to keep erotic channels open to Gina
(to keep his “account open at the bank,” as he put it). Gina and Jan persisted in a state of
unrelenting enmity so extreme that each had homicidal fantasies about the other. (When
Gina married, she invited to the wedding everyone in the group except Jan. Only when a
boycott was threatened by the others was a frosty invitation proffered her.) Bill’s
relationship to me had been very important to him before Jan’s entry. During the first
months of his liaison with Jan, he seemed to forget my presence, but gradually his concern
about me returned. One day, for example, he related a dream in which I escorted all the
members but him into an advanced postgraduate group, while he was pulled by the hand
to a more elementary, “losers” group.
Jan and Bill’s relationship consumed enormous amounts of group energy and time.
Relatively few unrelated themes were worked on in the group, but all of the members
worked on personal issues relating to the pairing: sex, jealousy, envy, fears of competition,
concerns about physical attractiveness. There was a sustained high level of emotion in the
group. Attendance was astoundingly high: over a thirty-meeting stretch there was not a
single absence.
Gradually, Jan and Bill’s relationship began to sour. She had always maintained that all
she wanted from him was his sheer physical presence. One night every two weeks with
him was what she required. Now she was forced to realize that she wanted much more.
She felt pressured in life: she had lost her job and was beset by financial concerns; she had
given up her promiscuity but felt sexual pressures and now began to say to herself,
“Where is Bill when I really need him?” She grew depressed, but rather than work on the
depression in the group, she minimized it. Once again, secondary considerations were
given priority over primary, therapeutic ones, for she was reluctant to give Gina and the
other members the satisfaction of seeing her depressed: They had warned her months ago
that a relationship with Bill would ultimately be self-destructive.
And where, indeed, was Bill? That question plunged us into the core issue of Bill’s
therapy: responsibility. As Jan grew more deeply depressed (a depression punctuated by
accident proneness, including a car crash and a painful burn from a kitchen mishap), the
group confronted Bill with the question: Had he known in advance the outcome of the
adventure, would he have done anything different?
Bill said, “No! I would have done nothing different! If I don’t look after my own
pleasure, who will?” The other members of the group and now Jan, too, attacked him for
his self-indulgence and his lack of responsibility to others. Bill pondered over this
confrontation, only to advance a series of rationalizations at the subsequent meeting.
“Irresponsible? No, I am not irresponsible! I am high-spirited, impish, like Peer Gynt.
Life contains little enough pleasure,” he said. “Why am I not entitled to take what I can?
Who sets those rules?” He insisted that the group members and the therapist, guilefully
dressed in the robes of responsibility, were, in fact, trying to rob him of his life force and

freedom.
For many sessions, the group plunged into the issues of love, freedom, and
responsibility. Jan, with increasing directness, confronted Bill. She jolted him by asking
exactly how much he cared for her. He squirmed and alluded both to his love for her and
to his unwillingness to establish an enduring relationship with any woman. In fact, he
found himself “turned off” by any woman who wanted a long-term relationship.
I was reminded of a comparable attitude toward love in the novel The Fall, where
Camus expresses Bill’s paradox with shattering clarity:
It is not true, after all, that I never loved. I conceived at least one great love in my
life, of which I was always the object … sensuality alone dominated my love
life…. In any case, my sensuality (to limit myself to it) was so real that even for a
ten-minute adventure I’d have disowned father and mother, even were I to regret it
bitterly. Indeed—especially for a ten-minute adventure and even more so if I were
sure it was to have no sequel.12
The group therapist, if he were to help Bill, had to make certain that there was to be a
sequel.
Bill did not want to be burdened with Jan’s depression. There were women all around
the country who loved him (and whose love made him feel alive), yet for him these
women did not have an independent existence. He preferred to think that his women came
to life only when he appeared to them. Once again, Camus spoke for him:
I could live happily only on condition that all the individuals on earth, or the
greatest possible number, were turned toward me, eternally in suspense, devoid of
independent life and ready to answer my call at any moment, doomed in short to
sterility until the day I should deign to favor them. In short, for me to live happily
it was essential for the creatures I chose not to live at all. They must receive their
life, sporadically, only at my bidding.13
Jan pressed Bill relentlessly. She told him that there was another man who was seriously
interested in her, and she pleaded with Bill to level with her, to be honest about his
feelings to her, to set her free. By now Bill was quite certain that he no longer desired Jan.
(In fact, as we were to learn later, he had been gradually increasing his commitment to the
woman with whom he lived.) Yet he could not allow the words to pass his lips—a strange
type of freedom, then, as Bill himself gradually grew to understand: the freedom to take
but not to relinquish. (Camus, again: “Believe me, for certain men at least, not taking what
one doesn’t desire is the hardest thing in the world!”)14 He insisted that he be granted the
freedom to choose his pleasures, yet, as he came to see, he did not have the freedom to
choose for himself. His choice almost invariably resulted in his thinking less well of
himself. And the greater his self-hatred, the more compulsive, the less free, was his
mindless pursuit of sexual conquests that afforded him only an evanescent balm.
Jan’s pathology was equally patent. She ceded her freedom to Bill (a logical paradox);
only he had the power to set her free. I confronted her with her pervasive refusal to accept

her freedom: Why couldn’t she say no to a man? How could men use her sexually unless
she allowed it? It was evident, too, that she punished Bill in an inefficient, self-destructive
manner: she attempted to induce guilt through accidents, depression, and lamentations that
she had trusted a man who had betrayed her and that now she would be ruined for life.
Bill and Jan circled these issues for months. From time to time they would reenter their
old relationship but always with slightly more sobriety and slightly less self-deception.
During a period of nonwork, I sensed that the timing was right and confronted them in a
forcible manner. Jan arrived late at the meeting complaining about the disarray of her
financial affairs. She and Bill giggled as he commented that her irresponsibility about
money made her all the more adorable. I stunned the group by observing that Jan and Bill
were doing so little therapeutic work that I wondered whether it made sense for them to
continue in the group.
Jan and Bill accused me of hypermoralism. Jan said that for weeks she came to the
group only to see Bill and to talk to him after the group; if he left, she did not think she
would continue. I reminded her that the group was not a dating bureau: surely there were
far more important tasks for her to pursue. Bill, I continued, would play no role in the long
scheme of her life and would shortly fade from her memory. Bill had no commitment to
her, and if he were at all honest he would tell her so. Jan rejoined that Bill was the only
one in the group who truly cared for her. I disagreed and said that Bill’s caring for her was
clearly not in her best interests.
Bill left the meeting furious at me (especially at my comment that he would soon fade
from Jan’s mind). For a day, he fantasized marrying her to prove me wrong, but he
returned to the group to plunge into serious work. As his honesty with himself deepened,
as he faced a core feeling of emptiness that a woman’s love had always temporarily filled,
he worked his way through painful feelings of depression that his acting out had kept at
bay. Jan was deeply despondent for two days after the meeting, and then suddenly made
far-reaching decisions about her work, money, men, and therapy.
The group then entered a phase of productive work, which was further deepened when I
introduced a much older woman into the group who brought with her many neglected
themes in the group: aging, death, physical deterioration. Jan and Bill fell out of love.
They began to examine their relationships with others in the group, including the
therapists. Bill stopped lying, first to Jan, then to Gina, then to the other members, and
finally to himself. Jan continued in the group for six more months, and Bill for another
year.
The outcome for both Jan and Bill was—judged by any outcome criteria—stunning. In
interviews nine months after their termination, both showed impressive changes. Jan was
no longer depressed, self-destructive, or promiscuous. She was involved in the most stable
and satisfying relationship with a man she had ever had, and she had gone into a different
and more rewarding career. Bill, once he understood that he had made his relationship
with his girlfriend tenuous to allow him to seek what he really didn’t want, allowed
himself to feel more deeply and married shortly before leaving the group. His anxious
depressions, his tortured self-consciousness, his pervasive sense of emptiness had all been

replaced by their respective, vital counterparts.
I am not able in these few pages to sum up all that was important in the therapy of Jan
and Bill. There was much more to it, including many important interactions with other
members and with me. The development and working through of their extragroup
relationship was, I believe, not a complication but an indispensable part of their therapy.
It is unlikely that Jan would have had the motivation to remain in therapy had Bill not
been present in the group. It is unlikely that without Jan’s presence, Bill’s central problems
would have surfaced clearly and become accessible for therapy.
The price paid by the group, however, was enormous. Vast amounts of group time and
energy were consumed by Jan and Bill. Other members were neglected, and many
important issues went untouched. Most often, such extragroup subgrouping would create a
destructive therapy impasse. † It is most unlikely that a new group, or a group that met
less frequently than twice a week, could have afforded the price. It is also unlikely that Jan
and Bill would have been willing to persevere in their therapeutic work and to remain in
the group had they not already been committed to the group before their love affair began.
CONFLICT IN THE THERAPY GROUP
Conflict cannot be eliminated from human groups, whether dyads, small groups,
macrogroups, or such megagroups as nations and blocs of nations. If overt conflict is
denied or suppressed, invariably it will manifest itself in oblique, corrosive, and often ugly
ways. Although our immediate association with conflict is negative—destruction,
bitterness, war, violence—a moment of reflection brings to mind positive associations:
drama, excitement, change, and development. Therapy groups are no exception. Some
groups become “too nice” and diligently avoid conflict and confrontation, often mirroring
the therapist’s avoidance of aggression. Yet conflict is so inevitable in the course of a
group’s development that its absence suggests some impairment of the developmental
sequence. Furthermore, conflict can be exceeding valuable to the course of therapy,
provided that its intensity does not exceed the members’ tolerance and that proper group
norms have been established. Learning how to deal effectively with conflict is an
important therapeutic step that contributes to individual maturation and emotional
resilience. 15 In this section, I consider conflict in the therapy group—its sources, its
meaning, and its contribution to therapy.
Sources of Hostility
There are many sources of hostility in the therapy group and an equal number of relevant
explanatory models and perspectives, ranging from ego psychology to object relations to
self psychology.16 The group leader’s capacity to identify the individual, interpersonal,

and group dynamic contributions to the hostility in the group is essential.17
Some antagonisms are projections of the client’s self-contempt. Indeed, often many
sessions pass before some individuals really begin to hear and respect the opinions of
other members. They have so little self-regard that it is at first inconceivable that others
similar to themselves have something valuable to offer. Devaluation begets devaluation,
and a destructive interpersonal loop can be readily launched.
Transference or parataxic distortions often generate hostility in the therapy group. One
may respond to others not on the basis of reality but on the basis of an image of the other
distorted by one’s own past relationships and current interpersonal needs and fears. Should
the distortion be negatively charged, then a mutual antagonism may be easily initiated.
The group may function as a “hall of mirrors,”†18 which may aggravate hostile and
rejecting feelings and behaviors. Individuals may have long suppressed some traits or
desires of which they are much ashamed; when they encounter another person who
embodies these very traits, they generally shun the other or experience a strong but
inexplicable antagonism toward the person. The process may be close to consciousness
and recognized easily with guidance by others, or it may be deeply buried and understood
only after many months of investigation.
• One patient, Vincent, a second-generation Italian-American who had grown up in
the Boston slums and obtained a good education with great difficulty, had long
since dissociated himself from his roots. Having invested his intellect with
considerable pride, he spoke with great care in order to avoid betraying any
nuance of his accent or background. In fact, he abhorred the thought of his lowly
past and feared that he would be found out, that others would see through his front
to his core, which he regarded as ugly, dirty, and repugnant. In the group, Vincent
experienced extreme antagonism for another member, also of Italian descent, who
had, in his values and in his facial and hand gestures, retained his identification
with his ethnic group. Through his investigation of his antagonism toward this
man, Vincent arrived at many important insights about himself.

• In a group of psychiatric residents, Pat agonized over whether to transfer to a
more academically oriented residency. The group, with one member, Clem, as
spokesman, resented the group time Pat took for this problem, rebuking him for his
weakness and indecisiveness and insisting that he “crap or get off the pot.” When
the therapist guided the group members into an exploration of the sources of their
anger toward Pat, many dynamics became evident (several of which I will discuss
in chapter 17). One of the strongest sources was uncovered by Clem, who
discussed his own paralyzing indecisiveness. He had, a year earlier, faced the
same decision as Pat and, unable to act decisively, had resolved the dilemma
passively by suppressing it. Pat’s behavior reawakened that painful scenario for
Clem, who resented the other man not only for disturbing his uneasy slumber but
also for struggling with the issue more honestly and more courageously than he
had.

J. Frank described a reverberating double-mirror reaction:
• In one group, a prolonged feud developed between two Jews, one of whom
flaunted his Jewishness while the other tried to conceal it. Each finally realized
that he was combating in the other an attitude he repressed in himself. The militant
Jew finally understood that he was disturbed by the many disadvantages of being
Jewish, and the man who hid his background confessed that he secretly nurtured a
certain pride in it.19
Another source of conflict in groups arises from projective identification , an
unconscious process which consists of projecting some of one’s own (but disavowed)
internal attributes into another, toward whom one subsequently feels an uncanny
attraction-repulsion. A stark literary example of projective identification occurs in
Dostoevsky’s nightmarish tale “The Double,” in which the protagonist encounters a man
who is his physical double and yet a personification of all the dimly perceived, hated
aspects of himself.20 The tale depicts with astonishing vividness both the powerful
attraction and the horror and hatred that develop between the protagonist and his double.
Projective identification has intrapsychic and interpersonal components. 21 It is both a
defense (primitive in nature because it polarizes, distorts, and fragments reality), and a
form of interpersonal relationship.†22 Elements of one’s disowned self are put not only
onto another and shunned, as in simple projection, but into another. The behavior of the
other actually changes within the ongoing relationship because the overt and covert
communication of the projector influences the recipient’s psychological experience and
behavior. Projective identification resembles two distorting mirrors facing each other
producing increasing distortions as the reflected images bounce back and forth.23
There are many other sources of anger in group therapy. Individuals with a fragile sense
of self can respond with rage to experiences of shame, dismissal, empathic failure, or
rejection and seek to bolster their personal stature by retaliation or interpersonal coercion.
At times anger can be a desperate reaction to one’s sense of fragmentation in the face of
interpersonal rejection and may represent the client’s best effort at avoiding total
emotional collapse.24
Rivalry and envy may also fuel conflict. Group members may compete with one
another in the group for the largest share of the therapist’s attention or for some particular
role: for example, the most powerful, respected, sensitive, disturbed, or needy person in
the group. Members (fueled perhaps by unconscious remnants of sibling rivalry) search
for signs that the therapist may favor one or another of the members. In one group, for
example, one member asked the therapist where he was going on vacation and he
answered with uncharacteristic candor. This elicited a bitter response from another
member, who recalled how her sister had always received things from her parents that she
had been denied.†25
The addition of new members often ignites rivalrous feelings:
• In the fiftieth meeting of one group, a new member, Ginny,ac was added. In many

aspects she was similar to Douglas, one of the original members: they were both
artists, mystical in their approach to life, often steeped in fantasy, and all too
familiar with their unconscious. It was not affinity, however, but antagonism that
soon developed between the two. Ginny immediately established her characteristic
role by behaving in a spiritlike, irrational, and disorganized fashion in the group.
Douglas, who saw his role as the sickest and most disorganized member being
usurped, reacted to her with intolerance and irritation. Only after active
interpretation of the role conflict and Douglas’s assumption of a new role (“most
improved member”) was an entente between the two members achieved.
As the group progresses, the members may grow increasingly impatient and angry with
those who have not adopted the group’s norms of behavior. If someone, for example,
continues to hide behind a facade, the group may coax her and attempt to persuade her to
participate. After some time patience gives out and the members may angrily demand that
she be more honest with herself and the others.
Certain members, because of their character structure, will invariably be involved in
conflict and will engender conflict in any group. Consider a man with a paranoid
personality disorder whose assumptive world is that there is danger in the environment.
He is eternally suspicious and vigilant. He examines all experience with an extraordinary
bias as he searches for clues and signs of danger. He is tight, ready for an emergency. He
is never playful and looks suspiciously upon such behavior in others, anticipating their
efforts to exploit him. Obviously, these traits will not endear that individual to the other
group members. Sooner or later, anger will erupt all around him; and the more severe and
rigid his character structure, the more extreme will be the conflict. Eventually, if therapy is
to succeed, the client must access and explore the feelings of vulnerability that reside
beneath the hostile mistrust.
In chapter 11, I discussed yet another source of hostility in the group: members become
disenchanted and disappointed with the therapist for frustrating their (unrealistic)
expectations.† If the group is unable to confront the therapist directly, it may create a
scapegoat—a highly unsatisfactory solution for both victim and group. In fact,
scapegoating is a method by which the group can discharge anger arising from threats to
the group’s integrity and function, and it is a common phenomenon in any therapy group.
The choice of a scapegoat generally is not arbitrary. Some people repeatedly find
themselves in a scapegoat role, in a variety of social situations. It is useful for therapists to
view scapegoating as created jointly by the group members and the scapegoat.26
Hostility in the group can also be understood from the perspective of stages of group
development. In the early phase, the group fosters regression and the emergence of
irrational, uncivilized parts of individuals. The young group is also beset with anxiety
(from fear of exposure, shame, stranger anxiety, powerlessness) that may be expressed as
hostility. Prejudice (which is a way of reducing anxiety through a false belief that one
knows the other) may make an early appearance in the group and, of course, elicits
reciprocal anger from others. Throughout the course of the group, narcissistic injury
(wounds to self-esteem from feedback or being overlooked, unappreciated, excluded, or

misunderstood) is often suffered and is often expressed by angry retaliation. Still later in
the course of the group, anger may stem from other sources: projective tendencies, sibling
rivalry, transference, or the premature termination of some members.†
Management of Hostility
Regardless of its source, the discord, once begun, follows a predictable sequence. The
antagonists develop the belief that they are right and the others are wrong, that they are
good and the others bad. Moreover, although it is not recognized at the time, these beliefs
are characteristically held with equal conviction and certitude by each of the two opposing
parties. Where such a situation of opposing beliefs exists, we have all the ingredients for a
deep and continuing tension, even to the point of impasse.
Generally, a breakdown in communication ensues. The two parties cease to listen to
each other with any understanding. If they were in a social situation, the two opponents
would most likely completely rupture their relationship at this point and never be able to
correct their misunderstandings.
Not only do the opponents stop listening, but they may also unwittingly distort their
perceptions of one another. Perceptions are filtered through a screen of stereotype. The
opponent’s words and behavior are distorted to fit a preconceived view. Contrary evidence
is ignored; conciliatory gestures may be perceived as deceitful tricks. (The analogy to
international relations is all too obvious.) In short, there is a greater investment in
verification of one’s beliefs than in understanding the other.27
Distrust is the basis for this sequence. Opponents view their own actions as honorable
and reasonable, and the behavior of others as scheming and evil. If this sequence, so
common in human events, were permitted to unfold in therapy groups, the group members
would have little opportunity for change or learning. A group climate and group norms
that preclude such a sequence must be established early in the life of the group.
Cohesiveness is the primary prerequisite for the successful management of conflict.
Members must develop a feeling of mutual trust and respect and come to value the group
as an important means of meeting their personal needs. They must understand the
importance of maintaining communication if the group is to survive; all parties must
continue to deal directly with one another, no matter how angry they become.
Furthermore, everyone is to be taken seriously. When a group treats one member as a
“mascot,” someone whose opinions and anger are lightly regarded, the hope of effective
treatment for that individual has all but officially been abandoned. Covert exchanges
between members, sometimes bordering on the “rolling of one’s eyes” in reaction to the
mascotted member’s participation is an ominous sign. Mascotting jeopardizes group
cohesiveness: no one is safe, particularly the next most peripheral member, who will have
reason to fear similar treatment.
The cohesive group in which everyone is taken seriously soon elaborates norms that
obligate members to go beyond name calling. Members must pursue and explore

derogatory labels and be willing to search more deeply within themselves to understand
their antagonism and to make explicit those aspects of others that anger them. Norms must
be established that make it clear that group members are there to understand themselves,
not to defeat or ridicule others. It is particularly useful if members try to reach within
themselves to identify similar trends and impulses. Terence (a second-century B.C. Roman
dramatist) gave us a valuable perspective when he said, “I am human and nothing human
is alien to me.”28
A member who realizes that others accept and are trying to understand finds it less
necessary to hold rigidly to beliefs and may be more willing to explore previously denied
aspects of self. Gradually, such members may recognize that not all of their motives are as
they have proclaimed, and that some of their attitudes and behavior are not so fully
justified as they have been proclaiming. When this breakthrough step has been achieved,
individuals reappraise the situation and realize that the problem can be viewed in more
than one way.
Empathy is an important element in conflict resolution and facilitates humanization of
the struggle. Often, understanding the past plays an important role in the development of
empathy: Once an individual appreciates how aspects of an opponent’s earlier life have
contributed to the current stance, then the opponent’s position not only makes sense but
may even appear right. Tout comprendre, c’est tout pardonner.
Conflict resolution is often impossible in the presence of off-target or oblique hostility:
• Maria began a group session by requesting and obtaining the therapist’s
permission to read a letter she was writing in conjunction with a court hearing on
her impending divorce, which involved complex issues of property settlement and
child custody. The letter reading consumed considerable time and was often
interrupted by the other members, who disputed the contents of the letter. The
sniping by the group and defensive counterattacks by the protagonist continued
until the group atmosphere crackled with irritability. The group made no
constructive headway until the therapist explored with the members the process of
the meeting. The therapist was annoyed with himself for having permitted the letter
to be read and with Maria for having put him in that position. The group members
were angry at the therapist for having given permission and at Maria both for
consuming so much time and for relating to them in the frustrating, impersonal
manner of letter reading. Once the anger had been directed away from the oblique
target of the letter’s contents onto the appropriate targets—the therapist and Maria
—steps toward conflict resolution could begin.
Permanent conflict abolition, let me note, is not the final goal of the therapy group.
Conflict will continually recur in the group despite successful resolution of past conflicts
and despite the presence of considerable mutual respect and warmth. However,
unrestrained expression of rage is not a goal of the therapy group either.
Although some people relish conflict, the vast majority of group members (and
therapists) are highly uncomfortable when expressing or receiving anger. The therapist’s
task is to harness conflict and use it in the service of growth. One important principle is to

find the right level: too much or too little conflict is counterproductive. The leader is
always finetuning the dial of conflict. When there is persistent conflict, when the group
cannot agree on anything, the leader searches for resolution and wonders why the group
denies any commonality; on the other hand, when the group consistently agrees on
everything, the leader searches for diversity and differentiation. Thus, you need to titrate
conflict carefully. Generally, it is unnecessary to evoke conflict deliberately; if the group
members are interacting with one another openly and honestly, conflict will emerge. More
often, the therapist must intervene to keep conflict within constructive bounds.†
Keep in mind that the therapeutic use of conflict, like all other behavior in the here-and-
now, is a two-step process: experience (affect expression) and reflection upon that
experience. You may control conflict by switching the group from the first to the second
stage. Often a simple, direct appeal is effective: for example, “We’ve been expressing
some intense negative feelings here today as well as last week. To protect us from
overload, it might be valuable to stop what we’re doing and try together to understand
what’s been happening and where all these powerful feelings come from.” Group
members will have different capacities to tolerate conflict. One client responded to the
therapist’s “freezing the frame” (shifting the group to a reflective position) by criticizing
the therapist for cooling things off just when things were getting interesting. A comember
immediately commented that she could barely tolerate more tension and was grateful for a
chance to regroup. It may be useful to think of the shift to process as creating a space for
reflection—a space in which members may explore their mutual contributions to the
conflict. The creation of this space for thoughtful reflection may be of great import—
indeed, it may make the difference between therapeutic impasse and therapeutic growth.29
Receiving negative feedback is painful and yet, if accurate and sensitively delivered,
helpful. The therapist can render it more palatable by making the benefits of feedback
clear to the recipient and enlisting that client as an ally in the process. Often you can
facilitate that sequence by remembering the original presenting interpersonal problems
that brought the individual to therapy or by obtaining verbal contracts from group
members early in therapy, which you can refer back to when the member obtains
feedback.
For example, if at the onset of therapy a client comments that her fiancé accuses her of
trying to tear him down, and that she wishes to work on that problem in the group, you
may nail down a contract by a statement such as: “Carolyn, it sounds as though it would
be helpful to you if we could identify similar trends in your relationships to others in the
group. How would you feel if, from now on, we point this out to you as soon as we see it
happen?” Once this contract has been agreed upon, store it in your mind and, when the
occasion arises (for example when the client receives relevant similar feedback from men
in the group), remind the client that, despite the discomfort, this precise feedback may be
exceptionally useful in understanding her relationship with her fiancé.
Almost invariably, two group members who feel considerable mutual antagonism have
the potential to be of great value to each other (see my novel The Schopenhauer Cure for a
dramatic example of this phenomenon). † Each obviously cares about how he is viewed by

the other. Generally, there is much envy or much mutual projection, which offers the
opportunity to uncover hidden parts of themselves. In their anger, each will point out to
the other important (though unpalatable) truths. The self-esteem of the antagonists may be
increased by the conflict. When people become angry at one another, this in itself may be
taken as an indication that they are important to one another and take one another
seriously. Some have aptly referred to such angry relationships as “tough love” (a term
originating in the Synanon groups for addicts). Individuals who truly care nothing for each
other ignore each other. Individuals may learn another important lesson: that others may
respond negatively to some trait, mannerism, or attitude but still value them.
For clients who have been unable to express anger, the group may serve as a testing
ground for taking risks and learning that such behavior is neither dangerous nor
necessarily destructive. In chapter 2, I described incidents cited by group members as
turning points in their therapy. A majority of these critical incidents involved the
expression, for the first time, of strong negative affect. It is also important for clients to
learn that they can withstand attacks and pressure from others. Emotional resilience and
healthy insulation can be products of work involving conflict.†
Overly aggressive individuals may learn some of the interpersonal consequences of
blind outspokenness. Through feedback, they come to appreciate the impact they have on
others and gradually come to terms with the self-defeating pattern of their behavior. For
many, angry confrontations may provide valuable learning opportunities, since group
members learn to remain in mutually useful contact despite their anger.
Clients may be helped to express anger more directly and more fairly. Even in all-out
conflict, there are tacit rules of war, which, if violated, make satisfactory resolution all but
impossible. For example, in therapy groups combatants will occasionally take information
disclosed by the other in a previous spirit of trust and use it to scorn or humiliate that
person. Or they may refuse to examine the conflict because they claim to have so little
regard for the other that they do not wish to waste any further time. These postures require
vigorous intervention by the therapist. When therapists belatedly realize that an earlier or
different intervention would have been helpful, they should acknowledge that—as
Winnicott once said—the difference between good parents and bad parents was not the
number of mistakes made but what they did with them.30
Sometimes in unusually sustained and destructive situations the leader must forcefully
assume control and set limits. The leader cannot leave such situations to the group alone if
doing so gives license to an individual’s destructive behavior. Consider this description of
limit-setting by Ormont:31
Gabriel crackled with ill will toward everybody. He would not let anyone talk
without shouting them down. When the members demanded I get rid of him, I cut
in on him sharply: “Look, Gabriel, I understand how you feel. I might say the same
things, but with a lighter touch. The difference is that you’re out of control. You
have a fertile imagination. But you’re not moving things along in the group—
you’re simply finding fault and hurting feelings.

He seemed to be listening, so I ventured an interpretation. “You’re telling us
Miriam is no good. I get the impression you’re saying you are no good—a no-good
guy. Either you’re going to cooperate or you’re going to get out!” His reaction
astonished us. Without saying a word to me he turned to Miriam and apologized to
her. Later he told us how he felt my ability to set limits reassured him. Somebody
was in control.
One of the most common indirect and self-defeating modes of fighting is the one used
by Jan in the clinical illustration of subgrouping I described earlier in this chapter. This
strategy calls for the client, in one form or another, to injure himself or herself in the hope
of inducing guilt in the other—the “see what you’ve done to me” strategy. Usually, much
therapeutic work is required to change this pattern. It is generally deeply ingrained, with
roots stretching back to earliest childhood (as in the common childhood fantasy of
watching at your own funeral as parents and other grief-stricken tormentors pound their
breasts in guilt).
Group leaders must endeavor to turn the process of disagreeing into something positive
—a learning situation that encourages members to evaluate the sources of their position
and to relinquish those that are irrationally based. Clients must also be helped to
understand that regardless of the source of their anger, their method of expressing it may
be self-defeating. Feedback is instrumental in this process. For example, members may
learn that, unbeknownst to themselves, they characteristically display scorn, irritation, or
disapproval. Human sensitivity to facial gestures and nuances of expression far exceeds
proprioceptive sensitivity.32 Only through feedback do we learn that we communicate
something that is not intended or, for that matter, even consciously experienced. Focusing
attention on the divergence between a client’s intent and actual impact can significantly
enhance self-awareness.†33
The therapist should also attempt to help the conflicting members learn more about their
opponent’s position. Therapists who feel comfortable using structured exercises may find
that role-switching may be a useful intervention. Members are asked to take the part of
their opponent for a few minutes in order to apprehend the other’s reasons and feelings.
Focused anger-management groups have been applied effectively in a range of settings
and clinical populations, stretching from burdened caregivers of family members with
dementia to war veterans suffering posttraumatic stress disorder. These groups usually
combine psychoeducation (focusing on the connections between thoughts, emotions, and
behavior) and skill building.†
Many group members have the opposite problem of suppressing and avoiding angry
feelings. In groups they learn that others in their situation would feel angry; they learn to
read their own body language (“My fists are clenched so I must be angry”); they learn to
magnify rather than suppress the first flickerings of anger; they learn that it is safe,
permissible, and in their best interests to be direct and to feel and express anger. Most
important, their fear of such behavior is extinguished: their fantasized catastrophe does not
occur, their comments do not result in destruction, guilt, rejection, or escalation of anger.
Strong shared affect may enhance the importance of the relationship. In chapter 3, I

described how group cohesiveness is increased when members of a group go through
intense emotional experiences together, regardless of the nature of the emotion. In this
manner, members of a successful therapy group are like members of a closely knit family,
who may battle each other yet derive much support from their family allegiance. A dyadic
relationship, too, that has weathered much stress is likely to be especially rewarding. A
situation in which two individuals in group therapy experience an intense mutual hatred
and then, through some of the mechanisms I have described, resolve the hatred and arrive
at mutual understanding and respect is always of great therapeutic value.
SELF-DISCLOSURE
Self-disclosure, both feared and valued by participants, plays an integral part in all group
therapies. Without exception, group therapists agree that it is important for clients to
reveal personal material in the group—material that the client would rarely disclose to
others. The self-disclosure may involve past or current events in one’s life, fantasy or
dream material, hopes or aspirations, and current feelings toward other individuals. In
group therapy, feelings toward other members often assume such major importance that
the therapist must devote energy and time to creating the preconditions for disclosure:
trust and cohesiveness.†
Risk
Every self-disclosure involves some risk on the part of the discloser—how much risk
depends in part on the nature of what is disclosed. Disclosing material that has previously
been kept secret or that is highly personal and emotionally charged obviously carries
greater risk. First-time disclosure, that is, the first time one has shared certain information
with anyone else, is felt to be particularly risky.
The amount of risk also depends on the audience. Disclosing members, wishing to
avoid shame, humiliation, and rejection, feel safer if they know that the audience is
sensitive and has also previously disclosed highly personal material.†34
Sequence of Self-Disclosure
Self-disclosure has a predictable sequence. If the receiver of the disclosure is involved in a
meaningful relationship with the discloser (and not merely a casual acquaintance at a
cocktail party) the receiver is likely to feel obligated to reciprocate with some personal
disclosure. Now the receiver as well as the original discloser is vulnerable, and the
relationship usually deepens, with the participants continuing to make slightly more open
and intimate disclosures in turn until some optimal level of intimacy is reached. Thus, in

the cohesive group self-disclosure draws more disclosure, ultimately generating a
constructive loop of trust, self-disclosure, feedback, and interpersonal learning.35
Here is an illustrative example:
• Halfway through a thirty-session course of group therapy, Cam, a thirty-year-old
avoidant, socially isolated, engineer, opened a session by announcing that he
wanted to share a secret with the group: for the past several years, he had
frequented strip clubs, befriending the strippers. He had a fantasy that he would
rescue a stripper, who would then, in gratitude, fall in love with him. Cam went on
to describe how he had spent thousands of dollars on his “rescue missions.” The
group members welcomed his disclosure, especially since it was the first
substantially personal disclosure he had made in the group. Cam responded that
time was running out and he wanted to relate to the others in a real way before the
group ended. This encouraged Marie, a recovering alcoholic, to reciprocate with a
major disclosure: many years ago she had worked as an exotic dancer and
prostitute, and she assured Cam that he could expect nothing but disappointment
and exploitation in that environment. She had never disclosed her past for fear of
the group’s judgment, but felt compelled to respond to Cam: She hated to see such
a decent man engaging in self-destructive relationships. The mutual disclosure,
support, and caring accelerated the work in the subsequent meeting for all the
members.
Adaptive Functions of Self-Disclosure
As disclosures proceed in a group, the entire membership gradually increases its
involvement and responsibility to one another. If the timing is right, nothing will commit
an individual to a group more than receiving or revealing some intimate secret material.
There is nothing more exhilarating than for a member to disclose for the first time material
that has been burdensome for years and to be genuinely understood and fully accepted. †
Interpersonalists such as Sullivan and Rogers maintained that self-acceptance must be
preceded by acceptance by others; in other words, to accept oneself, one must gradually
permit others to know one as one really is.
Research evidence validates the importance of self-disclosure in group therapy.36 In
chapter 3, I described the relationship between self-disclosure and popularity in the group.
Popularity (as determined from sociometrics) correlates with therapy outcome.37 Group
members who disclose extensively in the early meetings are often very popular in their
groups.38 People reveal more to individuals they like; conversely, those who reveal
themselves are more likely to be liked by others.39 Several research inquiries have
demonstrated that high disclosure (either naturally occurring or experimentally induced)
increases group cohesiveness.40 But the relationship between liking and self-disclosure is
not linear. One who discloses too much arouses anxiety in others rather than affection.41 In
other words, both the content and process of self-disclosure need to be considered. Self-

disclosure should be viewed as a means and not an end in itself.42
Much research supports the crucial role of self-disclosure in successful therapy
outcome.43 Successfully treated participants in group therapy made almost twice as many
self-disclosing personal statements during the course of therapy as did unsuccessfully
treated clients.44 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles found that in encounter groups, individuals
who had negative outcomes revealed less of themselves than did the other participants.45
The concept of transfer of learning is vital here: not only are clients rewarded by the
other group members for self-disclosure, but the behavior, thus reinforced, is integrated
into their relationships outside the group, where it is similarly rewarded. Often the first
step toward revealing something to a spouse or a potential close friend is the first-time
disclosure in the therapy group.
Hence, to a significant degree, the impact of self-disclosure is shaped by the
relationship context in which the disclosure occurs. What is truly validating to the client is
to reveal oneself and then to be accepted and supported. Once that happens, the client
experiences a genuine sense of connection and of understanding.46 Keep in mind also that
here-and-now disclosure in particular has a far greater effect on cohesion than then-and-
there disclosure.47
Often clients manifest great resistance to self-disclosure. Frequently a client’s dread of
rejection or ridicule from other members coexists with the hope of acceptance and
understanding.48 Group members often entertain some calamitous fantasy about self-
disclosure; to disclose and to have that calamitous fantasy disconfirmed is highly
therapeutic.
In a bold undergraduate teaching experiment, students confidentially shared a deep
secret with the class. Great care was taken to ensure anonymity. Secrets were written on
uniform paper, read by the instructor in a darkened classroom so as to conceal blushing or
other facial expressions of discomfort, and immediately destroyed. The secrets included
various sexual preferences, illegal or immoral acts (including sexual abuse, cheating,
stealing, drug sales), psychological disturbances, abuse suffered in alcoholic families, and
so on. Immediately after the reading of the secrets, there was a powerful response in the
classroom: “a heavy silence … the atmosphere is palpable … the air warm, heavy, and
electric … you could cut the tension with a knife.” Students reported a sense of relief at
hearing their secrets read—as though a weight had been lifted from them. But there was
even greater relief in the subsequent class discussion, in which students shared their
responses to hearing various secrets, exchanged similar experiences, and not uncommonly
chose to identify which secret they wrote. The peer support was invariably positive and
powerfully reassuring.49
Maladaptive Self-Disclosure
Self-disclosure is related to optimal psychological and social adjustment in a curvilinear

fashion: too much or too little self-disclosure signifies maladaptive interpersonal behavior.
Too little self-disclosure usually results in severely limited opportunity for reality
testing. Those who fail to disclose themselves in a relationship generally forfeit the
opportunity to obtain valid feedback. Furthermore, they prevent the relationship from
developing further; without reciprocation, the other party will either desist from further
self-disclosure or else rupture the relationship entirely.
Group members who do not disclose themselves have little chance of genuine
acceptance by the other members and therefore little chance of experiencing a rise in self-
esteem.50 If a member is accepted on the basis of a false image, no enduring boost in self-
esteem occurs; moreover, that person will then be even less likely to engage in valid self-
disclosure because of the added risk of losing the acceptance gained through the false
presentation of self.51
Some individuals dread self-disclosure, not primarily because of shame or fear of
nonacceptance but because they are heavily conflicted in the area of control. To them, self-
disclosure is dangerous because it makes them vulnerable to the control of others. It is
only when several other group members have made themselves vulnerable through self-
disclosure that such a person is willing to reciprocate.
Self-disclosure blockages will impede individual members as well as entire groups.
Members who have an important secret that they dare not reveal to the group may find
participation on any but a superficial level very difficult, because they will have to conceal
not only the secret but all possible avenues to it. In chapter 5, I discussed in detail how, in
the early stages of therapy, the therapist might best approach the individual who has a big
secret. To summarize, it is advisable for the therapist to counsel the client to share the
secret with the group in order to benefit from therapy. The pace and timing are up to the
client, but the therapist may offer to make the act easier in any way the client wishes.
When the long-held secret is finally shared, it is often illuminating to learn what made it
possible to come forward at this point in time. I will often make such statements as
“You’ve been coming to this group for many weeks wanting to tell us about this secret.
What has changed in you or in the group to make it possible to share it today? What has
happened to allow you to trust us more today?Ӡ See The Schopenhauer Cure for a
graphic example.
Therapists sometimes unwittingly discourage self-disclosure. The most terrifying secret
I have known a client to possess was in a newly formed group that I supervised, which
was led by a neophyte therapist. One year earlier, this woman had murdered her two-year-
old child and then attempted suicide. (The court ruled her insane and released her on the
provision that she undergo therapy.) After fourteen weeks of therapy, not only had she told
nothing of herself but by her militant promulgation of denial and suppressive strategies
(such as invoking astrological tables and ancient mystical sects) had impeded the entire
group. Despite his best efforts and much of my supervisory time, the therapist could find
no method to help the client (or the group) move into therapy. I then observed several
sessions of the group through the two-way mirror and noted, to my surprise, that the client
provided the therapist with many opportunities to help her discuss the secret. A productive

supervisory session was devoted to the therapist’s countertransference. His feelings about
his own two-year-old child and his horror (despite himself) at the client’s act colluded with
her guilt to silence her in the group. In the following meeting, the gentlest question by the
therapist was sufficient to free the client’s tongue and to change the entire character of the
group.
In some groups, self-disclosure is discouraged by a general climate of judgmentalism.
Members are reluctant to disclose shameful aspects of themselves for fear that others will
lose respect for them. In training or therapy groups of mental health professionals, this
issue is even more pressing. Since our chief professional instrument is our own person, at
risk is professional as well as personal loss of respect. In a group of psychiatric residents,
for example, one member, Joe, discussed his lack of confidence as a physician and his
panic whenever he was placed in a lifeor-death clinical situation. Ted, an outspoken, burly
member, acknowledged that Joe’s fear of revealing this material was well founded, since
Ted did lose respect for him and doubted whether he would, in the future, refer patients to
Joe. The other members supported Joe and condemned Ted for his judgmentalism and
suggested that they would be reluctant to refer patients to him. An infinite regress of
judgmentalism can easily ensue, and it is incumbent on the therapist at these times to
make a vigorous process intervention.
The therapist must differentiate, too, between a healthy need for privacy and neurotic
compulsive secrecy.† Some people, who seldom find their way into groups, are private in
an adaptive way: they share intimacies with only a few close friends and shudder at the
thought of self-disclosure in a group. Moreover, they enjoy private self-contemplative
activities. This is a very different thing from privacy based on fear, shame, or crippling
social inhibitions. Men appear to have more difficulty in self-disclosure than women: they
tend to view relationships from the perspective of competition and dominance rather from
tenderness and connectedness.52
Too much self-disclosure can be as maladaptive as too little. Indiscriminate self-
disclosure is neither a goal of mental health nor a pathway to it. Some individuals make
the grievous error of reasoning that if self-disclosure is desirable, then total and
continuous self-disclosure must be a very good thing indeed. Urban life would become
unbearably sticky if every contact between two people entailed sharing personal concerns
and secrets. Obviously, the relationship that exists between discloser and receiver should
be the major factor in determining the pattern of self-disclosure. Several studies have
demonstrated this truth experimentally: individuals disclose different types and amounts of
material depending on whether the receiver is a mother, father, best same-sex friend,
opposite-sex friend, work associate, or spouse.53
However, some maladaptive disclosers disregard, and thus jeopardize, their relationship
with the receiver. The self-disclosing individual who fails to discriminate between
intimate friends and distant acquaintances perplexes associates. We have all, I am certain,
experienced confusion or betrayal on learning that supposedly intimate material confided
to us has been shared with many others. Furthermore, a great deal of self-disclosure may
frighten off an unprepared recipient. In a rhythmic, flowing relationship, one party leads

the other in self-disclosures, but never by too great a gap.
In group therapy, members who reveal early and promiscuously will often drop out
soon in the course of therapy. Group members should be encouraged to take risks in the
group; but if they reveal too much too early, they may feel so much shame that any
interpersonal rewards are offset; furthermore, their overabundant self-disclosure may
threaten others who would be willing to support them but are not yet prepared to
reciprocate. 54 High disclosers are then placed in a position of such great vulnerability in
the group that they often choose to flee.
All of these observations suggest that self-disclosure is a complex social act that is
situation and role bound. One does not self-disclose in solitude: time, place, and person
must always be considered. Appropriate self-disclosure in a therapy group, for example,
may be disastrously inappropriate in other situations, and appropriate self-disclosure for
one stage of a therapy group may be inappropriate for another stage.
These points are particularly evident in the case of self-disclosure of feelings toward
other members, or feedback. It is my belief that the therapist should help the members be
guided as much by responsibility to others as by freedom of expression. I have seen
vicious, destructive events occur in groups under the aegis of honesty and self-revelation:
“You told us that we should be honest about expressing our feelings, didn’t you?” But, in
fact, we always selectively reveal our feelings. There are always layers of reactions toward
others that we rarely share—feelings about unchangeable attributes, physical
characteristics, deformity, professional or intellectual mediocrity, social class, lack of
charm, and so on.
For some individuals, disclosure of overt hostile feelings is “easy-honest.” But they find
it more difficult to reveal underlying meta-hostile feelings—feelings of fear, envy, guilt,
sadistic pleasure in vindictive triumph. And how many individuals find it easy to disclose
negative feelings but avoid expressing positive feelings—feelings of admiration, concern,
empathy, physical attraction, love?
A group member who has just disclosed a great deal faces a moment of vulnerability
and requires support from the members and/or the therapist. Regardless of the
circumstances, no client should be attacked for important self-disclosure. A clinical
vignette illustrates this point.
• Five members were present at a meeting of a year-old group. (Two members were
out of town, and one was ill.) Joe, the protagonist of this episode, began the
meeting with a long, rambling statement about feeling uncomfortable in a smaller
group. Since Joe had started the group, his style of speaking had turned members
off. Everyone found it hard to listen to him and longed for him to stop. But no one
had really dealt honestly with these vague, unpleasant feelings about Joe until this
meeting, when, after several minutes, Betsy interrupted him: “I’m going to scream
—or burst! I can’t contain myself any longer! Joe, I wish you’d stop talking. I can’t
bear to listen to you. I don’t know who you’re talking to—maybe the ceiling, maybe
the floor, but I know you’re not talking to me. I care about everyone else in this
group. I think about them. They mean a lot to me. I hate to say this, but for some

reason, Joe, you don’t matter to me.”
Stunned, Joe attempted to understand the reason behind Betsy’s feelings. Other
members agreed with Betsy and suggested that Joe never said anything personal.
It was all filler, all cotton candy—he never revealed anything important about
himself; he never related personally to any of the members of the group. Spurred,
and stung, Joe took it upon himself to go around the group and describe his
personal feelings toward each of the members.
I thought that, even though Joe revealed more than he had before, he still
remained in comfortable, safe territory. I asked, “Joe, if you were to think about
revealing yourself on a ten-point scale, with “one” representing cocktail-party
stuff and “ten” representing the most you could ever imagine revealing about
yourself to another person, how would you rank what you did in the group over the
last ten minutes?” He thought about it for a moment and said he guessed he would
give himself “three” or “four.” I asked, “Joe, what would happen if you were to
move it up a rung or two?”
He deliberated for a moment and then said, “If I were to move it up a couple of
rungs, I would tell the group that I was an alcoholic.”
This was a staggering bit of self-disclosure. Joe had been in the group for a
year, and no one in the group—not even me and my cotherapist—had known of
this. Furthermore, it was vital information. For weeks, for example, Joe had
bemoaned the fact that his wife was pregnant and had decided to have an abortion
rather than have a child by him. The group was baffled by her behavior and over
the weeks became highly critical of his wife—some members even questioned why
Joe stayed in the marriage. The new information that Joe was an alcoholic
provided a crucial missing link. Now his wife’s behavior made sense!
My initial response was one of anger. I recalled all those futile hours Joe had
led the group on a wild-goose chase. I was tempted to exclaim, “Damn it, Joe, all
those wasted meetings talking about your wife! Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
But that is just the time to bite your tongue. The important thing is not that Joe did
not give us this information earlier but that he did tell us today. Rather than being
punished for his previous concealment, he should be reinforced for having made a
breakthrough and been willing to take an enormous risk in the group. The proper
technique consisted of supporting Joe and facilitating further “horizontal”
disclosure, that is, about the experience of disclosure (see chapter 5).†
It is not uncommon for members to withhold information, as Joe did, with the result that
the group spends time inefficiently. Obviously, this has a number of unfortunate
implications, not the least of which is the toll on the self-esteem of the withholding
member who knows he or she is being duplicitous—acting in bad faith toward the other
members. Often group leaders do not know the extent to which a member is withholding,
but (as I discuss in chapter 14) as soon as they begin doing combined therapy (that is,
treating the same individual both in individual and group therapy), they are amazed at how
much new information the client reveals.

In chapter 7, I discussed aspects of group leader self-disclosure. The therapist’s
transparency, particularly within the here-and-now, can be an effective way to encourage
member self-disclosure.† But leader transparency must always be placed in the context of
what is useful to the functioning of a particular group at a particular time. The general
who, after making an important tactical decision, goes around wringing his hands and
expressing his uncertainty will undercut the morale of his entire command. 55 Similarly,
the therapy group leader should obviously not disclose feelings that would undermine the
effectiveness of the group, such as impatience with the group, a preoccupation with a
client or a group seen earlier in the day, or any of a host of other personal concerns.56
TERMINATION
The concluding phase of group therapy is termination, a critically important but frequently
neglected part of treatment.57 Group therapy termination is particularly complex: members
may leave because they have achieved their goals, they may drop out prematurely, the
entire group may end, and the therapist may leave. Furthermore, feelings about
termination must be explored from different perspectives: the individual member, the
therapist, the group as a whole.
Even the word termination has unfavorable connotations; it is often used in such
negative contexts as an unwanted pregnancy or a poorly performing employee.58 In
contrast, a mutual, planned ending to therapy is a positive, integral part of the therapeutic
work that includes review, mourning, and celebration of the commencement of the next
phase of life. The ending should be clear and focused—not a petering out. Confronting the
ending of therapy is a boundary experience, a confrontation with limits.59 It reminds us of
the precious nature of our relationships and the requirement to conclude with as few
regrets as possible about work undone, emotions unexpressed, or feelings unstated.
Termination of the Client
If properly understood and managed, termination can be an important force in the process
of change. Throughout, I have emphasized that group therapy is a highly individual
process. Each client will enter, participate in, use, and experience the group in a uniquely
personal manner. The end of therapy is no exception.
Only general assumptions about the length and overall goals of therapy may be made.
Managed health care decrees that most therapy groups be brief and problem oriented—
and, indeed, as reviewed in chapter 10, there is evidence that brief group approaches may
effectively offer symptomatic relief. There is also evidence, however, that therapy is most
effective when the ending of treatment is collaboratively determined and not arbitrarily
imposed by a third party.60 Managed care is most interested in what will be most useful

for the majority of a large pool of clients. Psychotherapists are less interested in statistics
and aggregates of clients than in the individual distressed client in their office.
How much therapy is enough? That is not an easy question to answer. Although
remoralization and recovery from acute distress often occur quickly, substantial change in
character structure generally requires twelve to twenty-four months, or more, of
therapy.†61
The goals of therapy have never been stated more succinctly than by Freud: “to be able
to love and to work.”62 Freud believed that therapy should end when there is no prospect
for further gains and the individual’s pathology has lost its hold. Some people would add
other goals: the ability to love oneself, to allow oneself to be loved, to be more flexible, to
learn to play, to discover and trust one’s own values, and to achieve greater self-
awareness, greater interpersonal competence, and more mature defenses.63
Some group members may achieve a great deal in a few months, whereas others require
years of group therapy. Some individuals have far more ambitious goals than others; it
would not be an exaggeration to state that some individuals, satisfied with their therapy,
terminate in approximately the same state in which others begin therapy. Some clients
may have highly specific goals in therapy and, because much of their psychopathology is
ego-syntonic, choose to limit the amount of change they are willing to undertake. Others
may be hampered by important external circumstances in their lives. All therapists have
had the experience of helping a client improve to a point at which further change would be
countertherapeutic. For example, a client might, with further change, outgrow, as it were,
his or her spouse; continued therapy would result in the rupture of an irreplaceable
relationship unless concomitant changes occur in the spouse. If that contingency is not
available (if, for example, the spouse adamantly refuses to engage in the change process),
the therapist may be well advised to settle for the positive changes that have occurred,
even though the personal potential for greater growth is clear.
Termination of professional treatment is but a stage in the individual’s career of growth.
Clients continue to change, and one important effect of successful therapy is to enable
individuals to use their psychotherapeutic resources constructively in their personal
environment. Moreover, treatment effects may be time delayed: I have seen many
successful clients in long-term follow-up interviews who have not only continued to
change after termination but who, after they have left the group, recall an observation or
interpretation made by another member or the therapist that only then—months, even
years, later—became meaningful to them.
Setbacks, too, occur after termination: many successfully treated clients will, from time
to time, encounter severe stress and need short-term help. In addition, almost all members
experience anxiety and depression after leaving a group. A period of mourning is an
inevitable part of the termination process. Present loss may evoke memories of earlier
losses, which may be so painful that the client truncates the termination work. Indeed,
some cannot tolerate the process and will withdraw prematurely with a series of excuses.
This must be challenged: the client needs to internalize the positive group experience and
the members and leader; without proper separation, that process will be compromised and

the client’s future growth constricted.64
Some therapists find that termination from group therapy is less problematic than
termination from long-term individual therapy, in which clients often become extremely
dependent on the therapeutic situation. Group therapy participants are usually more aware
that therapy is not a way of life but a process with a beginning, a middle, and an end. In
the open therapy group, there are many living reminders of the therapeutic sequence.
Members see new members enter and improved members graduate; they observe the
therapist beginning the process over and over again to help the beginners through difficult
phases of therapy. Thus, they realize the bittersweet fact that, although the therapist is a
person with whom they have had a real and meaningful relationship, he or she is also a
professional whose attention must shift to others and who will not remain as a permanent
and endless source of gratification for them.
Not infrequently, a group places subtle pressure on a member not to terminate because
the remaining members will miss that person’s presence and contributions. There is no
doubt that members who have worked in a therapy group for many months or years
acquire interpersonal and group skills that make them particularly valuable to the other
members. (This is an important qualitative difference between group therapy and
individual therapy outcome: Group therapy members routinely increase in emotional
intelligence and become expert process diagnosticians and facilitators.)†
• One graduating member pointed out in his final meeting that Al usually started
the meeting, but recently that role had switched over to Donna, who was more
entertaining. After that, he noted that Al, aside from occasional sniping, often
slumped into silence for the rest of the meeting. He also remarked that two other
members never communicated directly to each other; they always used an
intermediary. Another graduating member remarked that she had noted the first
signs of the breakdown of a long-term collusion between two members in which
they had, in effect, agreed never to say anything challenging or unpleasant to the
other. In the same meeting, she chided the members of the group who were asking
for clarification about the groups ground rules about subgrouping: “Answer it for
yourselves. It’s your therapy. You know what you want to get out of the group.
What would it mean to you? Will it get in your way or not?” All of these comments
are sophisticated and interpersonally astute—worthy of any experienced group
therapist.
Therapists may so highly value such a member’s contributions that they also are slow in
encouraging him or her to terminate—of course, there is no justification for such a
posture, and therapists should explore this openly as soon as they become aware of it. I
have, incidentally, noted that a “role suction” operates at such times: once the senior
member leaves, another member begins to exercise skills acquired in the group.
Therapists, like other members, will feel the loss of departing members and by expressing
their feelings openly do some valuable modeling for the group and demonstrate that this
therapy and these relationships matter, not just to the clients but to them as well.
Some socially isolated clients may postpone termination because they have been using

the therapy group for social reasons rather than as a means for developing the skills to
create a social life for themselves in their home environment. The therapist must help
these members focus on transfer of learning and encourage risk taking outside the group.
Others unduly prolong their stay in the group because they hope for some guarantee that
they are indeed safe from future difficulties. They may suggest that they remain in the
group for a few more months, until they start a new job, or get married, or graduate from
college. If the improvement base seems secure, however, these delays are generally
unnecessary. Members must be helped to come to terms with the fact that one can never be
certain; one is always vulnerable.
Not infrequently, clients experience a brief recrudescence of their original
symptomatology shortly before termination. Rather than prolong their stay in the group,
the therapist should help the clients understand this event for what it is: protest against
termination. There are times, however, when this pretermination regression can serve as a
last opportunity to revisit the concerns that led to treatment initially and allow some
relapse prevention work. Ending does not undo good work, but it can profitably revisit the
beginnings of the work.
• One man, three meetings before termination, re-experienced much of the
depression and sense of meaninglessness that had brought him into therapy. The
symptoms rapidly dissipated with the therapist’s interpretation that he was
searching for reasons not to leave the group. That evening, the client dreamed that
the therapist offered him a place in another group in which he would receive
training as a therapist: “I felt that I had duped you into thinking I was better.” The
dream represents an ingenious stratagem to defeat termination and offers two
alternatives: the client goes into another of the therapist’s groups, in which he
receives training as a therapist; or he has duped the therapist and has not really
improved (and thus should continue in the group). Either way, he does not have to
terminate.
Some members improve gradually, subtly, and consistently during their stay in the
group. Others improve in dramatic bursts. I have known many members who, though hard
working and committed to the group, made no apparent progress whatsoever for six,
twelve, even eighteen months and then, suddenly, in a short period of time, seemed to
transform themselves. (What do we tell our students? That change is often slow, that they
should not look for immediate gratification from their clients. If they build solid, deep
therapeutic foundations, change is sure to follow. So often we think of this as just a
platitude designed to bolster neophyte therapists’ morale—we forget that it is true.)
The same staccato pattern of improvement is often true for the group as a whole.
Sometimes groups struggle and lumber on for months with no visible change in any
member, and then suddenly enter a phase in which everyone seems to get well together.
Rutan uses the apt metaphor of building a bridge during a battle.65 The leader labors
mightily to construct the bridge and may, in the early phases, suffer casualties (dropouts).
But once the bridge is in place, it escorts many individuals to a better place.
There are certain clients for whom even a consideration of termination is problematic.

These clients are particularly sensitized to abandonment; their self-regard is so low that
they consider their illness to be their only currency in their traffic with the therapist and
the group. In their minds growth is associated with dread, since improvement would result
in the therapist’s leaving them. Therefore they must minimize or conceal progress. Of
course, it is not until much later that they discover the key to this absurd paradox: Once
they truly improve, they will no longer need the therapist!†
One useful sign suggesting readiness for termination is that the group becomes less
important to the client. One terminating member commented that Mondays (the day of the
group meetings) were now like any other day of the week. When she began in the group,
she lived for Mondays, with the rest of the days inconsequential wadding between
meetings.
I make a practice of recording the first individual interview with a client. Not
infrequently, these tapes are useful in arriving at the termination decision. By listening
many months later to their initial session, clients can obtain a clearer perspective of what
they have accomplished and what remains to be done.
The group members are an invaluable resource in helping one another decide about
termination, and a unilateral decision made by a member without consulting the other
members is often premature. Generally, a well-timed termination decision will be
discussed for a few weeks in the group, during which time the client works through
feelings about leaving. There are times when clients make an abrupt decision to terminate
membership in the group immediately. I have often found that such individuals find it
difficult to express gratitude and positive feeling; hence they attempt to abbreviate the
separation process as much as possible. These clients must be helped to understand and
correct their jarring, unsatisfying method of ending relationships. In fact, for some, the
dread of ending dictates their whole pattern of avoiding connections and avoiding
intimacy. To ignore this phase is to neglect an important area of human relations. Ending
is, after all, a part of almost every relationship, and throughout one’s life one must say
good-bye to important people.
Many terminating members attempt to lessen the shock of departure by creating bridges
to the group that they can use in the future. They seek assurances that they may return,
they collect telephone numbers of the other members, or they arrange social meetings to
keep themselves informed of important events of the group. These efforts are only to be
expected, and yet the therapist must not collude in the denial of termination. On the
contrary, you must help the members explore it to its fullest extent. Clients who complete
individual therapy may return, but clients who leave the group can never return. They are
truly leaving: the group will be irreversibly altered; replacements will enter the group; the
present cannot be frozen; time flows on cruelly and inexorably. These facts are evident to
the remaining members as well—there is no better stimulus than a departing member to
encourage the group to deal with issues about the rush of time, loss, separation, death,
aging, and the contingencies of existence. Termination is thus more than an extraneous
event in the group. It is the microcosmic representation of some of life’s most crucial and
painful issues.

The group members may need some sessions to work on their loss and to deal with
many of these issues. The loss of a member provides an unusual work opportunity for
individuals sensitized to loss and abandonment. Since they have compatriots sharing their
loss, they mourn in a communal setting and witness others encompass the loss and
continue to grow and thrive.66
After a member leaves the group, it is generally wise not to bring in new members
without a hiatus of one or more meetings. A member’s departure is often an appropriate
time for others to take inventory of their own progress in therapy. Members who entered
the group at the same time as the terminating member may feel some pressure to move
more quickly.
Some members may misperceive the member’s leaving as a forced departure and may
feel a need to reaffirm a secure place in the group—by regressive means if necessary.
More competitive members may rush toward termination prematurely. Senior members
may feel envy or react with shame, experiencing the success of the comember as a
reminder of their own selfdeficiency and failing.† In extreme cases, the shame- or envy-
ridden client may seek to devalue and spoil the achievement of the graduating member.
Newer members may feel inspired or awed and left doubting whether they will ever be
able to achieve what they have just witnessed.
Should the group engage in some form of ritual to mark the termination of a member?
Sometimes a member or several members may present a gift to the graduating member or
bring coffee and cake to the meeting—which may be appropriate and meaningful, as long
as, like any event in the group, it can be examined and processed. For example, the group
may examine the meaning of the ritual; who suggests and plans it? Is it intended to avoid
necessary and appropriate sadness?67
We therapists must also look to our own feelings during the termination process,
because occasionally we unaccountably and unnecessarily delay a client’s termination.
Some perfectionist therapists may unrealistically expect too much change and refuse to
accept anything less than total resolution. Moreover, they lack faith in a client’s ability to
continue growth after the termination of formal therapy.68 Other clients bring out
Pygmalion pride in us: we find it difficult to part with someone who is, in part, our own
creation; saying good-bye to some clients is saying good-bye to a part of ourselves.
Furthermore, it is a permanent good-bye. If we have done our job properly, the client no
longer needs us and breaks all contact.
Termination of the Therapist
In training programs, it is common practice for trainees to lead a group for six months to a
year and then pass it on to a new student as their own training takes them elsewhere. This
is generally a difficult period for the group members, and often they respond with repeated
absences and threatened termination. It is a time for the departing therapist to attend to any
unfinished business he or she has with any of the members. Some members feel that this is

their last chance and share hitherto concealed material. Others have a recrudescence of
symptoms, as though to say, “See what your departure has done to me!”69 Therapists must
not avoid any of these concerns: the more complete their ending with the group, the
greater the potential for an effective transfer of leadership. It is an excellent opportunity
for helping members appreciate their own resources.
The same principles apply in situations in which a more established leader needs to end
his leadership due to a move, illness, or professional change. If the group members decide
to continue, it is the leader’s responsibility to secure new leadership. The transition
process takes considerable time and planning, and the new leader must set about as
quickly as possible to take over group leadership. One reported approach is to meet with
all the group members individually in a pregroup format as described in chapter 9, while
the old leader is still meeting with the group. After the first leader concludes, the new one
begins to meet with the group at the set group time or at a mutually agreed-upon new
time.70
Termination of the Group
Groups terminate for various reasons. Brief therapy groups, of course, have a preset
termination date. Often external circumstances dictate the end of a group: for example,
groups in a university mental health clinic usually run for eight to nine months and
disband at the beginning of the summer vacation. Open groups often end only when the
therapist retires or leaves the area (although this is not inevitable; if there is a co-therapist,
he or she may continue the group). Occasionally, a therapist may decide to end a group
because the great majority of its members are ready to terminate at approximately the
same time.
Often a group avoids the difficult and unpleasant work of termination by denying or
ignoring termination, and the therapist must keep the task in focus for them. In fact, as I
discussed in chapter 10, it is essential for the leader of the brief therapy group to remind
the group regularly of the approaching termination and to keep members focused on the
attainment of goals. Groups hate to die, and members generally try to avoid the ending.
They may, for example, pretend that the group will continue in some other setting—for
example, reunions or regularly scheduled social meetings. But the therapist is well advised
to confront the group with reality: the end of a group is a real loss. It never really can be
reconvened, and even if relationships are continued in pairs or small fragments of the
group, the entire group as the members then know it—in this room, in its present form,
with the group leaders—will be gone forever.
The therapist must call attention to maladaptive modes of dealing with the impending
termination. Some individuals have always dealt with the pain of separating from those
they care about by becoming angry or devaluing the others. Some choose to deny and
avoid the issue entirely. If anger or avoidance is extreme—manifested, for example, by
tardiness or increased absence—the therapist must confront the group with this behavior.
Usually with a mature group, the best approach is direct: the members can be reminded

that it is their group, and they must decide how they want to end it. Members who devalue
others or attend irregularly must be helped to understand their behavior. Do they feel their
behavior or their absence makes no difference to the others, or do they so dread expressing
positive feelings toward the group, or perhaps negative feelings toward the therapist for
ending it, that they avoid confrontation?
Pain over the loss of the group is dealt with in part by a sharing of past experiences:
exciting and meaningful past group events are remembered; members remind one another
of the way they were then; personal testimonials are invariably heard in the final meetings.
It is important that the therapist not bury the group too early, or the group will limp
through ineffective lame-duck sessions. You must find a way to hold the issue of
termination before the group and yet help the members keep working until the very last
minute.
Some leaders of effective time-limited groups have sought to continue the benefits of
the group by helping the group move into an ongoing leaderless format. The leader may
help the transition by attending the meetings as a consultant at regular but decreasing
intervals, for example biweekly or monthly. In my experience, it is particularly desirable
to make such arrangements when the group is primarily a support group and constitutes an
important part of the members’ social life—for example, groups of the elderly who,
through the death of friends and acquaintances, are isolated. Others have reported to me
the successful launching of ongoing leaderless groups for men, for women, for AIDS
sufferers, Alzheimer’s caregivers, and the bereaved.
Keep in mind that the therapist, too, experiences the discomfort of termination.
Throughout the final group stage, we must join the discussion. We will facilitate the group
work by disclosing our own feelings. Therapists, as well as members, will miss the group.
We are not impervious to feelings of loss and bereavement. We have grown close to the
members and we will miss them as they miss us. To us as well as to the client, termination
is a jolting reminder of the built-in cruelty of the psychotherapeutic process. Such
openness on the part of the therapist invariably makes it easier for the group members to
make their good-bye more complete. For us, too, the group has been a place of anguish,
conflict, fear, and also great beauty: some of life’s truest and most poignant moments
occur in the small and yet limitless microcosm of the therapy group.

Chapter 13
PROBLEM GROUP MEMBERS
I have yet to encounter the unproblematic client, the one who coasts through the course of
therapy like a newly christened ship gliding smoothly down the ramps into the water. Each
group member must be a problem: the success of therapy depends on each individual’s
encountering and then mastering basic life problems in the here-and-now of the group.
Each problem is complex, overdetermined, and unique. The intent of this book is not to
provide a compendium of solutions to problems but to describe a strategy and set of
techniques that will enable a therapist to adapt to any problem arising in the group.
The term “problem client” is itself problematic. Keep in mind that the problem client
rarely exists in a vacuum but is, instead, an amalgam consisting of several components:
the client’s own psychodynamics, the group’s dynamics, and the client’s interactions with
comembers and the therapist. We generally overestimate the role of the client’s character
while underestimating the role of the interpersonal and social context.1
Certain illustrative behavioral constellations merit particular attention because of their
common occurrence. A questionnaire sent by the American Group Psychotherapy
Association to practicing group therapists inquired about the critical issues necessary for
group therapists to master. Over fifty percent responded, “Working with difficult
patients.”2 Accordingly, in this chapter, we shall turn our attention to difficult clients and
specifically discuss eight problematic clinical types: the monopolist, the silent client, the
boring client, the help-rejecting complainer, the psychotic or bipolar client, the schizoid
client, the borderline client, and the narcissistic client.
THE MONOPOLIST
The bête noire of many group therapists is the habitual monopolist, a person who seems
compelled to chatter on incessantly. These individuals are anxious if they are silent; if
others get the floor, they reinsert themselves with a variety of techniques: rushing in to fill
the briefest silence, responding to every statement in the group, continually addressing the
problems of the speaker with a chorus of “I’m like that, too.”
The monopolist may persist in describing, in endless detail, conversations with others
(often taking several parts in the conversation) or in presenting accounts of newspaper or
magazine stories that may be only slightly relevant to the group issue. Some monopolists
hold the floor by assuming the role of interrogator. One member barraged the group with
so many questions and “observations” that it occluded any opportunity for members to
interact or reflect. Finally, when angrily confronted by comembers about her disruptive
effect, she explained that she dreaded silence because it reminded her of the “quiet before
the storm” in her family—the silence preceding her father’s explosive, violent rages.

Others capture the members’ attention by enticing them with bizarre, puzzling, or sexually
piquant material.
Labile clients who have a dramatic flair may monopolize the group by means of the
crisis method: They regularly present the group with major life upheavals, which always
seem to demand urgent and lengthy attention. Other members are cowed into silence, their
problems seeming trivial in comparison. (“It’s not easy to interrupt Gone with the Wind,”
as one group member put it.)
Effects on the Group
Although a group may, in the initial meeting, welcome and perhaps encourage the
monopolist, the mood soon turns to one of frustration and anger. Other group members are
often disinclined to silence a member for fear that they will thus incur an obligation to fill
the silence. They anticipate the obvious rejoinder of, “All right, I’ll be quiet. You talk.”
And, of course, it is not possible to talk easily in a tense, guarded climate. Members who
are not particularly assertive may not deal directly with the monopolist for some time;
instead, they may smolder quietly or make indirect hostile forays. Generally, oblique
attacks on the monopolist will only aggravate the problem and fuel a vicious circle. The
monopolist’s compulsive speech is an attempt to deal with anxiety; as the client senses the
growing group tension and resentment, his or her anxiety rises, and the tendency to speak
compulsively correspondingly increases. Some monopolists are consciously aware, at
these times, of assembling a smoke screen of words in order to divert the group from
making a direct attack.
Eventually, this source of unresolved tension will have a detrimental effect on
cohesiveness—an effect manifested by such signs of group disruption as indirect, off-
target fighting, absenteeism, dropouts, and subgrouping. When the group does confront
the monopolist, it is often in an explosive, brutal style; the spokesperson for the group
usually receives unanimous support—I have even witnessed a round of applause. The
monopolist may then sulk, be completely silent for a meeting or two (“See what they do
without me”), or leave the group. In any event, little that is therapeutic has been
accomplished for anyone.
Therapeutic Considerations
How can the therapist interrupt the monopolist in a therapeutically effective fashion?
Despite the strongest provocation and temptation to shout the client down or to silence the
client by edict, such an assault has little value (except as a temporary catharsis for the
therapist). The client is not helped: no learning has accrued; the anxiety underlying the
monopolist’s compulsive speech persists and will, without doubt, erupt again in further
monopolistic volleys or, if no outlet is available, will force the client to drop out of the
group. Neither is the group helped. Regardless of the circumstances, the others are

threatened by the therapist’s silencing, in a heavy-handed manner, one of the members. A
seed of caution and fear is implanted in the mind of all the members; they begin to wonder
if a similar fate might befall them.
Nevertheless, the monopolistic behavior must be checked, and generally it is the
therapist’s task to do so. Although often the therapist does well to wait for the group to
handle a group problem, the monopolistic member is one problem that the group, and
especially a young group, often cannot handle. The monopolistic client poses a threat to
its procedural underpinnings: group members are encouraged to speak in a group, yet this
particular member must be silenced. The therapist must prevent the elaboration of therapy-
obstructing norms and at the same time prevent the monopolistic client from committing
social suicide. A twopronged approach is most effective: consider both the monopolizer
and the group that has allowed itself to be monopolized. This approach reduces the hazard
of scapegoating and illuminates the role played by the group in each member’s behavior.
From the standpoint of the group, bear in mind the principle that individual and group
psychology are inextricably interwoven. No monopolistic client exists in a vacuum: The
client always abides in a dynamic equilibrium with a group that permits or encourages
such behavior.3 Hence, the therapist may inquire why the group permits or encourages one
member to carry the burden of the entire meeting. Such an inquiry may startle the
members, who have perceived themselves only as passive victims of the monopolist. After
the initial protestations are worked through, the group members may then, with profit,
examine their exploitation of the monopolist; for example, they may have been relieved by
not having to participate verbally in the group. They may have permitted the monopolist to
do all the self-disclosure, or to appear foolish, or to act as a lightning rod for the group
members’ anger, while they themselves assumed little responsibility for the group’s
therapeutic tasks. Once the members disclose and discuss their reasons for inactivity, their
personal commitment to the therapeutic process is augmented. They may, for example,
discuss their fears of assertiveness, or of harming the monopolist, or of a retaliatory attack
by some specific member or by the therapist; they may wish to avoid seeking the group’s
attention lest their greed be exposed; they may secretly revel in the monopolist’s plight
and enjoy being a member of the victimized and disapproving majority. A disclosure of
any of these issues by a hitherto uninvolved client signifies progress and greater
engagement in therapy.
In one group, for example, a submissive, chronically depressed woman, Sue, exploded
in an uncharacteristic expletive-filled rage at the monopolistic behavior of another
member. As she explored her outburst, Sue quickly recognized that her rage was really
inwardly directed, stemming from her own stifling of her self, her own passivity, her
avoidance of her own emotions. “My outburst was twenty years in the making,” Sue said
as she apologized and thanked her startled “antagonist” for crystallizing this awareness.
The group approach to this problem must be complemented by work with the
monopolistic individual. The basic principle is a simple one: you do not want to silence
the monopolist; you do not want to hear less from the client—you want to hear more. The
seeming contradiction is resolved when we consider that the monopolist uses compulsive

speech for self-concealment. The issues the monopolist presents to the group do not
accurately reflect deeply felt personal concerns but are selected for other reasons: to
entertain, to gain attention, to justify a position, to present grievances, and so on. Thus, the
monopolist sacrifices the opportunity for therapy to an insatiable need for attention and
control. Although each therapist will fashion interventions according to personal style, the
essential message to monopolists must be that, through such compulsive speech, they hold
the group at arm’s length and prevent others from relating meaningfully to them. Thus you
do not reject but instead issue an invitation to engage more fully in the group. If you
harbor only the singular goal of silencing the client, then you have, in effect, abandoned
the therapeutic goal and might as well remove the member from the group.
At times, despite considerable therapist care, the client will continue to hear only the
message, “So you want me to shut up!” Such clients will ultimately leave the group, often
in embarrassment or anger. Although this is an unsettling event, the consequences of
therapist inactivity are far worse. Though the remaining members may express some
regret at the departure of the member, it is not uncommon for them to acknowledge that
they were on the verge of leaving themselves had the therapist not intervened.
In addition to grossly deviant behavior, the social sensory system of monopolists has a
major impairment. They seem peculiarly unaware both of their interpersonal impact and of
the response of others to them. Moreover, they lack the capacity or inclination to
empathize with others.
Data from an exploratory study support this conclusion.4 Clients and student observers
were asked to fill out questionnaires at the end of each group meeting. One of the areas
explored was activity. The participants were asked to rank the group members, including
themselves, for the total number of words uttered during a meeting. There was excellent
reliability in the activity ratings among group members and observers, with two
exceptions: (1) the ratings of the therapist’s activity by the clients showed large
discrepancies (a function of transference; see chapter 7); and (2) monopolistic clients
placed themselves far lower on the activity rankings than did the other members, who
were often unanimous in ranking a monopolist as the most active member in the meeting.
The therapist must, then, help the monopolist be self-observant by encouraging the
group to provide him or her with continual, empathic feedback about his impact on the
others.5 Without this sort of guidance from the leader, the group may provide the feedback
in a disjunctive, explosive manner, which only makes the monopolist defensive. Such a
sequence has little therapeutic value and merely recapitulates a drama and a role that the
client has performed far too often.
• In the initial interview, Matthew, a monopolist, complained about his relationship
with his wife, who, he claimed, often abruptly resorted to such sledgehammer
tactics as publicly humiliating him or accusing him of infidelity in front of his
children. The sledgehammer approach accomplished nothing durable for this man;
once his bruises had healed, he and his wife began the cycle anew. Within the first
few meetings of the group, a similar sequence unfolded in the social microcosm of
the group: because of his monopolistic behavior, judgmentalism, and inability to

hear the members’ response to him, the group pounded harder and harder until
finally, when he was forced to listen, the message sounded cruel and destructive.
Often the therapist must help increase a client’s receptivity to feedback. You may have
to be forceful and directive, saying, for example, “Charlotte, I think it would be best now
for you to stop speaking because I sense there are some important feelings about you in
the group that I think would be very helpful for you to know.” You should also help the
members disclose their responses to Charlotte rather than their interpretations of her
motives. As described earlier in the sections on feedback and interpersonal learning, it is
far more useful and acceptable to offer a statement such as “When you speak in this
fashion I feel …” rather than “You are behaving in this fashion because… . ” The client
may often perceive motivational interpretations as accusatory but finds it more difficult to
reject the validity of others’ subjective responses.†
Too often we confuse or interchange the concepts of interpersonal manifestation,
response, and cause. The cause of monopolistic behavior may vary considerably from
client to client: some individuals speak in order to control others; many so fear being
influenced or penetrated by others that they compulsively defend each of their statements;
others so overvalue their own ideas and observations that they cannot delay and all
thoughts must be immediately expressed. Generally the cause or actual intent of the
monopolist’s behavior is not well understood until much later in therapy, and
interpretation of the cause may offer little help in the early management of disruptive
behavior patterns. It is far more effective to concentrate on the client’s manifestation of
self in the group and on the other members’ response to his or her behavior. Gently but
repeatedly, members must be confronted with the paradox that however much they may
wish to be accepted and respected by others, they persist in behavior that generates only
irritation, rejection, and frustration.
A clinical illustration of many of these issues occurred in a therapy group in a
psychiatric hospital/prison in which sexual offenders were incarcerated:
• Walt, who had been in the group for seven weeks, launched into a familiar,
lengthy tribute to the remarkable improvement he had undergone. He described in
exquisite detail how his chief problem had been that he had not understood the
damaging effects his behavior had on others, and how now, having achieved such
understanding, he was ready to leave the hospital.
The therapist observed that some of the members were restless. One softly
pounded his fist into his palm, while others slumped back in a posture of
indifference and resignation. He stopped the monopolist by asking the group
members how many times they had heard Walt relate this account. All agreed they
had heard it at every meeting—in fact, they had heard Walt speak this way in the
very first meeting. Furthermore, they had never heard him talk about anything else
and knew him only as a story. The members discussed their irritation with Walt,
their reluctance to attack him for fear of seriously injuring him, of losing control of
themselves, or of painful retaliation. Some spoke of their hopelessness about ever
reaching Walt, and of the fact that he related to them only as stick figures without

flesh or depth. Still others spoke of their terror of speaking and revealing
themselves in the group; therefore, they welcomed Walt’s monopolization. A few
members expressed their total lack of interest or faith in therapy and therefore
failed to intercept Walt because of apathy.
Thus the process was overdetermined: A host of interlocking factors resulted in
a dynamic equilibrium called monopolization. By halting the runaway process,
uncovering and working through the underlying factors, the therapist obtained
maximum therapeutic benefit from a potentially crippling group phenomenon.
Each member moved closer to group involvement. Walt was no longer permitted or
encouraged to participate in a fashion that could not possibly be helpful to him or
the group.
It is essential to guide the monopolistic client into the self-reflective process of therapy.
I urge such clients to reflect on the type of response they were originally hoping to receive
from the group and then to compare that with what eventually occurred. How do they
explain that discrepancy? What role did they play in it?
Often monopolistic clients may devalue the importance of the group’s reaction to them.
They may suggest that the group consists of disturbed people or protest, “This is the first
time something like this has ever happened to me.” If the therapist has prevented
scapegoating, then this statement is always untrue: the client is in a particularly familiar
place. What is different in the group is the presence of norms that permit the others to
comment openly on her behavior.
The therapist increases therapeutic leverage by encouraging these clients to examine
and discuss interpersonal difficulties in their life: loneliness, lack of close friends, not
being listened to by others, being shunned without reason—all the reasons for which
therapy was first sought. Once these are made explicit, the therapist can, more
convincingly, demonstrate to monopolistic clients the importance and relevance of
examining their in-group behavior. Good timing is necessary. There is no point in
attempting to do this work with a closed, defensive individual in the midst of a firestorm.
Repeated, gentle, properly timed interventions are required.
THE SILENT CLIENT
The silent member is a less disruptive but often equally challenging problem for the
therapist. Is the silent member always a problem? Perhaps the client profits silently. A
story, probably apocryphal, that has circulated among group therapists for decades tells of
an individual who attended a group for a year without uttering a word. At the end of the
fiftieth meeting, he announced to the group that he would not return; his problems had
been resolved, he was due to get married the following day, and he wished to express his
gratitude to the group for the help they had given him.
Some reticent members may profit from vicariously engaging in treatment through

identifying with active members with similar problems. It is possible that changes in
behavior and in risk taking can gradually occur in such a client’s relationships outside the
group, although the person remains silent and seemingly unchanged in the group. The
encounter group study of Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles indicated that some of the
participants who changed the most seemed to have a particular ability to maximize their
learning opportunities in a short-term group (thirty hours) by engaging vicariously in the
group experience of other members.6
In general, though, the evidence indicates that the more active and influential a member
is in the group matrix, the more likely he or she is to benefit. Research in experiential
groups demonstrates that regardless of what the participants said, the more words they
spoke, the greater the positive change in their picture of themselves.7 Other research
demonstrates that vicarious experience, as contrasted with direct participation, was
ineffective in producing either significant change, emotional engagement, or attraction to
the group process.8
Moreover, there is much clinical consensus that in long-term therapy, silent members do
not profit from the group. Group members who self-disclose very slowly may never catch
up to the rest of the group and at best achieve only minimal gains.9 The greater the verbal
participation, the greater the sense of involvement and the more clients are valued by
others and ultimately by themselves. Self-disclosure is not only essential to the
development of group cohesion, it is directly correlated to positive therapeutic outcome, as
is the client’s “work” in therapy. I would suggest, then, that we not be lulled by the
legendary story of the silent member who got well. A silent client is a problem client and
rarely benefits significantly from the group.†
Clients may be silent for many reasons. Some may experience a pervasive dread of self-
disclosure: every utterance, they feel, may commit them to progressively more disclosure.
Others may feel so conflicted about aggression that they cannot undertake the self-
assertion inherent in speaking. Some are waiting to be activated and brought to life by an
idealized caregiver, not yet having abandoned the childhood wish for magical rescue.
Others who demand nothing short of perfection in themselves never speak for fear of
falling shamefully short, whereas others attempt to maintain distance or control through a
lofty, superior silence. Some clients are especially threatened by a particular member in
the group and habitually speak only in the absence of that member. Others participate only
in smaller meetings or in alternate (leaderless) meetings. Some are silent for fear of being
regarded as weak, insipid, or mawkish. Others may silently sulk to punish others or to
force the group to attend to them.10
Here too, group dynamics may play a role. Group anxiety about potential aggression or
about the availability of emotional supplies in the group may push a vulnerable member
into silence to reduce the tension or competition for attention. Distinguishing between a
transient “state” of silence or a more enduring “trait” of silence is therefore quite useful.
The important point, though, is that silence is never silent; it is behavior and, like all
other behavior in the group, has meaning in the here-and-now as a representative sample

of the client’s way of relating to his or her interpersonal world. The therapeutic task,
therefore, is not only to change the behavior (that is essential if the client is to remain in
the group) but to explore the meaning of the behavior.
Proper management depends in part on the therapist’s understanding of the dynamics of
the silence. A middle course must be steered between placing undue pressure on the client
and allowing the client to slide into an extreme isolate role. The therapist may periodically
include the silent client by commenting on nonverbal behavior: that is, when, by gesture
or demeanor, the client is evincing interest, tension, sadness, boredom, or amusement. Not
infrequently a silent member introduced into an ongoing group will feel awed by the
clarity, directness, and insight of more experienced members. It is often helpful for the
therapist to point out that many of these admired veteran group members also struggled
with silence and self-doubt when they began. Often the therapist may hasten the member’s
participation by encouraging other members to reflect on their own proclivities for
silence.11 Even if repeated prodding or cajoling is necessary, the therapist should
encourage client autonomy and responsibility by repeated process checks. “Is this a
meeting when you want to be prodded?” “How did it feel when Mike put you on the
spot?” “Did he go too far?” “Can you let us know when we make you uncomfortable?”
“What’s the ideal question we could ask you today to help you come into the group?” The
therapist should seize every opportunity to reinforce the client’s activity and underscore
the value of pushing against his fears (pointing out, for example, the feelings of relief and
accomplishment that follow his risk-taking.)12
If a client resists all these efforts and maintains a very limited participation even after
three months of meetings, my experience has been that the prognosis is poor. The group
will grow frustrated and tire of coaxing and encouraging the silent, blocked member. In
the face of the group’s disapprobation, the client becomes more marginalized and less
likely than ever to participate. Concurrent individual sessions may be useful in helping the
client at this time. If this fails, the therapist may need to consider withdrawing the client
from the group. Occasionally, entering a second therapy group later may prove profitable,
since the client is now wellinformed of the hazards of silence.
THE BORING CLIENT
Rarely does anyone seek therapy because of being boring. Yet, in a different garb, thinly
disguised, the complaint is not uncommon. Clients complain that they never have anything
to say to others; that they are left standing alone at parties; that no one ever invites them
out more than once; that others use them only for sex; that they are inhibited, shy, socially
awkward, empty, or bland. Like silence, monopolization, or selfishness, boredom is to be
taken seriously. It is an extremely important problem, whether the client explicitly
identifies it as such or not.
In the social microcosm of the therapy group, boring members re-create these problems

and bore the members of the group—and the therapist. The therapist dreads a small
meeting in which only two or three boring members are present. If they were to terminate,
they would simply glide out of the group, leaving nary a ripple in the pond.
Boredom is a highly individual experience. Not everyone is bored by the same situation,
and it is not easy to make generalizations. In general, though, the boring client in the
therapy group is one who is massively inhibited, who lacks spontaneity, who never takes
risks. Boring patients’ utterances are always “safe” (and, alas, always predictable).
Obsequious and carefully avoiding any sign of aggressivity, they are often masochistic
(rushing into self-flagellation before anyone else can pummel them—or, to use another
metaphor, catching any spears hurled at them in midair and then stabbing themselves with
them). They say what they believe the social press requires—that is, before speaking, they
scan the faces of the other members to determine what is expected of them to say and
squelch any contrary sentiment coming from within. The particular social style of the
individual varies considerably: one may be silent; another stilted and hyperrational;
another timid and self-effacing; still another dependent, demanding, or pleading.
Some boring clients are alexithymic—an expressive difficulty stemming not only from
neurotic inhibition but from cognitive deficits in the ability to identify and communicate
feelings. The alexithymic client is concrete, lacks imaginative capacity, and focuses on
operational details, not emotional experience.13 Individual therapy with such clients can
be excruciatingly slow and arid, similar to work with clients with schizoid personality
disorder. Group therapy alone, or concurrent with individual therapy, may be particularly
helpful in promoting emotional expressiveness through modeling, support, and the
opportunity to experiment with feelings and expressiveness.14
The inability to read their own emotional cues also may make these individuals
vulnerable to medical and psychosomatic illness.15 Group therapy, because of its ability to
increase emotional awareness and expression, can reduce alexithymia and has been shown
to improve medical outcomes, for example in heart disease.16
Group leaders and members often work hard to encourage spontaneity in boring clients.
They ask such clients to share fantasies about members, to scream, to curse—anything to
pry something unpredictable from them.
• One of my clients, Nora, drove the group to despair with her constant clichés and
self-deprecatory remarks. After many months in the group, her outside life began
to change for the better, but each report of success was accompanied by the
inevitable self-derogatory neutralizer. She was accepted by an honorary
professional society (“That is good,” she said, “because it is one club that can’t
kick me out”); she received her graduate degree (“but I should have finished
earlier”); she had gotten all A’s (“but I’m a child for bragging about it”); she
looked better physically (“shows you what a good sunlamp can do”); she had been
asked out by several new men in her life (“must be slim pickings in the market”);
she obtained a good job (“it fell into my lap”); she had had her first vaginal
orgasm (“give the credit to marijuana”).

The group tried to tune Nora in to her self-effacement. An engineer in the group
suggested bringing an electric buzzer to ring each time she knocked herself.
Another member, trying to shake Nora into a more spontaneous state, commented
on her bra, which he felt could be improved. (This was Ed, discussed in chapter 2,
who generally related only to the sexual parts of women.) He said he would bring
her a present, a new bra, next session. Sure enough, the following session he
arrived with a huge box, which Nora said she would prefer to open at home. So
there it sat, looming in the group and, of course, inhibiting any other topic. Nora
was asked at least to guess what it contained, and she ventured, “A pair of
falsies.”
She was finally prevailed upon to open the gift and did so laboriously and with
enormous embarrassment. The box contained nothing but Styrofoam stuffing. Ed
explained that this was his idea for Nora’s new bra: that she should wear no bra at
all. Nora promptly apologized to Ed (for guessing he had given her falsies) and
thanked him for the trouble he had taken. The incident launched much work for
both members. (I shall not here discuss the sequel for Ed.) The group told Nora
that, though Ed had humiliated and embarrassed her, she had responded by
apologizing to him. She had politely thanked someone who had just given her a gift
of precisely nothing! The incident created the first robust spark of self-observation
in Nora. She began the next meeting with: “I’ve just set the world ingratiation
record. Last night I received an obscene phone call and I apologized to the man!”
(She had said, “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.”)
The underlying dynamics of the boring patient vary enormously from individual to
individual. Many have a core dependent position and so dread rejection and abandonment
that they are compulsively compliant, eschewing any aggressive remark that might initiate
retaliation. They mistakenly confuse healthy self-assertion with aggression and by
refusing to acknowledge their own vitality, desires, spontaneity, interests, and opinions,
they bring to pass (by boring others) the very rejection and abandonment they had hoped
to forestall.†17
If you, as the therapist, are bored with a client, that boredom is important data. (The
therapy of all difficult clients necessitates thoughtful attention to your
countertransference).18ad Always assume that if you are bored by the member, so are
others. You must counter your boredom with curiosity. Ask yourself: “What makes the
person boring? When am I most and least bored? How can I find the person—the real, the
lively, spontaneous, creative, person—within this boring shell?” No urgent “breakthrough”
technique is indicated. Since the boring individual is tolerated by the group much better
than the abrasive, narcissistic, or monopolistic client, you have much time.
Lastly, keep in mind that the therapist must take a Socratic posture with these clients.
Our task is not to put something into the individual but quite the opposite, to let something
out that was there all the time. Thus we do not attempt to inspirit boring clients, or inject
color, spontaneity, or richness into them, but instead to identify their squelched creative,
vital, childlike parts and to help remove the obstacles to their free expression.

THE HELP-REJECTING COMPLAINER
The help-rejecting complainer, a variant of the monopolist, was first identified and named
by J. Frank in 1952.19 Since then the behavior pattern has been recognized by many group
clinicians, and the term appears frequently in the psychiatric literature, particularly in the
psychotherapy and psychosomatic areas.20 In this section, I discuss the rare fully
developed help-rejecting complainer; however, this pattern of behavior is not a distinct,
all-or-nothing clinical syndrome. Individuals may arrive at this style of interaction through
various psychological pathways. Some may persistently manifest this behavior in an
extreme degree with no external provocation, whereas others may demonstrate only a
trace of this pattern. Still others may become help-rejecting complainers only at times of
particular stress. Closely associated with help-rejecting complaining is the expression of
emotional distress through somatic complaints. Clients with medically unexplainable
symptoms constitute a large and frustrating primary care burden.21
Description
Help-rejecting complainers (or HRCs) show a distinctive behavioral pattern in the group:
they implicitly or explicitly request help from the group by presenting problems or
complaints and then reject any help offered. HRCs continually present problems in a
manner that makes them to appear insurmountable. In fact, HRCs seems to take pride in
the insolubility of their problems. Often HRCs focus wholly on the therapist in a tireless
campaign to elicit intervention or advice and appear oblivious to the group’s reaction to
them. They seem willing to appear ludicrous so long as they are allowed to persist in the
search for help. They base their relationship to the other members along the singular
dimension of being more in need of aid. HRCs rarely show competitiveness in any area
except when another member makes a bid for the therapist’s or group’s attention by
presenting a problem. Then HRCs often attempt to belittle that person’s complaints by
comparing them unfavorably with their own. They often tend to exaggerate their problems
and to blame others, often authority figures on whom they depend in some fashion. HRCs
seem entirely self-centered, speaking only of themselves and their problems.
When the group and the therapist do respond to the HRC’s plea, the entire bewildering,
configuration takes form as the client rejects the help offered. The rejection is
unmistakable, though it may assume many varied and subtle forms: sometimes the advice
is rejected overtly, sometimes indirectly ; sometimes while accepted verbally, it is never
acted upon; if it is acted upon, it inevitably fails to improve the member’s plight.
Effects on the Group
The effects on the group are obvious: the other members become irritated, frustrated, and

confused. The HRC seems a greedy whirlpool, sucking the group’s energy. Worse yet, no
deceleration of the HRC’s demands is evident. Faith in the group process suffers, as
members experience a sense of impotence and despair of making their own needs
appreciated by the group. Cohesiveness is undermined as absenteeism occurs or as clients
subgroup in an effort to exclude the HRC.
Dynamics
The behavioral pattern of the HRC appears to be an attempt to resolve highly conflicted
feelings about dependency. On the one hand, the HRC feels helpless, insignificant, and
totally dependent on others, especially the therapist, for a sense of personal worth. Any
notice and attention from the therapist temporarily enhance the HRC’s self-esteem. On the
other hand, the HRC’s dependent position is vastly confounded by a pervasive distrust and
enmity toward authority figures. Consumed with need, the HRC turns for help to a figure
he or she anticipates will be unwilling or unable to help. The anticipation of refusal so
colors the style of requesting help that the prophecy is fulfilled, and further evidence is
accumulated for the belief in the malfeasance of the potential caregiver.22 A vicious circle
results, one that has been spinning for much of the client’s life.
Guidelines for Management
A severe HRC is an exceedingly difficult clinical challenge, and many such clients have
won a Pyrrhic victory over therapist and group by failing in therapy. It would thus be
presumptuous and misleading to attempt to prescribe a careful therapeutic plan; however,
certain generalizations may be posited. Surely it is a blunder for the therapist to confuse
the help requested for the help required.†23 The HRC solicits advice not for its potential
value but in order to spurn it. Ultimately, the therapist’s advice, guidance, and treatment
will be rejected or, if used, will prove ineffective or, if effective, will be kept secret. It is
also a blunder for the therapist to express any frustration and resentment. Retaliation
merely completes the vicious circle: the clients’ anticipation of ill treatment and
abandonment is once again realized: They feel justified in their hostile mistrust and are
able to affirm once again that no one can ever really understand them.
What course, then, is available to the therapist? One clinician suggests, perhaps in
desperation, that the therapist interrupt the vicious circle by indicating that he or she “not
only understands but shares the patient’s feelings of hopelessness about the situation,” thus
refusing to perpetuate his or her part in a futile relationship. Two brave co-therapists who
led a group composed only of help-rejecting complainers warn us against investing in a
sympathetic, nurturing relationship with the client. They suggest that therapists sidestep
any expression of optimism, encouragement, or advice and adopt instead a pose of irony
in which they agree with the content of the client’s pessimism while maintaining a
detached affect. Eric Berne, who considers the HRC pattern to be the most common of all
social and psychotherapy group games, labeled it “Why don’t you—yes but.” The use of

such easily accessible descriptive labels often makes the process more transparent to the
group members, but great caution must be exercised when using any bantering approach:
there is a fine line separating therapeutic playful caring from mockery and humiliation.24
In general, the therapist should attempt to mobilize the major therapeutic factors in the
service of the client. When a cohesive group has been formed and the client—through
universality, identification, and catharsis—has come to value membership in the group,
then the therapist can encourage interpersonal learning by continually focusing on
feedback and process in much the same manner as I have described in discussing the
monopolistic client. HRCs are generally not aware of their lack of empathy to others.
Helping them see their interpersonal impact on the other members is a key step in their
coming to examine their characteristic pattern of relationships.
THE PSYCHOTIC OR BIPOLAR CLIENT
Many groups are designed specifically to work with clients with significant Axis I
disturbance. In fact, when one considers groups on psychiatric wards, partial
hospitalization units, veterans’ hospitals, and aftercare programs, the total number of
therapy groups for severely impaired clients likely outnumbers those for higher-
functioning clients. I will discuss groups composed for hospitalized clients in chapter 15
(for more on this topic, see my text Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, Basic Books, 1983)
but for now consider the issue of what happens to the course of an interactive therapy
group of higher-functioning individuals when one member develops a psychotic illness
during treatment.
The fate of the psychotic client, the response of the other members, and the effective
options available to the therapist all depend in part on timing, that is, when in the course of
the group the psychotic illness occurs . In general, in a mature group in which the
psychotic client has long occupied a central, valued role, the group members are more
likely to be tolerant and effective during the crisis.
The Early Phases of a Group
In chapter 8, I emphasized that in the initial screening, the grossly psychotic client should
be excluded from ambulatory interactional group therapy. However, it is common practice
to refer clients with apparently stable bipolar disease to group therapy to address the
interpersonal consequences of their illness.
At times, despite cautious screening, an individual decompensates in the early stages of
therapy, perhaps because of unanticipated stress from life circumstances, or from the
group, or perhaps because of poor adherence to a medication regimen. This is a major
event for the group and always creates substantial problems for the newly formed group

(and, of course, for the client, who is likely to slide into a deviant role in the group and
eventually terminate treatment, often much the worse for the experience).
In this book I have repeatedly stressed that the early stages of the group are a time of
great flux and great importance. The young group is easily influenced, and norms that are
established early are often exceedingly durable. An intense sequence of events unfolds as,
in a few weeks, an aggregate of frightened, distrustful strangers evolves into an intimate,
mutually helpful group. Any event that consumes an inordinate amount of time early on
and diverts energy from the tasks of the developmental sequence is potentially destructive
to the group. Some of the relevant problems are illustrated by the following clinical
example.
• Sandy was a thirty-seven-year-old housewife who had once, many years before,
suffered a major and recalcitrant depression requiring hospitalization and
electroconvulsive therapy. She sought group therapy at the insistence of her
individual therapist, who thought that an understanding of her interpersonal
relationships would help her to improve her relationship with her husband. In the
early meetings of the group, she was an active member who tended to reveal far
more intimate details of her history than did the other members. Occasionally,
Sandy expressed anger toward another member and then engaged in excessively
profuse apologies coupled with self-deprecatory remarks. By the sixth meeting, her
behavior became still more inappropriate. She discoursed at great length on her
son’s urinary problems, for example, describing in intricate detail the surgery that
had been performed to relieve his urethral stricture. At the following meeting, she
noted that the family cat had also developed a blockage of the urinary tract; she
then urged the other members to describe their pets.
In the eighth meeting, Sandy became increasingly manic. She behaved in a
bizarre, irrational manner, insulted members of the group, openly flirted with the
male members to the point of stroking their bodies, and finally lapsed into
punning, clang associations, inappropriate laughter, and tears. One of the
therapists finally escorted her from the room, phoned her husband, and arranged
for immediate psychiatric hospitalization. Sandy remained in the hospital in a
manic, psychotic state for a month and then gradually recovered.
The members were obviously extremely uncomfortable during the meeting, their
feelings ranging from bafflement and fright to annoyance. After Sandy left, some
expressed their guilt for having, in some unknown manner, triggered her behavior.
Others spoke of their fear, and one recalled someone he knew who had acted in a
similar fashion but had also brandished a gun.
During the subsequent meeting, the members discussed many feelings related to
the incident. One member expressed his conviction that no one could be trusted:
even though he had known Sandy for seven weeks, her behavior proved to be
totally unpredictable. Others expressed their relief that they were, in comparison,
psychologically healthy; others, in response to their fears of similarly losing
control, employed considerable denial and veered away from discussing these

problems. Some expressed a fear of Sandy’s returning and making a shambles of
the group. Others expressed their diminished faith in group therapy; one member
asked for hypnosis, and another brought to the meeting an article from a scientific
journal claiming that psychotherapy was ineffective. A loss of faith in the
therapists and their competence was expressed in the dream of one member, in
which the therapist was in the hospital and was rescued by the client.
In the next few meetings, all these themes went underground. The meetings
became listless, shallow, and intellectualized. Attendance dwindled, and the group
seemed resigned to its own impotence. At the fourteenth meeting, the therapists
announced that Sandy was improved and would return the following week. A
vigorous, heated discussion ensued. The members feared that:
1. They would upset her. An intense meeting would make her ill again and, to
avoid that, the group would be forced to move slowly and superficially.
2. Sandy would be unpredictable. At any point she might lose control and
display dangerous, frightening behavior.
3. Sandy would, because of her lack of control, be untrustworthy. Nothing in
the group would remain confidential.
At the same time, the members expressed considerable anxiety and guilt for
wishing to exclude Sandy from the group, and soon tension and a heavy silence
prevailed. The extreme reaction of the group persuaded the therapist to delay
reintroducing Sandy (who was, incidentally, in concurrent individual therapy) for a
few weeks.
When she finally reentered the group, she was treated as a fragile object, and
the entire group interaction was guarded and defensive. By the twentieth meeting,
five of the seven members had dropped out of the group, leaving only Sandy and
one other member.
The therapists reconstituted the group by adding five new members. It is of
interest that, despite the fact that only two of the old members and the therapists
continued in the reconstituted group, the old group culture persisted—a powerful
example of the staying power of norms even in the presence of a limited number of
culture bearers.25 The group dynamics had locked the group and Sandy into
severely restricted roles and functions. Sandy was treated so delicately and
obliquely by the new members that the group moved slowly, floundering in its own
politeness and social conventionality. Only when the therapists openly confronted
this issue and discussed in the group their own fears of upsetting Sandy and
thrusting her into another psychological decompensation were the members able
to deal with their feelings and fears about her. At that point, the group moved
ahead more quickly. Sandy remained in the new group for a year and made
decided improvements in her ability to relate with others and in her self-concept.

Later in the Course of a Group
An entirely different situation may arise when an individual who has been an involved,
active group member for many months decompensates into a psychotic state. Other
members are then primarily concerned for that member rather than for themselves or for
the group. Since they have previously known and understood the now-psychotic member
as a person, they often react with great concern and interest; the client is less likely to be
viewed as a strange and frightening object to be avoided.26ae
Although perceiving similar trends in themselves may enhance the other members’
ability to continue relating to a distressed group member, it also creates a personal
upheaval in some, who begin to fear that they, too, can lose control and slide into a similar
abyss. Hence, the therapist does well to anticipate and express this fear to the others in the
group.
When faced with a psychotic client in a group, many therapists revert to a medical
model and symbolically dismiss the group by intervening forcefully in a one-to-one
fashion. In effect, they say to the group, “This is too serious a problem for you to handle.”
Such a maneuver, however, is often antitherapeutic: the client is frightened and the group
infantilized.
It has been my experience that a mature group is perfectly able to deal with the
psychiatric emergency and, although there may be false starts, to consider every
contingency and take every action that the therapist might have considered. Consider the
following clinical example.
• In the forty-fifth meeting, Rhoda, a forty-three-year-old divorced woman, arrived
a few minutes late in a disheveled, obviously disturbed state. Over the previous few
weeks, she had gradually been sliding into a depression, but now the process had
suddenly accelerated. She was tearful, despondent, and exhibited psychomotor
retardation. During the early part of the meeting, she wept continuously and
expressed feelings of great loneliness and hopelessness as well as an inability to
love, hate, or, for that matter, have any deeply felt emotion. She described her
feeling of great detachment from everyone, including the group, and, when
prompted, discussed suicidal ruminations.
The group members responded to Rhoda with great empathy and concern. They
inquired about events during the past week and helped her discuss two important
occurrences that seemed related to the depressive crisis: (1) for months she had
been saving money for a summer trip to Europe; during the past week, her
seventeen-year-old son had decided to decline a summer camp job and refused to
search for other jobs—a turn of events that, in Rhoda’s eyes, jeopardized her trip;
(2) she had, after months of hesitation, decided to attend a dance for divorced
middle-aged people, which proved to be a disaster: no one had asked her to dance,
and she had ended the evening consumed with feelings of total worthlessness.
The group helped her explore her relationship with her son, and for the first

time, she expressed rage at him for his lack of concern for her. With the group’s
assistance, she attempted to explore and express the limits of her responsibility
toward him. It was difficult for Rhoda to discuss the dance because of the amount
of shame and humiliation she felt. Two other women in the group, one single and
one divorced, empathized deeply with her and shared their experiences and
reactions to the scarcity of suitable males. Rhoda was also reminded by the group
of the many times she had, during sessions, interpreted every minor slight as a
total rejection and condemnation of herself. Finally, after much attention, care,
and warmth had been offered her, one of the members pointed out to Rhoda that
the experience of the dance was being disconfirmed right in the group: several
people who knew her well were deeply concerned and involved with her. Rhoda
rejected this idea by claiming that the group, unlike the dance, was an artificial
situation in which people followed unnatural rules of conduct. The members
quickly pointed out that quite the contrary was true: the dance—the contrived
congregation of strangers, the attractions based on split-second, skin-deep
impressions—was the artificial situation and the group was the real one. It was in
the group that she was more completely known.
Rhoda, suffused with feelings of worthlessness, then berated herself for her
inability to feel reciprocal warmth and involvement with the group members. One
of the members quickly intercepted this maneuver by pointing out that Rhoda had a
familiar and repetitive pattern of experiencing feelings toward the other members,
evidenced by her facial expression and body posture, but then letting her
“shoulds” take over and torture her by insisting that she should feel more warmth
and more love than anyone else. The net effect was that the real feeling she did
have was rapidly extinguished by the winds of her impossible selfdemands.
In essence, what then transpired was Rhoda’s gradual recognition of the
discrepancy between her public and private esteem (described in chapter 3). At the
end of the meeting, Rhoda responded by bursting into tears and crying for several
minutes. The group was reluctant to leave but did so when the members had all
convinced themselves that suicide was no longer a serious consideration.
Throughout the next week, the members maintained an informal vigil, each
phoning Rhoda at least once.
A number of important and far-reaching principles emerge from this illustration. Rather
early in the session, the therapist realized the important dynamics operating in Rhoda’s
depression and, had he chosen, might have made the appropriate interpretations to allow
the client and the group to arrive much more quickly at a cognitive understanding of the
problem—but that would have detracted considerably from the meaningfulness and value
of the meeting to both the protagonist and the other members. For one thing, the group
would have been deprived of an opportunity to experience its own potency; every success
adds to the group’s cohesiveness and enhances the self-regard of each of the members. It
is difficult for some therapists to refrain from interpretation, and yet it is essential to learn
to sit on your wisdom. There are times when it is foolish to be wise and wise to be silent.

At times, as in this clinical episode, the group chooses and performs the appropriate
action; at other times, the group may decide that the therapist must act. But there is a vast
difference between a group’s hasty decision stemming from infantile dependence and
unrealistic appraisal of the therapist’s powers and a decision based on the members’
thorough investigation of the situation and mature appraisal of the therapist’s expertise.
These points lead me to an important principle of group dynamics, one substantiated by
considerable research. A group that reaches an autonomous decision based on a thorough
exploration of the pertinent problems will employ all of its resources in support of its
decision; a group that has a decision thrust upon it is likely to resist that decision and be
even less effective in making valid decisions in the future.
Let me take a slight but relevant tangent here and tell you a story about a well-known
study in group dynamics. The focus of this illustration is a pajama-producing factory in
which periodic changes in jobs and routine were necessitated by advances in technology.
For many years, the employees resisted these changes; with each change, there was an
increase in absenteeism, turnover, and aggression toward the management as well as
decreased efficiency and output.
Researchers designed an experiment to test various methods of overcoming the
employees’ resistance to change. The critical variable to be studied was the degree of
participation of the group members (the employees) in planning the change. The
employees were divided into three groups, and three variations were tested. The first
variation involved no participation by the employees in planning the changes, although
they were given an explanation. The second variation involved participation through
elected representation of the workers in designing the changes to be made in the job. The
third variation consisted of total participation by all the members of the group in designing
the changes. The results showed conclusively that, on all measures studied (aggression
toward management, absenteeism, efficiency, number of employees resigning from the
job), the success of the change was directly proportional to the degree of participation of
the group members.27
The implications for group therapy are apparent: members who personally participate in
planning a course of action will be more committed to the enactment of the plan. They
will, for example, invest themselves more fully in the care of a disturbed member if they
recognize that it is their problem and not the therapist’s alone.
At times, as in the previous clinical example, the entire experience is beneficial to the
development of group cohesiveness. Sharing intense emotional experiences usually
strengthens ties among members. The danger to the group occurs when the psychotic
client consumes a massive amount of energy for a prolonged period. Then other members
may drop out, and the group may deal with the disturbed individual in a cautious,
concealed manner or attempt to ignore him or her. These methods never fail to aggravate
the problem. In such critical situations, one important option always available to the
therapist is to see the disturbed client in individual sessions for the duration of the crisis
(this option will be dealt with more fully in the discussion of combined therapy). Here too,
however, the group should thoroughly explore the implications and share in the decision.

One of the worst calamities that can befall a therapy group is the presence of a manic
member. A client in the midst of a severe hypomanic episode is perhaps the single most
disruptive problem for a group. (In contrast, a full-blown manic episode presents little
problem, since the immediate course of action is clear: hospitalization.)
The client with acute, poorly contained bipolar affective disorder is best managed
pharmacologically and is not a good candidate for interactionally oriented treatment. It is
obviously unwise to allow the group to invest much energy and time in treatment that has
such little likelihood of success. There is mounting evidence, however, for the use of
specific, homogeneous group interventions for clients with bipolar illness. These groups
offer psychoeducation about the illness and stress the importance of pharmacotherapy
adherence and maintenance of healthy lifestyle and self-regulation routines. These groups
are best employed in conjunction with pharmacotherapy in the maintenance phase of this
chronic illness, after any acute disturbances have settled. Substantial benefits from therapy
have been demonstrated, including improved pharmacotherapy adherence; reduced mood
disturbance; fewer illness relapses; less substance abuse; and improved psychosocial
functioning.28
THE CHARACTEROLOGICALLY DIFFICULT CLIENT
The final three types of problem clients in group therapy I shall discuss are the schizoid
client, the borderline client, and the narcissistic client. These clients are often discussed
together in the clinical literature under the rubric of characterologically difficult or Axis II
clients.29 Traditional DSM diagnostic criteria do not do justice to the complexity of these
clients and fail to capture adequately their inner psychological experience.30
Most characterologically difficult clients have in common problems in regulation of
affect, in interpersonal engagement, and in sense of self. Their pathology is thought to be
based on serious problems in the first few years of life. They lack internal soothing or
comforting parental representations, and instead their internal world is peopled by
abandoning, withholding, and disappointing parental representations. They often lack the
ability to integrate ambivalent feelings and interpersonal reactions, splitting the world into
black and white, good and bad, loving and hating, idealizing and devaluing. At any
moment they have little recall of feelings other than the powerful ones felt at that moment.
Prominent difficulties include rage, vulnerability to abandonment and to narcissistic
injury, and a tendency toward projective identification. Such clients also often lack a sense
of their role in their difficulties or of their impact on others.31
Because these difficulties generally manifest in troubled and troubling interpersonal
relationships, group therapy has a prominent role in both ambulatory and partial
hospitalization settings. Group therapy is promising but challenging with these clients, but
the psychological and health care cost-benefit ratios are very encouraging, particularly
when adequate time in treatment is provided.32

Often the characterologically difficult client has experienced traumatic abuse early in
life as well, which further amplifies the challenge in treatment. In some samples the
comorbidity of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and borderline personality disorder
exceeds 50 percent. When the traumatic experiences and consequent symptoms—chiefly
intrusive reexperiencing of the trauma, avoidance of any reminder of the trauma, and
general hyperarousal—have a profound combined impact on the individual, the term
“complex PTSD” is often applied. This term captures the way in which the traumatic
events and psychological reactions to these events shape the individual’s personality.33
Characterologically difficult clients are prevalent in most clinical settings. They are
often referred to groups by an individual therapist when (1) the transference has grown too
intense for dyadic therapy; (2) the client has become so defensively isolated that group
interaction is required to engage the client; (3) therapy has proceeded well but a plateau
has been reached and interactive experience is necessary to produce further gains.
The Schizoid Client
Many years ago, in a previous edition of this book, I began this section with the following
sentence: “The schizoid condition, the malady of our times, perhaps accounts for more
patients entering therapy than does any other psychopathological configuration.” This no
longer rings true. The fashions of mental illness change: Today, clients more commonly
enter treatment because of substance abuse, eating disorders, and sequelae of sexual and
physical abuse. Even though the schizoid condition is no longer the malady of our times,
schizoid individuals are still common visitors to therapy groups. They are emotionally
blocked, isolated, and distant and often seek group therapy out of a vague sense that
something is missing: they cannot feel, cannot love, cannot play, cannot cry. They are
spectators of themselves; they do not inhabit their own bodies; they do not experience
their own experience. Superficially, the schizoid client and the avoidant client resemble
each other. There are, however, clear differences. The avoidant individual is anxiously
inhibited, self-aware, and able to engage when sufficiently reassured that rejection will not
ensue. In contrast, the schizoid client suffers a deficit in key emotional and reflective
capacities.34
No one has described the experiential world of the schizoid individual more vividly
than Sartre in The Age of Reason:
He closed the paper and began to read the special correspondent’s dispatch on the
front page. Fifty dead and three hundred wounded had already been counted, but
that was not the total, there were certainly corpses under the debris. There were
thousands of men in France who had not been able to read their paper that morning
without feeling a clot of anger rise in their throat, thousands of men who had
clenched their fists and muttered: “Swine!” Mathieu clenched his fists and
muttered: “Swine!” and felt himself still more guilty. If at least he had been able to
discover in himself a trifling emotion that was veritably if modestly alive,
conscious of its limits. But no: he was empty, he was confronted by a vast anger, a

desperate anger, he saw it and could almost have touched it. But it was inert—if it
were to live and find expression and suffer, he must lend it his own body. It was
other people’s anger. Swine! He clenched his fists, he strode along, but nothing
came, the anger remained external to himself. Something was on the threshold of
existence, a timorous dawn of anger. At last! But it dwindled and collapsed, he was
left in solitude, walking with the measured and decorous gait of a man in a funeral
procession in Paris. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and he thought:
One can’t force one’s deeper feelings. Yonder was a terrible and tragic state of
affairs that ought to arouse one’s deepest emotions. It’s no use, the moment will
not come.35
Schizoid individuals are often in a similar predicament in the therapy group. In virtually
every group meeting, they have confirmatory evidence that the nature and intensity of
their emotional experience differs considerably from that of the other members. Puzzled at
this discrepancy, they may conclude that the other members are melodramatic, excessively
labile, phony, overly concerned with trivia, or simply of a different temperament.
Eventually, however, schizoid clients, like Sartre’s protagonist, Mathieu, begin to wonder
about themselves, and begin to suspect that somewhere inside themselves is a vast frozen
lake of feeling.
In one way or another, by what they say or do not say, schizoid clients convey this
emotional isolation to the other members. In chapter 2, I described a male client who
could not understand the members’ concern about the therapist’s leaving the group or a
member’s obsessive fears about her boyfriend being killed. He saw people as
interchangeable. He had his need for a minimum daily requirement of affection (without,
it seemed, proper concern about the source of the affection). He was “bugged” by the
departure of the therapist only because it would slow down his therapy, but he did not
share the feeling expressed by the others: grief at the loss of the person who is the
therapist. In his defense, he maintained, “There’s not much sense in having any strong
feelings about the therapist leaving, since there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Another member, chided by the group because of his lack of empathy toward two
highly distressed members, responded, “So, they’re hurting. There are millions of people
hurting all over the world at this instant. If I let myself feel bad for everyone who is
hurting, it would be a full-time occupation.” Most of us get a rush of feelings and then we
sometimes try to comprehend the meaning of the feelings. In schizoid clients, feelings
come later—they are awarded priority according to the dictates of rationality. Feeling must
be justified pragmatically: if they serve no purpose, why have them?
The group is often keenly aware of discrepancies among a member’s words, experience,
and emotional response. One member, who had been criticized for withholding
information from the group about his relationship with a girlfriend, frostily asked, “Would
you like to bring your camera and climb into bed with us?” When questioned, however, he
denied feeling any anger and could not account for the tone of sarcasm.
At other times, the group reads the schizoid member’s emotions from postural or
behavioral cues. Indeed, such individuals may relate to themselves in a similar way and

join in the investigation, commenting, for example, “My heart is beating fast, so I must be
frightened,” or “My fist is clenched, so I must be mad.” In this regard they share a
common difficulty with the alexithymic clients described earlier.
The response of the other members is predictable; it proceeds from curiosity and
puzzlement through disbelief, solicitude, irritation, and frustration. They will repeatedly
inquire, “What do you feel about … ?” and only much later come to realize that they were
demanding that this member quickly learn to speak a foreign language. At first, members
become very active in helping to resolve what appears to be a minor affliction, telling
schizoid clients what to feel and what they would feel if they were in that situation.
Eventually, the group members grow weary; frustration sets in; and then they redouble
their efforts—almost always with no noticeable results. They try harder yet, in an attempt
to force an affective response by increasing the intensity of the stimulus. Ultimately, they
resort to a sledgehammer approach.
The therapist must avoid joining in the quest for a breakthrough. I have never seen a
schizoid client significantly change by virtue of a dramatic incident; change is a prosaic
process of grinding labor, repetitive small steps, and almost imperceptible progress. It is
tempting and often useful to employ some activating, nonverbal, or gestalt techniques to
hasten a client’s movement. These approaches may speed up the client’s recognition and
expression of nascent or repressed feelings, but keep in mind that if you do excessive, one-
to-one directive work, the group may become less potent, less autonomous, and more
dependent and leader centered. (I will discuss these issues at length in chapter 14.)
Furthermore, schizoid clients not only need new skills but, more important, they need a
new internalized experience of the world of relationships—and that takes time, patience,
and perseverance.
In chapter 6, I described several here-and-now activating techniques that are useful in
work with the schizoid client. Work energetically in the here-and-now. Encourage the
client to differentiate among members; despite protestations, the client does not feel
precisely the same way toward everyone in the group. Help such members move into
feelings they pass off as inconsequential. When the client admits, “Well, I may feel
slightly irritated or slightly hurt,” suggest staying with these feelings; no one ever said it
was necessary to discuss only big feelings. “Hold up a magnifying glass to the hurt,” you
might suggest; “describe exactly what it is like.” Invite the client to imagine what others in
the group are feeling. Try to cut off the client’s customary methods of dismissal:
“Somehow, you’ve gotten away from something that seemed important. Can we go back
to where we were five minutes ago? When you were talking to Julie, I thought you looked
near tears. Something was going on inside.Ӡ
Encourage the client to observe his or her body. Often the client may not experience
affect but will be aware of the affective autonomic equivalents: tightness in the stomach,
sweating, throat constriction, flushing, and so on. Gradually the group may help the client
translate those feelings into their psychological meaning. The members may, for example,
note the timing of the client’s reactions in conjunction with some event in the group.
Therapists must beware of assessing events solely according to their own experiential

world. As I have discussed previously, clients may experience the same event in totally
different ways: An event that is seemingly trivial to the therapist or to one member may be
an exceedingly important experience to another member. A slight show of irritation by a
restricted schizoid individual may be a major breakthrough for that person. It may be the
first time in adulthood that he or she has expressed anger and may enable further testing
out of new behavior, both in and out of the group.
In the group, these individuals are high risk and high reward. Those who can manage to
persevere, to continue in the group and not be discouraged by the inability to change their
relationship style quickly, are almost certain to profit considerably from the group therapy
experience.
The Borderline Client
For decades, psychotherapists have known about a large cluster of individuals who are
unusually difficult to treat and who fall between the major diagnostic criteria of severity of
impairment: more disorganized than neurotic clients but more integrated than psychotic
clients. A thin veneer of integration conceals a primitive personality structure. Under
stress, these borderline clients are highly unstable; some develop psychoses that may
resemble schizophrenic psychosis but are circumscribed, short-lived, and episodic.
DSM-IV-TR states that borderline personality disorder is a pervasive pattern of
instability of interpersonal relationships, self-image, affects, and control over impulses
requiring at least five of these nine features: frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined
abandonment; unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternation
between extremes of idealization and devaluation; identity disturbance—persistent and
markedly disturbed, distorted, or unstable self-image or sense of self; impulsiveness in
two self-damaging areas, such as substance abuse, spending, sex, binge eating, and
reckless driving; recurrent suicidal threats or behavior, or self-mutilation; affective
instability due to a marked reactivity of mood; chronic feelings of emptiness;
inappropriate intense anger or lack of control of anger; transient, stress-related paranoid
ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.36
In recent years, a great deal more clarity about clients with borderline personality
disorder has emerged, thanks especially to the work of Otto Kernberg, who emphasized
the overriding instability of the borderline client—instability of mood, thought, and
interpersonal involvement.37 Yet the category still lacks precision, has unsatisfactory
reliability,38 and often serves as a catchall for a personality disorder that clinicians cannot
otherwise diagnose. It will, in all likelihood, undergo further transformation in future
classificatory systems.
Although there is considerable debate about the psychodynamics and the developmental
origins of the borderline personality disturbance,39 this debate is tangential to group
therapy practice and need not be discussed here. What is important for the group therapist,
as I have stressed throughout this book, is not the elusive and unanswerable question—

how one got to be the way one is—but rather the nature of the current forces, both
conscious and unconscious, that influence the way the characterologically difficult client
relates to others.
Not only has there been a recent explosion of interest in the diagnosis, the
psychodynamics, and the individual therapy of the borderline client, but also much group
therapy literature has focused on the borderline personality disturbance. Group therapists
have developed an interest in these clients for two major reasons. First, because borderline
personality disorder is difficult to diagnose in a single screening session, many clinicians
unintentionally introduce borderline clients into therapy groups consisting of clients
functioning at a higher level of integration. Second, there is growing evidence that group
therapy is an effective form of treatment. Some of the most impressive research results
emerge from homogeneous and intensive partial hospitalization programs in which
therapy groups offer the borderline individual containment, emotional support, and
interpersonal learning while demanding personal accountability in an environment that
counters regression and unhealthy intensification of transference reactions. Significant and
enduring improvements in mood, psychosocial stability, and self-harm behavior have been
reported.40
The majority of borderline clients, however, are likely to be treated in heterogeneous
ambulatory groups. There is mounting consensus that combined or concurrent individual
and group treatment may be the treatment of choice for the borderline client. Some experts
have arrived at the conclusion that the preferred treatment is combined treatment with two
group meetings and one individual meeting weekly. Furthermore, research evidence
indicates that borderline clients highly value their group therapy experience—often more
than their individual therapy experience.41
Keep in mind that the client’s pathology places great demands on the treating therapist,
who may at times be frustrated by the inability to make secure gains in therapy and may at
other times experience strong wishes to rescue these clients, even to modify the traditional
procedures and boundaries of the therapeutic situation. Keep in mind also that many
therapists suggest group therapy for borderline clients not because these clients work well
or easily in therapy groups but because they are extraordinarily difficult to treat in
individual therapy.
Often, individual therapists find that the borderline client cannot easily tolerate the
intensity and intimacy of the one-to-one treatment setting. Crippling transference and
countertransference problems regularly emerge in therapy. Therapists often find it difficult
to deal with the demands and the primitive anger of the borderline client, particularly since
the client so often acts them out (for example, through absence, lateness, drug abuse, or
self-mutilation). Massive regression often occurs, and many clients are so threatened by
the emergence of painful, primitive affects that they flee therapeutic engagement or cause
the therapist to reject them. Though the evidence suggests that group therapy may be quite
effective for these clients, their primitive affects and highly distorted perceptual tendencies
vastly influence the course of group therapy and severely tax the resources of the group.
The duration of therapy is long: There is considerable clinical consensus that borderline

clients require many years of therapy and will generally stay in a group longer than any of
the other members.
Separation anxiety and the fear of abandonment play a crucial role in the dynamics of
the borderline client. A threatened separation (the therapist’s vacation, for example—and
sometimes even the end of a session) characteristically evokes severe anxiety and triggers
the characteristic defenses of this syndrome: splitting, projective identification,
devaluation, and flight.
The therapy group may assuage separation anxiety in two ways. First, one or
(preferably) two group therapists are introduced into the client’s life, thus shielding the
client from the great dysphoria occurring when the individual therapist is unavailable.
Second, the group itself becomes a stable entity in the client’s life, one that exists even
when some of its members are absent. Repeated loss (that is, the termination of members)
within the secure continued existence of the group helps clients come to terms with their
extreme sensitivity to loss. The therapy group offers a singular opportunity to mourn the
loss of an important relationship in the comforting presence of others who are
simultaneously dealing with the same loss. Real relationships can offset the intense hunger
the borderline client feels, but in a more mutual, less intense fashion.42 Once the
borderline client develops trust in the group, he or she may serve as a major stabilizing
influence. Because borderline clients’ separation anxiety is so great and they are so
anxious to preserve the continued presence of important figures in their environment, they
help keep the group together, often becoming the most faithful attendees and chiding other
members for being absent or tardy.
One of the major advantages a therapy group may have for the treatment of a borderline
client is the powerful reality testing provided by the ongoing stream of feedback and
observations from the members. Thus, regression is far less pronounced. The client may
distort, act out, or express primitive, chaotic needs and fears, but the continuous reminders
of reality in the therapy group keep these feelings muted.
• Marge, forty-two, was referred to the group by her individual therapist, who had
been unable to make headway with her. Marge’s feelings toward her therapist
alternated between great rage at him and hunger for him. The intensity of these
feelings was so great that no work could be done on them and the therapist was on
the verge of discontinuing therapy. Placing her in a therapy group was his last
resort.
Upon entry into the group, Marge refused to talk for several meetings because
she wanted to determine how the group ran. After four meetings in silence, she
suddenly unleashed a ferocious attack on one of the group co-leaders, labeling him
as cold, powerful, and rejecting. She offered no reasons or data for her comments
aside from her gut feeling about him. Furthermore, she expressed contempt for
those members of the group who felt affection for this co-therapist.
Her feelings for the other leader were quite the opposite: she experienced him
as soft, warm, and caring. Other members were startled by her black-and-white
view of the co-therapists and urged her, unsuccessfully, to work on her great

propensity for judgment and anger. Her positive attachment to the one leader
contained her sufficiently to permit her to continue in the group and allowed her to
tolerate the intense hostile feeling toward the other leader and to work on other
issues in the group—though she continued to snipe intermittently at the hated
leader.
A notable change occurred with the “bad” therapist’s vacation. When Marge
expressed a fantasy of wanting to kill him, or at least to see him suffer, members
expressed astonishment at the degree of her rage. Perhaps, one member suggested,
she hated him so much because she badly wanted to be closer to him and was
convinced it would never happen. This feedback had a dramatic impact on Marge.
It touched not only on her feelings about the therapist but also on deep, conflicted
feelings about her mother. Gradually, her anger softened, and she described her
longing for a different kind of relationship with the therapist. She expressed
sadness also at her isolation in the group and described her wish for more
closeness with other members. Some weeks after the return of the “bad” therapist,
her anger had diminished sufficiently to work with him in a softer, more productive
manner.
This example illustrates how, in a number of ways, the group therapy situation can
reduce intense and crippling transference distortions. First, other members offered
different views of the therapist, which ultimately helped Marge correct her distorted
views. Second, borderline clients who develop powerful negative transference reactions
are able to continue working in the group because they so often develop opposite,
balancing feelings toward the co-therapist or toward other members of the group—which
is why many clinicians strongly advise a co-therapy format in the group treatment of
borderline clients.43 It is also possible for a client to rest temporarily, to withdraw, or to
participate in a less intensified fashion in the therapy group. Such respites from intensity
are rarely possible in the one-to-one format.
The work ethic of psychotherapy is often more readily apparent in a group. Individual
therapy with borderline clients may be marked by the absence of a therapeutic alliance.44
Some clients lose sight of the goal of personal change and instead expend their energy in
therapy seeking revenge for inflicted pain or demanding gratification from therapist.
Witnessing other members working on therapy goals in the group often supplies an
important corrective to derailed therapy.
Since the borderline individuals’ core problems lie in the sphere of intimacy, the
therapeutic factor of cohesiveness is often of decisive import. If these clients are able to
accept the reality testing offered by the group, and if their behavior is not so disruptive as
to cast them in a deviant or scapegoat role, then the group may become a holding
environment—an enormously important, supportive refuge from the stresses borderline
clients experience in everyday life. The borderline clients’ sense of belongingness is
augmented by the fact that they are often a great asset to the therapy group. These
individuals have great access to affect, unconscious needs, fantasies, and fears, and they
may loosen up a group and facilitate the therapeutic work, especially the therapy of

schizoid, inhibited, constricted individuals. Of course, this can be a double-edged sword.
Some group members may be negatively affected by the borderline client’s intense rages
and negativity, which can undermine the work of comembers who are victims of abuse or
trauma.45
The borderline client’s vulnerability and tendency to distort are so extreme that
concurrent or combined individual therapy is required. Many therapists suggest that the
most common reason for treatment failure of borderline clients in therapy groups is the
omission of adjunctive individual therapy.46 If conjoint therapy is used, it is particularly
important for the group and the individual therapists to be in ongoing communication. The
dangers of splitting are real, and it is important that the client experience the therapists as a
solid, coherent team.
Despite the heroic efforts of DSM-IV-TR, the borderline personality disorder does not
represent a homogeneous diagnostic category. One borderline client may be markedly
dissimilar clinically to another. The frequently hospitalized chaotic individual is grossly
different (and has a very different course of therapy) from the less severely disabled
individual with an unanchored self.47 Thus, the decision to include a borderline client in a
group depends on the characteristics of the particular individual being screened rather than
on the broad diagnostic category. The therapist has to assess not only a client’s ability to
tolerate the intensity of the therapy group but also the group’s ability to tolerate the
demands of that particular client at that point. Most heterogeneous ambulatory groups can,
at best, tolerate only one or possibly two borderline individuals. The major considerations
influencing the selection process are the same as those described in chapter 8. It is
particularly important to assess the possibility of the client’s becoming a deviant in the
group. Rigidity of behavioral patterns, especially patterns that antagonize other people,
should be carefully scrutinized. Clients who are markedly grandiose, contemptuous, and
disdainful are unlikely to have a bright future in a group. It is necessary for a client to have
the capacity to tolerate minimal amounts of frustration or criticism without serious acting
out. A client with an erratic work record, a history of transitory relationships, or a history
of quickly moving on to a new situation when slightly frustrated in an old one is likely to
respond in the same way in the therapy group.
The Narcissistic Client
The term narcissistic may be used in different ways. It is useful to think about narcissistic
clients representing a range and dimension of concerns rather than a narrow diagnostic
category.48 Although there is a formal diagnosis of narcissistic personality disorder, there
are many more individuals with narcissistic traits who create characteristic interpersonal
problems in the course of group therapy.
The nature of the narcissistic individual’s difficulties is captured comprehensively in the
DSM-IV-TR diagnostic criteria for the personality disorder. A diagnosis of the personality
disorder requires that at least five of nine criteria be met: grandiose sense of self-

importance; preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, love, or brilliance;
a belief that he or she is special and can be understood only by other special, high-status
people; a need for excessive admiration; a sense of entitlement; interpersonally
exploitative behavior; lack of empathy; often envious of others; arrogant, haughty
behaviors or attitudes.49
More commonly, many individuals with narcissistic difficulties present with features of
grandiosity, a need for admiration from others, and a lack of empathy. These individuals
also tend to have a shallow emotional life, derive little enjoyment from life other than
tributes received from others, and tend to depreciate those from whom they expect few
narcissistic supplies. 50 Their self-esteem is brittle and easily diminished, often generating
outrage at the source of insult.
Appropriate narcissism, a healthy love of oneself, is essential to the development of
self-respect and self-confidence. Excessive narcissism takes the form of loving oneself to
the exclusion of others, of losing sight of the fact that others are sentient beings, that
others, too, are constituting egos, each constructing and experiencing a unique world. In
extreme form, narcissists are solipsists who experience the world and other individuals as
existing solely for them.

General Problems. The narcissistic client often has a stormier but more productive course
in group than in individual therapy. In fact, the individual format provides so much
gratification that the core problem emerges much more slowly: the client’s every word is
listened to; every feeling, fantasy, and dream are examined; much is given to and little
demanded from the client.
In the group, however, the client is expected to share time, to understand, to empathize
with and to help others, to form relationships, to be concerned with the feelings of others,
to receive constructive but sometimes critical feedback. Often narcissistic individuals feel
alive when onstage: they judge the group’s usefulness to them on the basis of how many
minutes of the group’s and the therapist’s time they have obtained at a meeting. They
guard their specialness fiercely and often object when anyone points out similarities
between themselves and other members. For the same reason, they also object to being
included with the other members in group-as-a-whole interpretations.
They may have a negative response to some crucial therapeutic factors—for example,
cohesiveness and universality. To belong to a group, to be like others, may be experienced
as a homogenizing and cheapening experience. Hence the group experience readily brings
to light the narcissistic client’s difficulties in relationships. Other members may feel
unsympathetic to the narcissistic member because they rarely see the vulnerability and
fragility that resides beneath the grandiose and exhibitionistic behavior, a vulnerable core
that the narcissistic client often keeps well hidden.51
• One group member, Vicky, was highly critical of the group format and frequently
restated her preference for the one-to-one therapy format. She often supported her

position by citing psychoanalytic literature critical of the group therapy approach.
She felt bitter at having to share time in the group. For example, three-fourths of
the way through a meeting, the therapist remarked that he perceived Vicky and
John to be under much pressure. They both admitted that they needed and wanted
time in the meeting that day. After a moment’s awkwardness, John gave way,
saying he thought his problem could wait until the next session. Vicky consumed
the rest of the meeting and, at the following session, continued where she left off.
When it appeared that she had every intention of using the entire meeting again,
one of the members commented that John had been left hanging in the last session.
But there was no easy transition, since, as the therapist pointed out, only Vicky
could entirely release the group, and she gave no sign of doing so graciously (she
had lapsed into a sulking silence).
Nonetheless, the group turned to John, who was in the midst of a major life
crisis. John presented his situation, but no good work was done. At the very end of
the meeting, Vicky began weeping silently. The group members, thinking that she
wept for John, turned to her. But she wept, she said, for all the time that was
wasted on John—time that she could have used so much better. What Vicky could
not appreciate for at least a year in the group was that this type of incident did not
indicate that she would be better off in individual therapy. Quite the contrary: the
fact that such difficulties arose in the group was precisely the reason that the group
format was especially indicated for her.
Though narcissistic clients are frustrated by their bids for attention being so often
thwarted in the group as well in their outside life, that very enlivening frustration
constitutes a major advantage for the group therapeutic mode. Furthermore, the group is
catalyzed as well: some members profit from having to take assertive stands against the
narcissist’s greediness, and members who are too nonassertive may use aspects of the
narcissistic client’s behavior as modeling.
Another narcissistic patient, Ruth, who sought therapy for her inability to maintain deep
relationships, participated in the group in a highly stylized fashion: she insisted on filling
the members in every week on the minute details of her life and especially on her
relationships with men, her most pressing problem. Many of these details were extraneous,
but she was insistent on a thorough recitation (much like the “watch me” phase of early
childhood). Aside from watching her, there seemed no way the group could relate to Ruth
without making her feel deeply rejected. She insisted that friendship consisted of sharing
intimate details of one’s life, yet we learned through a follow-up interview with a member
who terminated the group that Ruth frequently called her for social evenings—but she
could no longer bear to be with Ruth because of her propensity to use friends in the same
way one might use an analyst: as an ever-patient, eversolicitous, ever-available ear.
Some narcissistic individuals who have a deep sense of specialness and entitlement feel
not only that they deserve maximum group attention but also that it should be forthcoming
without any effort on their part. They expect the group to care for them, to reach out for
them despite the fact that they reach out for no one. They expect gifts, surprises,

compliments, concern, though they give none. They expect to be able to express anger and
scorn but to remain immune from retaliation. They expect to be loved and admired for
simply being there. I have seen this posture especially pronounced in beautiful women
who have been praised all their lives simply by virtue of their appearance and their
presence.
The lack of awareness of, or empathy for, others is obvious in the group. After several
meetings, members begin to note that although the client does personal work in the group,
he or she never questions, supports, or assists others. The narcissistic client may describe
life experiences with great enthusiasm, but is a poor listener and grows bored when others
speak. One narcissistic man often fell asleep in the meeting if the issues discussed were
not immediately relevant to him. When confronted about his sleeping, he would ask for
the group’s forbearance because of his long, hard day (even though he was frequently
unemployed, a phenomenon he attributed to employers’ failure to recognize his unique
skills). There are times when it is useful to point out that there is only one relationship in
life where one individual can constantly receive without reciprocating to the other—the
mother and her young infant.
In chapter 12, in the account of Bill and Jan’s relationship, I described many of Bill’s
narcissistic modes of relating to other people. Much of his failure or inability to view the
world from the position of the other was summed up in a statement he made to the other
woman in the group, Gina, after sixteen months of meetings. He wistfully said that he
regretted that nothing had happened between them. Gina sharply corrected him: “You
mean nothing sexual, but a great deal has happened for me. You tried to seduce me. For
once I refused. I didn’t fall in love with you, and I didn’t go to bed with you. I didn’t
betray myself or my husband. I learned to know you and to care for you very deeply with
all your faults and with all your assets. Is that nothing happening?”
Several months after the end of therapy, I asked Bill in a follow-up interview to recall
some of the most significant events or turning points in therapy. He described a session
late in therapy when the group watched a videotape of the previous session. Bill was
stunned to learn that he had completely forgotten most of the session, remembering only
those few points in which he was centrally involved. His egocentricity was powerfully
brought home to him and affirmed what the group had been trying to tell him for months.
Many therapists distinguish between the overgratified narcissistic individual, like Bill,
and the undergratified narcissistic individual, who tends to be more deprived and enraged,
even explosive. The group behavior of the latter is misunderstood by the other members,
who interpret the anger as an attack on the group rather than as a last-ditch attempt to
defend the otherwise unprotected self. Consequently, these members are given little
nurturance for their unspoken wounds and deficits and are at risk of bolting from the
group. It is essential that therapists maintain an empathic connection to these clients and
focus on their subjective world, particularly when they feel diminished or hurt. At times,
the group leader may even need to serve as an advocate for the understanding of the
emotional experience of these provocative group members.52
A clinical illustration:

• Val, a narcissistic woman, was insulting, unempathic, and highly sensitive to even
the mildest criticism. In one meeting, she lamented at length that she never
received support or compliments from anyone in the group, least of all from the
therapists. In fact, she could remember only three positive comments to her in the
seventy group meetings she had attended. One member responded immediately and
straightforwardly: “Oh, come on, Val, get off it. Last week both of the therapists
supported you a whole lot. In fact, you get more stroking in this group than anyone
else.” Every other member of the group agreed and offered several examples of
positive comments that had been given to Val over the last few meetings.
Later in the same meeting, Val responded to two incidents in a highly
maladaptive fashion. Two members were locked in a painful battle over control.
Both were shaken and extremely threatened by the degree of anger expressed, both
their own and their antagonist’s. Many of the other group members offered
observations and support. Val’s response was that she didn’t know what all the
commotion was about, and that the two were “jerks” for getting themselves so
upset about nothing at all.
A few minutes later, Farrell, a member who had been very concealed and silent,
was pressed to reveal more about herself. With considerable resolve, she disclosed,
for the first time, intimate details about a relationship she had recently entered into
with a man. She talked about her fear that the relationship would collapse because
she desperately wanted children and, once again, had started a relationship with a
man who had made it clear that he did not want children. Many members of the
group responded empathically and supportively to her disclosure. Val was silent,
and when called upon, she stated that she could see Farrell was having a hard
time talking about this, but couldn’t understand why. “It didn’t seem like a big-deal
revelation.” Farrell responded, “Thanks, Val, that makes me feel great—it makes
me want to have nothing to do with you. I’d like to put as much distance as
possible between the two of us.”
The group’s response to Val in both of these incidents was immediate and direct.
The two people she had accused of acting like jerks let her know that they felt
demeaned by her remarks. One commented, “If people talk about some problem
that you don’t have, then you dismiss it as being unimportant or jerky. Look, I don’t
have the problems that you have about not getting enough compliments from the
therapists or other members of the group. It simply is not an issue for me. How
would you feel if I called you a jerk every time you complained about that?”
This meeting illustrates several features of group work with a characterologically
difficult client. Val was inordinately adversarial and had developed an intense and
disabling negative transference in several previous attempts in individual therapy. In this
session, she expressed distorted perceptions of the therapists (that they had given her only
three compliments in seventy sessions when, in fact, they had been strongly supportive of
her). In individual therapy, Val’s distortion might have led to a major impasse because her
transferential distortions were so marked that she did not trust the therapists to provide an

accurate view of reality. Therapy groups have a great advantage in the treatment of such
clients because, as illustrated in this vignette, group therapists do not have to serve as
champions of reality: the other group members assume that role and commonly provide
powerful and accurate reality testing to the client.
Val, like many narcissistic patients, was overly sensitive to criticism. (Such individuals
are like the hemophiliac patient, who bleeds at the slightest injury and lacks the resources
to staunch the flow of blood.)53 The group members were aware that Val was highly
vulnerable and tolerated criticism poorly. Yet they did not hesitate to confront her directly
and consistently. Although Val was wounded in this meeting, as in so many others, she
also heard the larger message: the group members took her seriously and respected her
ability to take responsibility for her actions and to change her behavior. I believe that it is
crucially important that a group assume this stance toward the vulnerable client. It may be
experienced as a powerful affirmation. Once a group begins to ignore, patronize, or
mascot a narcissistic individual, then therapy for that client fails. The group no longer
provides reality testing, and the client assumes the noxious deviant role.
The major task for the group therapist working with all of these problematic clients is
neither precise diagnosis nor a formulation of early causative dynamics. Whether the
diagnosis is schizoid, borderline, or narcissistic personality disorder, the primary issue is
the same: the therapeutic management of the highly vulnerable individual in the therapy
group.

Chapter 14
THE THERAPIST: SPECIALIZED FORMATS AND
PROCEDURAL AIDS
The standard group therapy format in which one therapist meets with six to eight members
is often complicated by other factors: the client may concurrently be in individual therapy;
there may be a co-therapist in the group; the client may be involved in a twelve-step
group; occasionally the group may meet without the therapist. I shall discuss these
variations in this chapter and describe, in addition, some specialized techniques and
approaches that, although not essential, may at times facilitate the course of therapy.
CONCURRENT INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP THERAPY
First, some definitions. Conjoint therapy refers to a treatment format in which the client is
seen by one therapist in individual therapy and a different therapist (or two, if co-
therapists) in group therapy. In combined therapy, the client is treated by the same
therapist simultaneously in individual and group therapy. No systematic data exists about
the comparative effectiveness of these variations. Consequently, guidelines and principles
must be formulated from clinical judgment and from reasoning based on the posited
therapeutic factors.
Whenever we integrate two treatment modalities, we must first consider their
compatibility. More is not always better! Are the different treatments working at cross-
purposes, or do they enhance one another? If compatible, are they complementary,
working together by addressing different aspects of the client’s therapy needs, or are they
facilitative, each supporting and enhancing the work of the other?1
The relative frequencies of the two types of concurrent therapy are unknown, although
it is likely that in private practice combined therapy is more commonly employed than
conjoint therapy.2 The opposite appears to be true in institutional and mental health
treatment settings.3 By no means should one consider conjoint and combined therapy
equivalent. They have exceedingly different features and clinical indications, and I shall
discuss them separately.
Conjoint Therapy
I believe that, with some exceptions, conjoint individual therapy is not essential to the
practice of group therapy. If members are selected with a moderate degree of care, a
therapy group meeting once or (preferably) twice a week is ample therapy and should
benefit the great majority of clients. But there are exceptions. The characterologically

difficult client, as I discussed in chapter 13, frequently needs to be in concurrent therapy—
either combined or conjoint. In fact, the earliest models of concurrent group and individual
therapy developed in response to the needs of these challenging clients.4 Clients with a
history of childhood sexual abuse or for whom issues around shame are significant also
often require concurrent therapy.5
Not infrequently, group members may go through a severe life crisis (for example,
bereavement or a divorce) that requires temporary individual therapy support. Some
clients are so fragile or blocked by anxiety or fearful of aggression that individual therapy
is required to enable them to participate in the group. From time to time, individual
therapy is required to prevent a client from dropping out of the group or to monitor more
closely a suicidal or impulsive client.
• Joan, a young woman with borderline personality disorder participating in her
first group, was considerably threatened by the first few meetings. She had felt
increasingly alienated because her bizarre fantasy and dream world seemed so far
from the experience of the other members. In the fourth meeting, she verbally
attacked one of the members and was, in turn, attacked. For several nights
thereafter, she had terrifying nightmares. In one, her mouth turned to blood, which
appeared related to her fear of being verbally aggressive because of her world-
destructive fantasies. In another, she was walking along the beach when a huge
wave engulfed her—this related to her fear of losing her boundaries and identity in
the group. In a third dream, Joan was held down by several men who guided the
therapist’s hands as he performed an operation on her brain—obviously related to
her fears of therapy and of the therapist being overpowered by the male members.
Her hold on reality grew more tenuous, and it seemed unlikely that she could
continue in the group without added support. Concurrent individual therapy with
another therapist was arranged; it helped her to contain her anxiety and enabled
her to remain in the group.
• Jim was referred to a group by his psychoanalyst, who had treated him for six
years and was now terminating analysis.6 Despite considerable improvement, Jim
still had not mastered the symptom for which he had originally sought treatment:
fear of women. He found it difficult even to dictate to his secretary. In one of his
first group meetings, he was made extremely uncomfortable by a woman in the
group who complimented him. He stared at the floor for the rest of the session, and
afterward called his analyst to say that he wanted to drop out of the group and
reenter analysis. His analyst discussed the situation with the group therapist and
agreed to resume individual treatment on the condition the client return to the
group as well. For the next few months, they had an individual hour after each
group session. The two therapists had frequent consultations, and the group
therapist was able to modulate the noxious stimuli in the group sufficiently to
allow the client to continue in therapy. Within a few months, he was able to reach
out emotionally to women for the first time, and he gradually grew more at ease
with women in the real world.

Thus far, we have considered how individual therapy may facilitate the client’s course
in group therapy. The reverse is also true: group therapy may be used to augment or
facilitate the course of individual therapy.†7 In fact, the majority of clients in conjoint
therapy enter the group through referral by their individual therapist. The individual
therapist might find a client exceptionally restricted and arid and unable to produce the
material necessary for productive work. Often the rich, affective interpersonal interaction
of the group is marvelously evocative and generates ample data for both individual and
group work. At other times, clients have major blind spots that prevent them from
reporting accurately or objectively what actually transpires in their life.
One older man was referred to group therapy by his individual therapist because the
individual therapy was at an impasse due to an intense paternal transference. The male
therapist could say nothing to this client without its being challenged and obsessively
picked apart for its inaccuracy or incompleteness. Although both client and therapist were
aware of the reenactment in the therapy of the relationship between oppressed son and
bullying father, no real progress was made until the client entered the more democratic,
leveled group environment and was able to hear feedback that was disentangled from
paternal authority.
Other clients are referred to a therapy group because they have improved in the safe
setting of the one-to-one therapy hour, yet are unable to transfer the learning to outside
life. The group setting may serve as a valuable way station for the next stage of therapy:
experimentation with behavior in a low-risk environment, which may effectively
disconfirm the client’s fantasies of the calamitous consequences of new behavior.
Sometimes in the individual therapy of characterologically difficult clients, severe,
irreconcilable problems in the transference arise, and the therapy group may be
particularly helpful in diluting transference and facilitating reality testing (see chapter 13).
The individual therapist may also benefit from a deintensification of the
countertransference. The group and the individual therapist may function effectively as
peer consultants and supports in the treatment of particularly taxing clients who use
splitting and projective identification in ways that may be quite overwhelming to the
therapist. In essence, conjoint therapy capitalizes on the presence in treatment of multiple
settings, multiple transferences, multiple observers, multiple interpreters, and multiple
maturational agents.8

Complications. Along with these advantages of conjoint therapy come a number of
complications. When there is a marked difference in the basic approach of the individual
therapist and the group therapist, the two therapies may work at cross-purposes.
If, for example, the individual approach is oriented toward understanding genetic
causality and delves deeply into past experiences while the group focuses primarily on
here-and-now material, the client is likely to become confused and to judge one approach
on the basis of the other. An overarching sense of a synthesis of the group and individual
work is necessary for success.

Not infrequently, clients beginning group therapy are discouraged and frustrated by the
initial group meetings that offer less support and attention than their individual therapy
hours. Sometimes such clients, when attacked or stressed by the group, may defend
themselves by unfavorably comparing their group to their individual therapy experience.
Such an attack on the group invariably results in further deterioration of the situation. It is
not uncommon, however, for clients later in therapy to appreciate the unique offerings of
the group and to reverse their comparative evaluations of the two modes.
Another complication of conjoint therapy arises when clients use individual therapy to
drain off affect from the group. The client may interact like a sponge in the group, taking
in feedback and carrying it away to gnaw on like a bone in the safe respite of the
individual therapy hour. Clients may resist working in the group through the pseudo-
altruistic rationalization, “I will allow the others to have the group time since I have my
own hour.” Another form of resistance is to deal with important material in the opposite
venue—to use the group to address the transference to the individual therapist and to use
the individual therapy to address reactions to group members. When these patterns are
particularly pronounced and resist all other interventions, the group therapist, in
collaboration with the individual therapist, may insist that either the group or the
individual therapy be terminated. I have known several clients whose involvement in the
group dramatically accelerated when their concurrent individual therapy was stopped.
In my experience, the individual and the group therapeutic approaches complement
each other particularly well if two conditions are met. First, there must be a good working
collaboration between the individual and group therapists. They must have the client’s
permission to share all information with each other. It is important that both therapists be
equally committed to the idea of conjoint therapy and in agreement about the rationale for
the referral to group therapy. A referral to a group for conjoint treatment should not be a
cover for the sloughing of clinical responsibility because the individual therapist is paving
the way to terminate the treatment.9 Furthermore, it is essential that the therapists are
mutually respectful—both of the competence and therapeutic approach of the other.
A solid relationship between the individual and group therapists may prove essential in
addressing the inevitable tensions as clients compare their group and individual therapists,
at times idealizing one and devaluing the other. This is a particularly uncomfortable issue
for less experienced group therapists working conjointly with more senior individual
therapists whose invisible glowering presence in the group may inhibit the group therapist
and undermine confidence, stimulating the group therapist’s concern about how they are
being portrayed by the client to the individual therapist.10 These considerations are
especially evident in the treatment of more difficult clients who employ defenses of
splitting. It is exceedingly tough to be the vilified therapist in a conjoint treatment. The
position of the idealized therapist may be easier to bear, but it is only somewhat less
precarious and no less ineffective.
Thus, the first condition for an effective conjoint therapy experience is that the
individual and group therapists have an open, solid, mutually respectful working
relationship. The second condition is that the individual therapy must complement the

group approach—it must be here-and-now oriented and must devote time to an
exploration of the client’s feelings toward the group members and toward incidents and
themes of current meetings. Such an exploration can serve as rehearsal for deeper
involvement in the life of the group.
Individual therapists who are experienced in group methods may significantly help their
client (and the rest of the group) by coaching the client on how to work in the group. I
recently referred a young man I was seeing in individual therapy to a therapy group. He
was characteristically suffused with rage, which he usually expressed in explosions toward
his wife or as road rage (which had gotten him into several dangerous situations).
After a few weeks of group therapy, he reported in his individual hours that he had
varying degrees of anger toward many of the group members. When I raised the question
of his expressing this in the group, he paled: “No one ever confronts anyone directly in
this group—that’s not the way this group works … I would feel awful … I’d devastate the
others … I couldn’t face them again … I’d be drummed out of the group.” We rehearsed
how he might confront his anger in the group. Sometimes I roleplayed how I might talk
about it in the group if I were him. I gave him examples of how to give feedback that
would be unlikely to evoke retaliation. For example, “I’ve a problem I haven’t been able
to discuss here before. I got a lot of anger. I blow up to my wife and kids and have serious
road rage. I’d like help with it here and I’m not sure how to work on it, I wonder if I could
start to tackle it by talking about some flashes of anger I feel sometimes in the group
meeting.” At this point, any group therapist I have ever known would purr with pleasure
and encourage him to try.
He might then continue, I suggested, by saying, “For example, you, John (one of the
other members): I have tremendous admiration toward you in so many ways, your
intelligence, your devotion to the right causes, but nonetheless last week I noted a wave of
irritation when you were speaking toward the end of the meeting about your attitude
toward the women you date—was that all me or did others feel that way?” My client took
notes during our session and followed my lead, and within a few weeks one of the group
therapists told me that not only was this client doing good work, but he had turned the
whole group around and that meetings had become more lively and interactional for
everyone in the group.
The individual therapist also can with great profit focus on transfer of learning, on
helping the client apply what he or she has learned in the group to new situations—for
example, to the relationship with the individual therapist and to other important figures in
the client’s social world.
Although it is more common for group therapy to be added to an ongoing individual
therapy, the opposite may also occur. It may be that the group work catalyzes changes or
evokes memories that evoke great distress warranting time and attention that the group
may not be able to provide. 11 In general, it is best to launch one treatment first and then
add the second if required, rather than start both at once, to avoid confusing or
overwhelming the client.

Combined Therapy
Earlier I said that concurrent therapy is not essential to group therapy. I feel the same way
about combined therapy. Yet I also agree with the many clinicians who find that combined
therapy is an exceptionally productive and powerful therapeutic format. I continue to be
impressed by the results of placing my individual clients into a group: almost invariably,
therapy is accelerated and enriched.
Generally, in clinical practice, combined therapy begins with individual therapy. After
several weeks or months of individual therapy, therapists place a client into one of their
therapy groups—one generally composed entirely of clients who are also in individual
therapy with the leader. Homogeneity in this regard is helpful—that is, that all the
members of the group also be in individual therapy with the group leader—but it is not
essential. The pressures of everyday practice sometimes result in some clients being in
individual therapy with the group leader while one or two are not. Not infrequently issues
of envy may arise in members who do not meet with the group leader individually.
Typically, the client attends one group session and one individual session weekly. Other,
more cost-effective variants have been described, for example, a format in which each
group member meets for one individual session every few weeks.12 Although such a
format has much to offer, it has a different rationale from combined therapy, in that the
occasional meeting is an adjunct to the group: it is designed to facilitate norm formation
and to optimize the members’ use of the group.
In combined therapy, the group is usually open-ended, with clients remaining in both
therapies for months, even years. But combined therapy may also involve a time-limited
group format. I have, on many occasions, formed a six-month group of my long-term
individual clients. After the group terminates, the clients continue individual therapy,
which has been richly fertilized by group-spawned data.

Advantages. There is no doubt that combined therapy (as well as conjoint therapy)
decreases dropouts.†13 My own informal survey of combined therapy groups—my own
and those of supervisees and colleagues—over a period of several years reveals that early
dropouts are exceedingly rare. In fact, of clients who were already established in
individual therapy before entering a group led by their individual therapist, not a single
one dropped out in the first twelve sessions. This, of course, contrasts starkly with the high
dropout rates for group therapy without concurrent individual therapy (see table 8.1). The
reasons are obvious. First, therapists know their individual therapy clients very well and
can be more accurate in the selection process. Second, the therapists in their individual
therapy sessions are able to prevent impending dropouts by addressing and resolving
issues that preclude the client’s work in the group.
• After seven meetings, David, a somewhat prissy, fifty-year-old confirmed
bachelor, was on the verge of dropping out. The group had given him considerable

feedback about several annoying characteristics: his frequent use of euphemisms,
his concealment behind long, boring repetitious anecdotes, and his persistence in
asking distracting cocktail-party questions. Because David seemed uninfluenced
by the feedback, the group ultimately backed away and began to mascot him (to
tolerate him in a good-natured fashion, but not to take him seriously).
In an individual session, he lamented about being “out of the loop” in the group
and questioned whether he should continue. He also mentioned that he had not
been wearing his hearing aid to the group (which I had not noticed) because of his
fear of being ridiculed or stereotyped. Under ordinary circumstances, David would
have dropped out of the group, but, in his individual therapy, I could capitalize on
the group events and explore the meaning of his being “out of the loop.” It turned
out to be a core issue for David. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, he
had felt socially shunned and ultimately resigned himself to it. He became a loner
and entered a profession (freelance computer consultation) that permitted a “lone-
eagle” lifestyle.
At my urging, he reconnected his hearing aid in the group and expressed his
feelings of being out of the loop. His self-disclosure and, even more important, his
examination of his role in putting himself out of the loop were sufficient to reverse
the process and bring him into the group. He remained in combined therapy with
much profit for a year.
This example highlights another advantage of concurrent treatment: the rich and
unpredictable interaction in the group commonly opens up areas in therapy that might
otherwise never have surfaced in the more insular individual format. David never felt “out
of the loop” in his individual therapy—after all, I listened to his every word and strove to
be present with him continually.
• Another example involves Steven, a man who, for years, had many extramarital
encounters but refused to take safer-sex precautions. In individual therapy I
discussed this with him for months from every possible vantage point: his
grandiosity and sense of immunity from biological law, his selfishness, his
concerns about impotence with a condom. I communicated my concern for him, for
his wife, and for his sex partners. I experienced and expressed paternal feelings:
outrage at his selfish behavior, sadness at his self-destructiveness. All to no avail.
When I placed Steven in a therapy group, he did not discuss his sexual risk-taking
behavior, but some relevant experiences occurred.
On a number of occasions, he gave feedback to women members in a cruel,
unfeeling manner. Gradually, the group confronted him on this and reflected on his
uncaring, even vindictive, attitudes to women. Most of his group work centered on
his lack of empathy. Gradually, he learned to enter the experiential world of
others. The group was time limited (six months), and many months later in
individual therapy, when we again focused in depth on Steven’s sexual behavior, he
recalled, with considerable impact, the group members’ accusing him of being
uncaring. Only then was he able to consider his choices in the light of his lack of

loving, and only then did his behavioral pattern yield.

• A third example involves Roger, a young man who for a year in individual
therapy had been continually critical of me. Roger acknowledged that he had made
good gains—but, after all, that was precisely what he had hired me for, and, he
never forgot to add, he was paying me big bucks for my services. Where were his
positive, tender feelings? They never surfaced in individual therapy. When he
entered my six-month combined therapy group, the pattern continued, and the
members perceived him as cold, unfeeling, and often hostile—they called him the
“grenade launcher.” Much to everyone’s surprise, it was Roger who expressed the
strongest regret at the ending of the group. When pressed, he said that he would
miss the group and miss his contact with some of the members. “Which of us in
particular?” the group inquired. Before he could respond, I intervened and asked
if the group could guess. No one had the vaguest idea. When Roger singled out two
members, they were astonished, having had no hint that Roger cared for them.
The two therapies worked together. My experience with Roger in individual
therapy cued me to pursue Roger’s affective block but it was the group members’
reaction—their inability to read him or to know of his feelings for them—that had
a far more powerful impact on Roger. After all, their feelings could not be
rationalized away—it was not part of their job.

• Sam, a man who entered therapy because of his inhibitions and lack of joie de
vivre, encountered his lack of openness and his rigidity far more powerfully in the
therapy group than in the individual format. He kept from the group three
particularly important secrets: that he had been trained as a therapist and
practiced for a few years; that he had retired after inheriting a large fortune; and
that he felt superior and held others in contempt. He rationalized keeping secrets
in the group (as he did in his social life) by believing that self-revelation would
result in greater distance from others: he would be stereotyped in one way or
another, “used,” envied, revered, or hated.
After three months of participation in a newly formed group, he became
painfully aware of how he had re-created in the group the same peripheral
onlooker role that he assumed in his real life. All the members had started
together, all the others had revealed themselves and participated in a personal,
uninhibited manner—he alone had chosen to stay outside.
In our individual work, I urged Sam to reveal himself in the group. Individual
session after session, I felt like a second in a boxing ring exhorting him to take a
chance. In fact, as the group meetings went by, I told him that delay was making
things much worse. If he waited much longer to tell the group he had been a
therapist, he would get a lot of flak when he did. (Sam had been receiving a steady
stream of compliments about his perceptivity and sensitivity.)

Finally, Sam took the plunge and revealed his three secrets. Immediately he and
the other members began to relate in a more genuine fashion. He enabled other
members to work on related issues. A member who was a student therapist
discussed her fear of being judged for superficial comments; another wealthy
member revealed his concerns about others’ envy; another revealed that she was a
closet snob. Still others discussed strong, previously hidden feelings about money
—including their anger at the therapist’s fees. After the group ended, Sam
continued to discuss these interactions in individual therapy and to take new risks
with the therapist. The members’ acceptance of him after his disclosures was a
powerfully affirming experience. Previously, they had accepted him for his helpful
insights, but that acceptance meant little, because it was rooted in bad faith: his
false presentation of himself and his concealment of his training, wealth, and
personal traits.
Sam’s case points out some of the inherent pitfalls in combined therapy. For one thing,
the role of the therapist changes significantly and increases in complexity. There is
something refreshingly simple in leading a group when the leader knows the same thing
about each member as everyone else does. But the combined therapist knows so much that
life gets complicated. A member once referred to my role as that of the Magus: I knew
everything: what members felt toward one another, what they chose to say, and, above all,
what they chose to withhold.
Group therapists who see none of their group clients in individual therapy can be more
freewheeling: they can ask for information, take blind guesses, ask broad, general
questions, call on members to describe their feelings about another member or some group
incident. But the combined therapist knows too much! It becomes awkward to ask
questions of members when you know the answer. Consequently, many therapists find that
they are less active in groups of their own individual clients than when leading other
groups.
Input of group members often opens up rich areas for exploration, areas into which the
individual therapist may enter. For example, Irene, a middle-aged woman, had left her
husband months earlier and was, in a state of great indecision, living in a small rented
apartment. Other group members asked how she had furnished the place, and gradually it
came out that she had done virtually nothing to make her surroundings comfortable or
attractive. An investigation into her need to deprive herself, to wear a hair shirt, proved
enormously valuable to her.
The combined therapist often struggles with the issue of boundaries. (This is also true in
conjoint therapy at times when the group therapist has learned from the individual
therapist about important feelings or events that their mutual client has not yet addressed
in the group.) Is the content of the client’s individual therapy the property of the group? As
a general rule, it is almost always important to urge clients to bring up group-relevant
material in the group. If, for example, in the individual therapy hour, the client brings up
angry feelings toward another member, the therapist must urge the client to bring these
feelings back to the group.

Suppose the client resists? Again, most therapists will pursue the least intrusive options:
first, repeated urging of the client and investigation of the resistance; then focusing on in-
group conflict between the two members, even if the conflict is mild; then sending
knowing glances to the client; and, the final step, asking the client for permission to
introduce the material into the group. Good judgment, of course, must be exercised. No
technical rationale justifies humiliating a client. As noted earlier, a promise of absolute
therapist confidentiality can rarely be provided without negatively constraining the
therapy. Therapists can only promise that they will use their discretion and best
professional judgment. Meanwhile, they must work toward helping the client accept the
responsibility of bringing forward relevant material from one venue to the other.
Combined group and individual therapy may present special problems for neophyte
group therapists. Some find it difficult to see the same client in two formats because they
customarily assume a different role in the two types of therapy: in group, therapists tend to
be more informal, open, and actively engaged with the client; in individual therapy, the
therapist tends to remain somewhat impersonal and distant. Often therapists in training
prefer that clients have a pure treatment experience—that is, solely group therapy without
any concurrent individual therapy with themselves or other therapists—in order to
discover for themselves what to expect from each type of therapy.
COMBINING GROUP THERAPY AND TWELVE-STEP
GROUPS
An increasingly common form of concurrent therapy is the treatment in group
psychotherapy of clients who are also participating in twelve-step groups. Historically, a
certain antipathy has existed between the proponents of these two modalities, with subtle
and at times overt denigration of one another.14 Recently there has been a growing
recognition that substance use disorders are an appropriate focus for the mental health
field. The vast economic costs and psychosocial scope of addiction disorders, the high
comorbidity rates with other psychological problems, and the social and relational context
of addiction make group therapy particularly relevant.†15
Individuals who abuse substances also typically experience substantial interpersonal
disturbance at every stage of their illness: first, they have predisposing interpersonal
difficulties resulting in emotional pain that the individual attempts to abate by substance
use; second, they have relational difficulties resulting from the substance abuse; third, they
have interpersonal difficulties that complicate the maintenance of sobriety. There is good
evidence that group therapy can play an important role in recovery by alcoholics helping
them develop coping skills that sustain sobriety and enhance resilience to relapse.16
There is also strong evidence that twelve-step groups are both effective and valued by
clients.17 (Alcoholics Anonymous is the most prevalent of the twelve-step groups, but

there are over 100 variations, for such conditions as cocaine and other narcotics addiction,
gambling, sexual addiction, and overeating.) It is inevitable that some of the many million
of members of AA attending the thousands of weekly group meetings in the United States
alone will also participate in group psychotherapy. Furthermore, there is emerging
evidence that twelve-step groups and mainstream therapies can be effectively
integrated.†18
Group therapy and AA can complement one another if certain obstacles are removed.
First, group leaders must become informed about the mechanism of twelve-step group
work and learn to appreciate the inherent wisdom in the twelve-step program as well as
the enormous support it offers to those struggling with addiction. Second, there are several
common misconceptions that must be cleared up—misconceptions held by group
therapists and/or by members of AA. These include:19
1. Twelve-step groups are opposed to psychotherapy or medication.
2. Twelve-step groups encourage the abdication of personal responsibility.
3. Twelve-step groups discourage the expression of strong affects.
4. Mainstream group therapy neglects spirituality.
5. Mainstream group therapy is powerful enough to be effective without twelve-step
groups.
6. Mainstream group therapy views the AA relationships and the relationship
between sponsor and sponsee as regressive.
Keep in mind that it is difficult to make blanket statements about AA meetings, because
AA meetings are not all the same: there is much variability from group to group. In
general, however, there are two major differences between the AA approach and the group
therapy approach.
AA relies heavily on the members’ relationship to a higher power, submission to that
power, and understanding of the self in relation to that higher power.
Group therapy encourages member-to-member interaction, especially in the here-and-
now: it is the lifeblood of the group. AA, by contrast, specifically prohibits “crosstalk”—
that is, direct interaction between members during a meeting. “Crosstalk” could be any
direct inquiry, suggestion, advice, feedback, or criticism. (This, too, is a generalization,
however: if one searches, one can find AA groups that engage in considerable interaction.)
The prohibition of “crosstalk” by no means leads to an impersonal meeting, however. AA
members have pointed out to me that the knowledge that there will be no judgment or
criticism is freeing to members and encourages them to self-disclose at deep levels. Since
there is no designated trained group leader to modulate and process here-and-now
interaction, it seems to me that AA’s decision to avoid intensive interpersonal interaction
is a wise and instrumental one.
Therapy group leaders introducing an AA member into their therapy group must keep in
mind that group feedback will be an unfamiliar concept and should take extra time and

care in pregroup preparation sessions to explain the difference between the AA model and
the therapy group model regarding the use of the here-and-now.
I recommend that group leaders attend some AA meetings and thoroughly familiarize
themselves with the twelve steps. Demonstrate your respect for the steps and attempt to
convey to the client that most of the twelve steps have meaning in the context of the
therapy group and, if followed, will enhance the work of therapeutic change.
Table 14.1 lists the twelve steps and suggests related group therapy themes. I do not
suggest a reinterpretation of the twelve steps but a loose translation of ideas in the steps
into related interpersonal group concepts. With this framework, group leaders can readily
employ a common language that covers both approaches and reinforces the idea that
therapy and the recovery process are mutually facilitative.
TABLE 14.1 The Convergence of Twelve-Step and Interpersonal Group Therapy
Approaches
The Twelve Steps Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy
1. We admitted that we were powerless
over alcohol and that our lives had
become unmanageable
Relinquish grandiosity and
counterdependence.
Begin the process of trusting the process
and the power of the group.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater
than ourselves could restore us to sanity
Self-repair through relationships and human
connection.
Reframe “Higher Power” into a source of
soothing, nurturance, and hope that may
replace the reliance on substances.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and
our lives over to the care of God as we
understood Him
Make a leap of trust in the therapy
procedure and the good will of fellow group
members.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral
inventory of ourselves
Self-discovery. Search within. Learn as
much about yourself as possible.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to
another human being the exact nature of
our wrongs
Self-disclosure. Share your inner world with
others—the experiences that fill you with
shame and guilt as well as your dreams and
hopes.
6. Were entirely ready to have God
remove all these defects of character
Explore and illuminate, in the here-and-
now of the treatment, all destructive
interpersonal actions that invite relapses.

The task of the group is to help members
find the resources within themselves to
prepare to take action.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our
shortcomings
Acknowledge interpersonal feelings and
behaviors that hinder satisfying
relationships. Modify these by
experimenting with new behaviors.
Request and accept feedback in order to
broaden your interpersonal repertoire.
Though the group offers the opportunity to
work on issues, it is your responsibility to
do the work.
8. Made a list of all persons we had
harmed, and became willing to make
amends to them all
Identify interpersonal injuries you have
been responsible for; develop empathy for
others’ feelings. Try to appreciate the
impact of your actions on others and
develop the willingness to repair injury.
9. Made direct amends to such people
wherever possible, except when to do so
would injure them or others
Use the group as a testing ground for the
sequence of recognition and repair. Start the
ninth step work by making amends to other
group members whom you have in any
manner impeded or offended.
10. Continued to take personal inventory
and when we were wrong promptly
admit it
Internalize the process of self-reflection,
assumption of responsibility, and self-
revelation. Make these attributes part of
your way of being in the therapy group and
in your outside life.
11. Sought through prayer and
meditation to improve our conscious
contact with God as we understand Him,
praying only for knowledge of His will
for us and the power to carry that out
No direct psychotherapeutic focus, but the
therapy group may support mind-calming
meditation and spiritual exploration.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as
the result of these steps, we tried to carry
this message to other addicts, and to
practice these principles in all our affairs
Become actively concerned for others,
beginning with your fellow group members.
Embracing an altruistic way of being in the
world will raise your love and respect for
yourself.
Adapted from Matano and Yalom.20

CO-THERAPISTS
Some group therapists choose to meet alone with a group, but the great majority prefer to
work with a co-therapist.21 Limited research has been conducted to determine the relative
efficacy of the two methods, although a study of co-therapy in family and marital therapy
demonstrates that that in those modalities co-therapy is at least as effective as single
therapist treatment and in some ways superior.22 Clinicians differ in their opinions. 23 My
own clinical experience has taught me that co-therapy presents both special advantages
and potential hazards.
First, consider the advantages, both for the therapists and the clients. Co-therapists
complement and support each other. Together, they have greater cognitive and
observational range, and with their dual points of view they may generate more hunches
and more strategies. When one therapist, for example, is intensively involved with one
member, the co-therapist may be far more aware of the remaining members’ responses to
the interchange and hence may be in a better position to broaden the range of the
interaction and exploration.
Co-therapists also catalyze transferential reactions and make the nature of distortions
more evident, because clients will differ so much among themselves in their reactions to
each of the co-therapists and to the co-therapists’ relationship. In groups in which strong
therapist countertransference reactions are likely (for example, groups for clients with HIV
or cancer or in trauma groups), the supportive function of co-therapy becomes particularly
important for both clients and therapists.†24
Most co-therapy teams deliberately or, more often, unwittingly split roles: one therapist
assumes a provocative role—much like a Socratic gadfly—while the other is more
nurturing and serves as a harmonizer in the group.† When the co-therapists are male and
female, the roles are usually (but not invariably) assumed accordingly. In well-functioning
co-therapy teams these roles are fluid, not rigid. Each leader should have access to the full
range of therapeutic postures and interventions.
Many clinicians agree that a male-female co-therapist team may have unique
advantages: the image of the group as the primary family may be more strongly evoked;
many fantasies and misconceptions about the relationship between the two therapists arise
and may profitably be explored. Many clients benefit from the model setting of a male-
female pair working together with mutual respect and inclusiveness, without the
destructive competition, mutual derogation, exploitation, or pervasive sexuality they may
associate with male-female pairings. For victims of early trauma and sexual abuse, a male-
female co-therapy team increases the scope of the therapy by providing an opportunity to
address issues of mistrust, abuse of power, and helplessness that are rooted in early
paradigms of male-female relationships. Clients from cultures in which men are dominant
and women are subservient may experience a co-therapy team of a strong, competent
woman and a tender, competent man as uniquely facilitative.25

From my observations of over eighty therapy groups led by neophyte therapists, I
consider the co-therapy format to have special advantages for the beginning therapist.
Many students, in retrospect, consider the co-leader experience one of their most effective
learning experiences. Where else in the training curriculum do two therapists have the
opportunity to participate simultaneously in the same therapy experience and supervision?
26 For one thing, the presence of a co-therapist lessens initial therapist anxiety and permits
therapists to be more objective in their efforts to understand the meeting. In the post-
meeting rehash, the co-therapists can provide valuable feedback about each other’s
behavior. Until therapists obtain sufficient experience to be reasonably clear of their own
self-presentation in the group, such feedback is vital in enabling them to differentiate what
is real and what is transference distortion in clients’ perceptions. Similarly, co-therapists
may aid each other in the identification and working-through of countertransference
reactions toward various members.
It is especially difficult for beginning therapists to maintain objectivity in the face of
massive group pressure. One of the more unpleasant and difficult chores for neophyte
therapists is to weather a group attack on them and to help the group make constructive
use of it. When you are under the gun, you may be too threatened either to clarify the
attack or to encourage further attack without appearing defensive or condescending. There
is nothing more squelching than an individual under fire saying, “It’s really great that
you’re attacking me. Keep it going!” A co-therapist may prove invaluable here in helping
the members continue to express their anger at the other therapist and ultimately to
examine the source and meaning of that anger.
Whether co-therapists should openly express disagreement during a group session is an
issue of some controversy. I have generally found co-therapist disagreement unhelpful to
the group in the first few meetings. The group is not yet stable or cohesive enough to
tolerate such divisiveness in leadership. Later, however, therapist disagreement may
contribute greatly to therapy. In one study, I asked twenty clients who had concluded long-
term group therapy about the effects of therapist disagreement on the course of the group
and on their own therapy.27 They were unanimous in their judgment that it was beneficial.
For many it was a model-setting experience: They observed individuals whom they
respected disagree openly and resolve their differences with dignity and tact.
Consider a clinical example:
• During a group meeting my co-leader, a resident, asked me why I seemed so
quick to jump in with support whenever one of the men, Rob, received feedback.
The question caught me off guard. I commented first that I had not noticed that
until she drew it to my attention. I then invited feedback from others in the group,
who agreed with her observation. It soon became clear to me that I was overly
protective of Rob, and I commented that although he had made substantial gains in
controlling his anger and explosiveness, I still regarded him as fragile and felt I
needed to protect him from overreacting and undoing his success. Rob thanked me
and my co-leader for our openness and added that although he may have needed
extra care in the past, he no longer did at this point. He was correct!

In this way, group members experience therapists as human beings who, despite their
imperfections, are genuinely attempting to help the members. Such a humanization
process is inimical to irrational stereotyping, and clients learn to differentiate others
according to their individual attributes rather than their roles. Unfortunately, co-therapists
take far too little advantage of this wonderful modeling opportunity. Research into
communicational patterns in therapy groups shows exceedingly few therapist-totherapist
remarks.28
Although some clients are made uncomfortable by co-therapists’ disagreement, which
may feel like witnessing parental conflict, for the most part it strengthens the honesty and
the potency of the group. I have observed many stagnant groups spring to life when the
two therapists differentiated themselves as individuals.
The disadvantages of the co-therapy format flow from problems in the relationship
between the two co-therapists. How the co-therapy goes, so will the group. That is one of
the main criticisms of the use of co-therapy outside of training environments.29 Why add
another relationship (and one that drains professional resources) to the already
interpersonally complex group environment?30
Hence, it is important that the co-therapists feel comfortable and open with each other.
They must learn to capitalize on each other’s strengths: one leader may be more able to
nurture and support and the other more able to confront and to tolerate anger. If the co-
therapists are competitive, however, and pursue their own star interpretations rather than
support a line of inquiry the other has begun, the group will be distracted and unsettled.
It is also important that co-therapists speak the same professional language. A survey of
forty-two co-therapy teams revealed that the most common source of co-therapy
dissatisfaction was differing theoretical orientation.31
In some training programs a junior therapist is paired with a senior therapist, a co-
therapy format that which offers much but is fraught with problems. Senior co-therapists
must teach by modeling and encouragement, while junior therapists must learn to
individuate while avoiding both nonassertiveness and destructive competition. Most
important, they must be willing, as equals, to examine their relationship—not only for
themselves but as a model for the members.† The choice of co-therapist is not to be taken
lightly. I have seen many classes of psychotherapists choose co-therapists and have had
the opportunity to follow the progress of these groups, and I am convinced that the
ultimate success or failure of a group depends largely on the correctness of that choice. If
the two therapists are uncomfortable with each other or are closed, rivalrous, or in wide
disagreement about style and strategy (and if these differences are not resolvable through
supervision), there is little likelihood that their group will develop into an effective work
group.32
Differences in temperament and natural rhythm are inevitable. What is not inevitable,
however, is that these differences get locked into place in ways that limit each co-
therapist’s role and function. Sometimes the group’s feedback can be illuminating and lead
to important work, as occurred in a group for male spousal abusers who questioned why

the male co-therapist collected the group fee and the female co-therapist did the
“straightening up.”
When consultants or supervisors are called in to assist with a group that is not
progressing satisfactorily, they can often offer the greatest service by directing their
attention to the relationship between the co-therapists. (This will be fully discussed in
chapter 17.) One study of neophyte group leaders noted that the factor common to all
trainees who reported a disappointing clinical experience was unaddressed and unresolved
cotherapy tensions.33 One frustrated and demoralized co-therapist reported a transparent
dream in supervision, just after her arrogant but incompetent co-therapist withdrew from
the training program. In the dream she was a hockey goalie defending her team’s net, and
one of her own players (guess who?) kept firing the puck at her.
Co-therapist choice should not be made blindly: do not agree to co-lead a group with
someone you do not know well or do not like. Do not make the choice because of work
pressures or an inability to say no to an invitation: it is far too important and too binding a
relationship.af
You are far better off leading a solo group with good supervision than being locked into
an incompatible co-therapy relationship. If, as part of your training, you become a
member of an experiential group, you have an ideal opportunity to gather data about the
group behavior of other students. I always suggest to my students that they delay decisions
about co-therapists until after meeting in such a group. You do well to select a co-therapist
toward whom you feel close but who in personal characteristics is dissimilar to you: such
complementarity enriches the experience of the group.
There are, as I discussed, advantages in a male-female team, but you will also be better
off leading a group with someone compatible of the same sex than with a colleague of the
opposite sex with whom you do not work well. Husbands and wives frequently co-lead
marital couples groups (generally short term and focused on improvement of dyadic
relationships) ; co-leadership of a long-term traditional group, however, requires an
unusually mature and stable marital relationship. I advise therapists who are involved in a
newly formed romantic relationship with each other not to lead a group together; it is
advisable to wait until the relationship has developed stability and permanence. Two
former lovers, now estranged, do not make a good co-therapy team.
Characterologically difficult clients (see chapter 13) who are unable to integrate loving
and hateful feelings may project feelings on the therapists that end up “splitting” the co-
therapy team. One co-therapist may become the focus of the positive part of the split and
is idealized while the other becomes the focus of hateful feelings and is attacked or
shunned. Often client’s overwhelming fears of abandonment or of engulfment trigger this
kind of splitting.
Some groups become split into two factions, each co-therapist having a “team” of
clients with whom he or she has a special relationship. Sometimes this split has its genesis
in the relationship the therapist established with those clients before the group began, in
prior individual therapy or in consultation. (For this reason, it is advisable that both

therapists interview all clients, preferably simultaneously, in the pregroup screening. I
have seen clients continue to feel a special bond throughout their entire group therapy
course with the member of the co-therapy team who first interviewed them.) Other clients
align themselves with one therapist because of his or her personal characteristics, or
because they feel a particular therapist is more intelligent, more senior, or more sexually
attractive than the other or more ethnically or personally similar to themselves. Whatever
the reasons for the subgrouping, the process should be noted and openly discussed.
One essential ingredient of a good co-therapy team is discussion time. The co-therapy
relationship takes time to develop and mature. Co-therapists must set aside time to talk
and tend to their relationship.34 At the very least, they need a few minutes before each
meeting (to talk about the last session and to examine possible agendas for that day’s
meeting) and fifteen to twenty minutes at the end to debrief and to share their reflections
about each other’s behavior. If the group is supervised, it is imperative that both therapists
attend the supervisory session. Many busy HMO clinics, in the name of efficiency and
economy, make the serious mistake not setting aside time for co-therapist discussion.
THE LEADERLESS MEETING
Beginning in the 1950s, some clinicians experimented with leaderless meetings. Groups
would meet without the leader when he was on vacation, or the group might meet more
than once weekly and schedule regular leaderless meetings. Over the past two decades,
however, interest in leaderless meetings has waned. Almost no articles on the subject have
appeared, and my own informal surveys indicate that few contemporary clinicians use
regularly scheduled leaderless meetings in their practice.35
In contemporary practice, therapists occasionally arrange for a leaderless meeting on
the infrequent occasions when they are out of town. This is one option for dealing with the
absence of the therapist. Other options include, of course, canceling the meeting,
rescheduling it, extending the time of the next group, and providing a substitute leader.36
Members generally do not initially welcome the suggestion of the leaderless meeting. It
evokes many unrealistic fears and consequences of the therapist’s absence. In one study, I
asked a series of clients who had been in group therapy for at least eight months what
would have happened in the group if the group therapists were absent.37 (This is another
way of asking what function the group therapists perform in the group.) The replies were
varied. Although a few members stated that they would have welcomed leaderless
meetings, most of the others expressed, in order of frequency, these general concerns:
1. The group would stray from the primary task. A cocktail-hour atmosphere would
prevail; members would avoid discussing problems, there would be long silences,
and the discussions would become increasingly irrelevant: “We would end up in
left field without the doctor to keep us on the track”; “I could never express my

antagonisms without the therapist’s encouragement”; “We need him there to keep
things stirred up”; “Who else would bring in the silent members?”; “Who would
make the rules? We’d spend the entire meeting simply trying to make rules.”
2. The group would lose control of its emotions. Anger would be unrestrained, with
no one there either to rescue the damaged members or to help the aggressive ones
maintain control.
3. The group would be unable to integrate its experiences and to make constructive
use of them: “The therapist is the one who keeps track of loose ends and makes
connections for us. She helps clear the air by pointing out where the group is at a
certain time.” The members viewed the therapist as the time binder—the group
historian who sees patterns of behavior longitudinally and points out that what a
member did today, last week, and last month fits into a coherent pattern. The
members were saying, in effect, that however great the action and involvement
without the therapist, they would be unable to make use of it.
Many of the members’ concerns are clearly unrealistic and reflect a helpless, dependent
posture. It is for this very reason that a leaderless meeting may play an important role in
the therapy process. The alternate meeting helps members experience themselves as
autonomous, responsible, resourceful adults who, though they may profit from the
therapist’s expertise, are nevertheless able to control their emotions, to pursue the primary
task of the group, and to integrate their experience.
The way a group chooses to communicate to the therapist the events of the alternate
meeting is often of great interest. Do the members attempt to conceal or distort
information, or do they compulsively brief the therapist on all details? Sometimes the
ability of a group to withhold information from the therapist is in itself an encouraging
sign of group maturation, although therapists are usually uncomfortable with being
excluded. In the group, as in the family, members must strive for autonomy, and the
leaders must facilitate that striving. Often the leaderless session and subsequent events
allow the therapist to experience and understand his or her own desires for control and
feelings of being threatened as clients become less dependent.
DREAMS
The number and types of dreams that group members bring to therapy are largely a
function of the therapist’s attentiveness to dreams. The therapist’s response to the first
dreams presented by clients will influence the choice of dreams subsequently presented.
The intensive, detailed, personalized investigation of dreams practiced in analytically
oriented individual therapy is hardly feasible in group therapy. For groups that meet once
weekly, such a practice would require that a disproportionate amount of time be spent on
one client; the process is, furthermore, minimally useful to the remaining members, who
become mere bystanders.

What useful role, then, can dreams play in group therapy? In individual analysis or
analytically oriented treatment, therapists are usually presented with many dreams and
dream fragments. They never strive for complete analysis of all dreams (Freud held that a
total dream analysis should be a research, not a therapeutic, endeavor) but, instead, elect to
work on dreams or aspects of dreams that seem pertinent to the current phase of therapy.
Therapists may ignore some dreams and ask for extensive associations to others.† For
example, if a bereaved client brings in a dream full of anger toward her deceased husband
as well as heavily disguised symbols relating to confusion about sexual identity, the
therapist will generally select the former theme for work and ignore or postpone the
second. Moreover, the process is self-reinforcing. It is well known that clients who are
deeply involved in therapy dream or remember dreams compliantly: that is, they produce
dreams that corroborate the current thrust of therapy and reinforce the theoretical
framework of the therapist (“tag-along” dreams, Freud termed them).
Substitute “group work” for “individual work,” and the group therapist may use dreams
in precisely the same fashion. The investigation of certain dreams accelerates group
therapeutic work. Most valuable are group dreams—dreams that involve the group as an
entity—or dreams that reflect the dreamer’s feelings toward one or more members of the
group. Either of these types may elucidate not only the dreamer’s but other members’
concerns that until then have not become fully conscious. Some dreams may introduce, in
disguised form, material that is conscious but that members have been reluctant to discuss
in the group. Hence, inviting the group members to comment on the dream and associate
to it or its impact on them is often productive. It is important also to explore the context of
the disclosure of the dream: why dream or disclose this dream at this particular time?38
• In a meeting just preceding the entry of two new members to the group, one self-
absorbed man, Jeff, reported his first dream to the group after several months of
participation. “I am polishing my new BMW roadster to a high sheen. Then, just
after I clean the car interior to perfection, seven people dressed as clowns arrive,
get into my car carrying all sorts of food and mess it up. I just stand there
watching and fuming.”
Both he and the group members presented associations to the dream around an
old theme for Jeff—his frustrating pursuit of perfection and need to present a
perfect image to the world. The leader’s inquiry about “why this dream now?” led
to more significant insight. Jeff said that over the last few months he had begun to
let the group into his less-than-perfect “interior” world. Perhaps, he said, the
dream reflected his fear that the new members coming the next week would not
take proper care of his interior. He was not alone in this anxiety: Other members
also worried that the new members might spoil the group.
Some illustrative examples of members’ dreams in group therapy may clarify these
points.
At the twentieth meeting, a woman related this dream:
• I am walking with my younger sister. As we walk, she grows smaller and smaller.
Finally I have to carry her. We arrive at the group room, where the members are

sitting around sipping tea. I have to show the group my sister. By this time she is so
small she is in a package. I unwrap the package but all that is left of her is a tiny
bronze head.
The investigation of this dream clarified several previously unconscious concerns of the
client. The dreamer had been extraordinarily lonely and had immediately become deeply
involved in the group—in fact, it was her only important social contact. At the same time,
however, she feared her intense dependence on the group; it had become too important to
her. She modified herself rapidly to meet group expectations and, in so doing, lost sight of
her own needs and identity. The rapidly shrinking sister symbolized herself becoming
more infantile, more undifferentiated, and finally inanimate, as she immolated herself in a
frantic quest for the group’s approval. Perhaps there was anger in the image of the group
“sipping tea.” Did they really care about her? The lifeless, diminutive bronzed head—was
that what they wanted? Dreams may reflect the state of the dreamer’s sense of self. The
dream needs to be treated with great care and respect as an expression of self and not as a
secret message whose code must be aggressively cracked.39
Some of the manifest content of this dream becomes clearer through a consideration of
the content of the meeting preceding the dream: the group had spent considerable time
discussing her body (she was moderately obese). Finally, another woman had offered her a
diet she had recently seen in a magazine. Thus, her concerns about losing her personal
identity took the dream form of shrinking in size.
The following dream illustrates how the therapist may selectively focus on those
aspects that further the group work:
• My husband locks me out of our grocery store. I am very concerned about the
perishables spoiling. He gets a job in another store, where he is busy taking out the
garbage. He is smiling and enjoying this, though it is clear he is being a fool.
There is a young, attractive male clerk there who winks at me, and we go out
dancing together.
This member was the middle-aged woman who was introduced into a group of younger
members, two of whom, Jan and Bill, were involved in a sexual relationship (discussed in
chapter 13). From the standpoint of her personal dynamics, the dream was highly
meaningful. Her husband, distant and work-oriented, locked her out of his life. She had a
strong feeling of her life slipping by unused (the perishables spoiling). Previously in the
group, she had referred to her sexual fantasies as “garbage.” She felt considerable anger
toward her husband, to which she could not give vent (in the dream, she made an absurd
figure of him).
These were tempting dream morsels, yet the therapist instead chose to focus on the
group-relevant themes. The client had many concerns about being excluded from the
group: she felt older, less attractive, and very isolated from the other members.
Accordingly, the therapist focused on the theme of being locked out and on her desire for
more attention from others in the group, especially the men (one of whom resembled the
winking clerk in the dream).

Dreams often reveal unexpressed group concerns or shed light on group blockages and
impasses.40 The following dream illustrates how conscious but avoided group material
may, through dreams, be brought into the group for examination.
• There are two rooms side by side with a mirror in my house. I feel there is a
burglar in the next room. I think I can pull the curtain back and see a person in a
black mask stealing my possessions.
This dream was brought in at the twentieth meeting of a therapy group that was
observed through a one-way mirror by the therapist’s students. Aside from a few
comments in the first meeting, the group members had never expressed their feelings
about the observers. A discussion of the dream led the group into a valuable and much-
needed conversation about the therapist’s relationship to the group and to his students.
Were the observers “stealing” something from the group? Was the therapist’s primary
allegiance toward his students, and were the group members merely a means of presenting
a good show or demonstration for them?
AUDIOVISUAL TECHNOLOGY
The advent of audiovisual technology has elicited enormous interest among group
therapists. Videotaping seems to offer enormous benefits for the practice, teaching, and
understanding of group therapy. After all, do we not wish clients to obtain an accurate
view of their behavior? Do we not search for methods to encourage self-observation and
to make the self-reflective aspect of the here-and-now as salient as the experiencing
aspect? Do we not wish to illuminate the blind spots of clients (and therapists, as well)?41
Audiovisual technology seemed a great boon to the practicing group clinician, and the
professional group therapy literature of the late 1960s and 1970s reflected an initial wave
of tremendous enthusiasm,42 but succeeding years have seen a steep decline in articles and
books about the clinical use of audiovisual technology—and of those that have been
published, the majority focused on populations that are particularly concerned by self-
image issues: for example, adolescents and clients with eating disorders or speech
disorders. The use of audiovisual techniques in teaching and in research, on the other
hand, has been more enduring.
It is hard to explain the diminishing interest in the clinical application of audiovisual
technology. Perhaps it is related to the ethos of efficiency and expediency: the clinical use
of audiovisual equipment is often awkward and time-consuming. Nonetheless I feel that
this technology still has much potential and, at the very least, merits a brief survey of how
it has been used in group therapy.
Some clinicians taped each meeting and used immediate playback (“focused feedback”)
during the session. Obviously, certain portions must be selected by the group members or
by leaders for viewing.43 Some therapists used an auxiliary therapist whose chief task was

to operate the camera and associated gadgetry and to select suitable portions for playback.
Other therapists taped the meeting and devoted the following session to playback of
certain key sections asking the member to react to it.44
Some therapists scheduled an extra playback meeting in which most of the previous
tape is observed; others taped the first half of the meeting and observed the tape during the
second half. Still other therapists used a serial-viewing technique: they videotaped every
session and retained short representative segments of each, which they later played back to
the group.45 Other therapists simply made the tapes available to clients who wished to
come in between meetings to review some segment of the meeting. The tapes were also
made available for absent members to view the meeting they missed.
Client response depends on the timing of the procedure. Clients will respond differently
to the first playback session than to later sessions. In the first playback, clients attend
primarily to their own image and are less attentive to their styles of interacting with others
or to the process of the group. My own experience, and that of others, is that group
members may have a keen interest in videotape viewing early in therapy but, once the
group becomes cohesive and highly interactive, rapidly lose interest in the viewing and
resent time taken away from the live group meeting.46 Thus, any viewing time may have
to be scheduled outside of the regular group meeting.
Often a member’s long-cherished self-image is radically challenged by a first videotape
playback and they may recall, and be more receptive to, previous feedback offered by
other members. Self observation is powerful; nothing is as convincing as information one
discovers for oneself.
Many initial playback reactions are concerned with physical attractiveness and
mannerisms, whereas in subsequent playback sessions, clients note their interactions with
others, withdrawal, self-preoccupation, hostility, or aloofness. They are much more able to
be self-observant and objective than when actually involved in the group interaction.
I have on occasion found video recording to be of great value in crisis situations. For
example, a man in a group for alcoholics arrived at a meeting intoxicated and proceeded to
be monopolistic, insulting, and crude. Heavily intoxicated individuals obviously do not
profit from meetings because they are not capable of retaining and integrating the events
of the session. This meeting was videotaped, however, and a subsequent viewing was
enormously helpful to the client. He had been told but never really apprehended how
destructive his alcohol use was to himself and others.
On another occasion in an alcoholic group, a client arrived heavily intoxicated and soon
lost consciousness and lay stretched out on the sofa while the group, encircling him,
discussed various courses of action. Some time later, the client viewed the tape and was
profoundly affected. People had often told him that he was he was killing himself with
alcohol, but the sight of himself on videotape, laid out as if on a bier, brought to mind his
twin brother, who died of alcoholism.
In another case, a periodically manic client who had never accepted that her behavior
was unusual had an opportunity to view herself in a particularly frenetic, disorganized

state.47 In each of these instances, the videotape provided a powerful self-observatory
experience—a necessary first step in the therapeutic process.
Videotaping has also been used to prepare long-term patients for a transition out of the
hospital. One team reports a structured twelve-session group in which the members
engage in a series of nonthreatening exercises and view videotapes in order to improve
their communicational and social skills.48
Many therapists are reluctant to inflict a video camera on a group. They feel that it will
inhibit the group’s spontaneity and that the group members will resent the intrusion—
though not necessarily overtly. In my experience, the person who often experiences the
most discomfort is the therapist. The fear of being exposed and shamed, particularly in
supervision, is a leading cause of therapist resistance and must be addressed in supervision
(see chapter 17).49
Clients who are to view the playback are usually receptive to the suggestion of
videotaping. Of course, they are concerned about confidentiality and need reassurance on
this issue. If the tape is to be viewed by anyone other than the group members (for
example, students, researchers, or supervisors), the therapist must be explicit about the
purpose of the viewing and the identity of the viewers and must also obtain written
permission from each member with regard to each intended use: clinical, educational, and
research. Clients should be full participants in the decision about the secure storage or
erasure of the videotapes.
Videotaping in Teaching
Video recording has proven its value in the teaching of all forms of psychotherapy.
Students and supervisors are able to view a session with a minimum of distortion.
Important nonverbal aspects of behavior by both students and clients, which may be
completely missed in the traditional supervisory format, become available for study. The
student-therapist has a rich opportunity to observe his or her own presentation of self and
body language. Frequently what gets missed in traditional supervision is not the students’
“mistakes,” but the very effective interventions that they employ intuitively without
conscious awareness. Confusing aspects of the meeting may be viewed several times until
some order appears. Valuable teaching sessions that clearly illustrate basic principles of
therapy may be stored and a teaching videotape library created. This has become a
mainstay of training psychotherapists for both clinical practice and for leading manual-
based groups in clinical trials.†50
Videotaping in Research
The use of videotaping has also advanced the field significantly by allowing researchers to
ensure that the psychotherapy being tested in clinical trials is delivered competently and

adheres to the intent of the study.51 It is no less important in a psychotherapy trial than it is
in a drug therapy trial to monitor the treatment delivery and demonstrate that clients
received the right kind and right amount of treatment. In pharmacotherapy research, blood
level assays are used for this purpose. In psychotherapy research, video recordings are an
excellent monitoring tool for the same purpose.
WRITTEN SUMMARIES
For the past thirty years, I have regularly used the ancillary technique of written
summaries in my group therapy. At the end of each session, I dictate a detailed summary
of the group session.52 The summary is an editorialized narrative that describes the flow of
the session, each member’s contribution, my contributions (not only what I said but what I
wished I had said and what I did say but regretted), and any hunches or questions that
occur to me after the session. This dictation is transcribed either by a typist or via voice
recognition program and mailed to the members the following day. Dictation of the
summaries (two to three single-spaced pages) requires approximately twenty to thirty
minutes of a therapist’s time and is best done immediately after the session. To date, my
students and colleagues and I have written and mailed thousands of group summaries to
group members. It is my strong belief that the procedure greatly facilitates therapy.
But in these days of economically pressured psychotherapy, who can accommodate a
task that requires yet another thirty minutes of therapist time and an hour or two of
secretarial time? For that matter, look back through this chapter: Who has time for setting
up cameras and selecting portions of the videotape to replay to the group? Who has time
for even brief meetings with a co-therapist before and after meetings? Or for conferring
with group members’ individual therapists? The answer, of course, is that harried
therapists must make choices and often, alas, must sacrifice some potentially powerful but
time-consuming adjuncts to therapy in order to meet the demands of the marketplace.
Every therapist is dismayed by the draining off of time and effort in completing mountains
of paperwork.
Managed health care administrators believe that time can be saved by streamlining
therapy—making it slicker, briefer, more uniform. But in psychotherapy, uniformity is not
synonymous with efficiency, let alone with effectiveness. Therapists sacrifice the very
core of therapy if they sacrifice their ingenuity and their ability to respond to unusual
clinical situations with creative measures. Hence, even though the practice is not in wide
clinical use at present, I devote space in this text to such techniques as the written
summary. I believe it is a potent facilitating technique. My experience has been that all
group therapists willing to try it have found that it enhances the course of group
therapy.†53 Moreover, a description of the summary technique raises many issues of great
importance in the education of the young therapist.†54
The written summary may even do double service as a mechanism for documenting the

course of therapy and meeting the requirements of third-party payers, turning the usually
unrewarding and dry process of record keeping into a functional intervention.55 We are
wise to remember that the client’s record belongs to the client and can be accessed by the
client at any point. In all instances, it is appropriate to write notes expecting that they may
be read by the client. Notes should therefore provide a transparent, therapeutic,
depathologizing, considered, and empathic account of the treatment (and not include
group members’ last names).
My first experience with the written summary was in individual therapy. A young
woman, Ginny, had attended a therapy group for six months but had to terminate because
she moved out of town and could not arrange transportation to get to the group on time.
Moreover, her inordinate shyness and inhibition had made it difficult for her to participate
in the group. Ginny was inhibited in her work as well: a gifted writer, she was crippled by
severe writer’s block.
I agreed to treat her in individual therapy but with one unusual proviso: after each
therapy hour, she had to write an impressionistic, freewheeling summary of the
underground of the session, that is, what she was really thinking and feeling but had not
verbally expressed. My hope was that the assignment would help penetrate the writing
block and encourage greater spontaneity. I agreed to write an equally candid summary.
Ginny had a pronounced positive transference. She idealized me in every way, and my
hope was that a written summary conveying my honest feelings—pleasure,
discouragement, puzzlement, fatigue—would permit her to relate more genuinely to me.
For a year and a half, Ginny and I wrote weekly summaries. We handed them, sealed, to
my secretary, and every few months we read each other’s summaries. The experiment
turned out to be highly successful: Ginny did well in therapy, and the summaries
contributed greatly to that success.ag I developed sufficient courage from the venture (and
courage is needed: it is difficult at first for a therapist to be so self-revealing) to think
about adapting the technique to a therapy group. The opportunity soon arose in two groups
of alcoholic clients.56
My co-therapists and I had attempted to lead these groups in an interactional mode. The
groups had gone well in that the members were interacting openly and productively.
However, here-and-now interaction always entails anxiety, and alcoholic clients are
notoriously poor anxiety binders. By the eighth meeting, members who had been dry for
months were drinking again (or threatening to drink again if they “ever had another
meeting like the one last week!”). We hastily sought methods of modulating anxiety:
increased structure, a suggested (written) agenda for each meeting, video playback, and
written summaries distributed after each meeting. The group members considered the
written summary to be the most efficacious method by far, and soon it replaced the others.
I believe that the summaries are most valuable if they are honest and straightforward
about the process of therapy. They are virtually identical to summaries I make for my own
files (which provide most of the clinical material for this book) and are based on the
assumption that the client is a full collaborator in the therapeutic process—that
psychotherapy is strengthened, not weakened, by demystification.

The summary serves several functions: it provides understanding of the events of the
session, takes note of good (or resistive) sessions; comments on client gains; predicts (and,
by doing so, generally prevents) undesirable developments; brings in silent members;
increases cohesiveness (by underscoring similarities and caring in the group, and so on);
invites new behavior and interactions; provides interpretations (either repetition of
interpretations made in the group or new interpretations occurring to the therapist later);
and provides hope to the group members (helping them realize that the group is an orderly
process and that the therapists have some coherent sense of the group’s long-term
development). In fact, the summary may be used to augment every one of the group
leader’s tasks in a group. In the following discussion of the functions of the summary, I
shall cite excerpts from summaries and end the section with an entire summary.
Revivification and Continuity
The summary becomes another group contact during the week. The meeting is revivified
for the members, and the group is more likely to assume continuity. In chapter 5 I stated
that groups assume more power if the work is continuous, if themes begun one week are
not dropped but explored, more deeply, in succeeding meetings. The summary augments
this process. Not infrequently, group members begin a meeting by referring to the previous
summary—either a theme they wish to explore or a statement with which they disagree.
Understanding Process
The summary helps clients reexperience and understand important events of a meeting. In
chapter 6, I described the here-and-now as consisting of two phases: experience and the
understanding of that experience. The summary facilitates the second stage, the
understanding and integration of the affective experience. Sometimes group sessions may
be so threatening or unsettling that members close down and move into a defensive,
survival position. Only later (often with the help of the summary) can they review
significant events and convert them into constructive learning experiences. The therapist’s
interpretations (especially complex ones) delivered in the midst of a melee tend to fall on
deaf ears. Interpretations repeated in the summary are often effective because the client is
able to consider them at length, far from the intensity of engagement.
Shaping Group Norms
The summaries may be used to reinforce norms both implicitly and explicitly. For
example, the following excerpt reinforces the here-and-now norm:
• Phil’s relationship with his boss is very important and difficult for him at this
time, and as such is certainly material for the group. However, the members do not
know the boss, what he is like, what he is thinking and feeling and thus are limited

in offering help. However, they are beginning to know one another and can be
more certain of their own reactions to one another in the group. They can give
more accurate feedback about feelings that occur between them rather than trying
to guess what the boss may be thinking.
Or consider the following excerpt, which encourages the group members to comment
on process and to approach the therapist in an egalitarian manner:
• Jed did something very different in the group today, which was to make an
observation about the bind that Irv [the therapist] was in. He noted, quite
correctly, that Irv was in a bind of not wishing to change the topic from Dinah
because of Irv’s reluctance to stir up any of Dinah’s bad feelings about being
rejected or abandoned in the group, but on the other hand Irv wanted very much to
find out what was happening to Pete, who was obviously hurting today.
Therapeutic Leverage
The therapist may, in the summary, reinforce risk taking and focus clients on their primary
task, their original purpose in coming to therapy. For example:
• Irene felt hurt at Jim’s calling her an observer of life and fell silent for the next
forty-five minutes. Later she said she felt clamped up and thought about leaving
the group. It is important that Irene keep in mind that her main reason for being in
therapy was that she felt estranged from others and unable to create closer,
sustained relationships, especially with men. In that context, it is important for her
to recognize, understand, and eventually overcome her impulse to clamp up and
withdraw as a response to feedback.
Or the therapist may take care to repeat statements by clients that will offer leverage in
the future. For example:
• Nancy began weeping at this point, but when Ed tried to console her, she
snapped, “Stop being so kind. I don’t cry because I’m miserable, I cry when I’m
pissed off. When you console me or let me off the hook because of my tears, you
always stop me from looking at my anger.”
New Thoughts
Often the therapist understands an event after the fact. On other occasions, the timing is
not right for a clarifying remark during a session (there are times when too much cognition
might squelch the emotional experience), or there has simply been no time available in the
meeting, or a member has been so defensive that he or she would reject any efforts at
clarification. The summaries provide the therapist with a second chance to convey
important thoughts. This excerpt communicates a message that emerged in the co-
therapist’s postmeeting discussion. The summary describes and attempts to counteract

undesirable developments in the session—the shaping of countertherapeutic norms and
scapegoating:
• Ellen and Len were particularly vehement today in pointing out several times that
Cynthia had been confrontative and insensitive to Ted and, as Len put it, was very,
very hard on people. Is it possible that what was going on in the group today might
be viewed from another perspective: the perspective of what types of message the
group was giving to the new members about how they would like them to be in the
group? Is it possible that the group was suggesting to Rick and Carla [new
members] that they take pains not to be critical and that open criticism is
something that simply is not done here in this group? It may also be true that, to
some degree, Cynthia was “set up,” that she was made the “fall person” for this
transaction: that is, is it possible that, at some unconscious level, the group
concluded that she was tough enough to take this and they could get a message to
the new members through Cynthia, through a criticism of her behavior?
Transmission of the Therapist’s Temporal Perspective
Far more than any member of the group, the therapist maintains a longrange temporal
perspective and is cognizant of changes occurring over many weeks or months, both in the
group and in each of the members. There are many times when the sharing of these
observations offers hope, support, and meaning for the members. For example:
• Seymour spoke quite openly in the group today about how hurt he was by Jack
and Burt switching the topic off him. We [the co-therapists] were struck by the ease
and forthrightness with which he was able to discuss these feelings. We can clearly
remember his hurt, passive, silence in similar situations in the past, and are
impressed with how markedly he has changed his ability to express his feelings
openly.
The summaries provide temporal perspective in yet another way. Since the clients
almost invariably save and file the reports, they have a comprehensive account of their
progression through the group, an account to which they may, with great profit, refer in
the future.
Therapist Self-Disclosure
Therapists, in the service of the clients’ therapy, may use the summary as a vehicle to
disclose personal here-and-now feelings (of puzzlement, of discouragement, of irritation,
of pleasure) and their views about the theory and rationale underlying their own behavior
in the group. Consider the therapist self-disclosure in these illustrative excerpts:
• Irv and Louise [the co-therapists] both felt considerable strain in the meeting. We
felt caught between our feelings of wanting to continue more with Dinah, but also
being very much aware of Al’s obvious hurting in the meeting. Therefore, even at

the risk of Dinah’s feeling that we were deserting her, we felt strongly about
bringing in Al before the end of the meeting.
• We felt very much in a bind with Seymour. He was silent during the meeting. We
felt very much that we wanted to bring him into the group and help him talk,
especially since we knew that the reason he had dropped out of his previous group
was because of his feeling that people were uninterested in what he had to say. On
the other hand, today we decided to resist the desire to bring him in because we
knew that by continually bringing Seymour into the group, we are infantilizing
him, and it will be much better if, sooner or later, he is able to do it by himself.
• Irv had a definite feeling of dissatisfaction with his own behavior in the meeting
today. He felt he dominated things too much, that he was too active, too directive.
No doubt this is due in large part to his feeling of guilt at having missed the
previous two meetings and wanting to make up for it today by giving as much as
possible.
Filling Gaps
An obvious and important function of the summary is to fill in gaps for members who
miss meetings because of illness, vacation, or any other reason. The summaries keep them
abreast of events and enable them to move more quickly back into the group.
New Group Members
The entrance of a new member may also be facilitated by providing summaries of the
previous few meetings. I routinely ask new members to read such summaries before
attending the first meeting.
General Impressions
I believe that the written summary facilitates therapy. Clients have been unanimous in
their positive evaluation: most read and consider the summaries very seriously; many
reread them several times; almost all file them for future use. The client’s therapeutic
perspective and commitment is deepened; the therapeutic relationship is strengthened; and
no serious transference complications occur. The dialogue and disagreement about
summaries is always helpful and makes this a collaborative process. The intent of the
summary should never be to convey a sense of the “last word” on something.
I have noted no adverse consequences. Many therapists have asked about
confidentiality, but I have encountered no problems in this area. Clients are asked to
regard the summary with the same degree of confidentiality as any event in the group. As
an extra precaution, I use only first names, avoid explicit identification of any particularly

delicate issue (for example, an extramarital affair), and mail it out in a plain envelope with
no return address. E-mail may be another, even more time-efficient vehicle if security can
be assured.
The only serious objection to written summaries I have encountered occurred in a six-
month pilot research group of adult survivors of incest. In that group there was one
member with a history of extreme abuse who slipped in and out of paranoid thinking. She
was convinced that her abusers were still after her and that the summary would somehow
constitute a paper trail leading them to her. She did not want any summaries mailed to her.
Soon two other members expressed discomfort with any written record because of the
extent of their shame around the incest. Consequently, my co-therapist and I announced
that we would discontinue the written summary. However, the other members expressed
so much grumbling disappointment that we ultimately agreed on a compromise: for the
last ten minutes of each session, my co-therapist and I summarized our impressions and
experiences of the meeting. Although the oral summary could not provide everything a
written one did, it nonetheless proved a satisfactory compromise.
Like any event in the group, the summaries generate differential responses. For
example, clients with severe dependency yearnings will cherish every word; those with a
severe counterdependent posture will challenge every word or, occasionally, be unable to
spare the time to read them at all; obsessive clients obsess over the precise meaning of the
words; and paranoid individuals search for hidden meanings. Thus, although the
summaries provide a clarifying force, they do not thwart the formation of the distortions
whose corrections are intrinsic to therapy.
A Summary of a Group’s Twentieth Meeting
The complete summary below is unedited aside from minor stylistic improvements and
change of names. I dictated it on a microcassette recorder in approximately twenty
minutes (driving home after the session). A few weeks are required to learn to dictate
meetings comfortably and quickly, but it is not a difficult feat. My co-therapists, generally
psychiatry residents, do the dictating on alternate weeks, and after only a few weeks the
clients cannot differentiate whether I or my co-leader did the summary. It is essential that
the summary be dictated immediately after a session and, if co-leading, after the postgroup
debriefing with your co-therapist. This is very important! The sequence of events in the
group fades quickly. Do not let even a phone call intervene between the meeting and your
dictation.
I suggest this dictating plan: first try to construct the skeleton of the meeting by
recalling the two to four major issues of the meeting. When that is in place, next try to
recall the transitions between issues. Then go back to each issue and try to describe each
member’s contribution to the discussion of each issue. Pay special attention to your own
role, including what you said (or didn’t say) and what was directed toward you.
Do not be perfectionistic: One cannot recall or remember everything. Do not try to
refresh your memory by listening to a tape of a meeting—that would make the task far too

time-consuming. I mail it out without proofreading it; clients overlook errors and
omissions. Voice-activated computer technology makes the task even simpler and less
time-consuming.
This is a sample summary of a meeting of a long-term open ambulatory group. It is
better written (polished for this text) and more lucid than the great majority of my
summaries. Do not be dissuaded from trying the summary technique after reading this.
Don’t be dismayed, either, by the length of this summary. Because I want to take
advantage of this opportunity to describe a meeting in great detail, I have selected a
summary that is about 25 percent longer than most.
• Terri was absent because of illness. Laura opened the meeting by raising an
important question for her left over from last week. During her interchange with
Edith, she thought that she had seen Paul give Kathy a knowing glance. Paul
assured Laura that that was, indeed, not the case. He had looked at Kathy—but it
was for a different reason entirely: it had been because of his deep concern about
Kathy’s depression last week, hoping to find a way to involve Kathy more in the
group. The matter was dropped there, but it seemed a particularly useful way for
Laura to have used the group. It is not an uncommon experience for individuals to
feel that others exchange glances when they are talking, and it seemed as though
Laura had a certain sense of being excluded or perhaps of Paul dismissing her or
possibly Paul being uninterested in what she and Edith were up to.
The next issue that emerged consumed a considerable portion of the meeting
and, in some ways, was tedious for many of the members but, at the same time, was
an exceptionally valuable piece of work. Paul took the floor and began talking
about certain types of insight he had had during the couple of weeks. He took a
very long time to describe what he had been feeling, and did so in a highly
intelligent but intellectualized and vague fashion. People in the group, at this
point, were either straining to stay with Paul and understand what he was coming
to or, as in the case of Bill and Ted, had begun to tune Paul out. Eventually what
transpired was that Paul communicated to the group that he had some real doubts
about whether or not he, indeed, really wanted to go back to law school, and was
wrestling with those doubts.
During Paul’s entire presentation he seemed, at some level, aware that he was
being unclear and that he was communicating what he had to say in a highly
oblique fashion. He asked, on several occasions, whether the group was following
him and whether he was clear. At the end of his presentation, he puzzled
individuals in the group by commenting that he felt very good about what had
happened in the group and felt that he was in exactly the place he wanted to be in.
Kathy questioned this. She, like others in the group, felt a little puzzled about what
on earth it was that Paul had gotten from the whole sequence.
But apparently what had happened was that Paul had been able to convey to the
group the struggle he was having about this decision and, at the same time,
covertly to make it clear to the group that he did not want any active help with the

content of the decision. When we wondered why Paul couldn’t just come out and
say what it took him a very long time to say in just a sentence or two—that is, “I’m
struggling with the decision to enter law school and I’m not certain if I want to
go”—he said he would have felt extremely frightened had he said that. It seemed,
as we analyzed it, that what he was frightened of was that somehow the group, as
his family had, would take the decision away from him, would rob him of his
autonomy, would leap in and make the decision for him in some fashion.
Then we suggested another approach for Paul. Would it have been possible for
him to have started the meeting by being explicit about the whole process: that is,
“I’m struggling with an important decision. I don’t know if I really want to go to
law school. I want you all to know this and be able to share this with you, but I
don’t want anyone in the group to help me actually make the decision.” Paul
reflected upon this and commented that sounded very possible—something, indeed,
he could have done. We’ll need to keep that in mind for the future: when Paul
becomes intellectualized and vague, we should help him find ways to communicate
his thoughts and needs succinctly and directly. That is, if he wants to get something
from others and, at the same time, not puzzle or discourage them.
At the very end of this, the group seemed to have some difficulty letting Paul go,
and more questions kept being asked of him. Al, in particular, asked Paul several
questions about the content of his decision, until Edith finally commented that
she’d like to change the topic, and it was clear that Paul was more than glad to do
so.
We did not discuss in the group today Al’s questioning of Paul, which is not
dissimilar from some other meetings in the past where Al became intensely
interested in the content of the enterprise. One speculation we have (which will
undoubtedly be rejected outright!) is that Al may be filling the time of the group as
a way to keep the group away from asking him some questions about the pain in
his life.
There was a very brief interchange between Edith and Laura. After their
confrontation last week, Edith said that Laura had come up to her after the
meeting and made it clear to her that Edith should not be upset about what was, at
least in part, Laura’s problem. Edith felt grateful at that and let Laura know that.
At the same time, however, Laura could comment to Edith that when Edith first
started to talk to her in the meeting today, she felt this rush of fear again.
We did not pursue that any further, but we wonder if that’s not an important
event: that is, that it might be important not only to Laura but to Edith as well to
know that Laura has this fear of her—a fear that Paul commented he also shared
at times. The reason this might be important is that Edith stated that she wants to
do some work on the attitude of attack that she often assumes.
The man she is dating has made similar comments to her. Is it possible that the
aspect of Laura’s fear that may be important to Edith is that Laura has been
attacked by Edith on several occasions in the past and that Laura remembers these

and is (understandably) cautious? Edith, on the other hand, has a sense that,
because she has forgotten or dismissed the previous attack, Laura should
therefore, of course, do so also—and that’s where the discrepancy begins to come
in. Indeed, in the previous meeting, Edith seemed rather astonished that Laura
would still continue to feel that fear. This may be an important theme that should
be examined in future meetings. People forget different things at different rates.
Irv attempted to bring Ted into the meeting because everyone has been aware
that Ted has been withdrawn and silent in the meetings, and his participation has
been much missed. Ted talked, once again, about feeling that the group was unsafe
and feeling fearful of talking because he keeps being attacked for almost anything
he says. But not so, the group said! We then talked about the fact that, as Laura
pointed out, when he talked about issues that were personal and close to himself—
like his loneliness or his difficulties making friends—then, indeed, there was no
attack at all.
The group began to try to help differentiate that there are things that Ted may do
that evoke attack, but there are plenty of other ways he could interact in the group
that would, indeed, not culminate in any type of attack. What ways? Ted asked.
Well, Irv pointed out that Ted might make positive comments about people or
focus on some of the things he liked about people in the group, and it was
suggested that he do this. Edith asked him for some positive feedback, and for a
few moments Ted was blocked and then finally commented that Edith had “a
pleasant personality … usually.”
The phrasing of this sentence soon resulted in some antagonistic exchanges, and
soon Ted was back in a very familiar and very unsafe situation in the group. Laura
and others pointed out that he had phrased that compliment in such a way as to
undo it and make it seem less like a compliment and almost more like something
negative. Al and others pointed out how the adding of the word “usually” made it
seem ironical rather than a genuine compliment. Ted defended himself by saying
that he had to be honest and had to be accurate. He also pointed out that, if he
were simply to say that Edith was intelligent or sensitive, she would immediately
conclude that he meant that she was the most intelligent person in the room.
Edith pointed out that, indeed, that was not the case, and she would have been
pleased to hear him give that kind, any kind, of compliment. Ted might have been
in a little less of a bind, as Bill pointed out, had he made a more limited type of
compliment: that is, rather than talk about something as global as personality,
make it somewhat more narrow. For example, Ted might have commented on some
aspect of Edith that he liked, some single act, something she said, even her dress or
her hair or some particular mannerism.
When we questioned Ted about how he had gotten back into this situation in the
group and whether he bore any responsibility for it, Ted was very quick to point out
that, indeed, he had and that he did share a good part of the burden of
responsibility for the position of being attacked that he was in. We attempted to

point out to Ted that feeling the group as unsafe is an extremely important issue for
him to work on because this is very much the way he experiences the world
outside, and the more he can explore ways to live in the group so that it appears
less dangerous, the more he will be able to generalize to his life outside.
In the last few minutes of the group, the focus turned to Bill. Edith and others
commented that they had been missing his participation. Bill stated he’d been
aware of his inactivity and been disappointed that he’d shared so little of himself.
His silence has been somewhat different from Ted’s silence in that he does not
experience the group as unsafe but instead has a sense of letting things pass by. If
he has some questions or opinions, he’s perfectly willing to let them go by without
expressing them. This posture of letting the life in the group go by may be
extremely important for Bill because it reflects how he lives in the world at large—
where he lets much of life go by and often experiences himself more as an observer
than as a participant. Changing that posture in the group would be the first step to
changing that posture in life.
Kathy was rather quiet in the group today, but the comments she did make
earlier in the meeting reflected that she, at least visibly, appears less depressed
and distressed than she was during the previous meeting.
This summary illustrates several of the functions I described earlier. It clarifies process.
A good deal of the meeting was consumed by Paul’s obsessive, confusing monologue
(which was rendered more confusing yet by his comment that he had gotten a great deal
from his recitation). The summary explained the process of that transaction. It also
reinforced norms (by, for example, supporting Laura for checking out surreptitious glances
passing between two members). It increased therapeutic leverage by linking in-group
behavior with out-group problems (two instances of this: Edith’s relationship with her
boyfriend and Bill’s observer posture in life).
It added some afterthoughts (the comment to Al about filling time with questions about
content to keep the group from questioning him). It attempted to identify behavioral and
dynamic patterns (for example, Edith’s narcissistic sense of entitlement—that is, that she
should be able to attack when she was angry and that the others should forget about it
when she felt better). Lastly, it left no one out, reminding each that they were being seen
and cared for.
GROUP THERAPY RECORD KEEPING
Documentation of therapy must protect confidentiality and meet a number of objectives:
to demonstrate that an appropriate standard of care has been provided; to describe the
process and effectiveness of the treatment; to facilitate continuity of care by another
therapist at a later time; to verify that a billable service has been provided at a certain time
and date.

For these purposes many recommend that the group therapist keep a combined record: a
group record and a separate file for each individual member.57 If written group summaries
are used, they should be included in the group record. For students the group record may
also serve as the group process notes that will be reviewed in supervision. The group
record should note attendance, scheduling issues, prominent group themes, the state of
group cohesion, prominent interactions, transference and countertransference, what was
engaged and what was avoided, and anticipations of what will need to be addressed in the
next session. The group therapist should always review this record immediately before the
following meeting.
In addition, a personal chart or record must be kept for each individual client. This
record serves as the client’s personal progress notes, noting initial goals, symptoms; safety
concerns if any; engagement with the psychotherapy process; and achievement of therapy
goals. Whereas the group record should be made after each group meeting, the individual
progress notes can be made at less frequent but regular intervals, with more frequent
entries as the clinical situation warrants.
STRUCTURED EXERCISES
I use the term structured exercise to denote an activity in which a group follows some
specific set of directions. It is an experiment carried out in the group, generally suggested
by the leader but occasionally by some experienced member. The precise rationale of the
structured exercises varies, but in general they are considered accelerating devices. Unlike
some of the more time-consuming techniques described in this chapter, these exercises
may be regarded as efficiency oriented and hence may be of special interest to managed
health care therapists and policymakers.
Structured exercises attempt to speed up the group with warm-up procedures that
bypass the hesitant, uneasy first steps of the group; they speed up interaction by assigning
to interacting individuals tasks that circumvent ritualized, introductory social behavior;
and they speed up each individual member’s work by techniques designed to help
members move quickly to get in touch with suppressed emotions, with unknown parts of
themselves, and with their physical selves.† In some settings and with some clinical
populations, the structured exercise may be the central focus of the meeting. Some
common models include action- and activity-oriented groups for the elderly (such as art,
dance, and movement groups) that aim to reconnect clients to a sense of effectiveness,
competence, and social interaction; structured activity groups for hospitalized psychotic
patients; and body awareness for victims of trauma.58
Mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) groups that teach meditation, deep
breathing, and relaxation and focus awareness on members’ moment-to-moment state of
being are also prominent and have been used to remarkably good effect in the treatment of
medical illnesses and anxiety disorders and in the prevention of relapse in depression.59

These techniques can also be incorporated as smaller components of broader-based group
interventions.
The structured exercise in interactional groups may require only a few minutes, or it
may consume an entire meeting. It may be predominantly verbal or nonverbal. Almost all
nonverbal procedures, however, include a verbal component; generally, the successful
structured exercise will generate data that is subsequently discussed. Such exercises,
common in the encounter groups but far less used in the therapy group, may involve the
entire group as a group (the group may be asked, for example, to build something or to
plan an outing); one member vis-à-vis the group (the “trust fall,” for example, in which
one member stands, eyes closed, in the center and falls, allowing the group to catch,
support, and then cradle and rock the person); the entire group as individuals (members
may be asked in turn to give their initial impressions of everyone else in the group); the
entire group as dyads (the “blind walk,” for example, in which the group is broken into
dyads and each pair takes a walk with one member blindfolded and led by the other); one
designated dyad (two members locked in a struggle may be asked to take turns pushing
the other to the ground and then lifting him or her up again); or one designated member
(“switching chairs”—a member may be asked to give voice to two or more conflicting
inner roles, moving from one chair to another as he or she assumes one or the other role).
Any prescribed exercise that involves physical contact needs to be carefully considered. If
the usual boundaries of therapy are to be crossed, even in the best of faith and with clear
therapeutic intent, it is essential to obtain informed consent from the group members.
Structured exercises were widely used in the T-group and later in the encounter group
(see chapter 16), and their popularity received a boost from gestalt therapy in the 1960s
and 1970s. For a time, such exercises were used to excess by many leaders and training
programs. Some group leader training programs relied heavily on texts of structured
exercises and trained technique-oriented leaders who reach into a grab bag of gimmicks
whenever the proceedings flag. During the 1980s, the general public came to identify
group therapy with structured exercises through large group awareness courses (for
example, est and Lifespring). Such courses consisted entirely of a two-to-four-day
potpourri of structured exercises and didactic and inspirational instruction.60
This injudicious use of structured exercises was a miscarriage of the intent of the
approaches that spawned these techniques. The T-group field formulated exercises that
were designed to demonstrate principles of group dynamics (both between and within
groups) and to accelerate group development. Since the typical T-group met for a sharply
limited period of time, the leaders sought methods to speed the group past the initial
reserve and social ritualized behavior. Their aim was for members to experience as much
as possible of the developmental sequence of the small group.
Gestalt therapy, another major source of structured exercises, is based on existential
roots. Fritz Perls (the founder of gestalt therapy) left many recorded sessions with clients
as well as theoretical essays that demonstrate that he was basically concerned with
problems of existence, self-awareness, responsibility, contingency, and wholeness both
within an individual and within the individual’s social and physical universe.61 Although

Perls’s technical approach was novel, his conception of the human being’s basic dilemma
is one he shares with a long line of philosophers of life, stretching back to the beginning of
recorded thought.
Paradoxically, gestalt therapy has come to be considered by some clinicians as a speedy,
gimmick-oriented therapy, whereas, in fact, it is an ambitious and thoughtful venture. It
attempts to penetrate denial systems and to bring clients to a new perspective on their
position in the world. Although it decries a technical, packaged approach, some gestalt
therapy trainees do not progress past technique, do not grasp the theoretical assumptions
on which all technique must rest.
How has it come about that the substance has so often been mistaken for the essence of
the gestalt approach? The cornerstone for the error was unwittingly laid by Perls himself,
whose creative, technical virtuosity acted in such consort with his flair for showmanship
as to lead many people to mistake the medium for the message. Perls had to do battle with
the hyperintellectualized emphasis of the early analytic movement and often overreacted
and overstated his opposition to theory. “Lose your mind and come to your senses,” Perls
proclaimed. Consequently, he did not write a great deal but taught by illustration, trusting
that his students would discover their own truths through experience rather than through
the intellectual process. Descriptions of the contemporary practice of gestalt therapy
emphasize a more balanced approach, which employs structured exercises (or “therapist-
induced experiments”) in a judicious fashion.62
How useful are structured exercises? What does research tell us about the effects of
these procedures on the process and outcome of the group? Lieberman, Yalom, and
Miles’s encounter group project (see chapter 16) closely studied the impact of the
structured exercise and came to the following conclusions.63 Leaders who used many
exercises were popular with their groups. Immediately at the end of a group, the members
regarded them as more competent, more effective, and more perceptive than leaders who
used these techniques sparingly. Yet the members of groups that used the most exercises
had significantly less favorable outcomes than did the members of groups with the fewest
exercises. (The groups with the most exercises had fewer high changers, fewer total
positive changers, and more negative changers. Moreover, the high changers of the
encounter groups with the most exercises were less likely to maintain change over time.)
In short, the moral of this study is that if your goal is to have your group members think
you’re competent and that you know what you’re doing, then use an abundance of
structured interventions; in doing so, in leading by providing explicit directions, in
assuming total executive function, you fulfill the group’s fantasies of what a leader should
do. However, your group members will not be improved; in fact, excessive reliance on
these techniques renders a group less effective.
The study explored other differences between the groups with the most and the least
exercises. The amount of self-disclosure and the emotional climate of the groups was the
same. But there were differences in the themes emphasized: The groups with more
exercises focused on the expression of positive and negative feelings; those with fewer
exercises had a greater range of thematic concerns: the setting of goals; the selection of

procedural methods; closeness versus distance; trust versus mistrust; genuineness versus
phoniness; affection; and isolation.
It would seem, then, that groups using many structured exercises never deal with
several important group themes. There is no doubt that the structured exercises appear to
plunge the members quickly into a great degree of expressivity, but the group pays a price
for its speed; it circumvents many group developmental tasks and does not develop a
sense of autonomy and potency.
It is not easy for group clinicians to evaluate their own use of structured techniques. In
the encounter group project almost all leaders used some structured exercises. Some of the
more effective leaders attributed their success in large measure to these techniques. To
take one example, many leaders used the “hot seat” technique (a format popularized by
Perls in which one member sits in the central chair, and the leader in particular as well as
the other members focus on that member exclusively and exhaustively for a long period of
time).
However, the approach was as highly valued by the most ineffective leaders as by the
effective ones. Obviously, other aspects of leader behavior accounted for the effective
leaders’ success, but if they erroneously credit their effectiveness to the structured
exercise, then it is given a value it does not deserve (and is unfortunately passed on to
students as the central feature of the process of change).
The Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group project also demonstrated that it
was not just the leaders’ interactions with a member that mediated change. Of even greater
importance were many psychosocial forces in the change process: Change was heavily
influenced by an individual’s role in the group (centrality, level of influence, value
congruence, and activity) and by characteristics of the group (cohesiveness, climate of
high intensity and harmoniousness, and norm structure). In other words, the data failed to
support the importance of the leaders’ direct therapeutic interaction with each member.
Though these findings issue from short-term encounter groups, they have much
relevance for the therapy group. First, consider speed: structured exercises do indeed
bypass early, slow stages of group interaction and do indeed plunge members quickly into
an expression of positive and negative feelings. But whether or not they accelerate the
process of therapy is another question entirely.
In short-term groups—T-groups or very brief therapy groups—it is often legitimate to
employ techniques to bypass certain difficult stages, to help the group move on when it is
mired in an impasse. In long-term therapy groups, the process of bypassing is less
germane; the leader more often wishes to guide the group through anxiety, through the
impasse or difficult stages, rather than around them. Resistance, as I have emphasized
throughout this text, is not an impediment to therapy but is the stuff of therapy. The early
psychoanalysts conceived of the analytic procedure in two stages: the analysis of
resistance and then the true analysis (which consists of strip-mining the infantile
unconscious roots of behavior). Later they realized that the analysis of resistance, if
pursued thoroughly, is sufficient unto itself.

Interactional group therapy functions similarly: There is more to be gained by
experiencing and exploring great timidity or suspiciousness or any of a vast number of
dynamics underlying a member’s initial guardedness than by providing the member with a
vehicle that plunges him or her willy-nilly into deep disclosure or expressivity.
Acceleration that results in material being wrenched in an untimely way from individuals
may be counterproductive if the proper context of the material has not been constructed.
Yet another reason for urging caution in the use of multiple structured exercises in
therapy groups is that leaders who do so run the risk of infantilizing the group. Members
of a highly structured, leader-centered group begin to feel that help (all help) emanates
from the leader; they await their turn to work with the leader; they deskill themselves; they
cease to avail themselves of the help and resources available in the group. They divest
themselves of responsibility.
I do not wish to overstate the case against the use of structured exercises. Surely there is
a middle ground between allowing the group, on the one hand, to flounder pointlessly in
some unproductive sequence and, on the other, assuming a frenetically active, overly
structured leadership role. Indeed, that is the conclusion the Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles
study reached.64 The study demonstrated that an active, executive, managerial leadership
style function relates to outcome in a curvilinear fashion: that is, too much structure and
too little structure were negatively correlated with good outcome. Too much structure
created the types of problem discussed above (leader-centered, dependent groups), and too
little (a laissez-faire approach) resulted in plodding, unenergetic, high-attrition groups.
We do not need to look toward any unusual types of groups to find structured exercises
—many of the techniques I described in chapter 5, which the leader employs in norm
setting, in here-and-now activation, and in process-illumination functions, have a
prescriptive quality. (“Who in the group do you feel closest to?” “Can you look at Mary as
you talk to her?” “If you were going to be graded for your work in the group, what grade
would you receive?” And so on.) Therapists also may use a guided-fantasy structured
exercise during a meeting. For example, they might ask members to close their eyes and
then describe to them some relaxing scene (like a barefoot walk on the beach with warm,
gentle waves rippling in), then ask them to imagine meeting one or more of the group
members or leaders and to complete the fantasy. Later, members would be asked to share
and explore their fantasies in the group.
Every experienced group leader employs some structured exercises. For example, if a
group is tense and experiences a silence of a minute or two (a minute’s silence feels very
long in a group), I often ask for a go-around in which each member says, quickly, what he
or she has been feeling or has thought of saying, but did not, during that silence. This
simple exercise usually generates much valuable data.†
What is important in the use of structured exercises are the degree, accent, and purpose
associated with them. If structured interventions are suggested to help mold an
autonomously functioning group, or to steer the group into the here-and-now, or to
explicate process, they may be of value. In a brief group therapy format, they may be
invaluable tools for focusing the group on its task and plunging the group more quickly

into its task. If used, they should be properly timed; nothing is as disconcerting as the right
idea in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is a mistake to use exercises as emotional
space filler—that is, as something interesting to do when the group seems at loose ends.
Nor should a structured exercise be used to generate affect in the group. A properly led
therapy group should not need energizing from outside. If there seems insufficient energy
in the group, if meetings seem listless, if time and time again the therapist feels it
necessary to inject voltage into the group, there is most likely a significant developmental
problem that a reliance on accelerating devices will only compound. What is needed
instead is to explore the obstructions, the norm structure, the members’ passive posture
toward the leader, the relationship of each member to his or her primary task, and so forth.
My experience is that if the therapist prepares clients adequately and actively shapes
expressive, interactional, self-disclosing norms in the manner described in chapter 5, there
will be no paucity of activity and energy in the group.
Structured exercises often play a more important role in brief, specialized therapy
groups than in the long-term general ambulatory group. In the next chapter, I shall
describe uses of structured exercises in a number of specialty therapy groups.

Chapter 15
SPECIALIZED THERAPY GROUPS
Group therapy methods have proved to be so useful in so many different clinical settings
that it is no longer correct to speak of group therapy. Instead, we must refer to the group
therapies. Indeed, as a cursory survey of professional journals would show, the number
and scope of the group therapies are mind-boggling.
There are groups for incest survivors, for people with HIV/AIDS, for clients with eating
disorders or with panic disorder, for the suicidal, the aged, for parents of sexually abused
children, for parents of murdered children, for compulsive gamblers and for sex addicts,
for people with herpes, for women with postpartum depression, for sexually dysfunctional
men, and for sexually dysfunctional gay men. There are groups for people with
hypercholesteremia, for survivors of divorce, for children of people with Alzheimer’s, for
spouses of people with Alzheimer’s, for alcoholics, for children of alcoholics, for male
batterers, for mothers of drug addicts, for families of the mentally ill, for fathers of
delinquent daughters, for depressed older women, for angry adolescent boys, for survivors
of terrorist attacks, for children of Holocaust survivors, for women with breast cancer, for
dialysis patients, for people with multiple sclerosis, leukemia, asthma, sickle-cell anemia,
deafness, agoraphobia, mental retardation. And for transsexuals and people with
borderline personality disorder, gastric dyspepsia, or irritable bowel, for amputees,
paraplegics, insomniacs, kleptomaniacs, asthmatics, nonorgasmic women, college
dropouts, people who have had a myocardial infarction or a stroke, adopting parents, blind
diabetics, clients in crisis, bereaved spouses, bereaved parents, the dying, and many, many
others.†1
Obviously no single text could address each of these specialized groups. Even if that
were possible, it would not constitute an intelligent approach to education. Does any
sensible teacher of zoology, to take one example, undertake to teach vertebrate anatomy
by having the students memorize the structures of each subspecies separately? Of course
not. Instead, the teacher teaches basic and general principles of form, structure, and
function and then proceeds to teach the anatomy of a prototypic primal specimen that
serves as a template for all other vertebrates. Commonly teachers use a representative
amphibian. Remember those frog dissection laboratories?
The extension of this analogy to group therapy is obvious. The student must first master
fundamental group therapy theory and then obtain a deep understanding of a prototypic
therapy group. But which group therapy represents the most archaic common ancestor?
There has been such a luxuriant growth of group therapies that it requires some
perspicacity to find, amid the thicket, the primal trunk of group therapy.
If there is an ancestral group therapy, it is the open, long-term outpatient group therapy
described in this book. It was the first group therapy, and it has been deeply studied, since
its members are sufficiently motivated, cooperative, and stable to have allowed systematic
research. Furthermore, it has stimulated, over the past fifty years, an imposing body of

professional literature containing the observations and conclusions of thoughtful
clinicians.
Now that you have come this far in this text, now that you are familiar with the
fundamental principles and techniques of the prototypical therapy group, you are ready for
the next step: the adaptation of basic group therapy principles to any specialized clinical
situation. That step is the goal of this chapter. First I describe the basic principles that
allow the group therapy fundamentals to be adapted to different clinical situations, and
then I present two distinct clinical illustrations—the adaptation of group therapy for the
acute psychiatric inpatient ward, and the widespread use of groups for clients coping with
medical illness. The chapter ends with a discussion of important developments in group
therapy: the structured group therapies, self-help groups, and online groups.
MODIFICATION OF TRADITIONAL GROUP THERAPY
FOR SPECIALIZED CLINICAL SITUATIONS: BASIC
STEPS
To design a specialized therapy group, I suggest the following three steps: (1) assess the
clinical situation; (2) formulate appropriate clinical goals; and (3) modify traditional
technique to be responsive to these two steps—the new clinical situation and the new set
of clinical goals.
Assessment of the Clinical Situation
It is important to examine carefully all the clinical facts of life that will bear on the therapy
group. Take care to differentiate the intrinsic limiting factors from the extrinsic factors.
The intrinsic factors (for example, mandatory attendance for clients on legal probation,
prescribed duration of group treatment in an HMO clinic, or frequent absences because of
medical hospitalizations in an ambulatory cancer support group) are built into the clinical
situation and cannot be changed.
Then there are extrinsic limiting factors (factors that have become tradition or policy),
which are arbitrary and within the power of the therapist to change—for example, an
inpatient ward that has a policy of rotating the group leadership so that each group
meeting has a different leader, or an incest group that traditionally opens with a long
“check-in” (which may consume most of the meeting) in which each member recounts the
important events of the week.
In a sense, the AA serenity prayer is pertinent here: therapists must accept that which
they cannot change (intrinsic factors), change that which can be changed (extrinsic
factors) and be wise enough to know the difference. Keep in mind, though, that as
therapists gain experience, they often find that more and more of the intrinsic factors are

actually extrinsic and hence mutable. For example, by educating the program’s or
institution’s decision makers about the rationale and effectiveness of group therapy, it is
possible to create a more favorable atmosphere for the therapy group.2
Formulation of Goals
When you have a clear view of the clinical facts of life—number of clients, length of
therapy, duration and frequency of group meetings, type and severity of pathology,
availability of co-leadership—your next step is to construct a reasonable set of clinical
goals.
You may not like the clinical situation, you may feel hampered by the many intrinsic
restraints that prevent you from leading the ideal group, but do not wear yourself out by
protesting an immutable situation. (Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.)
With proper modification of goals and technique, you will always be able to offer some
form of help.
I cannot overemphasize the importance of setting clear and appropriate goals: it may be
the most important step you take in your therapeutic work. Nothing will so inevitably
ensure failure as inappropriate goals. The goals of the long-term outpatient group I
describe in this book are ambitious: to offer symptomatic relief and to change character
structure. If you attempt to apply these same goals to, say, an aftercare group of clients
with chronic schizophrenia you will rapidly become a therapeutic nihilist and stamp
yourself and group therapy as hopelessly ineffective.
It is imperative that you shape a set of goals that is appropriate to the clinical situation
and achievable in the available time frame. The goals must be clear not only to the
therapists but to participants as well. In my discussion of group preparation in chapter 10,
I emphasized the importance of enlisting the client as a full collaborator in treatment. You
facilitate collaboration by making the goals and the group task explicit and by linking the
two: that is, by clarifying for the members how the procedure of the therapy group will
help them attain those goals.
In time-limited specialized groups, the goals must be focused, achievable, and tailored
to the capacity and potential of the group members. It is important that the group be a
success experience: clients enter therapy often feeling defeated and demoralized; the last
thing they need is another failure. In the discussion of the inpatient group in this chapter, I
shall give a detailed example of this process of goal setting.
Modification of Technique
When you are clear about the clinical conditions and have formulated appropriate,
realizable goals, you must next consider the implication these conditions and goals have
for your therapeutic technique. In this step, it is important to consider the therapeutic
factors and to determine which will play the greatest role in the achievement of the goals.

It is a phase of disciplined experimentation in which you alter technique, style, and, if
necessary, the basic form of the group to adapt to the clinical situation and to the new
goals of therapy.
To provide a brief hypothetical example, suppose you are asked to lead a group for
which there is relatively little precedent—say a suicide-prevention center asks you to lead
a twenty-session group of older, hemiparetic, suicidal clients. Your primary and overriding
goal, of course, is to prevent suicide, and all technical modifications must first address that
goal. A suicide during the life of the group would not only be an individual tragedy, it
would also be catastrophic for the successful development of the group.
During your screening interviews, you develop some additional goals: you may
discover that many clients are negligent about taking medication and that all the clients
suffer from severe social isolation, from a pervasive sense of hopelessness and
meaninglessness. So, given the additional goals of working on these issues as well, how
do you modify standard group techniques to achieve them most efficiently?
First, it is clear that the risk is so high that you must assiduously monitor the intensity of
and fluctuations in suicidality. You might, for example, require conjoint individual therapy
and/or ask members to fill in a brief depression scale each week. Or you could begin each
meeting with a brief check-in focused on suicidal feelings. Because of the high risk of
suicide and the extent of social isolation, you may wish to encourage rather than
discourage extragroup contact among the members, perhaps even mandating a certain
number of phone calls or e-mail messages from clients to therapists and between clients
each week. You may decide to encourage an additional coffee hour after the meeting or
between meetings. Or you may address both the isolation and the sense of uselessness by
tapping the therapeutic factor of altruism—for example, by experimenting with a “buddy
system” in which new members are assigned to one of the experienced members. The
experienced member would check in with the new member during the week to make sure
the client is taking his or her medication and to “sponsor” that individual in the meeting—
that is, to make sure the new member gets sufficient time and attention during the meeting.
There is no better antidote to isolation than deep therapeutic engagement in the group,
and thus you must strive to create positive here-and-now interactions in each meeting.
Since instillation of hope is so important, you may decide to include some recovered
clients in the group—clients who are no longer suicidal and have discovered ways to adapt
to their hemiparesis. Shame about physical disability is also an isolating force. The
therapist might wish to counteract shame through physical contact—for example, asking
group members to touch or hold each others’ paralyzed hands and arms, or asking
members to join hands at the end of meetings for a brief guided meditation. In an ideal
situation, you may launch a support group that will evolve, after the group therapy ends,
into a freestanding self-help group for which you act as consultant.
It is clear from this example that therapists must know a good deal about the special
problems of the clients who will be in their group. And that is true for each clinical
population—there is no all-purpose formula. Therapists must do their homework in order
to understand the unique problems and dynamics likely to develop during the course of the

group.
Thus, therapists leading long-term groups of alcoholics must expect to deal with issues
surrounding sobriety, AA attendance, sneak drinking, conning, orality, dependency,
deficiencies in the ability to bind anxiety, and a proneness to act out.
Bereavement groups must often focus on guilt (for not having done more, loved more,
been a better spouse), on loneliness, on major life decisions, on life regrets, on adapting to
a new, unpalatable life role, on feeling like a “fifth wheel” with old friends, on the pain
and the need to “let go” of the dead spouse. Many widows and widowers feel that building
a new life would signify insufficient love and constitute a betrayal of their dead spouse.
Groups must also focus on dating (and the ensuing guilt) and the formation of new
relationships, and, if the therapist is skillful, on personal growth.
Retirement groups must address such themes as recurrent losses, increased dependency,
loss of social role, need for new sources to validate sense of self-worth, diminished
income and expectancies, relinquishment of a sense of continued ascendancy, and shifts in
spousal relationship as a result of more time shared together.3
Groups for burdened family caregivers of people with Alzheimer’s disease often focus
on the experience of loss, on the horrific experience of caring for spouses or parents who
are but a shell of their former self, unable to acknowledge the caregiver’s effort or even to
identify the caregiver by name. They focus also on isolation, on understanding the causes
of dementia and elaborating strategies for coping with the consuming burden, on guilt
about wishing for or achieving some emancipation from the burden.4
Groups of incest survivors are likely to display considerable shame, fear, rage toward
male authorities (and male therapists), and concerns about being believed.
Groups for psychological trauma would likely address a range of concerns, perhaps in a
sequence of different group interventions. Safety, trust, and security would be important at
first. Being together with others who have experienced a similar trauma and receiving
psychoeducation about the impact of trauma on the mind and body can serve to reduce
feelings of isolation and confusion. Later these groups might use structured behavioral
interventions to treat specific trauma symptoms. Next the groups might address how
trauma has altered members’ basic beliefs and assumptions about the world. These groups
would ideally be homogeneous for the earlier work and later a heterogeneous, mixed-
gender group may be necessary to complete the process of the client’s reentry into the
posttrauma world.5
In summary, to develop a specialized therapy group I recommend the following steps:
1. Assessment of the clinical setting. Determine the immutable clinical restraints.
2. Formulation of goals. Develop goals that are appropriate and achievable within the
existing clinical restraints.
3. Modification of traditional technique. Retain the basic principles and therapeutic
factors of group therapy but alter techniques to achieve the specified goals:
therapists must adapt to the clinical situation and the dynamics of the special

clinical population.
Be mindful that all groups, even the most structured ones, also have a group process
that may impact the group. You may determine that it is outside of the scope of the group
to explore directly that process in depth, but you must be able to recognize its presence
and how best to utilize, manage, or contain it.†
These steps are clear but too aseptic to be of immediate clinical usefulness. I shall now
proceed to illustrate the entire sequence in detail by describing in depth the development
of a therapy group for the acute psychiatric inpatient ward.
I have chosen the acute inpatient therapy group for two reasons. First, it offers a
particularly clear opportunity to demonstrate many principles of strategic and technical
adaptation. The clinical challenge is severe: as I shall discuss, the acute inpatient setting is
so inhospitable to group therapy that radical modifications of technique are required.
Second, this particular example may have intrinsic value to many readers since the
inpatient group is the most common specialized group: therapy groups are led on most
acute psychiatric wards in the country and, as a comprehensive survey documents, over 50
percent of clients admitted to acute psychiatric units nationwide participate in group
psychotherapy.6 For many, it is their first group exposure, hence it behooves us to make it
a constructive experience.
THE ACUTE INPATIENT THERAPY GROUP
The Clinical Setting
The outpatient group that I describe throughout this book is freestanding: all important
negotiations occur between the group therapist(s) and the seven or eight group members.
Not so for the inpatient group! When you lead an inpatient group, the first clinical fact of
life you must face is that your group is never an independent, freestanding entity. It always
has a complex relationship to the larger group: the inpatient ward in which it is
ensconced.†7 What unfolds between members in the small therapy group reverberates
unavoidably with what transpires within the large group of the institution.
The inpatient group’s effectiveness, often its very existence, is heavily dependent upon
administrative backing. If the ward medical director and the clinical nursing coordinator
are not convinced that the group therapy approach is effective, they are unlikely to support
the group program and will undermine the prestige of the therapy groups in many ways:
they will not assign staff members to group leader positions on a regular schedule, they
will not provide supervision, nor even schedule group sessions at a convenient, consistent
time. Therapy groups on such wards are rendered ineffective. The group leaders are
untrained and rapidly grow demoralized. Meetings are scheduled irregularly and are often
disrupted by members being yanked out for individual therapy or for a variety of other

hospital appointments.†
Is this state of affairs an intrinsic, immutable problem? Absolutely not! Rather, it is an
extrinsic, attitudinal problem and stems from a number of sources, especially the
professional education of the ward administrators. Many psychiatric training programs and
nursing schools do not offer a comprehensive curriculum in group therapy (and virtually
no programs offer sound instruction in inpatient group psychotherapy). Hence, it is
completely understandable that ward directors will not invest ward resources and energy
in a treatment program about which they have little knowledge or faith. Without a potent
psychosocial therapeutic intervention, inpatient wards rely only on medication and the
work of the staff is reduced to custodial care. But I believe that these attitudes can change:
it is difficult to ignore the research that demonstrates the effectiveness of inpatient group
therapy.8 The ramifications of a foundering group program are great. A well-functioning
group program can permeate and benefit the milieu as a whole, and the small group should
be seen as a resource to the system as a whole.9
Sometimes the debate about the role of group therapy on the inpatient unit has nothing
to do with the effectiveness of the therapy but in actuality is a squabble over professional
territory. For many years, the inpatient therapy group has been organized and led by the
psychiatric nursing profession. But what happens if the ward has a medical director who
does not believe that psychiatric nurses (or occupational therapists, activity therapists, or
recreational therapists) should be practicing psychotherapy? In this instance, the group
therapy program is scuttled, not because it is ineffective but to safeguard professional
territory.
The professional interdisciplinary struggles about psychotherapy—now involving a
number of nonmedical disciplines: psychology, nursing, and master’s-level counselors and
psychologists—need to be resolved in policy committees or staff meetings. The small
therapy group must not be used as a battleground on which professional interests are
contested.
In addition to these extrinsic, programmatic problems, the acute inpatient ward poses
several major intrinsic problems for the group therapist. There are two particularly
staggering problems that must be faced by every inpatient group therapist: the rapid
turnover of patients on inpatient wards and the heterogeneity of psychopathology.

Rapid Client Turnover. The duration of psychiatric hospitalization has inexorably
shortened. On most wards, hospital stays range from a few days to a week or two. This
means, of course, that the composition of the small therapy group will be highly unstable.
I led a daily group on an inpatient unit for five years and rarely had the identical group for
two consecutive meetings—almost never for three.
This appears to be an immutable situation. The group therapist has little influence on
ward admission and discharge policy. In fact, more and more commonly, discharge
decisions are based on fiscal rather than clinical concerns. Nor is there any reason to

suspect that this situation will change in the foreseeable future. The revolving-door
inpatient unit is here to stay, and even as the door whirls ever faster, clinicians must keep
their primary focus on the client’s treatment, doing as much as they can within the
imposed constraints.10

Heterogeneity of Pathology. The typical contemporary psychiatric inpatient unit (often in a
community general hospital) admits patients with a wide spectrum of pathology: acute
schizophrenic psychosis, decompensated borderline or neurotic conditions, substance
abuse, major affective disorders, eating disorders, post-traumatic stress disorders, and
situational reactions.
Not only is there a wide diagnostic spread, but there are also broad differences in
attitudes toward, and capacity for, psychotherapy: many patients may be unmotivated;
they may be psychologically unsophisticated; they may be in the hospital involuntarily or
may not agree that they need help; they often are not paying for therapy; they may have
neither introspective propensity nor inner-directed curiosity about themselves. They seek
relief, not growth.
The presence of these two factors alone—the brief duration of treatment and the range
of psychopathology—makes it evident that a radical modification of technique is required
for the inpatient therapy group.
Consider how these two intrinsic clinical conditions violate some of the necessary
conditions of group therapy I described earlier in this text. In chapter 3, I stressed the
crucial importance of stability of membership. Gradually, over weeks and months, the
sense of cohesiveness—a major therapeutic factor—develops, and participants often
derive enormous benefit from the experience of being a valued member of an ongoing,
stable group. How, then, to lead a whirligig group in which new members come and go
virtually every session?
Similarly, in chapter 9, I stressed the importance of composing a group carefully and of
paying special attention to avoiding deviants and to selecting members with roughly the
same amount of ego strength. How, then, to lead a group in which one has almost no
control over the membership, a group in which there may be floridly psychotic individuals
sitting side by side with better-functioning, integrated members?
In addition to the major confounding factors of rapid patient turnover and the range of
psychopathology, several other intrinsic clinical factors exert significant influence on the
functioning of an inpatient psychotherapy group.

Time. The therapist’s time is very limited. Generally, there is no time to see a patient in a
pregroup interview to establish a relationship and to prepare the person for the group.
There is little time to integrate new members into the group, to work on termination
(someone terminates the group almost every meeting), to work through issues that arise in

the group, or to focus on transfer of learning.

Group Boundaries. The group boundaries are often blurred. Members are generally in
other groups on the ward with some or many of the same members. Extragroup socializing
is, of course, the rule rather than the exception: patients spend their entire day together.
The boundaries of confidentiality are similarly blurred. There can be no true
confidentiality in the small inpatient group: patients often share important small group
events with others on the ward, and staff members freely share information with one
another during rounds, nursing reports, and staff meetings. In fact it is imperative that the
small inpatient group boundary of confidentiality be elastic and encompass the entire ward
rather than being confined to any one group within that ward. Otherwise the small group
becomes disconnected from the unit.†

The Role of the Group Leader. The role of inpatient group leaders is complex since they
may be involved with clients throughout the day in other roles. Their attendance may often
be often erratic. Group leaders are frequently psychiatric nurses who, because of the
necessity of weekend, evening, and night coverage, are on a rotating schedule and often
cannot be present at the group for several consecutive meetings.
Therapist autonomy is limited in other ways as well. For example, therapists have, as I
shall discuss shortly, only limited control over group composition. They often have no
choice about co-therapists, who are usually assigned on the basis of the rotation schedule.
Each client has several therapists at the same time. Inpatient group therapists usually feel
more exposed than their outpatient colleagues. Difficulties in the group will be readily
known by all. Lastly, the pace of the acute inpatient ward is so harried that there is little
opportunity for supervision or even for postmeeting discussion between therapists.
Formulation of Goals
Once you have grasped these clinical facts of life of the inpatient therapy group and
differentiated intrinsic from extrinsic factors, it is time to ask this question: Given the
many confounding intrinsic factors that influence (and hobble) the course of the inpatient
group, what can the group accomplish? What are reasonable goals of therapy—goals that
are attainable by the inpatient clinical population in the available time?
Let us start by noting that the goals of the acute inpatient group are not identical to
those of acute inpatient hospitalization. The goal of the group is not to resolve a psychotic
depression, not to decrease psychotic panic, not to slow down a patient with mania, not to
diminish hallucinations or delusions. Groups can do none of these things. That’s the job of
other aspects of the ward treatment program—primarily of the psychopharmacological
regimen. To set these goals for a therapy group is not only unrealistic but it sentences the

group to failure.
So much for what the inpatient group cannot do. What can it offer? I will describe six
achievable goals:
1. Engaging the patient in the therapeutic process
2. Demonstrating that talking helps
3. Problem spotting
4. Decreasing isolation
5. Being helpful to others
6. Alleviating hospital-related anxiety
1. Engaging the patient in the therapeutic process
The contemporary pattern of acute psychiatric hospitalization—brief but repeated
admissions to psychiatric wards in general hospitals—can be more effective than longer
hospitalization only if hospitalization is followed with adequate aftercare treatment.11
Furthermore, there is persuasive evidence that group therapy aftercare is a particularly
efficacious mode of aftercare treatment—more so than individual aftercare therapy.12
A primary goal of inpatient group therapy emerges from these findings—namely, to
engage the patient in a process that he or she perceives as constructive and supportive and
will wish to continue after discharge from the hospital. Keep in mind that for many
patients, the inpatient psychotherapy experience is their first introduction to therapy. If the
group therapy experience is sufficiently positive and supportive to encourage them to
attend an aftercare group, then—all other factors aside—the inpatient therapy group will
have served a very important function.
2. Demonstrating that talking helps
The inpatient therapy group helps patients learn that talking about their problems is
helpful. They learn that there is relief to be gained in sharing pain and in being heard,
understood, and accepted by others. From listening to others, members also learn that
others suffer from the same type of disabling distress as they do—one is not unique in
one’s suffering. In other words, the inpatient group introduces members to the therapeutic
factors of cohesiveness and universality.
3. Problem spotting
The duration of therapy in the inpatient therapy group is far too brief to allow clients to
work through problems. But the group can efficiently help clients spot problems that they
may, with profit, work on in ongoing individual therapy, both during their hospital stay
and in their post-discharge therapy. By providing a discrete focus for therapy, which
clients value highly,13 inpatient groups increase the efficiency of other therapies.
It is important that the groups identify problems with some therapeutic handle—
problems that the client perceives as circumscribed and malleable (not problems such as
chronic unhappiness, depression, or suicidal inclinations that are too generalized to offer a

discrete handhold for therapy). The group is most adept at helping members identify
problems in their mode of relating to other people. It is the ideal therapy arena in which to
learn about maladaptive interpersonal behavior. Emily’s story is a good illustration of this
point.
• Emily was an extremely isolated young woman who was admitted to the inpatient
unit for depression. She complained that she was always in the position of calling
others for a social engagement. She never received invitations; she had no close
girl friends who sought her out. Her dates with men always turned into one-night
stands. She attempted to please them by going to bed with them, but they never
called for a second date. People seemed to forget her as soon as they met her.
During the three group meetings she attended, the group gave her consistent
feedback about the fact that she was always pleasant and always wore a gracious
smile and always seemed to say what she thought would be pleasing to others. In
this process, however, people soon lost track of who Emily was. What were her
own opinions? What were her own desires and feelings? Her need to be eternally
pleasing had a serious negative consequence: people found her boring and
predictable.
A dramatic example occurred in her second meeting, when I forgot her name
and apologized to her. Her response was, “That’s all right, I don’t mind.” I
suggested that the fact that she didn’t mind was probably one of the reasons I had
forgotten her name. In other words, had she been the type of person who would
have minded or made her needs more overt, then most likely I would not have
forgotten her name. In her three group meetings, Emily identified a major problem
that had far-reaching consequences for her social relationships outside: her
tendency to submerge herself in a desperate but self-defeating attempt to capture
the affection of others.
4. Decreasing isolation
The inpatient group can help break down the isolation that exists between members.
The group is a laboratory exercise intended to sharpen communication skills: the better the
communication, the less the isolation. It helps individuals share with one another and
permits them to obtain feedback about how others perceive them and to discover their
blind spots.
Decreasing isolation between inpatient group members has two distinct payoffs. First,
improved communication skills will help patients in their relationships with others outside
the hospital. Virtually everyone who is admitted in crisis to an inpatient ward suffers from
a breakdown or an absence of important supportive relationships with others. If the patient
is able to transfer communication skills from the group to his or her outside life, then the
group will have fulfilled a very important goal.
A second payoff is evident in the patient’s behavior on the ward: as isolation decreases,
the patient becomes increasingly able to use the therapeutic resources available, including
relationships with other patients.14

5. Being help ful to others
This goal, the therapeutic factor of altruism, is closely related to the previous one.
Clients are not just helped by their peers, they are also helped by the knowledge that they
themselves have been useful to others. Clients generally enter psychiatric hospitals in a
state of profound demoralization. They feel that not only have they no way of helping
themselves but they have nothing to offer others. The experience of being valuable to
other ward members is enormously affirming to one’s sense of self-worth.
6. Alleviating hospital-related anxiety
The process of psychiatric hospitalization can be intensely anxiety provoking. Many
patients experience great shame; they may be concerned about stigmatization and the
effects of hospitalization on their job and friendships. Many patients are distressed by
events on the ward—not only the bizarre and frightening behavior of other patients, but
also the staff tensions.
Many of these secondary sources of tension compound the patient’s primary dysphoria
and must be addressed in therapy. The small therapy groups (as well as the therapeutic
community group) provide a forum in which patients can air these issues and often
achieve reassurance simply from learning that these concerns are shared by other
members. They can learn, for example, that their roommate is not hostile and intentionally
rejecting of them, but rather is preoccupied and fearful.
Modification of Technique
We have now accomplished the first two steps of designing a group for the contemporary
inpatient ward: (1) assessing the clinical setting, including identifying the intrinsic clinical
facts of life, and (2) formulating an appropriate and realistic set of goals. Now we are
ready to turn to the third step: designing (on the basis of intrinsic restraints and goals) a
clinical strategy and technique.15

The Therapist’s Time Frame. In the outpatient therapy group I have described in this text,
the therapist’s time frame is many weeks or months, sometimes years. Therapists must be
patient, must build cohesiveness over many sessions, must work through issues
repetitively from meeting to meeting (they recognize that psychotherapy is often
cyclotherapy, because they must return again and again to the same issues in the
therapeutic work). The inpatient group therapist faces an entirely different situation: the
group composition changes almost every day; the duration of therapy for members is often
very brief—indeed, many attend the group for only a single session.
It is clear that the inpatient group therapist must adopt a radically shortened time frame:
I believe that the inpatient group therapist must consider the life of the group to be only a
single session. Perhaps there will be continuity from one meeting to the next; perhaps

there will be culture bearers who will be present in several consecutive meetings, but do
not count on it. The most constructive attitude to assume is that your group will last for
only a single session and that you must strive to offer something useful for as many
participants as possible during that session.

Efficiency and Activity. The single-session time frame demands efficiency . You have no
time to allow issues to build, to let things develop in the group and slowly work them
through. You have no time to waste; you have only a single opportunity to engage a
patient, and you must not squander it.
Efficiency demands activity on the part of the therapist. There is no place in inpatient
group psychotherapy for the passive, reflective group therapist. A far higher level of
activity is demanded in inpatient than in outpatient groups. You must activate the group
and call on, actively support, and interact personally with members. This increased level
of activity requires a major shift in technique for the therapist who has been trained in
long-term group therapy, but it is an absolutely essential modification of technique.

Support. Keep in mind that one of the major goals of the inpatient therapy group is to
engage clients in a therapeutic process they will wish to continue after leaving the hospital.
Thus, it is imperative that the therapist create in the group an atmosphere that members
experience as supportive, positive, and constructive. Members must feel safe; they must
learn to trust the group and to experience it as a place where they will be understood and
accepted.
The inpatient therapy group is not the place for confrontation, for criticism, for the
expression and examination of intense anger. There will often be patients in the group who
are conning or manipulative and who may need powerful confrontation, but it is far better
to let them pass unchallenged than to run the risk of making the group feel unsafe to the
vast majority of patients. Group leaders need to recognize and incorporate both the needs
of the group and the needs of the individual into their intervention. Consider, for example,
Joe, an angry man with bipolar disorder who arrived at the small group the day after being
forcibly restrained and secluded by unit staff after threatening to harm a nurse who refused
his request for a pass off the ward. Joe pointedly sat silently outside of the circle with his
back to the group members. Addressing Joe’s behavior was essential—it was too
threatening to ignore—but it was also potentially inflammatory to engage Joe against his
manifest wish. The group leader chose to acknowledge Joe’s presence, noting that it likely
was hard for Joe to come to the group after the tensions of the night before. He was
welcome to participate more fully if he chose, but if not, just coming would be viewed as a
step toward his reentry. Joe maintained his silent posture, but the group was liberated and
able to proceed.
In the long-term outpatient group, therapists provide support both directly and
indirectly: direct support by personal engagement, by empathic listening, by

understanding, by accepting glances, nods, and gestures; indirect support by building a
cohesive group that then becomes a powerful agent of support.
Inpatient group therapists must learn to offer support more quickly and directly. Support
is not something that therapists reflexively provide. In fact, many training programs in
psychotherapy unwittingly extinguish a therapist’s natural propensity to support patients.
Therapists are trained to become sniffers of pathology, experts in the detection of
weaknesses. They are often so sensitized to transferential and countertransferential issues
that they hold themselves back from engaging in basically human, supportive behavior
with their clients.
Support may be offered in a myriad of ways.† The most direct, the most valued by
clients, and the most often overlooked by well-trained professional therapists is to
acknowledge openly the members’ efforts, intentions, strengths, positive contributions,
and risks.16 If, to take an obvious example, one member states that he finds another
member in the group very attractive, it is important that this member be supported for the
risk he has taken. You may wonder whether he has previously been able to express his
admiration of another so openly and note, if appropriate, that this is reflective of real
progress for him in the group. Or, suppose you note that several members have been more
self-disclosing after one particular member took a risk and revealed delicate and important
material—then openly comment on it! Do not assume that members automatically realize
that their disclosures have helped others take risks. Identify and reinforce the adaptive
parts of the client’s presentation.17
Try to emphasize the positive rather than the negative aspects of a defensive posture.
Consider, for example, members who persist in playing assistant therapist. Do not
confront them by challenging their refusal to work on personal issues, but offer instead
positive comments about how helpful they have been to others and then gently comment
on their unselfishness and reluctance to ask for something personal from the group. It is
the rare individual who resists the therapist’s suggestion that he or she needs to learn to be
more selfish and to ask for more from others.
The therapist also supports by helping members obtain support from the group. Some
clients, for example, obtain very little support because they characteristically present
themselves in a highly objectionable fashion. A self-centered member who incessantly
ruminates about a somatic condition will rapidly exhaust the patience of any group. When
you identify such behavior, it is important to intervene quickly before animosity and
rejection have time to well up. You may try any number of tactics—for example, directly
instructing the client about other modes of behaving in the group or assigning the client
the task of introducing new members into the group, giving feedback to other members, or
attempting to guess and express what each person’s evaluation of the group is that day.
Consider a woman who talked incessantly about her many surgical procedures.18 It
became clear from listening to this woman’s description of her life situation that she felt
she had given everything to her children and had received nothing in return. She also
described a deep sense of unworthiness and of being inferior to the other members of the
group. I suggested that when she talked about her surgical procedures she was really

saying, “I have some needs, too, but I have trouble asking for them. My preoccupation
with my surgery is a way of asking, ‘Pay some attention to me.’” Eventually, she agreed
with my formulation and to my request for her permission, whenever she talked about her
surgery, to translate that into the real message, “Pay more attention to me.” This client’s
explicit request for help was effective, and the members responded to her positively—
which they never had when she recited her irritating litany of somatic complaints.
Another approach to support is to make certain the group is safe by anticipating and
avoiding conflict whenever possible. If clients are irritable or want to learn to be more
assertive or to challenge others, it is best to channel that work onto yourself: you are, let us
hope, in a far better position to handle criticism than are any of the group members.
If two members are locked in conflict, it is best to intervene quickly and to search for
positive aspects of the conflict. For example, keep in mind that sparks often fly between
two individuals because of the group phenomenon of mirroring: one sees aspects of
oneself (especially negative aspects) in another whom one dislikes because of what one
dislikes in oneself. Thus, you can deflect conflict by asking individuals to discuss the
various ways in which they resemble their adversary.
There are many other conflict-avoiding strategies. Envy is often an integral part of
interpersonal conflict (see chapter 10); it is often constructive to ask adversaries to talk
about those aspects of each other that they admire or envy. Role switching is sometimes a
useful technique: ask adversaries to switch places and present the other’s point of view.
Often it is helpful to remind the group that opponents generally prove to be very helpful to
each other, whereas those who are indifferent rarely help each other grow. Sometimes an
adversarial position is a method of showing that one cares.†
One reason some members experience the group as unsafe is that they fear that things
will go too far, that the group may coerce them to lose control—to say, think, or feel
things that will result in interpersonal catastrophe. You can help these members feel safe in
the group by allowing them to exercise control over their own participation. Check in with
members repeatedly with such questions as: “Do you feel we’re pushing you too hard?”
“Is this too uncomfortable for you?” “Do you think you’ve revealed too much of yourself
today?” “Have I been too intrusive by asking you such direct questions today?”
When you lead groups of severely disturbed, regressed patients, you must provide even
more direct support. Examine the behavior of the severely regressed patients and find in it
some positive aspect. Support the mute patient for staying the whole session; compliment
the patient who leaves early for having stayed twenty minutes; support the member who
arrives late for having shown up; support inactive members for having paid attention
throughout the meeting. If members try to give advice, even inappropriate advice, reward
them for their intention to help. If statements are unintelligible or bizarre, nonetheless
label them as attempts to communicate. One group member, Jake, hospitalized because of
a psychotic decompensation, angrily blurted out in the group that he intended to get Satan
to rain “Hellfire and Brimstone upon this Godforsaken hospital.” Group members
withdrew into silence. The therapist wondered aloud what provoked this angry explosion.
Another member commented that Jake had been agitated since his discharge planning

meeting. Jake then added that he did not want to go to the hostel that was recommended.
He wanted to go back to his boarding house, because it was safer from theft and assault.
That was something all in the group could understand and support. Finding the underlying
and understandable human concern brought Jake and the group members back together—a
far better situation than Jake being isolated because of his bizarre behavior.

Focus of the Inpatient Group: The Here-And-Now. Throughout this text, I have repeatedly
emphasized the importance of here-and-now interaction in the group therapeutic process. I
have stressed that work in the here-and-now is the heart of the group therapeutic process,
the power cell that energizes the therapy group. Yet, whenever I have visited inpatient
wards throughout the country, I have found that groups there rarely focus on here-and-now
interaction. Such avoidance of the here-and-now is, in my opinion, precisely the reason so
many inpatient groups are ineffective.
If the inpatient group does not focus on the here-and-now, what other options are there?
Most inpatient groups adopt a then-and-there focus in which members, following the
therapist’s cues, take turns presenting their “back-home problems”—those that brought
them into the hospital—while the rest of the group attempts to address those problems
with exhortation and advice. This approach to inpatient group therapy is the least effective
way to lead a therapy group and almost invariably sentences the group to failure.
The problems that brought a patient into the hospital are complex and overwhelming.
They have generally foiled the best efforts of skilled mental health professionals and will,
without question, stump the therapy group members. For one thing, distressed patients are
generally unreliable self-reporters: the information they present to the group will
invariably be biased and, given the time constraints, limited. The then-and-there focus has
many other disadvantages as well. For one thing, it results in highly inequitable time
sharing. If much or all of a meeting is devoted to one member, many of the remaining
members will feel cheated or bored. Unlike outpatient group members, they cannot even
bank on the idea that they have credit in the group—that is, that the group owes them time
and attention. Since they will most likely soon be discharged or find themselves in a group
composed of completely different members, patients are left clutching worthless IOUs.
Some inpatient groups focus on ward problems—ward tensions, staffpatient conflict,
housekeeping disputes, and so on. Generally, this is an unsatisfactory mode of using the
small group. The average inpatient ward has approximately twenty patients. In any small
group meeting, only half the members and one or two staff members will be present;
invariably, the patients or staff members discussed will be in the other group. A much
better arena for dealing with ward problems is the therapeutic community meeting, in
which all patients and staff are present.
Other inpatient groups focus on common themes—for example, suicidal ideation,
hallucinations, or drug side effects. Such meetings may be of value to some but rarely all
members. Often such meetings serve primarily to dispense information that could easily
be provided to patients in other formats. It is not the most effective way of using the

inherent power of the small group modality.
The clinical circumstances of the inpatient group do not make the here-and-now focus
any less important or less advisable. In fact, the here-and-now focus is as effective in
inpatient as in outpatient therapy. However, the clinical conditions of inpatient work
(especially the brief duration of treatment and the group members’ severity of illness)
demand modifications in technique. As I mentioned earlier, there is no time for working
through interpersonal issues. Instead, you must help patients spot interpersonal problems
and reinforce interpersonal strengths, while encouraging them to attend aftercare therapy,
where they can pursue and work through the interpersonal issues identified in the group.
The most important point to be made about the use of the here-and-now in inpatient
groups is already implicit in the foregoing discussion of support. I cannot emphasize too
heavily that the here-and-now is not synonymous with conflict, confrontation, and critical
feedback. I am certain that it is because of this erroneous assumption that so few inpatient
group therapists capitalize on the value of here-and-now interaction.
Conflict is only one, and by no means the most important, facet of here-and-now
interaction. The here-and-now focus helps patients learn many invaluable interpersonal
skills: to communicate more clearly, to get closer to others, to express positive feelings, to
become aware of personal mannerisms that push people away, to listen, to offer support, to
reveal oneself, to form friendships.
The inpatient group therapist must pay special attention to the issue of the relevance of
the here-and-now. The members of an inpatient group are in crisis. They are preoccupied
with their life problems and immobilized by dysphoria or confusion. Unlike many
outpatient group members who are interested in self-exploration, in personal growth, and
in improving their ability to cope with crisis, inpatients are closed, in a survival mode, and
unlikely to apprehend the relevance of the here-and-now focus for their problems.
Therefore, you must provide explicit instruction about its relevance. I begin each group
meeting with a brief orientation in which I emphasize that, though individuals may enter
the hospital for different reasons, everyone can benefit from examining how he or she
relates to other people. Everyone can be helped by learning how to get more out of
relationships with others. I stress that I focus on relationships in group therapy because
that is what group therapy does best.† In the group, there are other members and two
mental health experts who are willing to provide feedback about how they see each person
in the group relating to others. I also acknowledge that members have important and
painful problems, other than interpersonal ones, but that these problems need to be
addressed in other therapeutic modalities: in individual therapy, in social service
interviews, in couples or marital therapy, or with medication.
Modes of Structure
Just as there is no place in acute inpatient group work for the inactive therapist, there is no
place for the nondirective group therapist. The great majority of patients on an inpatient

ward are confused, frightened, and disorganized; they crave and require some external
structure and stability. Consider the experience of patients newly admitted to the
psychiatric unit: they are surrounded by other troubled, irrationally behaving patients;
their mental acuity may be obtunded by medication; they are introduced to many staff
members who, because they are on a complex rotating schedule, may not appear to have
consistent patterns of attendance; they are exposed, sometimes for the first time, to a wide
array of therapies and therapists.
Often the first step to acquiring internal structure is exposure to a clearly perceived,
externally imposed structure. Anxiety is relieved when one is provided with clear, firm
expectations for behavior in a new situation.
In a study of debriefing interviews with newly discharged patients, the overwhelming
majority expressed a preference for group leaders who provided an active structure for the
group.19 They appreciated a therapist who started the group meeting and who provided
crystal-clear direction for the procedure of the group. They preferred leaders who actively
invited members to participate, who focused the group’s attention on work, who assured
equal distribution of time, who reminded the group of its basic group task and direction.
The research literature demonstrates that such leaders obtain superior clinical results.20
Group leaders can provide structure for the group in many ways: by orienting members
at the start of each group; by providing a written description of the group in advance of the
meeting, by setting clear spatial and temporal boundaries; by using a lucid, confident
personal style; by following a consistent and coherent group procedure.

Spatial and Temporal Boundaries. The ideal physical arrangement for an inpatient therapy
group, as for any type of group, is a circle of members meeting in an appropriately sized
room with a closed door. Sounds simple, yet the physical plan of many wards makes these
basic requirements difficult to meet. Some units, for example, have only one group room
and yet must schedule two groups to meet at the same time. In this case, one group may
have to meet in a very large, busy general activity room or in an open hallway without
clear spatial demarcation. I believe that the lack of clear spatial boundaries vitiates
intimacy and cohesiveness and compromises the work of the group; it is far preferable to
find some closed space, even if it means meeting off the ward.
Structure is also provided by temporal stability. The ideal meeting begins with all
members present and punctual, and runs with no interruptions until its conclusion. It is
difficult to approximate these conditions in an inpatient setting for several reasons:
disorganized patients arrive late because they forget the time and place of the meeting;
members are called out for some medical or therapy appointment; members with a limited
attention span may ask to leave early; heavily medicated members fall asleep during a
session and interrupt the group flow; agitated or panicked patients may bolt from the
group.
Therapists must intervene in every way possible to provide maximum stability. They

should urge the unit administration to declare the group time inviolable so that group
members cannot be called out of the group for any reason (not because the group is the
most important therapy on the unit, but because these disruptions undermine it, and group
therapy, by its nature, has little logistical flexibility). They may ask the staff members to
remind disorganized patients about the group meeting and escort them into the room. It
should be the ward staff’s responsibility, not the group leaders’ alone, to ensure that
patients attend. And, of course, the group therapists should always model promptness.
The problem of bolters—members who run out of a group meeting—can be approached
in several ways. First, patients are made more anxious if they perceive that they will not
be permitted to leave the room. Therefore, it is best simply to express the hope that they
can stay the whole meeting. If they cannot, suggest that they return the next day, when
they feel more settled. A patient who attempts to leave the room in midsession cannot, of
course, be physically blocked, but there are other options. You may reframe the situation
in a way that provides a rationale for putting up with the discomfort of staying: for
example, in the case of a person who has stated that he or she often flees from
uncomfortable situations and is resolved to change that pattern, you might remind him or
her of that resolution. You may comment: “Eleanor, it’s clear that you’re feeling very
uncomfortable now. I know you want to leave the room, but I remember your saying just
the other day that you’ve always isolated yourself when you felt bad and that you want to
try to find ways to reach out to others. I wonder if this might not be a good time to work
on that by simply trying extra hard to stay in the meeting today?” You may decrease her
anxiety by suggesting that she simply be an observer for the rest of the session, or you
may suggest that she change her seat to a place that feels more comfortable to her—
perhaps next to you.
Groups led for higher-level patients may be made more stable by a policy that prohibits
latecomers from entering the group session. This policy, of course, is only effective with
an optional group. It may present problems for therapists who feel uncomfortable with
being strict gatekeepers; it runs against the grain of traditional clinical training to refuse
admission to clients who want therapy. Of course, this policy creates resentment in clients
who arrive at a meeting only a few minutes late, but it also conveys to them that you value
the group time and work and that you want to get the maximum amount of uninterrupted
work each session. The group may employ a five-minute window for late arrivals with the
door open, but once the door is closed, the meeting should not be interrupted. Debriefing
interviews with recently discharged patients invariably reveal that they resent interruptions
and approve of all the therapists’ efforts to ensure stability.21 Latecomers who are denied
entrance to the group may sulk for an hour or two but generally will be punctual the
following day.

Therapist Style. The therapist also greatly contributes to the sense of structure through
personal style and presence.† Confused or frightened patients are reassured by therapists
who are firm, explicit, and decisive, yet who, at the same time, share with patients the
reasons for their actions. Many long-term outpatient group therapists allow events to run

their course and then encourage the examination and integration of the event. Inpatient
groups, however, are disrupted repeatedly by major events. Members are often too
stressed and vulnerable to deal effectively with such events and are reassured if therapists
act decisively and firmly. If, for example, a manic patient veers out of control and
monopolizes the group’s time, it is best to intervene and prevent the patient from
obstructing the group work in that session. You may, for example, tell the patient that it is
time to be quiet and to work on listening to others, or, if the patient is unable to exercise
any control, you may escort him or her from the room. Generally, it is excellent modeling
for therapists to talk about their ambivalent feelings in such a situation. They may, for
example, share both their conviction that they have made the proper move for the welfare
of the entire group and their great discomfort at assuming an authoritarian pose.
At other times, the group may engage in long discussions that the inpatient therapist
realizes are not effective and do not constitute effective work. Again, the therapist has
options, including waiting and then analyzing the resistance. However, in inpatient groups
it is far more efficient to be direct—for example, to interrupt the group with some explicit
message such as, “I have a sense that this topic is of much interest to several of the people
in the room, but it seems to me that you could easily have this discussion outside the
group. I want to suggest that there might be a more valuable way to use the group time.
Groups are much more helpful if we help members learn more about how they relate and
communicate with others, and I think it would be better if we could get back to … ”—here
you would supply some clear alternative.

Group Session Protocol. One of the most potent ways of providing structure is to build
into each session a consistent, explicit sequence. This is a radical departure from
traditional outpatient group therapy technique, but in specialized groups it makes for the
most efficient use of a limited number of sessions, as we shall see later when we examine
cognitive-behavioral therapy groups. In the inpatient group, a structured protocol for each
session has the advantage not only of efficiency but also of ameliorating anxiety and
confusion in severely ill patients. I recommend that rapid-turnover inpatient groups take
the following form.
1. The first few minutes. This is when the therapist provides explicit structure for the
group and prepares the group members for therapy. (Shortly, I will describe a
model group in which I give a verbatim example of a preparatory statement.)
2. Definition of the task. The therapist attempts in this phase to determine the most
profitable direction for the group to take in a particular session. Do not make the
error of plunging in great depth into the first issue raised by a member, for, in so
doing, you may miss other potentially productive agendas. You may determine the
task in a number of ways. You may, for example, simply listen to get a feel of the
urgent issues present that day, or you may provide some structured exercise that
will permit you to ascertain the most valuable direction for the group to take that
day (I will give a description of this technique later).†

3. Filling the task. Once you have a broad view of the potentially fertile issues for a
session, you attempt, in the main body of the meeting, to address these issues,
involving as many members as possible in the group session.
4. The final few minutes. The last few minutes is the summing-up period. You
indicate that the work phase is over, and you devote the remaining time to review
and analysis of the meeting. This is the self-reflective loop of the here-and-now, in
which you attempt to clarify, in the most lucid possible language, the interaction
that occurred in the session. You may also wish to do some final mopping up: you
may inquire about any jagged edges or ruffled feelings that members may take out
of the session or ask the members, both the active and the silent ones, about their
experience and evaluation of the meeting.
Disadvantages of Structure. Several times in this text, I have remonstrated against
excessive structure. For example, in discussing norm setting, I urged that the therapist
strive to make the group as autonomous as possible and noted that an effective group takes
maximum responsibility for its own functioning. I have also suggested that an excessively
active therapist who structures the group tightly will create a dependent group; surely if
the leader does everything for the members, they will do too little for themselves. As
noted in chapter 14, empirical research demonstrates that leaders who provide excessive
structure may be positively evaluated by their members, but their groups fail to have
positive outcomes. Again, leader behavior that is structuring in nature (total verbal
activity and amount of managerial behavior) is related in curvilinear fashion to positive
outcome (both at the end of the group and at the six-month follow-up).22 In other words,
the rule of the golden mean prevails: too much or too little leader structuring is
detrimental to growth.
Thus, we face a dilemma. In many brief, specialized groups, we must provide structure;
but if we provide too much, our group members will not learn to use their own resources.
This is a major problem for the inpatient group therapist who must, for all the reasons I
have described, structure the group and yet avoid infantilizing its members.
There is a way out of this dilemma—a way so important that it constitutes a
fundamental principle of therapy technique in many specialized groups. The leader must
structure the group so as to encourage each member’s autonomous functioning. If this
principle seems paradoxical wait! The following model of an inpatient group will clarify
it.
The Higher-Level Group: A Working Model
In this section I describe in some detail a format for the higher-level functioning inpatient
group. Keep in mind that my intention here, as throughout this chapter, is not to provide a
blueprint but to illustrate an approach to the modification of group therapy technique. My
hope, thus, is not that you will attempt to apply this model faithfully to your clinical
situation but that it will serve to illustrate the general strategy of modification and will

assist you in designing an effective model for the specific clinical situations you face.23
I suggest that an optional group be held for higher-level clients,ah meeting three to five
times a week for approximately seventy-five minutes. I have experimented with a variety
of models over the years; the model I describe here is the most effective one I have found,
and I have used it for several hundred inpatient group therapy sessions. This is the basic
protocol of the meeting:
1. Orientation and Preparation … 3 to 5 minutes
2. Personal Agenda Setting … 20 to 30 minutes
3. Agenda Filling … 20 to 35 minutes
4. Review … 10 to 20 minutes
Orientation and Preparation. The preparation of patients for the therapy group is no less
important in inpatient than in outpatient group therapy. The time frame, of course, is
radically different. Instead of spending twenty to thirty minutes preparing an individual for
group therapy during an individual session, the inpatient group therapist must accomplish
such preparation in the first few minutes of the inpatient group session. I suggest that the
leader begin every meeting with a simple and brief introductory statement that includes a
description of the ground rules (time and duration of meeting, rules about punctuality), a
clear exposition of the purpose of the group, and an outline of the basic procedure of the
group, including the sequence of the meeting. The following is a typical preparatory
statement:
I’m Irv Yalom and this is Mary Clark. We’ll co-lead this afternoon therapy group,
which meets daily for one hour and fifteen minutes beginning at two o’clock. The
purpose of this group is to help members learn more about the way they
communicate and relate to others. People come into the hospital with many
different kinds of important problems, but one thing that most individuals have in
common here is some unhappiness about the way some of their important
relationships are going.
There are, of course, many other urgent problems that people have, but those are
best worked on in some of your other forms of therapy. What this kind of group
does best of all is to help people understand more about their relationships with
others. One of the ways we can work best is to focus on the relationships that exist
between the people in this room. The better you learn to communicate with each of
the people here, the better it will become with people in your outside life. Other
groups on our unit may emphasize other approaches.
It’s important to know that observers are present almost every day to watch the
group through this one-way mirror. [Here, point toward the mirror and also toward
the microphone if appropriate, in an attempt to orient the patient as clearly as

possible to the spatial surroundings.] The observers are professional mental health
workers, often medical or nursing students, or other members of the ward staff.
We begin our meetings by going around the group and checking with each
person and asking each to say something about the kinds of problems they’re
having in their lives that they’d like to try to work on in the group. That should
take fifteen to thirty minutes. It is very hard to come up with an agenda during
your first meetings. But don’t sweat it. We will help you with it. That’s our job.
After that, we then try to work on as many of these problems as possible. In the
last fifteen minutes of the group, the observers will come into the room and share
their observations with us. Then, in the last few minutes, we check in with
everyone here about how they size up the meeting and about the leftover feelings
that should be looked at before the group ends. We don’t always get to each agenda
fully each meeting, but we will do our best. Hopefully we can pick it up at the next
meeting and you may find also that you can work on it between sessions.
Note the basic components of this preparation: (1) a description of the ground rules; (2)
a statement of the purpose and goals of the group; (3) a description of the procedure of the
group (including the precise structure of the meeting). Some inpatient therapists suggest
that this preparation can be partly communicated to patients outside of the group and
should be even more detailed and explicit by, for example, including a discussion of blind
spots, supportive and constructive feedback (providing illustrative examples), and the
concept of the social microcosm.24

Personal Agenda Setting. The second phase of the group is the elaboration of the task. The
overriding task of the group (from which the various goals of the group emanate) is to
help each member explore and improve his or her interpersonal relationships. An efficient
method of task definition is a structured exercise that asks each member to formulate a
brief personal agenda for the meeting. The agenda must be realistic and doable in the
group that day. It must focus on interpersonal issues and, if possible, on issues that in
some way relate to one or more members in the group.
Formulating an appropriate agenda is a complex task. Patients need considerable
assistance from the therapist, especially in their first couple of meetings. Neophyte
therapists may also find this challenging at first. Each patient is, in effect, asked to make a
personal statement that involves three components: (1) an acknowledgment of the wish to
change (2) in some interpersonal domain (3) that has some here-and-now manifestation.
Think about this as an evolution from the general to the specific, the impersonal to the
personal, and the personal to the interpersonal. “I feel unhappy” evolves into “I feel
unhappy because I am isolated,” which evolves into “I want to be better connected,”
which evolves into “… with another member of the group.” Notwithstanding the many
ways patients can begin their exposition, there are no more than eight to ten basic agendas
that express the vast majority of patient concerns: wanting to be less isolated, more
assertive, a better communicator, less bottled up, closer with others, more effective in

dealing with anger, less mistrustful, or better known to others, or wanting to receive
specific feedback about a characteristic or aspect of behavior. Having these examples in
mind may make it easier for therapists to help patients create a workable focus.
Patients have relatively little difficulty with the first two aspects of the agenda but
require considerable help from the therapist in the third—that is, framing the agenda in the
here-and-now. The third part, however, is less complex than it seems, and the therapist
may move any agenda into the here-and-now by mastering only a few basic guidelines.
Consider the following common agenda: “I want to learn to communicate better with
others.” The patient has already accomplished the first two components of the agenda: (1)
he or she has expressed a desire for change (2) in an interpersonal area. All that remains is
to move the agenda into the here-and-now, a step that the therapist can easily facilitate
with a comment such as: “Please look around the room. With whom in the group do you
communicate well? With whom would you like to improve your communication?”
Another common agenda is the statement, “I’d like to learn to get closer to people.” The
therapist’s procedure is the same: thrust it into the here-and-now by asking, “Who in the
group do you feel close to? With whom would you like to feel closer?” Another common
agenda is: “I want to be able to express my needs and get them met. I keep my needs and
pain hidden inside and keep trying to please everybody.” The therapist can shift that into
the here-and-now by asking: “Would you be willing to try to let us know today what you
need?” or “What kind of pain do you have? What would you like from us?”
Nota bene, the agenda is generally not the reason the patient is in the hospital. But,
often unbeknownst to the patient, the agenda may be an underlying or contributory reason.
The patient may have been hospitalized because of substance abuse, depression, or a
suicide attempt. Underlying such behaviors or events, however, there are almost invariably
important tensions or disruptions in interpersonal relationships.
Note also that the therapist strives for agendas that are gentle, positive, and
nonconfrontational. In the examples just cited of agendas dealing with communication or
closeness, I made sure of inquiring first about the positive end of the scale.
Many patients offer an agenda that directly addresses anger: for example, “I want to be
able to express my rage. The doctors say I turn my anger inward and that causes me to be
depressed.” This agenda must be handled with care. You do not want patients to express
anger at one another, and you must reshape that agenda into a more constructive form.
I have found it helpful to approach the patient in the following manner: “I believe that
anger is often a serious problem because people let it build up to high levels and then are
unable to express it. The release of so much anger would feel like a volcano exploding.
It’s frightening both to you and to others. It’s much more useful in the group to work with
young anger, before it turns into red anger. I’d like to suggest to you that today you focus
on young anger—for example, impatience, frustration, or very minor feelings of
annoyance. Would you be willing to express in the group any minor flickerings of
impatience or annoyance when they first occur—for example, irritation at the way I lead
the group today?”

The agenda exercise has many advantages. For one thing, it is a solution to the paradox
that structure is necessary but, at the same time, growth inhibiting. The agenda exercise
provides structure for the group, but it simultaneously encourages autonomous behavior
on the part of the patient. Members are required to take responsibility for the therapy and
to say, in effect, “Here is what I want to change about myself. Here’s what I choose to
work on in the group today.” Thus, the agenda encourages members to assume a more
active role in their own therapy and to make better use of the group. They learn that
straightforward, explicit agendas involving another member of the group will guarantee
that they do productive work in the session: for example, “I tried to approach Mary earlier
today to talk to her, and I have the feeling that she rejected me, wanted nothing to do with
me, and I’d like to find out why.”
Some patients have great difficulty stating their needs directly and explicitly. In fact,
many enter the hospital because of self-destructive attempts that are indirect methods of
signifying that they need help. The agenda task teaches them to state their needs clearly
and directly and to ask explicitly for help from others. In fact, for many, the agenda
exercise, rather than any subsequent work in the group meeting, is itself the therapy. If
these patients can simply be taught to ask for help verbally rather than through some
nonverbal, self-destructive mode, then the hospitalization will have been very useful.
The agenda exercise also provides a wide-angle view of the group work that may be
done that day. The group leader is quickly able to make an appraisal of what each patient
is willing to do and which patients’ goals may interdigitate with other those of others in
the group.
The agenda exercise is valuable but cannot immediately be installed in a group. Often a
therapy group needs several meetings to catch on to the task and to recognize its
usefulness. Personal agenda setting is not an exercise that the group members can
accomplish on their own: the therapist must be extremely facilitative, persistent, inventive,
and often directive to make it work. If members are extremely resistant, sometimes a
suitable agenda is for them to examine why it is so hard to formulate an agenda.
Profound resistance or demoralization may be expressed by comments such as “What
difference will it make?” “I don’t want to be here at all!” If it is quickly evident that you
have no real therapeutic leverage, you may choose to ally with the resistance rather than
occupy the group’s time in a futile struggle with the resistant member. You may simply
say that it is not uncommon to feel this way on admission to the hospital, and perhaps the
next meeting will feel different. You might add that the patient may choose to participate
at some point in the session. If anything catches his interest, he should speak about it.
Sometimes if a patient cannot articulate an agenda, one can be prescribed that involves
listening and then providing feedback to a member the patient selects. At other times it is
useful to ask other members to suggest a suitable agenda for a given individual.
For example, a nineteen-year-old male offered an unworkable agenda: “My dad treats
me like a kid.” He could not comprehend the agenda concept in his first meeting, and I
asked for suggestions from the other members. There were several excellent ones: “I want
to examine why I’m so scared in here,” or, “I want to be less silent in the group.”

Ultimately, one member suggested a perfect agenda: “I want to learn what I do that makes
my dad treat me like a kid. You guys tell me: do I act like a kid in this group?”
Take note of why this was the perfect agenda. It addressed his stated concern about his
father treating him like a kid, it addressed his behavior in the group that had made it
difficult for him to use the group, and it focused on the here-and-now in a manner that
would undoubtedly result in the group’s being useful to him.

Agenda Filling. Once the personal agenda setting has been completed, the next phase of
the group begins. In many ways, this segment of the group resembles any interactionally
based group therapy meeting in which members explore and attempt to change
maladaptive interpersonal behavior. But there is one major difference: therapists have at
their disposal agendas for each member of the group, which allows them to focus the work
in a more customized and efficient manner. The presumed life span of the inpatient group
is only a single session, and the therapist must be efficient in order to provide the greatest
good for the greatest number of patients.
If the group is large—say, twelve members—and if there are new members who require
a good bit of time to formulate an agenda, then there may be only thirty minutes in which
to fill the twelve agendas. Obviously, work cannot be done on each agenda in the session,
and it is important that patients be aware of this possibility. You may tell members
explicitly that the personal agenda setting does not constitute a promise that each agenda
will be focused on in the group. You may also convey this possibility through conditional
language in the agenda formation phase: “If time permits, what would you like to work on
today?”
Nonetheless, the efficient and active therapist should be able to work on the majority of
agendas in each session. The single most valuable guideline I can offer is try to fit agendas
together so that you work on several at once. If, for example, John’s agenda is that he is
very isolated and would like some feedback from the members about why it’s hard to
approach him, then you can fill several agendas simultaneously by calling for feedback for
John from members with agendas such as: “I want to learn to express my feelings,” “I
want to learn how to communicate better to others,” or, “I want to learn how to state my
opinions clearly.”
Similarly, if there’s a member in the group who is weeping and highly distressed, why
should you, the therapist, but the only one to comfort that individual when you have,
sitting in the group, members with the agenda of: “I want to learn to express my feelings,”
or, “I want to learn how to be closer to other people”? By calling on these members, you
stitch several agendas together.
Generally, during the personal agenda setting, the therapist collects several letters of
credit—commitments from patients about certain work they want to do during the
meeting. If, for example, one member states that she thinks it important to learn to take
risks in the group, it is wise to store this and, at some appropriate time, call on her to take

a risk by, for example, giving feedback or evaluating the meeting. If a member expresses
the wish to open up and share his pain with others, it is facilitative to elicit some discrete
contract—you may even make a contract for only two or three minutes of sharing—and
then make sure that individual gets the time in the group and the opportunity to stop at the
allotted time. It is possible, with such contracts, to increase responsibility assumption by
asking the patient to nominate one or two members to monitor him to ensure he has
fulfilled the contract by a certain time in the session. This kind of “maestro-like
conducting” may feel heavy-handed to the beginning therapist, but it leads to a more
effective inpatient group.

The End-of-Meeting Review. The final phase of the group meeting signals a formal end to
the body of the meeting and consists of review and evaluation. I have often led an
inpatient group on a teaching unit and generally had two to four students observing the
session through a one-way mirror. I prefer to divide the final phase of the group into two
equal segments: a discussion of the meeting by the therapists and observers, and the group
members’ response to this discussion.
In the first segment, therapists and observers form a small circle in the room and
conduct an open analysis of a meeting, just as though there were no patients in the room
listening and watching. (If there are no observers in the meeting that day, the co-therapists
hold a discussion between themselves or invite the group members to contribute to a
discussion in which everyone attempts to review and analyze the meeting.) In this
discussion, leaders and observers review the meeting and focus on the group leadership
and the experience of each of the members. The leaders question what they missed, what
else they might have done in the group, whether they left out certain members. The
discussants take pains to make some comment about each member: the type of agenda
formulated, the work done on that agenda, guesses about a patient’s satisfaction with the
group.
Although this group wrap-up format is unorthodox, it is, in my experience, effective.
For one thing, it makes constructive use of observers. In the traditional teaching format,
student-observers stay invisible and meet with the therapist in a postgroup discussion to
which the members, of course, do not have access. Members generally resent this
observation format and sometimes develop paranoid feelings about being watched. To
bring the observers into the group transforms them from a negative to a positive force. In
fact, group members often express disappointment when no observers are present.
This format requires therapist transparency and is an excellent opportunity to do
invaluable modeling. Co-therapists may discuss their dilemmas or concerns or
puzzlement. They may ask the observers for feedback about their behavior. Did, for
example, the observers think they were too intrusive or that they put too much pressure on
a particular individual? What did the observers think about the relationship between the
two leaders?
In the final segment of the review phase, the discussion is thrown open to the members.

Generally this is a time of great animation, since the therapist-observer discussion
generates considerable data. There are two directions that the final few minutes can take.
First, the members may respond to the therapist-observer discussion: for example, they
may comment on the openness, or lack thereof, of the therapists and observers. They may
react to hearing the therapist express doubt or fallibility. They may agree with or challenge
the observations that have been made about their experience in the group.
The other direction is for the group members to process and evaluate their own meeting.
The therapist may guide a discussion, making such inquiries as: “How did you feel about
the meeting today?” “Did you get what you wanted out of it?” “What were your major
disappointments with this session?” “If we had another half hour to go, how would you
use the time?” The final few minutes are also a time for the therapist to make contact with
the silent members and inquire about their experience: “Were there times when you
wanted to speak in the group?” “What stopped you?” “Had you wanted to be called on, or
were you grateful not to have participated?” “If you had said something, what would it
have been?” (This last question is often remarkably facilitative.)
The final phase of the meeting thus has many functions: review, evaluation, pointing to
future directions. But it is also a time for reflection and tying together loose ends before
the members leave the group session.
In a study that specifically inquired into patients’ reactions to this format, there was
strong consensus among the group members that the final phase of the group was an
integral part of the group session.25 When members were asked what percentage of the
value of the group stemmed from this final segment, they gave it a value that far exceeded
the actual time involved. Some respondents, for example, ascribed to the final twenty
minutes of the meeting a value of 75 percent of the total group value.
GROUPS FOR THE MEDICALLY ILL
Group psychosocial interventions play an increasingly important role in comprehensive
medical care and are likely to proliferate in the future, given their effectiveness and
potential for reducing health care costs.26 Reports of their use and efficacy in a wide range
of ailments abound in the literature. Group therapy interventions have been employed for
all the major medical illnesses, including cardiac disease, obesity, lupus, infertility,
irritable bowel syndrome, inflammatory bowel disease, pregnancy, postpartum depression,
transplantation, arthritis, chronic obstructive lung disease, brain injury, Parkinson’s,
multiple sclerosis, diabetes, HIV/AIDS, and cancer.27
There are many reasons that psychological treatment is important in medical illness.
First, there is the obvious, well-known linkage between psychological distress and medical
illness—namely, that depression, anxiety, and stress reactions are common consequences
of serious medical illness and not only impair quality of life but also amplify the negative

impact of the medical illness.28 We know, for example, that depression after a heart attack
occurs in up to 50 percent of men and significantly elevates the risk of another heart
attack.29 Furthermore, the anxiety and depression accompanying serious medical illness
tend to increase health-compromising behaviors, such as alcohol use and smoking, and
disrupt compliance with recovery regimens of diet, exercise, medication, and stress
reduction.30
Paradoxically, a new source of psychological stress stems from recent advances in
medical technology and treatment. Consider, for example, the many formerly fatal
illnesses that have been transformed into chronic illnesses: for example, fully 4 percent of
Americans are cancer survivors—a state of being that carries with it its own inherent
stress.31 Or consider recent breakthroughs in prevention. Genetic testing now plays an
important role in medical practice: physicians can compute the risk of an individual’s
developing such illnesses as Huntington’s disease or breast, ovarian, and colon cancer.32
That, of course, is undeniably a good thing. Yet this technology comes with a price. Large
numbers of individuals are tormented by momentous, anxiety-laden decisions. When one
learns, for example, of a genetic predisposition to a serious illness, one is forced to face
such questions as: Should I have a prophylactic mastectomy? (or other preventive
surgery?) Is it fair for me to get married? To have children? Do I share this information
with siblings who prefer not to know?
And do not forget the psychological stigma attached to many medical illnesses, for
example, HIV/AIDS, irritable bowel syndrome, and Parkinson’s. At a time when
individuals are in great need of social support, the shame and stigma of illness can cause
social withdrawal and stress-inducing isolation.
Additionally, seriously ill individuals and their families fear uttering anything that
might amplify worry or fear in loved ones. The press for “thinking positive” invites
shallowness in communication, which further increases a sense of isolation.33
More than ever before, we are aware of the psychological importance of patient-doctor
communication in chronic medical disease. Collaborative, trusting communication
between patient and doctor is generally associated with greater well-being and better
decision making.34 Yet many patients, dissatisfied with their relationship with their
physician, feel powerless to improve it.
Medical illness confronts us with our fundamental vulnerability and limits. Illusions
that have sustained us and offered comfort are challenged. We lose, for example, the sense
that life is under our control, that we are special, immune to natural law, that we have
unlimited time, energy, and choice. Serious illness evokes fundamental questions about the
meaning of life, death, transiency, responsibility, and our place in the universe.35
And, of course, the strain of medical illness extends far beyond the person with the
illness. Family members and caregivers may suffer significant stress and dysphoria.36
Groups often play an important role in their support: for example, consider the enormous
growth in groups for caretakers of patients with Alzheimer’s disease.37

General Characteristics
Typically, groups for the medically ill are homogeneous for the illness and time-limited,
meeting four to sixteen times. Groups that help patients with coping and adaptation38ai
may be offered at every step of the individual’s illness and medical treatment.
As I discussed in chapter 10, brief groups require clear structure and high levels of
focused therapist activity. But even in brief, highly structured, manual-guided group
interventions, the group leader must attend to group dynamics and group process, not
necessarily to explore them, but to manage them effectively so that the group does not get
derailed and become counterproductive.39
Although homogeneous groups tend to jell quickly, the leader must be careful to bring
in outliers who resist group involvement. Certain behaviors may need to be tactfully and
empathically reframed into a more workable fashion. Consider, for example, the
bombastic, hostile man in a post–myocardial infarction ten-session group who angrily
complains about the lack of concern and affection he feels from his sons. Since deep
interpersonal work is not part of the group contract, the therapist needs to have
constructive methods of addressing the patient’s concerns without violating the groups
norms. In general, therapists would seek to contain, rather than amplify the client’s
distress, or have it generate a charged negative emotional climate in the group. They
might, for example, take a psychoeducational stance and discuss how anger and hostility
are noxious to one’s cardiac health, or they might address the latent hurt, fear or sadness
that the anger masks, and invite a more direct expression of those primary emotions.
Although these groups do not emphasize interpersonal learning (in fact, the leader
generally avoids here-and-now focus), many of the other therapeutic factors are
particularly potent in group therapy with the medically ill. Universality is highly evident
and serves to diminish stigmatization and isolation. Cohesiveness provides social support
directly. Extragroup contact is often encouraged and viewed as a successful outcome, not
as resistance to the work of the group. Seeing others cope effectively with a shared illness
instills hope, which can take many forms: hope for a cure, for courage, for dignity, for
comfort, for companionship, or for peace of mind. Generally, members learn coping skills
more effectively from the modeling of peers than from experts.40 Imparting of information
(psychoeducation—in particular about one’s illness and in general about health-related
matters) plays a major role in these groups and comes not only from the leaders but from
the exchange of information and advice between members. Altruism is strongly evident
and contributes to well-being through one’s sense of usefulness to others. Existential
factors are also prominent, as the group supports its members in confronting the
fundamental anxieties of life that we conceal from ourselves until we are forcibly
confronted with their presence.†
Clinical Illustration

In this section I describe the formation, the structure, and the usefulness of a specific
therapy group for the medically ill: a group for women with breast cancer.

The Clinical Situation. At the time of the first experimental therapy groups for breast
cancer patients, in the mid-1970s, women with breast cancer were in serious peril. Surgery
was severely deforming and chemotherapy poorly developed. Women whose disease had
metastasized had little hope for survival, were often in great pain, and felt abandoned and
isolated. They were reluctant to discuss their despair with their family and friends lest they
bring them down into despair as well. Moreover, friends and family avoided them, not
knowing how best to speak to them. All this resulted in a bidirectional and ever-increasing
isolation.
Breast cancer patients felt hopeless and powerless: they often felt uncared for and
unheard by their physicians but unable to complain or to seek help elsewhere. Often they
felt guilty: the pop psychology of the day promulgated the belief that they were in some
manner responsible for their own disease.
Finally, there was considerable resistance in the medical field to forming a group
because of the widespread belief that talking openly about cancer and hearing several
women share their pain and fears would only make things worse.aj

Goals for the Therapy Group. The primary goal was reduction of isolation. My colleagues
and I hoped that if we could bring together several individuals facing the same illness and
encourage them to share their experiences and feelings, we could create a supportive
social network, destigmatize the illness, and help the members share resources and coping
strategies. Many of the patients’ closest friends had dropped away, and we committed
ourselves to continued presence: to stay with them—to the death if necessary.

Modification of Group Therapy Technique. After some experimentation with groups of
patients with different types and stages of cancer, we concluded that a homogeneous group
offered the most support: we formed a group of women with metastatic breast cancer that
met weekly for ninety minutes. It was an open group with new women joining the group,
cognizant that others before them had died from the illness.
Support was the most important guiding principle. We wanted each member to
experience “presence”—to know others facing the same situation. As one member put it,
“I know I’m all alone in my little boat, but when I look and see the lights on in all the
other boats in the harbor, I don’t feel so alone.”
In order to increase the members’ sense of personal control, the therapists turned over as
much as possible of the direction of the group to the members. They invited members to
speak, to share their experiences, to express the many dark feelings they could not discuss

elsewhere. They modeled empathy, attempted to clarify confused feelings, and sought to
mobilize the resources available in the membership. For example, if members described
their fear of their physicians and their inability to ask their oncologist questions, the
leaders encouraged other members to share the ways they had dealt with their physicians.
At times the leaders suggested that a member role-play a meeting with her oncologist. Not
infrequently a member invited another group member to accompany her to her medical
appointment. One of the most powerful interventions the women learned was to respond
to a rushed appointment with a doctor with the compellingly simple and effective
statement, “I know that you are rushed, but if you can give me five more minutes of your
time today, it may give me a month’s peace of mind.”
The leaders found that expression of affect, whatever it might be, was a positive
experience—the members had too few opportunities elsewhere to express their feelings.
They talked about everything: all their macabre thoughts, their fear of death and oblivion,
the sense of meaninglessness, the dilemma of what to tell their children, how to plan their
funeral. Such discussions served to detoxify some of these fearsome issues.
The therapists were always supportive, never confrontational. The here-and-now, if
used at all, always focused on positive feelings between members. Members differed
greatly in their coping styles. Some members, for example, wanted to know everything
about their illness, others preferred not to inquire too deeply. Leaders never challenged
behavior that offered comfort, mindful never to tamper with a group member’s coping
style unless they had something far superior to offer. Some groups formed cohesion-
building rituals such as a few minutes of hand-holding meditation at the end of meetings.
The members were encouraged to have extragroup contacts: phone calls, luncheons, and
the like, and even occasional suicide phone vigils, were part of the ongoing process. Some
members delivered eulogies at the funerals of members, fulfilling their pledge never to
abandon one another.
Many members had overcome panic and despair and found something positive
emanating from the confrontation with death. Some spoke of entering a golden period in
which they prized and valued life more vividly. Some reprioritized their life activities and
stopped doing the things they did not wish to do. Instead they turned their attention to the
things that mattered most: loving exchanges with family, the beauty of the passing
seasons, discovering creative parts of themselves. One patient noted wisely, “Cancer cures
psychoneurosis.” The petty things that used to agonize her no longer mattered. More than
one patient said she had become wiser but that it was a pity she had to wait until her body
was riddled with cancer before learning how to live. How much she wished her children
could learn these lessons while they were healthy. These attitudes resulted in their
welcoming rather than resenting student observers. Having learned something valuable
from their encounter with death, they could imbue the final part of life with meaning by
passing their wisdom on to others, to students and to children.
Leading such a group is emotionally moving and highly demanding. Co-therapy and
supervision are highly recommended. Leaders cannot remain distant and objective: the
issues addressed touched leaders as well as members. When it comes to the human

condition, there is no “us and them.” We are all fellow travelers or fellow sufferers facing
the same existential threats.41
This particular group approach, which is now identified as supportive-expressive group
therapy (SEGT), has been described in a series of publications 42 and been taught to a
range of psycho-oncology professionals.43 SEGT has also been used for related
conditions: for women with primary breast cancer, a disease that carries a good prognosis
for the vast majority of women, as well as for women with a strong genetic or familial
predisposition to develop breast cancer. Reports describe effective homogeneous groups
that meet for a course of twelve weekly sessions. The last four meetings may be used as
boosters, meeting once monthly for four months, which extends exposure to the
intervention for six months. In these groups, one’s own death may not be a primary focus,
but coping with life’s uncertainty, prophylactic mastectomy, and shattered illusions of
invulnerability are central concerns. Grief and loss issues related to mothers and family
members who may have died of breast cancer are also prominent.44

Effectiveness. Outcome research over the past fifteen years has demonstrated the
effectiveness of these groups. SEGT for women at risk of breast cancer, women with
primary breast cancer, and women with metastatic disease has been shown to reduce pain,
and improve psychological coping. The medical profession’s apprehension that talking
about death and dying would make women feel worse or cause them to withdraw from the
group has also been disconfirmed.45 Can groups for cancer patients increase survival
time?46 The first controlled study of groups for women with metastatic breast cancer
reported longer survival, but several other studies, have failed to replicate those findings.
All of the studies, however, show significant positive psychological results: although the
group intervention most likely is not life prolonging, there is little doubt that it can be life
altering.47
ADAPTATION OF CBT AND IPT TO GROUP THERAPY
It can be valuable indeed to use a pluralistic approach to psychotherapy—that is, to
integrate into one’s approach helpful aspects of other approaches to therapy. In this section
I explore two widely used current models of group therapy in order to identify methods
that all therapists can effectively incorporate into their work (a far more constructive
stance than to assume a competitive approach that narrows our therapeutic vision).
Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) and interpersonal therapy (IPT) were originally
constructed, described, and empirically tested in individual therapy,48 but both now are
used as brief group therapy interventions. Readers will no doubt find many concepts in
these next pages familiar, although with different terminology attached.†

It is important not to be misled by labels. A recent review of the current literature on
group therapy for women with breast cancer noted that many of the groups identified as
CBT were in fact integrative models that synthesized contributions from multiple
models.49 This important finding is by no means the exception: it is often the case that
effective, well-conducted therapy of purportedly different ideological models shares more
in common than good and bad therapy conducted within the same model. One of the
major conclusions of the encounter group study reported in chapter sixteen was exactly
that: the behavior of the effective therapists resembled one another far more than they
resembled the other (less effective) practitioners of their own ideological school.50
Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy
Group CBT (also referred to as CBT-G) arose from the search for greater clinical
efficiency. Cognitive-behavioral therapists used the group venue to deliver individual CBT
to a large number of clients simultaneously. Note this important and fundamental
difference. CBT therapists were using groups to increase the efficiency of delivering CBT
to individual clients, not to tap the unique benefits inherent in the group arena I have
emphasized throughout this text. At first, cognitive-behavioral therapists had a narrow
focus: they wanted to provide psychoeducation and cognitive and behavioral skill training.
What about peer support, universality, imitative behavior, altruism destigmatization, social
skills training, interpersonal learning? They were considered merely backdrop benefits.
What about the presence of group process, cohesion, or phases of group development?
They represented noise in the system, often interfering with the work of delivering CBT:
in fact, some therapists raised concern that the group format diluted the power of CBT.51
We have passed now into a second generation of more sophisticated CBT group
applications, in which the essential elements of group life are being acknowledged and
productively utilized by CBT group therapists.52 Today the task of the group and the
relationships of the members within the group are not considered antagonistic.
The CBT approach postulates that psychological distress is the result of impaired
information-processing and disruption in patterns of social behavioral reinforcement.53
Although thoughts, feelings, and behaviors were known to be interrelated, the CBT
approach considered one’s thoughts in particular to be central to the process. Often
automatic and flying beneath the radar of one’s awareness, one’s thoughts initiate
alterations in mood and behavior. CBT therapists attempt to access and illuminate these
thoughts through probing, Socratic questioning, and the encouragement of self-
examination and self-monitoring.
Once automatic thoughts that shape behavior, mood, and sense of self are identified, the
therapist initiates an exploration of the client’s conditional beliefs—“if this happens, then
that will follow.” These conditional beliefs are then translated into hypotheses that the
client systematically tests by acquiring actual evidence that refutes or confirms the beliefs.
This testing leads to further identification of the client’s core beliefs, those that reside at

the center of the individual’s view of self.
What type of core beliefs are uncovered? Core beliefs fall into two main categories—
relationships and competence. “Am I worth loving?” and “Can I achieve what I need to
confirm my worth?” Interpersonally oriented therapists have noted that both core beliefs
are strongly interpersonal at their center.54 Once these dysfunctional core beliefs (for
example, “I am entirely unlovable”) are identified, the next objective of treatment is to
restructure them into more adaptive and self-affirming beliefs.
Group CBT has been applied effectively to an array of clinical conditions: acute
depression,55 chronic depression,56 chronic dysthymia,57 depression relapse prevention,58
post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD),59 eating disorders,60 insomnia,61 somatization and
hypochondriasis,62 spousal abuse,63 panic disorder,64 obsessive compulsive disorder,65
generalized anxiety disorder,66 social phobia,67 anger management,68 schizophrenia (both
for negative symptoms such as apathy and withdrawal, and, positive symptoms such as
hallucinations),69 and other conditions, including medical illnesses.
Substantial and durable benefits have been reported in all these applications. Group
CBT has been found to be no less effective than individual CBT, and it does not have a
higher rate of premature termination of therapy. Exposure-based group treatment for
PTSD, however, does have a greater frequency of dropouts. Group members are often so
overwhelmed by exposure to traumatic memories that a brief format is not feasible, and
desensitization must be conducted over a considerable period of time.70
The application of CBT in groups varies according to the particular needs of the clients
in each type of specialty group, but all share certain well-identified features.71 Group CBT
is homogeneous, time limited, and relatively brief, generally with a course of eight to
twelve meetings that last two to three hours.72 Group CBT emphasizes structure, focus,
and acquisition of cognitive and behavioral skills. Therapists make it clear that group
members are each accountable for advancing their therapy, and they assign homework
between sessions. The type of homework is tailored to the concerns of the individual
client. It might involve keeping a log of one’s automatic thoughts and how these thoughts
relate to mood, or it might involve a behavioral task that challenges avoidance.
The review of the homework is a key component of each group meeting and represents
a key difference between group CBT and interactional group therapy, in that it substitutes
“cold processing” of the client’s athome functioning for the “hot processing” that typifies
interactional group therapy.73 In other words, the group focuses on clients’ descriptions of
their back-home functioning rather than on their real-time functioning in the here-and-now
interaction.
Measurement of clients’ distress and progress through self-report questionnaires is
ongoing, providing regular feedback that either supports the therapy or signals the need to
realign therapy.
The group CBT therapist makes use of a set of strategies and techniques, in various
combinations, that clients employ and then discuss together in the group.74 These

interventions deconstruct the clients’ difficulties into workable segments and combat their
tendency to generalize, magnify, and distort. For example, clients are asked to:
• Record automatic thoughts. Make overt what is covert; link thoughts to mood and
behavior. For example, “I will never be able to meet anyone who will find me
attractive.”
• Challenge automatic thoughts. Challenge negative beliefs; identify distortions in
thinking; explore the deeper personal assumptions underlying the automatic
thoughts. For example, “How can I actually meet people if I keep refusing
invitations to go out for drinks after work?”
• Monitor mood. Explore the relationship between mood and thoughts and behaviors;
for example, “I think I started to feel lousy when no one invited me for lunch
today.”
• Create an arousal hierarchy. Rank anxiety-generating situations that are to be
gradually confronted, building from easiest to hardest. For example, a client with
agoraphobia would rank the venues that create anxiety from the easiest to the most
challenging. Going to church on Sunday morning with a spouse might be at the
low end of arousal. Going shopping alone at a new mall at night might be at the
high end of arousal. Ultimately, gradual exposure desensitizes the client and
extinguishes the anxious and avoidant response.
• Monitor activity. Track how time and energy are spent. For example, monitoring
how much time is actually lost to rumination about work competence and how that
in turn interferes with completing required tasks.
• Problem-solve. Find solutions to everyday problems. Therapists challenge clients’
belief in their incompetence by breaking a problem down into instrumental and
workable components.
• Learn relaxation training. Reduce emotional tension by progressive muscle
relaxation, guided imagery, breathing exercises and meditation. Generally a
meeting or two is devoted to training in these techniques.
• Perform a risk appraisal. Identify the source of clients’ sense of threat and the
resources they have to meet these threats. This might include, for example,
examining the client’s belief that his panic attack is actually a heart attack and
reminding him that he can use deep breathing to settle himself effectively.
• Acquire knowledge through psychoeducation. This might include, for example,
education about the physiology of anxiety.
The group CBT treatment of social phobia is representative.75 Each group consists of
five to seven members and meets for twelve sessions of two and a half hours each. An
individual pregroup or postgroup meeting may be used in some instances. Each meeting
has a beginning agenda and check-in, a middle working phase, and an end-of-session
review.

The first two sessions address the clients’ automatic thoughts regarding situations that
evoke anxiety, such as “If I speak up, I will certainly make a fool of myself and be
ridiculed.” Skills are taught to challenge these automatic thoughts and errors in logic. For
example: “You assume the worst outcome possible and yet when you voice your concerns
here, you have been repeatedly told by others in the group that you are clear and
articulate.” Alternative ways of making sense of the situation are encouraged.
The middle sessions address each individual’s target goals, using homework, in-group
role simulations, and behavioral exposure to the source of anxiety. The last few sessions
consolidate gains and identify future situations that could trigger a relapse. Thus the entire
sequence consists of identifying dysfunctional thinking, challenging these thoughts,
restructuring thoughts, and modifying behavior.
Group Interpersonal Therapy
Individual interpersonal therapy (IPT), first described by Klerman and colleagues,76 has
recently been adapted for group use. In the same way that CBT views psychological
dysfunction as a problem of information processing and behavioral reinforcement, IPT
views psychological dysfunction as a problem based in one’s interpersonal relationships.
As the client’s social functioning and interpersonal competence improve, the client’s
disorder—for example, depression or binge eating—also improves. This occurs with little
specific attention to the actual disorder other than psychoeducation about its nature,
course, and impact.†
Group IPT (sometimes referred to as IPT-G) emphasizes the acquisition of interpersonal
skills and strategies for dealing with social and interpersonal problems.77 Group
applications of IPT emerge not only from the drive toward greater efficiency but also from
the recognition of the therapeutic opportunities group members can provide one another in
addressing interpersonal dysfunction. The first group IPT application was developed for
clients with binge eating disorder, but recent applications have addressed depression,
social phobia, and trauma.78 It has been used effectively as a stand-alone treatment and
conjointly with pharmacotherapy, either concurrently or sequentially.79 Its applicability
has also been demonstrated in another culture (in Uganda), and it has the potential to be
taught effectively to trainees who have little psychotherapeutic background.80
Group IPT closely follows the individual IPT model. A positive, supportive, transparent
and collaborative client-therapist relationship is strongly encouraged. Each client’s
interpersonal difficulties are ascertained beforehand in an intensive evaluation of
relationship patterns and categorized into one or two of four main areas: grief, role
disputes, role transitions, or interpersonal deficits. Self-report questionnaires may be used
to refine the client’s focus and to measure progress. The most commonly used self-report
measurements address the client’s chief areas of distress—mood, eating behaviors, or
interpersonal patterns.† One to three goals are identified for each client to help focus the
work and to jump-start the group therapy.

A typical course of therapy consists of one or two preliminary individual meetings and
eight to twenty group meetings of ninety minutes each, with an individual follow-up
session three or four months later; some practitioners use a midgroup individual
evaluation meeting. Group meetings may also be scheduled as booster sessions at regular
intervals in the months following the intensive phase of therapy.
The group therapy consists of an initial introduction and orientation phase, a middle
working phase, and a final consolidation and review segment. 81 Written group summaries
(see chapter 14) may be sent to each group member before the next session.
The first phase of the group, in which members present personal goals, helps to catalyze
cohesion and universality. Psychoeducation, interpersonal problem solving, advice, and
feedback are provided to each client by the group members and the therapist. The ideal
posture for the therapist is one of active concern, support, and encouragement.
Transference issues are managed rather than explored. Clients are encouraged to analyze
and clarify their patterns of communication with figures in their environment but not to
work through member-to-member tensions.
What are the differences between group IPT and the interactional, interpersonal model
described in this text? In the service of briefer therapy and more limited goals, group IPT
generally deemphasizes both the here-and-now and the group’s function as a social
microcosm. These modifications reduce interpersonal tensions and the potential for
disruptive disagreements. (Such conflicts may be instrumental for far-reaching change but
may impede the course of brief therapy.) The group nonetheless becomes an important
social network, through its supportive and modeling functions. In some carefully selected
instances, group here-and-now interaction may be employed and linked to the client’s
focus and goals.
SELF-HELP GROUPS AND INTERNET SUPPORT
GROUPS
A contemporary focus on specialized groups would be incomplete without considering
self-help groups and their youngest offspring—Internet support groups.
Self-Help Groups
The number of participants in self-help groups is staggering. A 1997 study that antedates
Internet support groups reported that 10 million Americans had participated in a self-help
group in the preceding year, and a total of 25 million Americans had participated in a self-
help group sometime in the past. That study focused exclusively on self-help groups that
had no professional leadership. In fact, more than 50 percent of self-help groups have
professional leadership of some sort, which means that a truer measure of participation in

self-help groups is 20 million individuals in the previous year and 50 million overall—
figures that far exceed the number of people receiving professional mental health care.82
Although it is difficult to evaluate the effectiveness of freestanding self-help groups,
given that membership is often anonymous, follow-up is difficult, and no records are kept,
some systematic studies attest to the efficacy of these groups. Members value the groups,
report improved coping and well-being, greater knowledge of their condition, and reduced
use of other health care facilities.83ak
These findings have led some researchers to call for a much more active collaboration
between professional health care providers and the self-help movement. Is there a way that
self-help groups can effectively address the widening gap between societal need and
professional resources?84 One important advance is the number of active self-help
clearinghouses accessible online or by phone that have emerged to guide consumers to the
nearly 500 diverse types of self-help groups in operation. Examples include the American
Self-Help Clearinghouse and the National Mental Health Consumers Self-Help
Clearinghouse.
Self-help groups have such high visibility that it is barely necessary to list their various
forms. One can scarcely conceive of a type of distress, behavioral aberration, or
environmental misfortune for which there is not some corresponding group. The roster, far
larger than the psychopathologies described in DSM-IV-TR, includes widespread groups
such as AA, Recovery, Inc., Compassionate Friends (for bereaved parents), Mended
Hearts (for clients with heart disease), Smoke Enders, Weight Watchers, Overeaters
Anonymous, and highly specialized groups such as Spouses of Head Injury Survivors,
Gay Alcoholics, Late-Deafened Adults, Adolescent Deaf Children of Alcoholics, Moms in
Recovery, Senior Crime Victims, Circle of Friends (friends of someone who has
committed suicide), Parents of Murdered Children, Go-Go Stroke Club (victims of
stroke), Together Expecting a Miracle (adoption support). Some self-help groups
transform into social action and advocacy groups as well, such as MADD (Mothers
Against Drunk Driving).
Although the self-help groups resemble that of the therapy group, there are some
significant differences. The self-help group makes extensive use of almost all the
therapeutic factors—especially altruism, cohesiveness, universality, imitative behavior,
instillation of hope, and catharsis. But there is one important exception: the therapeutic
factor of interpersonal learning plays a far less important role in the self-help group than in
the therapy group.85 It is rare for a group to be able to focus significantly and
constructively on the here-and-now without the participation of a well-trained leader. In
general, self-help groups differ from therapy groups in that they have far fewer personality
interpretations, less confrontation, and far more positive, supportive statements.86
Most self-help groups employ a consistent, sensible cognitive framework that the group
veterans who serve as the group’s unofficial leaders can easily describe to incoming
members. Although members benefit from universality and instillation of hope, those who
actively participate and experience stronger cohesiveness are likely to benefit the most.87

What accounts for the widespread use and apparent efficacy of self-help groups? They
are open and accessible, and they offer psychological support to anyone who shares the
group’s defining characteristics. They emphasize internal rather than external expertise—
in other words, the resources available in the group rather than those available from
external experts. The members’ shared experience make them both peers and credible
experts. Constructive comparisons, even inspiration, can be drawn from one’s peers in a
way that does not happen with external experts. Members are simultaneously providers
and consumers of support, and they profit from both roles—their self-worth is raised
through altruism, and hope is instilled by their contact with others who have surmounted
problems similar to theirs. Pathology is deemphasized and dependency reduced. It is well
known that passive and avoidant coping diminish functional outcomes. Active strategies,
such as those seen in self-help groups, enhance functional outcome.88
Ailments that are not recognized or addressed by the professional health care system are
very likely to generate self-help groups. Because these groups effectively help members
accept and normalize their malady, they are particularly helpful to victims of stigmatizing
ailments.89
Groups for substance use disorders are doubtless the most widely found self-help
groups. More than 100,000 AA groups exist around the world in over 150 countries.90 The
twelve-step model is not only used in AA, but variants of it are used by many other
professional providers and by many other self-help groups, such as Narcotics Anonymous,
Overeaters Anonymous, Sex Addicts Anonymous, and Gamblers Anonymous. Although
some members have misgivings about AA’s spiritual focus, research shows that a lack of a
personal commitment to spirituality does not interfere with treatment effectiveness.91
Although twelve-step groups do not use professional leadership, many other self-help
groups (perhaps more than half) have a professional leader who is active in the meeting or
serves in an advisory or consultant capacity. Occasionally a mental health professional
will help launch a self-help group and then withdraw, turning over the running of the
group to its members.92 Any mental health professional serving as a consultant must be
aware of the potential dangers in too strenuous a demonstration of professional expertise:
the self-help group does better if the expertise resides with the members.
A final note: group therapists should not look at the self-help group movement as a rival
but as a resource. As I have discussed in chapter 14, many clients will benefit from
participation in both types of group experience.
Internet Support Groups
Just a few years ago, the idea of Internet virtual group therapy seemed the stuff of fantasy
and satire. Today, it is the real-life experience of millions of people around the world.
Consider the following data: 165,640,000 Americans are Internet users; 63,000,000 have
sought health information online; 14,907,000 have participated in an online symposium at
some time, and in a recent polling a remarkable 1,656,400 participated in an Internet

support group the preceding day!93
Internet support groups take the form of synchronous, real-time groups (not unlike a
chat line) or asynchronous groups, in which members post messages and comments, like a
bulletin board. Groups may be time limited or of indeterminate duration. In many ways
they are in a state of great flux: it is too early in their evolution for clear structures or
procedures to have been established. Internet support groups may be actively led,
moderated, or run without any peer or professional executive input. If moderators are
used, their responsibility is to coordinate, edit, and post participants’ messages in ways
that maximize therapeutic opportunity and group functioning.94
How can we account for this explosive growth? Internet support group participants and
providers have described many advantages. Many individuals, for example, wish to
participate in a self-help group but are not able to attend face-to-face meetings because of
geographic distance, physical disability, or infirmity. Clients with stigmatizing ailments or
social anxiety may prefer the relative anonymity of an Internet support group. For many
people in search of help, it is the equivalent of putting a toe in the water, in preparation for
full immersion in some therapy endeavor. After all, what other support system is available
24/7 and allows its members time to rehearse, craft, and fine-tune their stories so as to
create an ideal, perhaps larger-than-life narrative?95
A recent experience as a faculty member in a month-long American Group
Psychotherapy Association online training symposium was eyeopening. The program was
an asynchronous (that is, bulletin board model) moderated virtual group for mental health
professionals on the treatment of trauma. More than 2,000 people around the world signed
up, although only a small fraction posted messages. The experience was vital and
meaningful, and the faculty, like many of the participants, thought much about the
postings during the day and eagerly checked each night to read the latest informative or
evocative posting. Although we never met face to face, we indeed became a group that
engaged, worked, and terminated.
Internet support groups have several intrinsic problems. The current technology is still
awkward and lacks reliability and privacy safeguards. Members may, intentionally or
through oversight, post inaccurate messages. Identities and stories may be fictionalized.
Communication of emotional states may be limited or distorted by the absence of
nonverbal cues. Some experts worry that the Internet contact may deflect members from
much-needed professional care or squeeze out actual support in the lives of some
participants.96 Keep in mind, too, that a group is a group and Internet groups do have a
process. They are not immune to destructive norms, antigroup behavior, unhealthy group
pressures, client overstimulation, and scapegoating.97
There are ethical concerns about professional involvement in Internet support groups.al
Professionals who serve as facilitators need to clarify the nature of their contract, how they
will be paid for their services, and the limits of their responsiveness online to any
emergencies. They must obtain informed consent, acknowledge that there are limits to
confidentiality, and provide a platform for secure communication. In addition they must

identify each participant accurately and be certain of how to contact each person, and they
must indicate clearly how they themselves can be reached in an emergency. Keep in mind
geographic limits with regard to licensure and malpractice insurance. A therapist licensed
in one state may not be legally able to treat a client residing in another state.98
Many questions about Internet support groups clamor for attention. Are they effective?
If so, is it the result of a particular intervention approach or of more general social support
and interaction? Can face-to-face group models translate to an online format? What are the
implications for health care costs? What kind of special training do online therapists
require? Can therapists communicate empathy in prose as readily as in face-to-face
interaction?
Although Internet support groups are at an early stage of development, some notable
preliminary findings have emerged. In many ways, such groups lend themselves well to
research. The absence of nonverbal interaction may be a disadvantage clinically, but it is a
boon for the researcher, since everything (100 percent of the interaction) that goes on in
the group is in written form and hence available for analysis.
One team of researchers adapted a loneliness-reducing face-to-face cognitive-
behavioral group intervention99 to a synchronous, therapist-led support group that met for
twelve two-hour sessions. Significant reductions of loneliness in the nineteen subjects
were achieved and sustained at four-month follow-up. The small sample size limits the
validity of the conclusions, but the researchers demonstrated the feasibility of applying a
specific intervention designed for a face-to-face group to an online format.
“Student Bodies” is an Internet support group that is part of a large public health
intervention and research enterprise. It is essentially an asynchronous moderated Internet
support group intended to prevent eating disorders in adolescent and young women.100 On
a secure Web site, it offers participants psychoeducation about eating disorders and
encourages them to journal online about their body, eating, and their responses to the
psychoeducation. They may also post messages through the moderator about personal
challenges and successes in the modification of disordered thinking about eating. This
intervention resulted in improvements in weight, body image concerns, and eating
attitudes and behaviors.101
In a study of sixty college students, researchers added to the “Student Bodies” program
an eight-session, moderated, synchronous (that is, meeting in real time) Internet support
group component. They found that the synchronous online group format expanded client
gains.102
A study of 103 participants in an asynchronous, open-ended peer Internet support group
for depression found that many of the members of the group valued it highly, spending at
least five hours online over the preceding two weeks. More than 80 percent continued to
receive face-to-face care, viewing the online group as a supportive adjunct, not a substitute
for traditional care.103 One participant’s account of her experience describes many of the
unique benefits of the Internet support group:

I find online message boards to be a very supportive community in the absence of
a “real” community support group. I am more likely to interact with the online
community than I am with people face to face. This allows me to be honest and
open about what is really going on with me. There are lots of shame and self-
esteem issues involved in depression, and the anonymity of the online message
board is very effective in relieving some of the anxiety associated with “group
therapy” or even individual therapy. I am not stating that it is a replacement for
professional assistance, but it has been very supportive and helped motivate me to
be more active in my own recovery program.104
CHESS (Comprehensive Health Enhancement Support System), a sophisticated Internet
group program developed at the University of Wisconsin, has provided support for people
with AIDS, cancer, and for caregivers of Alzheimer’s patients. The group program
consists of three elements. First, it provides relevant information and resources through
online access to experts and question-and-answer sessions. Second, a facilitator-mediated
discussion group offers an opportunity for members to obtain social support by sharing
their personal story and reacting to the stories of the other members. Third, it helps clients
formulate and then implement an action plan for constructive change, such as scheduling
time away from caregiving for self-care. Over many years, thousands of participants with
a range of medical concerns have completed questionnaires about the impact of these
interventions. Reported benefits include briefer hospitalizations, improved communication
with health care providers, and an increased sense of personal empowerment.†105
The results of two different Internet support group approaches for women with breast
cancer have been reported. One program evaluated seventy-two women with primary
breast cancer in a twelve-week, moderated, Web-based asynchronous group, structured
according to the supportive-expressive group therapy model described earlier in this
chapter and run in partnership with Bosom Buddies, a peer support network for women
with cancer. The groups reduced depression and cancerrelated stress scores. Women
typically logged on three times a week and used this group experience to launch an
informal support network that has continued long after the twelve-week treatment
ended.106
The second program, a synchronous, sixteen-session group led by trained facilitators
from the Wellness Community (an international, not-for-profit organization supporting the
medically ill) for thirty-two women with primary breast cancer, also reduced depression
and reactions to pain.107
All Internet support groups develop their own specific set of norms and dynamics. An
analysis of text postings in groups for women with breast cancer demonstrated that groups
with a trained moderator were more likely to express distressing emotions, which has the
effect of reducing depression. 108 The moderator’s skill in activating, containing, and
exploring strong emotion appears to be as important in online support groups as in face-to-
face groups.109
We are just at the beginning of the use of electronic technology in the provision of

mental health care. If it does turn out to help us connect meaningfully, it would be a
pleasant and welcome surprise—an all-too-rare instance of technology increasing rather
than decreasing human engagement.

Chapter 16
GROUP THERAPY: ANCESTORS AND COUSINS
During the 1960s and 1970s, the encounter group phenomenon, a heady, robust social
movement, swept through the nation. Huge numbers of individuals participated in small
groups sometimes described as “therapy group for normals.” Today whenever I mention
encounter groups to students I am greeted by quizzical looks that ask, “What’s that?”
Although encounter groups are largely a thing of the past, their influence on group therapy
practice continues today.
There are several reasons the contemporary group therapist should have, at the very
least, some passing knowledge of them.
1. First, as I discuss in chapter seventeen, the proper training of the group therapist
must include some personal group experience. Few training programs offer a
traditional therapy group for trainees; instead they provide some variant of an
encounter group, today often labeled a “process group.” (For the moment, I refer to
all experiential groups as encounter groups, but shortly I will define terms more
precisely.) Thus, many group therapists enter the field through the portals of the
encounter group.
2. Secondly, the form of contemporary group therapy has been vastly influenced by
the encounter group. No historical account of the development and evolution of
group therapy is complete without a description of the cross-fertilization between
the therapy and the encounter traditions.
3. Lastly, and this may seem surprising, the encounter group, or at least the tradition
from which it emerged, has been responsible for developing the best, and the most
sophisticated, small group research technology. In comparison, the early group
therapy research was crude and unimaginative; much of the empirical research I
have cited throughout this text has its roots in the encounter group tradition.
In this chapter I provide a lean overview of the encounter group and then expand on
these three points. Readers who would like more information about the rise, efflorescence,
and decline of this curious social movement may read a more detailed account (the chapter
on encounter groups from the previous edition of this text) on my Web site,
www.yalom.com.
WHAT IS AN ENCOUNTER GROUP?
“Encounter group” is a rough, inexact generic term that encompasses a great variety of
forms and has many aliases: human relations groups, training groups, T-groups, sensitivity
groups, personal growth groups, marathon groups, human potential groups, sensory

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awareness groups, basic encounter groups, and experiential groups.
Although the nominal plumage is dazzling and diverse, all these experiential groups
have several common elements. They range in size from eight to twenty members—large
enough to encourage face-to-face interaction, yet small enough to permit all members to
interact. The groups are time limited and are often compressed into hours or days. They
are referred to as “experiential groups” because they focus to a large extent on their own
experience, that is, the here-and-now. They transcend etiquette and encourage the doffing
of traditional social facades; they value interpersonal honesty, exploration, confrontation,
heightened emotional expressiveness, and self-disclosure. The group goals are often
vague: occasionally they stress merely the provision of an experience—joy, entertainment,
being turned on—but more often they implicitly or explicitly strive for some change—in
behavior, in attitudes, in values, in lifestyle, in self-actualization, in one’s relationship to
others, to the environment, to one’s own body. The participants are considered “seekers”
and “normals,” not “patients” or “clients”; the experience is considered not therapy but
“growth.”
ANTECEDENTS AND EVOLUTION OF THE
ENCOUNTER GROUP
The term “encounter group” became popular in the mid-1960s, but the experiential group
had already existed for twenty years and was most commonly referred to as a “T-
group”—“T” for training (in human relations).
The first T-group, the ancestral experiential group, was held in 1946. Here is the story
of its birth.1 The State of Connecticut had passed the Fair Employment Practices Act and
asked Kurt Lewin, a prominent social psychologist, to train leaders who could deal
effectively with tensions among ethnic groups and thus help to change the racial attitudes
of the public. Kurt Lewin organized a workshop that consisted of groups of ten members
each. These groups were led in the traditional manner of the day; they were basically
discussion groups and analyzed “back-home” problems presented by the group members.
Lewin, a strong believer in the dictum “No research without action; no action without
research,” assigned research observers to record and code the behavioral interactions of
each of the small groups. During evening meetings, the group leaders and the research
observers met and pooled their observations of leaders, members, and group process. Soon
some participants learned of these evening meetings and asked permission to attend. This
was a radical request; the staff hesitated: not only were they reluctant to reveal their own
inadequacies, but they were uncertain about how participants would be affected by hearing
their behavior discussed openly.
Finally they decided to permit members to observe the evening meetings on a trial
basis. Observers who have written about this experience report that the effect on both

participants and staff was “electric.”2 There was something galvanizing about witnessing
an in-depth discussion of one’s own behavior. The format of the evening meetings was
widened to permit the participants to respond to the observations and soon all parties were
involved in the analysis and interpretation of their interaction. Before long, all the
participants were attending the evening meetings, which often ran as long as three hours.
There was widespread agreement that the meetings offered participants a new and rich
understanding of their own behavior.
The staff immediately realized that they had, somewhat serendipitously, discovered a
powerful technique of human relations education—experiential learning. Group members
learn most effectively by studying the interaction of the network in which they themselves
are enmeshed. (By now the reader will have recognized the roots of the “here-and-now” in
contemporary group therapy.) The staff discovered that members profit enormously by
being confronted, in an objective manner, with on-thespot observations of their own
behavior and its effects on others. These observations instruct members about their
interpersonal styles, the responses of others to them, and about group behavior in general.
From this beginning, research was woven into the fabric of the T-group—not only the
formal research conducted but also a research attitude on the part of the leader, who
collaborates with the group members in a research inquiry designed to enable participants
to experience, understand, and change their behavior. This research attitude, together with
the concept of the T-group as a technique of education, gradually changed during the
1950s and 1960s, as Rogerian and Freudian clinicians began participating in human
relations laboratory training and chose to focus ever more heavily on interpersonal
interaction and personal change.
These clinically oriented leaders heavily emphasized the here-and-now and discouraged
discussion of any outside material, including theory, sociological and educational
reflections, or any “there-and-then” material, including “back-home” current problems or
past personal history. I attended and led encounter groups in the 1960s in which leaders
customarily began the group with only one request, “Let’s try to keep all our comments in
the here-and-now.” It sounds impossible, and yet it worked well. Sometimes there was a
long initial silence, and then members might begin describing their different feelings about
the silence. Or often there were differential responses to the leader’s request—anxiety,
puzzlement, impatience, or irritation. These different responses to either the silence or the
leader’s instructions were all that was needed to launch the group, and in a short time it
would be up and running.
In addition to the here-and-now focus, the T-group made many other major technical
innovations destined to exert much influence on the psychotherapy group. Let’s examine
four particularly important contributions: feedback, observant participation, unfreezing,
and cognitive aids.
Feedback

Feedback, a term borrowed from electrical engineering, was first applied to the behavioral
sciences by Lewin (who was teaching at MIT at the time).3 The early group leaders
considered that an important flaw in society was that too little opportunity existed for
individuals to obtain accurate feedback from their “back-home” associates—bosses,
coworkers, husbands, wives, teachers. Feedback, which became an essential ingredient of
all T-groups (and later, of course, all interactional therapy groups) was found to be most
effective when it stemmed from here-and-now observations, when it followed the
generating event as closely as possible, and when the recipient checked it out with other
group members to establish its validity and reduce perceptual distortion.
Observant Participation
The early T-group leaders considered observant participation the optimal method of group
participation. Members must not only engage emotionally in the group, but they must
simultaneously and objectively observe themselves and the group. Often this is a difficult
task to master, and members chafe at the trainer’s attempts to subject the group to
objective analysis. Yet the dual task is essential to learning; alone, either action or
intellectual scrutiny yields little learning. Camus once wrote, “My greatest wish: to remain
lucid in ecstasy.” So, too, the T-group (and the therapy group, as well) is most effective
when its members can couple clarity of vision with emotional experience.
Unfreezing
Unfreezing, also adopted from Lewin’s change theory,4 refers to the process of
disconfirming an individual’s former belief system. Motivation for change must be
generated before change can occur. One must be helped to reexamine many cherished
assumptions about oneself and one’s relations to others. The familiar must be made
strange; thus, many common props, social conventions, status symbols, and ordinary
procedural rules were eliminated from the T-group, and one’s values and beliefs about
oneself were challenged. This was a most uncomfortable state for group participants, a
state tolerable only under certain conditions: Members must experience the group as a safe
refuge within which it is possible to entertain new beliefs and experiment with new
behavior without fear of reprisal. Though “unfreezing” is not a familiar term to clinicians,
the general concept of examining and challenging familiar assumptions is a core part of
the psychotherapeutic process.
Cognitive Aids
Cognitive guides around which T-group participants could organize their experience were
often presented in brief lecturettes by T-group leaders. This practice foreshadowed and
influenced the current widespread use of cognitive aids in contemporary

psychoeducational and cognitive-behavioral group therapy approaches. One example used
in early T-group work (I choose this particular one because it remains useful in the
contemporary therapy group) is the Johari window5 a four-cell personality paradigm that
clarifies the function of feedback and self-disclosure.
Cell A, “Known to self and Known to others,” is the public area of the self; cell B,
“Unknown to self and Known to others,” is the blind area; cell C, “Known to self and
Unknown to others,” is the secret area; cell D, “Unknown to self and Unknown to others,”
is the unconscious self. The goals of the T-group, the leader suggests, are to increase the
size of cell A by decreasing cell B (blind spots) through feedback and cell C (secret area)
through self-disclosure. In traditional T-groups, cell D (the unconscious) was considered
out of bounds.
GROUP THERAPY FOR NORMALS
In the 1960s, the clinically oriented encounter group leaders from the West Coast began
endorsing a model of a T-group as “group therapy for normals.” They emphasized
personal growth,6 and though they still considered the experiential group an instrument of
education, not of therapy, they offered a broader, more humanistically based definition of
education. Education is not, they argued, the process of acquiring interpersonal and
leadership skills, not the understanding of organizational and group functioning; education
is nothing less than comprehensive self-discovery, the development of one’s full potential.
These group leaders worked with normal healthy members of society, indeed with
individuals who, by most objective standards, had achieved considerable success yet still
experienced considerable tension, insecurity, and value conflict. They noted that many of
their group members were consumed by the building of an external facade, a public
image, which they then strove to protect at all costs. Their members swallowed their
doubts about personal adequacy and maintained constant vigilance lest any uncertainty or
discomfort slip into visibility.
This process curtailed communication not only with others but with themselves. The
leaders maintained that in order to eliminate a perpetual state of self-recrimination, the
successful individual gradually comes to believe in the reality of his or her facade and
attempts, through unconscious means, to ward off internal and external attacks on that
self-image. Thus, a state of equilibrium is reached, but at great price: considerable energy
is invested in maintaining intrapersonal and interpersonal separation, energy that might
otherwise be used in the service of self-actualization. These leaders set ambitious goals for

their group—no less than addressing and ameliorating the toxic effects of the highly
competitive American culture.
As the goal of the group shifted from education in a traditional sense to personal
change, the names of the group shifted from T-group (training in human relations) or
sensitivity training group (training in interpersonal sensitivity), to ones more consonant
with the basic thrust of the group. Several labels were advanced: “personal growth” or
“human potential” or “human development” groups. Carl Rogers suggested the term
“encounter group,” which stressed the basic authentic encounter between members and
between leader and members and between the disparate parts of each member. His term
had the most staying power and became the most popular name for the “let it all hang out”
experiential group prevalent in the 1960s and 1970s.
The third force in psychology (third after Freudian analysis and Watsonian-Skinnerian
behaviorism), which emphasized a holistic, humanistic concept of the person, provided
impetus and form to the encounter group from yet another direction. Psychologists such as
A. Maslow, G. Allport, E. Fromm, R. May, F. Perls, C. Rogers, and J. Bugenthal (and the
existential philosophers behind them—Nietzsche, Sartre, Tillich, Jaspers, Heidegger, and
Husserl), rebelled strongly against the mechanistic model of behaviorism, the determinism
and reductionism of analytic theory. Where, they asked, is the person? Where is
consciousness, will, decision, responsibility, and a recognition and concern for the basic
and tragic dimensions of existence?
All of these influences resulted in groups with a much broader, and vaguer, goal—
nothing less than “total enhancement of the individual.” Time in the group was set aside
for reflective silence, for listening to music or poetry. Members were encouraged to give
voice to their deepest concerns—to reexamine these basic life values and the discrepancies
between them and their lifestyles, to encounter their many false selves; to explore the
long-buried parts of themselves (the softer, feminine parts in the case of men, for
example).
Collision with the field of psychotherapy was inevitable. Encounter groups claimed that
they offered therapy for normals, yet also that “normality” was a sham, that everyone was
a patient. The disease? A dehumanized runaway technocracy. The remedy? A return to
grappling with basic problems of the human condition. The vehicle of remedy? The
encounter group! In their view the medical model could no longer be applied to mental
illness. The differentiation between mental illness and health grew as vague as the
distinction between treatment and education. Encounter group leaders claimed that
patienthood is ubiquitous, that therapy is too good to be limited to the sick, and that one
need not be sick to get better.
The Role of the Leader
Despite the encroachment of encounter groups on the domain of psychotherapy, there
were many striking differences in the basic role of group therapist and encounter group
leader. At the time of the emergence of the encounter group, many group therapists

assumed entirely different rules of conduct from the other members. They merely
transferred their individual therapy psychoanalytic style to the group arena and remained
deliberately enigmatic and mystifying. Rarely transparent, they took care to disclose only
a professional front, with the result that members often regarded the therapist’s statements
and actions as powerful and sagacious, regardless of their content.
Encounter group leaders had a very different code of conduct. They were more flexible,
experimental, more self-disclosing, and they earned prestige as a result of their
contributions. The group members regarded encounter group leaders far more realistically
and similar to themselves except for their superior skill and knowledge in a specialized
area. Furthermore, the leaders sought to transmit not only knowledge but also skills,
expecting the group members to learn methods of diagnosing and resolving interpersonal
problems. Often they explicitly behaved as teachers—for example, explicating some point
of theory or introducing some group exercise, verbal or nonverbal, as an experiment for
the group to study. It is interesting, incidentally, to note the reemergence of flexibility and
the experimental attitude displayed by contemporary therapy group leaders in the
construction of cognitive-behavioral group formats addressing a wide number of special
problems and populations.
THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
In its early days the social psychologists involved with T-groups painstakingly researched
their process and outcome. Many of these studies still stand as paradigms of imaginative,
sophisticated research.
The most extensive controlled research inquiry into the effectiveness of groups that
purport to change behavior and personality was conducted by Lieberman, Yalom, and
Miles in 1973. This project has much relevance to group therapy, and since I draw from its
findings often in this book I will describe the methodology and results briefly. (The design
and method are complex, and I refer interested, research-minded readers to the previous
edition’s version of this chapter at www.yalom.com or, for a complete description, to the
monograph on the study, Encounter Groups: First Facts.)7
The Participants
We offered an experiential group as an accredited course at Stanford University. Two
hundred ten participants were randomly assigned to one of eighteen groups, each of which
met for a total of thirty hours over a twelve-week period. Sixty-nine subjects, similar to
the participants but who did not have a group experience, were used as a control
population and completed all the outcome research instruments.

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The Leaders
Since a major aim of the study was to investigate the effect of leader technique on
outcome, we sought to diversify leader style by employing leaders from several
ideological schools. We selected experienced and expert leaders from ten such schools that
were currently popular:
1. Traditional T-groups
2. Encounter groups (personal growth group)
3. Gestalt groups
4. Sensory awareness groups (Esalen group)
5. Transactional analytic (TA) groups
6. Psychodrama groups
7. Synanon groups
8. Psychoanalytically oriented experiential groups
9. Marathon groups
10. Encounter-tapes (leaderless) groups
There were a total of eighteen groups. Of the 210 subjects who started in the eighteen
groups, 40 (19 percent) dropped out before attending half the meetings, and 170 finished
the thirty-hour group experience.
What Did We Measure?
We were most interested in an intensive examination of outcome as well as the
relationship between outcome, leader technique, and group process variables. To evaluate
outcome, an extensive psychological battery of instruments was administered to each
subject three times—before beginning the group, immediately after completing it, and six
months after completion.8
To measure leader style, teams of trained raters observed all meetings and coded all
behavior of the leader in real time. All statements by the leaders were also coded by
analyzing tape recordings and written transcripts of the meetings. Participants also
supplied observations of the leaders through questionnaires. Process data was collected by
the observers and from questionnaires filled out by participants at the end of each meeting.
Results: What Did We Find?
First, the participants rated the groups very highly. At the termination of the group, the
170 subjects who completed the groups considered them “pleasant” (65 percent),

“constructive” (78 percent), and “a good learning experience” (61 percent). Over 90
percent felt that encounter groups should be a regular part of the elective college
curriculum. Six months later, the enthusiasm had waned, but the overall evaluation was
still positive.
So much for testimony. What of the overall, more objective battery of assessment
measures? Each participant’s outcome (judged from all assessment measures) was rated
and placed in one of six categories: high learner, moderate changer, unchanged, negative
changer, casualty (significant, enduring, psychological decompensation that was due to
being in the group), and dropout. The results for all 206 experimental subjects and for the
sixty-nine control subjects are summarized in Table 16.1. (“Short post” is at termination of
group and “long post” is at six-month follow-up.)
TABLE 16.1 Index of Change for All Participant Who Began Strudy

TABLE 16.2 Index of Change for Those Who Completed Group (N = 179 Short Post, 133
Long Post)
SOURCE: Morton A. Lieberman, Irvin D. Yalom, and Matthew B. Miles, Encounter
Groups: First Facts (New York: Basic Books, 1973).
Table 16.1 indicates that approximately one-third of the participants at the termination

of the group and at six-month follow-up had undergone moderate or considerable positive
change. The control population showed much less change, either negative or positive. The
encounter group thus clearly influenced change, but for both better and worse.
Maintenance of change was high: of those who changed positively, 75 percent maintained
their change for at least six months.
To put it in a critical fashion, one might say that Table 16.1 indicates that, of all subjects
who began a thirty-hour encounter group led by an acknowledged expert, approximately
two-thirds found it an unrewarding experience (either dropout, casualty, negative change,
or unchanged).
Viewing the results more generously, one might put it this way. The group experience
was a college course. No one expects that students who drop out will profit. Let us
therefore eliminate the dropouts from the data (see table 16.2). With the dropouts
eliminated, it appears that 39 percent of all students taking a three-month college course
underwent some significant positive personal change that persisted for at least six months.
Not bad for a twelve-week, thirty-hour course! (And of course this perspective on the
results has significance in the contemporary setting of group therapy, where managed care
has mandated briefer therapy groups.)
However, even if we consider the goblet one-third full rather than two-thirds empty, it is
difficult to escape the conclusion that, in this project, encounter groups did not appear to
be a highly potent agent of change. Furthermore, a significant risk factor was involved: 16
(8 percent) of the 210 subjects suffered psychological injury that produced sequelae still
present six months after the end of the group.
Still, caution must be exercised in the interpretation of the results. It would do violence
to the data to conclude that encounter groups per se are ineffective or even dangerous.
First, it is difficult to gauge the degree to which we can generalize these findings to
populations other than an undergraduate college student sample. But, even more
important, we must take note that these are all massed results: the data are handled as
though all subjects were in one encounter group. There was no standard encounter group
experience; there were eighteen different groups, each with a distinct culture, each
offering a different experience, and each with very different outcomes. In some groups,
almost every member underwent some positive change with no one suffering injury; in
other groups, not a single member benefited, and one was fortunate to remain unchanged.
The next obvious question—and one highly relevant to psychotherapy—is: Which type
of leader had the best, and which the worst, results? The T-group leader, the gestalt, the
transactional analytic leader, the psychodrama leader, and so on? However, we soon
learned that the question posed in this form was not meaningful. The behavior of the
leaders when carefully rated by observers varied greatly and did not conform to our
pregroup expectations. The ideological school to which a leader belonged told us little
about that leader’s actual behavior. We found that the behavior of the leader of one school
—for example, gestalt therapy, resembled the behavior of the other gestalt therapy leader
no more closely than that of any of the other seventeen leaders. In other words, the
leaders’ behavior is not predictable from their membership in a particular ideological

school. Yet the effectiveness of a group was, in large part, a function of its leader’s
behavior.
How, then, to answer the question, “Which is the more effective leadership style?”
Ideological schools—what leaders say they do—is of little value. What is needed is a
more accurate, empirically derived method of describing leader behavior. We performed a
factor analysis of a large number of leader behavior variables (as rated by observers) and
derived four important basic leadership functions:
1. Emotional activation (challenging, confronting, modeling by personal risk-taking
and high self-disclosure)
2. Caring (offering support, affection, praise, protection, warmth, acceptance,
genuineness, concern)
3. Meaning attribution (explaining, clarifying, interpreting, providing a cognitive
framework for change; translating feelings and experiences into ideas)
4. Executive function (setting limits, rules, norms, goals; managing time; pacing,
stopping, interceding, suggesting procedures)
These four leadership functions (emotional activation, caring, meaning attribution,
executive function) have great relevance to the group therapy leadership. Moreover, they
had a clear and striking relationship to outcome. Caring and meaning attribution had a
linear relationship to positive outcome: in other words, the higher the caring and the
higher the meaning attribution, the higher the positive outcome.
The other two functions, emotional stimulation and executive function, had a
curvilinear relationship to outcome—the rule of the golden mean applied: in other words,
too much or too little of this leader behavior resulted in lower positive outcome.
Let’s look at leader emotional stimulation: too little leader emotional stimulation
resulted in an unenergetic, devitalized group; too much stimulation (especially with
insufficient meaning attribution) resulted in a highly emotionally charged climate with the
leader pressing for more emotional interaction than the members could integrate.
Now consider leader executive function: too little executive function—a laissez-faire
style—resulted in a bewildered, floundering group; too much executive function resulted
in a highly structured, authoritarian, arrhythmic group that failed to develop a sense of
member autonomy or a freely flowing interactional sequence.
The most successful leaders, then—and this has great relevance for therapy—were
those whose style was moderate in amount of stimulation and in expression of executive
function and high in caring and meaning attribution. Both caring and meaning attribution
seemed necessary: neither alone was sufficient to ensure success.
These findings from encounter groups strongly corroborate the functions of the group
therapist as discussed in chapter 5. Both emotional stimulation and cognitive structuring
are essential. Carl Rogers’s factors of empathy, genuineness, and unconditional positive
regard thus seem incomplete; we must add the cognitive function of the leader. The
research does not tell us what kind of meaning attribution is essential. Several ideological

explanatory vocabularies (for example, interpersonal, psychoanalytic, transactional
analytic, gestalt, Rogerian, and so on) seemed useful. What seems important is the process
of explanation, which, in several ways, enabled participants to integrate their experience,
to generalize from it, and to transport it into other life situations.
The importance of meaning attribution received powerful support from another source.
When members were asked at the end of each session to report the most significant event
of the session and the reason for its significance, we found that those members who gained
from the experience were far more likely to report incidents involving cognitive
integration. (Even so revered an activity as self-disclosure bore little relationship to
change unless it was accompanied by intellectual insight.) The pervasiveness and strength
of this finding was impressive as well as unexpected in that encounter groups had a
fundamental anti-intellectual ethos.
The study had some other conclusions of considerable relevance to the change process
in experiential groups. When outcome (on both group and individual level) was correlated
with the course of events during the life of a group, findings emerged suggesting that a
number of widely accepted experiential group maxims needed to be reformulated, for
example:
1. Feelings not thought should be altered to feelings, only with thought.
2. Let it all hang out is best revised to let more of it hang out than usual, if it feels
right in the group, and if you can give some thought to what it means. In this study,
self-disclosure or emotional expressiveness (of either positive or negative feelings)
was not in itself sufficient for change.
3. Getting out the anger is essential is best revised to getting out the anger may be
okay, but keeping it out there steadily is not. Excessive expression of anger was
counterproductive: it was not associated with a high level of learning, and it
generally increased risk of negative outcome.
4. There is no group, only persons should be revised to group processes make a
difference in learning, whether or not the leader pays attention to them. Learning
was strongly influenced by such group properties as cohesiveness, climate, norms,
and the group role occupied by a particular member.
5. High yield requires high risk should be changed to the risk in encounter groups is
considerable and unrelated to positive gain. The high-risk groups, those that
produced many casualties, did not at the same time produce high learners. The
productive groups were safe ones. The high-yield, high-risk group is, according to
our study, a myth.
6. You may not know what you’ve learned now, but later, when you put it all together,
you’ll come to appreciate how much you’ve learned should be revised to bloom
now, don’t count on later. It is often thought that individuals may be shaken up
during a group experience but that later, after the group is over, they integrate the
experience they had in the group and come out stronger than ever. In our project,
individuals who had a negative outcome at the termination of the group never

moved to the positive side of the ledger at follow-up six months later.
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE ENCOUNTER
GROUP AND THE THERAPY GROUP
Having traced the development of the encounter group to the moment of collision with the
field of group psychotherapy, I now turn to the evolution of the therapy group in order to
clarify the interchange between the two disciplines.
The Evolution of Group Therapy
The history of group therapy has been too thoroughly described in other texts to warrant
repetition here.9 A rapid sweep will reveal the basic trends. Joseph Hersey Pratt, a Boston
internist, is generally acknowledged to be the father of contemporary group therapy. Pratt
treated many patients with advanced tuberculosis, and, recognizing the relationship
between psychological health and the physical course of tuberculosis, Pratt undertook to
treat the person rather than the disease. In 1905, he designed a treatment regimen that
included home visits, diary keeping by patients, and weekly meetings of a tuberculosis
class of approximately twenty-five patients. At these classes, the diaries were inspected,
weight gains were recorded publicly on a blackboard, and testimonials were given by
successful patients. A degree of cohesiveness and mutual support developed that appeared
helpful in combating the depression and isolation so common among patients with
tuberculosis.
During the 1920s and 1930s, several psychiatrists experimented with group methods. In
Europe, Adler used group methods because of his awareness of the social nature of human
problems and his desire to provide psychotherapeutic help to the working classes.10
Lazell, in 1921, met with groups of patients with schizophrenia in St. Elizabeths Hospital
in Washington, D.C., and delivered lectures on schizophrenia.11 Marsh, a few years later,
used groups for a wide range of clinical problems, including psychosis, psychoneurosis,
psychophysiological disorders, and stammering. 12 He employed a variety of techniques,
including didactic methods such as lectures and homework assignments as well as
exercises designed to promote considerable interaction; for example, members were asked
to treat one another; or all were asked to discuss such topics as one’s earliest memory,
ingredients of one’s inferiority complex, night dreams, and daydreams. In the 1930s,
Wender used analytic group methods with hospitalized nonpsychotic patients, and
Burrows and Schilder applied these techniques to the treatment of psychoneurotic
outpatients. Slavson, who worked with groups of disturbed children and young
adolescents, exerted considerable influence in the field through his teaching and writing at
a time when group therapy was not yet considered an effective therapeutic approach.

Moreno, who first used the term group therapy, employed group methods before 1920 but
has been primarily identified with psychodrama, which he introduced into America in
1925.13
These tentative beginnings in the use of group therapy were vastly accelerated by the
Second World War, when the enormous numbers of military psychiatric patients and the
scarcity of trained psychotherapists made individual therapy impractical and catalyzed the
search for more economic modes of treatment.
During the 1950s, the main thrust of group therapy was directed toward using groups in
different clinical settings and with different types of clinical problems. Theoreticians—
Freudian, Sullivanian, Horneyan, Rogerian—explored the application of their conceptual
framework to group therapy theory and practice.
The T-group and the therapy group thus arose from different disciplines; and for many
years, the two disciplines, each generating its own body of theory and technique,
continued as two parallel streams of knowledge, even though a few leaders straddled both
fields and, in different settings, led both T-groups and therapy groups. The T-group
maintained a deep commitment to research and continued to identify with the fields of
social psychology, education, and organizational development.
Therapy Group and Encounter Group: First Interchanges
In the 1960s, there was some constructive interchange between the group therapy and the
sensitivity training fields. Many mental health professionals participated in some form of
encounter group during their training and subsequently led encounter groups or applied
encounter techniques to their psychotherapeutic endeavors. Clinical researchers learned a
great deal from the T-group research methods; T-groups were commonly used in the
training of group therapists14 and in the treatment program of chronically hospitalized
patients.15 Some clinicians referred their individual therapy patients to a T-group for
opening-up (just as, later, in the 1980s, some clinicians referred their patients to large
group awareness training programs, such as est and Lifespring).16
But later, as the T-group evolved into the flamboyant encounter group that claimed to
offer “group therapy for normals” and claimed that “patienthood is ubiquitous,” an
acrimonious relationship developed between the two fields. Disagreements arose about
territorial issues and the true differences in the goals of encounter and therapy groups.
Encounter group leaders grew even more expansive and insisted that their group
participants had a therapeutic experience and that in reality there was no difference
between personal growth and psychotherapy (in the language of the time, between “mind
expansion” and “head shrinking”). Furthermore, it became evident that there was much
overlap: there was much similarity between those seeking psychotherapy and those
seeking encounter experiences. Thus, many encounter group leaders concluded that they
were, indeed, practicing psychotherapy—a superior, more efficient type of psychotherapy
—and advertised their services accordingly.

The traditional mental health field was alarmed. Not only were psychotherapists
threatened by the encroachment on their territory, but they also considered encounter
groups reckless and potentially harmful to participants. They expressed concerns about the
lack of responsibility of the encounter group leaders, their lack of clinical training, and
their unethical advertising that suggested that months, even years of therapy could be
condensed into a single intensive weekend. Polarization increased, and soon mental health
professionals in many areas launched campaigns urging their local governments to pass
legislation to regulate encounter group practice, to keep it out of schools, and to hold
leaders legally responsible for untoward effects.
In part the vigorous response of the mental health profession was an irrational reaction,
but it was also appropriate to certain excesses in some factions of the encounter field.
These excesses issued from a crash-program mentality, successful in such ventures as
space exploration and industrialization, but a reductio ad absurdum in human relations
ventures. If something is good, more must be better. If self-disclosure is good in groups,
then total, immediate, indiscriminate self-disclosure in the nude must be better. If
involvement is good, then prolonged, continuous, marathon involvement must be better. If
expression of feeling is good, then hitting, touching, feeling, kissing, and fornicating must
be better. If a group experience is good, then it is good for everyone—in all stages of the
life cycle, in all life situations. These excesses were often offensive to the public taste and
could, as research has indicated, be dangerous to some participants.
Since that period of acrimony and polarization decades ago, the established fields of
therapy and the usurping encounter group field are no longer the same. Although the
encounter group movement with all its excesses, grandiosity, and extravagant claims has
come and gone,am it has nonetheless influenced contemporary group therapy. The
inventiveness, research attitude and expertise, sophisticated leadership, and training
technology of the pioneer encounter group leaders have left an indelible mark on our field.

Chapter 17
TRAINING THE GROUP THERAPIST
Group therapy is a curious plant in the garden of psychotherapy. It is hardy: the best
available research has established that group therapy is effective, as robust as individual
therapy.1 Yet it needs constant tending; its perennial fate is to be periodically choked by
the same old weeds: “superficial,” “dangerous,” “second-rate—to be used only when
individual therapy is unavailable or unaffordable.”
Clients and many mental health professionals continue to underrate and to fear group
therapy, and unfortunately those very same attitudes adversely influence group therapy
training programs. Group therapy has not often been accorded academic prestige. The
same situation prevails in clinics and hospital administration hierarchies: rarely does the
individual who is most invested in group therapy enjoy a position of professional
authority.
Why? Perhaps because group therapy cannot cleanse itself of the anti-intellectual taint
of the encounter group movement, or because of the intrinsic methodological obstacles to
rigorous, truly meaningful research. Perhaps it is because we therapists share the client’s
wish to be the special and singular object of attention that individual therapy promises.
Perhaps many of us prefer to avoid the anxiety inherent in role of the group leader—
greater public exposure of oneself as a therapist, less sense of control, fear of being
overwhelmed by the group, more clinical material to synthesize. Perhaps it is because
groups evoke for us unpleasant personal memories of earlier peer group experiences.2
Attempts to renew interest in group therapy have always worked—but only for brief
periods. An initial wave of renewed enthusiasm for group therapy is followed by neglect,
and soon all the old weeds crowd in once again. The moment demands a whole new
generation of well-trained gardeners, and it behooves us to pay careful attention to the
education of beginning group therapists and to our own continuing professional
development.
In this chapter, I present my views about group therapy training, not only in specific
recommendations for a training curriculum but also in the form of general considerations
concerning an underlying philosophy of training. The approach to therapy described in
this book is based on both clinical experience and an appraisal of the best available
research evidence. Similarly, in the educational process, a clinical and a research
orientation are closely interrelated: the acquisition of an inquiring attitude to one’s own
work and to the work of others is necessary in the development of the mature therapist.
Many training programs for mental health professionals are based on the individual
therapy model and either do not provide group therapy training or offer it as an elective
part of the program. Despite clear acknowledgment that the practice of group therapy will
continue to grow, recent surveys show that most academic training programs fall short in
the actual provision of group training. In fact, it is not unusual for students to be given

excellent intensive individual therapy supervision and then, early in their program, to be
asked to lead therapy groups with no specialized guidance whatsoever. Many program
directors apparently expect, naively, that students will be able somehow to translate their
individual therapy training into group therapy skills without meaningful group experiential
or clinical exposure. This not only provides inadequate leadership but causes students to
devalue the group therapy enterprise.3 It is essential that mental health training programs
appreciate the need for rigorous, well-organized group training programs and offer
programs that match the needs of trainees. Both the American Group Psychotherapy
Association (AGPA) and the American Counseling Association have established training
standards for group therapy certification that can serve as a template for training. For
example, the AGPA’s National Registry of Certified Group Psychotherapists requires a
minimum of 12 hours of didactic training, 300 hours of group therapy leadership, and 75
hours of group therapy supervision with a group therapist who has met the standards of
certification.4
The crisis in medical economics and the growth of managed health care force us to
recognize that one-to-one psychotherapy cannot possibly suffice to meet the pressing
mental health needs of the public. Managed care leaders also forecast rapid growth in the
use of group therapy, particularly in structured and time-limited groups.5 It is abundantly
clear that, as time passes, we will rely on group approaches ever more heavily. I believe
that any psychotherapy training program that does not acknowledge this and does not
expect students to become as fully proficient in group as in individual therapy is failing to
meet its responsibilities to the field.
Every program has its own unique needs and resources. While I cannot hope to offer a
blueprint for a universal training program, I shall, in the following section, discuss the four
major components that I consider essential to a comprehensive training program beyond
the didactic: (1) observation of experienced group therapists at work, (2) close clinical
supervision of students’ maiden groups, (3) a personal group experience, and (4) personal
psychotherapeutic work.
OBSERVATION OF EXPERIENCED CLINICIANS
Student therapists derive enormous benefit from watching an experienced group
practitioner at work.† It is exceedingly uncommon for students to observe a senior
clinician doing individual therapy. The more public nature of group therapy makes it often
the only form of psychotherapy that trainees will ever be able to observe directly. At first,
experienced clinicians may feel considerable discomfort while being observed; but once
they have taken the plunge, the process becomes comfortable as well as rewarding for all
parties: students, therapists, and group members.
The format of observation depends, of course, on the physical facilities. I prefer having
my students observe my group work through a one-way mirror, but if students’ schedules

do not permit them to be present for a ninety-minute group and a postgroup discussion, I
videotape the meeting and replay segments in a shorter seminar with the students. This
procedure requires a greater time investment for the therapist and greater discomfort for
the members because of the presence of the camera. If there are only one or two observers,
they may sit in the group room without unduly distracting the members, but I strongly
recommend that they sit silently outside the group circle and decline to respond to
questions that group members may pose to them.
Regardless of the format used, the group members must be fully informed about the
presence of observers and their purpose. I remind clients that observation is necessary for
training, that I was trained in that fashion, and that their willingness to permit observers
will ultimately be beneficial to clients the student observers will treat in the future. I add
another point: the observations of the students offered to me in our postgroup discussion
are frequently of value to the process of therapy. There are formats (to be described
shortly) in which clients attend the postgroup observer-therapist discussion and generally
profit considerably from the discussion.
The total length of students’ observation time is generally determined by service and
training rotations. If there is sufficient program flexibility, I would suggest that
observation continue for at least six to ten sessions, which generally provides a sufficient
period of time for changes to occur in group development, in interactional patterns, and in
perceivable intrapersonal growth. If their schedules preclude regular and consistent
attendance, I distribute a detailed summary of the group to the students before the next
meeting (see chapter 14).
A postmeeting discussion is an absolute necessity in training, and there is no better time
for the group leader/teacher to meet with student observers than immediately after the
meeting. I prefer to meet for thirty to forty-five minutes, and I use the time in a variety of
ways: obtaining the students’ observations, answering their questions about underlying
reasons for my interventions, and using the clinical material as a springboard for
discussion of fundamental principles of group therapy. Other instructors prefer to delay the
discussion and assign the students the task of writing a description of the meeting,
focusing primarily on process (that is, the interpersonal relationships among the members
of the group and group dynamics). The students may be asked to exchange their
summaries and meet later in the week for an analysis of the meeting.6 Although some
introductory didactic sessions are useful, I find that much of the material presented in this
book can be best discussed with students around appropriate clinical material that arises
over several sessions of an observed group.7 Theory becomes so much more alive when it
is immediately relevant.
The relationship between observers, the group, and the group therapists is important.
There will be times when an inordinate amount of carping (“Why didn’t you … ?”) creates
discomfort for the therapists and impairs their efficiency. Not infrequently, observers
complain of boredom, and therapists may feel some pressure to increase the group’s
entertainment quotient. My experience is that, in general, boredom is inversely related to
experience; as students gain in experience and sophistication, they come increasingly to

appreciate the many subtle, fascinating layers underlying every transaction. The
observation group has a process of its own as well. Observers may identify with the
therapist, or with certain characteristics of the clients, which, if explored in the debriefing
session, may provide an opportunity to explore empathy, countertransference, and
projective identification. At times, observers may express the wish that they were in the
group as participants and develop strong attachments to group members. In every instance,
observers should be held to the same standard of professionalism regarding confidentiality
and ethical conduct as are the therapists.8
Group members respond differently to being observed by students. Like any group
event, the different responses are grist for the therapeutic mill. If all members face the
same situation (that is, being observed by students), why do some respond with anger,
others with suspicion, and still others with pleasure, even exhilaration? Why such different
responses to a common stimulus? The answer, of course, is that each member has a
different inner world, and the differing responses facilitation examination of each inner
world.
Nonetheless, for the majority of clients, traditional observation is an intrusion.
Sometimes the observers may serve as a lightning rod for anxiety arising from other
concerns. For example, one group that had been regularly observed suddenly became
preoccupied with the observers and grew convinced that they were mocking and ridiculing
the members. One group member reported encountering a person in the washroom before
the group, whom he was convinced was an observer, and this person smirked at him. The
group members demanded that the observers be brought into the group room to account
for themselves. The power of the group’s reaction was intense and caused me to wonder if
there had been some breach of trust. As we continued to examine where this heat was
coming from, it became more apparent that the group was in fact projecting onto the
observers their apprehension about impending changes in the group—two senior members
of the group had left and two new additions to the group were imminent. The real issue for
the group was whether the new additions would value the group or deride the process and
the members.
Though the most a leader can generally expect from clients is a grudging acceptance
and dimming awareness of the observers’ presence, there are methods of turning the
students’ observation to therapeutic advantage. I remind the group that the observers’
perspectives are valuable to me as the leader and, if appropriate, I cite some helpful
comments observers made after the previous meeting. I also let the group know that I
often incorporate some of the observers’ comments into the written summary.
Another, more daring, strategy is to invite the group members to be present at the
observers’ postmeeting discussion. In chapter 15, I discussed a model of an inpatient
group that regularly included a ten-minute observers’ discussion that the group members
observed.9 I have used a similar format for outpatient groups: I invite members and
observers to switch rooms at the end of a meeting so that the clients observe through the
one-way mirror the observers’ and co-therapists’ postgroup discussion. My only proviso is
that the entire group elect to attend: if only some members attend, the process may be

divisive and retard the development of cohesiveness. A significant time commitment is
required: forty-five minutes of postgroup discussion after a ninety-minute group therapy
session make for a long afternoon or evening.
This format has interesting implications for teaching. It teaches students how to be
constructively transparent, and it conveys a sense of respect for the client as a full ally in
the therapeutic process. It also demystifies therapy: it is a statement that therapy is a
potent, rational, collaborative process requiring no part of Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor’s
triumvirate—magic, mystery, and authority.
If clients do observe the postgroup discussion, then there must be an additional teaching
seminar just after the observation period or later, perhaps just before the next group
meeting. Additional teaching time is required, because the postmeeting discussions that
the clients observe differ from the typical postgroup rehash. The postgroup discussion
becomes part of the therapy itself as the observers’ and therapists’ comments evoke
feelings from the group members. Hence, in this format less time is available for formal
instruction of basic theory or strategic principles. Furthermore, the students tend to be
inhibited in their questions and comments, and there is less free-ranging discussion of
transference and countertransference. A benefit is that boredom in the observation room
absolutely vanishes: students, knowing they will later take part in the meeting, become
more engaged in the process.
A useful adjunct teaching tool may be a group videotape especially designed to
illustrate important aspects of leader technique and group dynamics. I have produced two
videotape programs—one for outpatient groups and one for inpatients—around which
group therapy courses may be constructed.10
SUPERVISION
A supervised clinical experience is a sine qua non in the education of the group therapist.
This book posits a general approach to therapy, delineates broad principles of technique,
and, especially when discussing the opening and closing stages of therapy, suggests
specific tactics. But the laborious working-through process that constitutes the bulk of
therapy cannot be thoroughly depicted in a text. An infinite number of situations arise,
each of which may require a rich, imaginative approach. It is precisely at these points that
a supervisor makes a valuable and unique contribution to a student therapist’s education.
Because of its central importance in training, supervision has become a major focus of
attention in the psychotherapy literature, although there is a paucity of empirical research
on the subject.11
What are the characteristics of effective supervision? Supervision first requires the
establishment of a supervisory alliance that conveys to the student the ambiance and value
of the therapeutic alliance. Supervision not only conveys technical expertise and
theoretical knowledge, it also models the profession’s values and ethics. Accordingly,

supervisors must strive for congruence: they should treat their students with the same
respect and care that the student should provide to clients. If we want our trainees to treat
their clients with respect, compassion, and dignity, that is how we must treat our
trainees.12
The supervisor should focus on the professional and clinical development of the trainee
and be alert to any blocks—either from lack of knowledge or from countertransference—
that the trainee encounters. A fine balance must be maintained between training and
therapy. Alonso suggests that the supervisor should listen like a clinician but speak like a
teacher.13
The most effective supervisors are able to tune in to the trainee, track the trainee’s
central concerns, capture the essence of the trainee’s narrative, guide the trainee through
clinical dilemmas, and demonstrate personal concern and support. Supervision that is
unduly critical, shaming, or closed to the trainee’s principal concerns will not only fail
educationally, it will also dispirit the trainee.14
How personal and transparent should the supervisor be? Probably the more the better!
By revealing their own experiences and clinical challenges, supervisors reduce the power
hierarchy and help the trainee see that there is no shame in not having all the answers.
What’s more, such a revealing and nondefensive stance will influence the type of clinical
material the trainee will bring to supervision.15
The neophyte therapist’s first group is a highly threatening experience. Even conducting
psychoeducational groups, with their clear content and structure, can be inordinately
challenging to the neophyte.16 In a study of neophyte trainees, researchers compared
trainees who had positive and those who had negative group therapy training experiences.
Both groups reported high degrees of apprehension and frankly unpleasant emotional
reactions early in the work. One variable distinguished the two groups: the quality of the
supervision. Those with high-quality supervision were far more likely to feel positive
about group therapy.17
In another study, my colleagues and I examined twelve nonprofessionally trained
leaders who led groups in a psychiatric hospital. Half received ongoing supervision as
well as an intensive training course in group leadership; the others received neither.
Observers who did not know which therapists received supervision rated the therapists at
the beginning of their groups and again six months later. The results indicated that not
only did the trained therapists improve but the untrained therapists, at the end of six
months, were less skilled than at the beginning.18 Sheer experience, apparently, is not
enough. Without ongoing supervision and evaluation, original errors may be reinforced by
simple repetition. Supervision may be even more important for the neophyte group
therapist than the budding individual therapist because of the inherent stress in the group
leader role: I have had many trainees report anxiety dreams filled with images about being
out of control or confronting some threatening group situation just before commencing
their first group experience.
In many ways, group therapy supervision is more taxing than individual therapy

supervision. For one thing, mastering the cast of characters is in itself a formidable task.
Furthermore, there is such an abundance of data that both student and supervisor must
often be highly selective in their focus.
A few practical recommendations may be helpful. First, supervision should be well
established before the first group, both to attend to the selection and preparation tasks of
group leadership and to address therapist apprehension about starting the group. One
supervisory hour per group therapy session is, in my experience, the optimal ratio. It is
wise to hold the supervisory session soon after the group session, preferably the following
day. Some supervisors observe the last thirty minutes of each meeting and hold the
supervisory session immediately thereafter. At the very least, the supervisor must observe
one or two sessions at the beginning of supervision and, if possible, an occasional session
throughout the year: it permits the supervisor to affix names to faces and also to sample
the affective climate of the group. Videotapes may serve this purpose also (audiotapes,
too, though far less satisfactorily).
If much time elapses between the group meeting and the supervisory session, the events
of the group fade; in this case students are well advised to make detailed postgroup notes.
Therapists develop their own style of note taking. My preference is to record the major
themes of each session—generally, from one to three: for example: (1) John’s distress at
losing his job and the group’s efforts to offer support; (2) Sharon’s anger at the men in the
group; (3) Annabelle’s feeling inferior and unaccepted by the group.
Once this basic skeleton is in place, I fill in the other vital data: the transition between
themes; each member’s contribution to each of the themes; my interventions and feelings
about the meeting as a whole and toward each of the members. Other supervisors suggest
that students pay special attention to choice points—a series of critical points in the
meeting where action is required of the therapist.19 Still others make use of clients’
feedback obtained from questionnaires distributed at the end of a group session.20
A ninety-minute group session provides a wealth of material. If trainees present a
narrative of the meeting, discuss each member’s verbal and nonverbal contribution as well
as their own participation, and explore in depth their countertransference and realistically
based feelings toward each of the members and toward their co-therapist, there should be
more than enough important material to occupy the supervisory hour. If not, if the trainee
quickly runs out of material, if the supervisor has to scratch hard to learn the events of the
meeting, something has gone seriously wrong in the supervisory process. At such times
supervisors would do well to examine their relationship with the trainee(s). Are the
students guarded, distrustful, or fearful of exposing themselves to scrutiny? Are they
cautious lest the supervisor pressure them to operate in the group in a manner that feels
alien or beyond them?
The supervisory session is no less a microcosm than is the therapy group, and the
supervisor should be able to obtain much information about the therapist’s behavior in a
therapy group by attending to the therapist’s behavior in supervision. (Sometimes this
phenomenon is referred to as the “parallel process” in supervision.)21

If students lead groups as co-therapy teams (and, as chapter 14 explains, I recommend
that format for neophyte therapists), a process focus in the supervisory hour is particularly
rich. It is likely that the relationship of the two co-therapists in the supervisory hour
parallels their relationship during the therapy group meetings. Supervisors should attend to
such issues as the degree of openness and trust during the supervisory hour. Who reports
the events of the meeting? Who defers to whom? Do the co-leaders report two
bewilderingly different views of the group? Is there much competition for the supervisor’s
attention?
The relationship between co-therapists is of crucial importance for the therapy group,
and the supervisor may often be maximally effective by focusing attention on this
relationship. For example, I recall supervising two residents whose personal relationship
was strained. In the supervisory session, each vied for my attention; there was a
dysrhythmic quality to the hour, since neither pursued the other’s lead but instead brought
up different material, or the same material from an entirely different aspect. Supervision
was a microcosm of the group: in the therapy sessions they competed intensely with each
other to make star interpretations and to enlist members onto their respective teams. They
never complemented each other’s work by pursuing a theme the other had brought up;
instead, each remained silent, waiting for an opportunity to introduce a different line of
inquiry. The group paid the price for the therapists’ poor working relationship: no good
work was done, absenteeism was high, and demoralization evident.
Supervision in this instance focused almost entirely on the co-therapy relationship and
took on many of the characteristics of couples therapy, as we examined the therapists’
competition and their wish to impress me. One had just transferred from another residency
and felt strongly pressed to prove her competence. The other felt that he had made a great
mistake in blindly accepting a co-therapist and felt trapped in a dysfunctional relationship.
We considered a “divorce”—dissolving the co-therapy team—but decided that such a
move would be countertherapeutic. What chance do we have of persuading our clients to
work on their relationships if we therapists refuse to do the same? If co-therapists can
successfully work on their relationship, there is a double payoff: therapy is served (the
group works better with an improved inter-leader relationship), and training is served
(trainees learn firsthand some of the basic principles of conflict resolution).
In the ongoing work the supervisor must explore the student’s verbal and nonverbal
interventions and check that they help establish useful group norms. At the same time, the
supervisor must avoid making the student so self-conscious that spontaneity is stunted.
Groups are not so fragile that a single statement markedly influences their direction; it is
the therapist’s overall posture that counts.
Most supervisors will at times tell a supervisee what they themselves would have said at
some juncture of the group. It is not uncommon, however, for student therapists to mimic
the supervisor’s comments at an inappropriate spot in the following group meeting and
then begin the next supervisory session with: “I did what you said, but …” Thus, when I
tell a student what I might have said, I preface my comments: “Don’t say this at the next
meeting, but here’s one way you might have responded …” Here too, a delicate balance

needs to be maintained. Supervision should rarely be prescriptive and never heavy-
handed. But there are times when suggesting a particular approach or intervention is
essential and much welcomed.
Many teachers have, to good effect, expanded the supervisory hour into a continuous
case seminar for several student therapists, with the group leaders taking turns presenting
their group to the entire supervision group. Since it takes time to assimilate data about all
the members of a group, I prefer that one group be presented for several weeks before
moving on to another. In this format, three to four groups can be followed throughout the
year.
There are several benefits to providing group therapy supervision in a group format. For
one thing, it may be possible for a skillful supervisor to focus on the interaction and the
group dynamics of the supervisory group. The learning opportunities may be further
enhanced by asking supervisees to describe and record their experiences in the supervision
group. Another benefit of group supervision is the presence of peer support. Furthermore,
accounts of colleagues’ experiences, conceptualizations, and techniques exposes trainees
to a greater range of group therapy phenomena and broadens their empathic awareness.
Trainees also have the opportunity to think like a supervisor or consultant, a skill that will
be useful at other points in their career.22 Feedback about one’s clinical work is often a
delicate process. Supervision groups demand and model metacommunication—ways to
communicate authentically, respectfully, and empathically.
A group supervision format may also encourage subsequent participation in a peer
supervision group by demonstrating the value of peer supervision, consultation, and
support.23 The supervision group should not, however, transform itself into a personal
growth or therapy group—that group experience comes with a substantially different set of
norms and expectations.
Some recent supervision innovations have made good use of the Internet to offer
supervision to practitioners living in isolated or distant locales. Students and supervisor
may begin with a few face-to-face meetings and then continue contact through an
electronic bulletin board or a facilitated online supervision group.24
A GROUP EXPERIENCE FOR TRAINEES
A personal group experience has become widely accepted as an integral part of training
and continuing professional development. Such an experience may offer many types of
learning not available elsewhere. You are able to learn at an emotional level what you may
previously have known only intellectually. You experience the power of the group—power
both to wound and to heal. You learn how important it is to be accepted by the group;
what self-disclosure really entails; how difficult it is to reveal your secret world, your
fantasies, feelings of vulnerability, hostility, and tenderness. You learn to appreciate your
own strengths as well as your weaknesses. You learn about your own preferred role in the

group, about your habitual countertransference responses and about group-as-a-whole and
system issues that lurk in the background of the meetings. Perhaps most striking of all,
you learn about the role of the leader by becoming aware of your own dependency and
your own, often unrealistic, appraisal of the leader’s power and knowledge.
Even experienced practitioners who are being trained in a new model of group therapy
profit greatly when an experiential affective component is added to their didactic training.
Personal participation is the most vital way to teach and to learn group process.25
Surveys indicate that one-half to two-thirds of group therapy training programs offer
some type of personal group experience.26 Some programs offer a simulated group in
which one or two trainees are appointed co-therapists and the rest role-play the group
members. The most common model (which will be discussed in detail shortly) is a group
composed of other trainees and referred to by any number of terms (T-group, support
group, process group, experiential training group, and so on). This group may be short-
term, lasting maybe a dozen sessions, or it may consist of an intensive one- or two-day
experience; but the model I prefer is a weekly process group that meets for sixty to ninety
minutes throughout the entire year.
I have led groups of psychology interns and psychiatric residents for over thirty years
and, without exception, have found the use of such groups to be a highly valuable teaching
technique. Indeed, many psychotherapy students, when reviewing their entire training
program, have rated their group as the single most valuable experience in their curriculum.
A group experience with one’s peers has a great deal to recommend it: not only do the
members reap the benefits of a group experience but also, if the group is led properly,
members may improve relationships and communication within the trainee class and, thus,
enrich the entire educational experience. Students always learn a great deal from their
peers, and any efforts that potentiate that process increase the value of the program.
Are there also disadvantages to a group experience? One often hears storm warnings
about the possible destructive effects of staff or trainee experiential groups. These
warnings are, I believe, based on irrational premises: for example, that enormous amounts
of destructive hostility would ensue once a group unlocks suppressive floodgates, or that a
group would constitute an enormous invasion of privacy as forced confessionals are
wrung one by one from each of the hapless trainees. We know now that responsibly led
groups that are clear about norms and boundaries facilitate communication and
constructive working relationships.
Should Training Groups Be Voluntary?
An experiential group is always more effective if the participants engage voluntarily and
view it not only as a training exercise but as an opportunity for personal growth. Indeed, I
prefer that trainees begin such a group with an explicit formulation of what they want to
obtain from the experience personally as well as professionally. To this end, it is important
that the group be introduced and described to the trainees in such a way that they consider

it to be consonant with their personal and professional goals. I prefer to frame the group
within the students’ training career by asking them to project themselves into the field of
the future. It is, after all, highly probable that mental health practitioners will spend an
increasing amount of their time in groups—as members and leaders of treatment teams. To
be effective in this role, clinicians of the future will simply have to know their way around
groups. They will have to learn how groups work and how they themselves work in
groups.
Once an experiential group is introduced as a regular part of a training program, and
once the faculty develops confidence in the group as a valuable training adjunct, there is
little difficulty in selling it to incoming trainees. Still, programs differ on whether to make
the group optional or mandatory. My experience is that if a group is presented properly,
the trainees not only look forward to it with anticipation but experience strong
disappointment if for some reason the opportunity for a group experience is withheld.
If a student steadfastly refuses to enter the training group or any other type of
experiential group, it is my opinion that some investigation of such resistance is
warranted. Occasionally, such a refusal stems from misconceptions about groups in
general or is a reflection of some respected senior faculty member’s negative bias toward
groups. But if the refusal is based on a pervasive dread or distrust of group situations, and
if the student does not have the flexibility to work on this resistance in individual therapy,
in a supportive training group, or in a bona fide therapy group, I believe it may well be
unwise for that student to pursue the career of psychotherapist.
Who Should Lead Student Experiential Groups?
Directors of training programs should select the leader with great care. For one thing, the
group experience is an extraordinarily influential event in the students’ training career; the
leader will often serve as an important role model for the trainees and therefore should
have extensive clinical and group experience and the highest possible professional
standards. The overriding criteria are, of course, the personal qualities and the skill of the
leader: a secondary consideration is the leader’s professional discipline (whether it be, for
example, in counseling, clinical psychology, social work, or psychiatry).
I believe that a training group model led by a leader skilled in the interactional group
therapy model provides the best educational experience. 27 Supporting this view is a study
of 434 professionals who participated in two-day American Group Psychotherapy
Association training groups. Process-oriented groups that emphasized here-and-now
interaction resulted in significantly greater learning about leadership and peer relations
than groups that were more didactic or structured. The members felt they profited most
from an atmosphere in which leaders supported participants, demonstrated techniques, and
facilitated an atmosphere in which members supported one another, revealed personal
feelings, took risks, and enjoyed the group.28
Another reason the leader should be selected with great care is that it is extremely

difficult to lead groups of mental health professionals who will continue to work together
throughout their training. The pace is slow; intellectualization is common; and self-
disclosure and risk taking are minimal. The chief instrument in psychotherapy is the
therapist’s own person. Realizing this truth, the neophyte therapist feels doubly vulnerable
in self-disclosure: at stake are both personal and professional competence.
Should the Leader be a Staff or a Faculty Member of the Training Program?
A leader who wears two hats (group leader and member of training staff) compounds the
problem for the group members who feel restricted by the presence of someone who may
in the future play an evaluative role in their careers. Mere reassurance to the group that the
leader will maintain strictest confidentiality or neutrality is insufficient to deal with this
very real concern of the members.
I have on many occasions been placed in this double role and have approached the
problem in various ways but with only limited success. One approach is to confront the
problem energetically with the group. I affirm the reality that I do have a dual role, and
that, although I will attempt in every way to be merely a group leader and will remove
myself from any administrative or evaluative duties, I may not be able to free myself from
all unconscious vestiges of the second role. I thus address myself uncompromisingly to the
dilemma facing the group. But, as the group proceeds, I also address myself to the fact that
each member must deal with the “two-hat” problem. Similar dilemmas occur throughout
the practice of group therapy and are best embraced rather than avoided or denied.29 What
can we learn through this dilemma? Each member may respond to it very differently:
some may so distrust me that they choose to remain hidden in silence; some curry my
favor; some trust me completely and participate with full abandon in the group; others
persistently challenge me. All of these stances toward a leader reflect basic attitudes
toward authority and are good grist for the mill, provided there is at least a modicum of
willingness to work.
Another approach I often take when in this “two-hat” position is to be unusually self-
disclosing—in effect, to give the members more on me than I have on them. In so doing, I
model openness and demonstrate both the universality of human problems and how
unlikely it would be for me to adopt a judgmental stance toward them. In other words,
leader transparency offered in the service of training lowers the perceived stakes for the
participants by normalizing their concerns.
My experience has been that, even using the best techniques, leaders who are also
administrators labor under a severe handicap, and their groups are likely to be restricted
and guarded. The group becomes a far more effective vehicle for personal growth and
training if led by a leader from outside the institution who will play no role in student
evaluation. It facilitates the work of a group if, at the outset, the leader makes explicit his
or her unwillingness under any circumstances ever to contribute letters of reference—
either favorable or unfavorable—for the members. All these issues—group goals,
confidentiality, and participation should be made explicit at the beginning of the group

experience.
Is the Training Groupa Therapy Group?
This is a vexing question. In training groups of professionals, no other issue is so often
used in the service of group resistance. It is wise for leaders to present their views about
training versus therapy at the outset of the group. I begin by asking that the members make
certain commitments to the group. Each member should be aware of the requirements for
membership: a willingness to invest oneself emotionally in the group, to disclose feelings
about oneself and the other members, and to explore areas in which one would like to
make personal changes.
There is a useful distinction to be made between a therapy group and a therapeutic
group. A training group, though it is not a therapy group, is therapeutic in that it offers the
opportunity to do therapeutic work. By no means, though, is each member expected to do
extensive therapeutic work.
The basic contract of the group, in fact, its raison d’être, is training, not therapy. To a
great extent, these goals overlap: a leader can offer no better group therapy training than
that of an effective therapeutic group. Furthermore, every intensive group experience
contains within it great therapeutic potential: members cannot engage in effective
interaction, cannot fully assume the role of a group member, cannot get feedback about
their interpersonal style and their blind spots without some therapeutic spin-off. Yet that is
different from a therapy group that assembles for the purpose of accomplishing extensive
therapeutic change for each member of the group.
In a therapy group, the intensive group experience, the expression and integration of
affect, the recognition of here-and-now process are all essential but secondary
considerations to the primary goal of individual therapeutic change. In a training group of
mental health professionals, the reverse is true. There will be many times when the T-
group leader will seize an opportunity for explication and teaching that a group therapist
would seize for deeper emotional exploration.
Leader Technique
The leader of a training group of mental health professionals has a demanding task: he or
she not only provides a role model by shaping and conducting an effective group but must
also make certain modifications in technique to deal with the specific educational needs of
the group members.
The basic approach, however, does not deviate from the guidelines I outlined earlier in
this book. For example, the leader is well advised to retain an interactional, here-and-now
focus. It is an error, in my opinion, to allow the group to move into a supervisory format
where members describe problems they confront in their clinical work: such discussion
should be the province of the supervisory hour. Whenever a group is engaged in discourse

that can be held equally well in another formal setting, it is failing to use its unique
properties and full potential. Instead, members can discuss these work-related problems in
more profitable group-relevant ways: for example, they might discuss how it would feel to
be the client of a particular member. The group is also an excellent place for two members
who happen to work together in therapy groups, or in marital or family therapy, to work
on their relationship.
There are many ways for a leader to use the members’ professional experience in the
service of the group work. For example, I have often made statements to the training
group in the following vein: “The group has been very slow moving today. When I
inquired, you told me that you felt ‘lazy’ or that it was too soon after lunch to work. If you
were the leader of a group and heard this, what would you make of it? What would you
do?” Or: “Not only are John and Stewart refusing to work on their differences but others
are lining up behind them. What are the options available to me as a leader today?” In a
training group, I am inclined, much more than in a therapy group, to explicate group
process. In therapy groups, if there is no therapeutic advantage in clarifying group process,
I see no reason to do so. In training groups, there is always the superordinate goal of
education.
Often process commentary combined with a view from the leader’s seat is particularly
useful. For example:
Let me tell you what I felt today as a group leader. A half hour ago I felt
uncomfortable with the massive encouragement and support everyone was giving
Tom. This has happened before, and though it was reassuring, I haven’t felt it was
really helpful to Tom. I was tempted to intervene by inquiring about Tom’s
tendency to pull this behavior from the group, but I chose not to—partly because
I’ve gotten so much flak lately for being nonsupportive. So I remained silent. I
think I made the right choice, since it seems to me that the meeting developed into
a very productive one, with some of you getting deeply into your feelings of
needing care and support. How do the rest of you see what’s happened today?
In a particularly helpful essay, Aveline, an experienced group leader of student groups,
suggests that the leader has five main tasks:
1. Containment of anxiety (through exploration of sources of anxiety in the group and
provision of anxiety-relieving group structure)
2. Establishment of a therapeutic atmosphere in the group by shaping norms of
support, acceptance, and group autonomy
3. Establishing appropriate goals that can be addressed in the time available
4. Moderating the pace so that the group moves neither too fast nor too slow and that
members engage in no forced or damaging self-disclosure
5. Ending well30

PERSONAL PSYCHOTHERAPY
A training group rarely suffices to provide all the personal self-exploration a student
therapist requires. Few would dispute that personal psychotherapy is necessary for the
maturation of the group therapist. A substantial number of training programs require a
personal therapy experience.31 A large survey of 318 practicing psychologists indicated
that 70 percent had entered therapy during their training—often more than one type of
therapy: 63 percent in individual therapy (mean = 100 hours); 24 percent in group therapy
(mean = 76 hours); 36 percent in couples therapy (mean = 37 hours). This survey
determined that over their lifetime, 18 percent of practicing psychologists never entered
therapy.
What factors influenced the decision to enter therapy? Psychologists were more likely
to engage in therapy if they had an earlier therapy experience in their training, if they were
dynamically oriented in their practice, and if they conducted many hours of therapy during
the week.32 In another survey, over half of psychotherapists entered personal
psychotherapy after their training, and over 90 percent reported considerable personal and
professional benefit from the experience.33
Without doubt, the training environment influences the students’ decision to pursue
personal therapy. In the past, psychiatry training programs had very high participation
rates. Although a few still do, the trend is downward and, regrettably, fewer residents
choose to enter therapy.34
I consider my personal psychotherapy experience, a five-times-a-week analysis during
my entire three-year residency, the most important part of my training as a therapist.35 I
urge every student entering the field not only to seek out personal therapy but to do so
more than once during their career—different life stages evoke different issues to be
explored. The emergence of personal discomfort is an opportunity for greater self-
exploration that will ultimately make us better therapists.36
Our knowledge of self plays an instrumental role in every aspect of the therapy. An
inability to perceive our countertransference responses, to recognize our personal
distortions and blind spots, or to use our own feelings and fantasies in our work will
severely limit our effectiveness. If you lack insight into your own motivations, you may,
for example, avoid conflict in the group because of your proclivity to mute your feelings;
or you may unduly encourage confrontation in a search for aliveness in yourself. You may
be overeager to prove yourself or to make consistently brilliant interpretations, and
thereby disempower the group. You may fear intimacy and prevent open expression of
feelings by premature interpretations—or do the opposite: overemphasize feelings, make
too few explanatory comments, and overstimulate clients so that they are left in agitated
turmoil. You may so need acceptance that you are unable to challenge the group and, like
the members, be swept along by the prevailing group current. You may be so devastated
by an attack on yourself and so unclear about your presentation of self as to be unable to
distinguish the realistic from the transference aspects of the attack.

Several training programs—for example, the British Group Analytic Institute and the
Canadian Group Psychotherapy Association—recommend that their candidates participate
as bona fide members in a therapy group led by a senior clinician and composed of
nonprofessionals seeking personal therapy.37 Advocates of such programs point out the
many advantages to being a real member of a therapy group. There is less sibling rivalry
than in a group of one’s peers, less need to perform, less defensiveness, less concern about
being judged. The anticipated pitfalls are surmountable. If a trainee attempts to play
assistant therapist or in some other way avoids genuine therapeutic engagement, a
competent group leader will be able to provide the proper direction.
Experience as a full member of a bona fide therapy group is invaluable, and I encourage
any trainee to seek such therapy. Unfortunately, the right group can be hard to find.
Advocates of personal group therapy as a part of training hail from large metropolitan
areas (London, New York, Toronto, Geneva). But in smaller urban areas, the availability
of personal group therapy is limited. There are simply not enough groups that meet the
proper criteria—that is, an ongoing high-functioning group led by a senior clinician with
an eclectic dynamic approach (who, incidentally, is neither a personal nor professional
associate of the trainee).
There is one other method of obtaining both group therapy training and personal
psychotherapy. For several years, I led a therapy group for practicing psychotherapists. It
is a straightforward therapy group, not a training group. Admission to the group is
predicated on the need and the wish for personal therapy, and members are charged
standard therapy group fees. Naturally, in the course of their therapy, the members—most
but not all of whom are also group therapists—learn a great deal about the group therapy
process.
Since every training community has some experienced group therapists, this format
makes group therapy available to large numbers of mental health professionals. The
composition of the group is generally more compatible for the student group therapist in
that there is great homogeneity of ego strength. The group is a stranger group; members
are all professionals but do not work together (though I have seen therapists with some
informal affiliation—for example, sharing the same office suite—participate without
complication in the same group). This eliminates many of the competitive problems that
occur in groups of students in the same training program. Members are highly motivated,
psychologically minded, and generally verbally active. The highly experienced group
therapist will find that such groups are not difficult to lead. Occasionally, members may
test, judge, or compete with the leader, but the great majority are there for nononsense
work and apply their own knowledge of psychotherapy to help the group become
maximally effective.
SUMMARY

The training experiences I have described—observation of an experienced clinician, group
therapy supervision, experiential group participation, and personal therapy—constitute, in
my view, the minimum essential components of a program to train group therapists. (I
assume that the trainee has had (or is in the midst of) training in general clinical areas:
interviewing, psychopathology, personality theory, and other forms of psychotherapy.) The
sequence of the group therapy training experiences may depend on the structural
characteristics of a particular training institute. I recommend that observation, personal
therapy, and the experiential group begin very early in the training program, to be
followed in a few months by the formation of a group and ongoing supervision. I feel it is
wise for trainees to have a clinical experience in which they deal with basic group and
interactional dynamics in an open-ended group of nonpsychotic, highly motivated clients
before they begin to work with goal-limited groups of highly specialized client
populations or with one of the new specialized therapy approaches.
Training is, of course, a lifelong process. It is important that clinicians maintain contact
with colleagues, either informally or through professional organizations such as the
American Group Psychotherapy Association or the Association for Specialists in Group
Work. For growth to continue, continual input is required. Many formats for continued
education exist, including reading, working with different co-therapists, teaching,
participating in professional workshops, and having informal discussions with colleagues.
Postgraduate personal group experiences are a regenerative process for many. The
American Group Psychotherapy Association offers a two-day experiential group, led by
highly experienced group leaders, at their annual institute, which regularly precedes their
annual meeting. Follow-up surveys attest to the value—both professional and personal—
of these groups.38
Another format is for practicing professionals to form leaderless support groups.
Although such groups date back to Freud, until recently there has been little in the
literature on support groups of mental health professionals. I can personally attest to their
value. For over fifteen years I have profited enormously from membership in a group of
eleven therapists of my own age and level of experience that meets for ninety minutes
every other week. Several members of the group share the same office suite and over the
years had observed, somewhat helplessly, as several colleagues suffered, and sometimes
fell victim to, severe personal and professional stress. Their unanimous response to the
support group has been: “Why on earth didn’t we do this twenty-five years ago?” Such
groups not only offer personal and professional support but also remind therapists of the
power of the small group and permit a view of the group therapeutic process from the
members’ seat. Like all groups, they benefit from a clear consensus of expectations, goals,
and norms to ensure that they stay on track and are able to address their own group
process.39
BEYOND TECHNIQUE

The group therapy training program has the task of teaching students not only how to do
but also how to learn. What clinical educators must not convey is a rigid certainty in either
our techniques or in our underlying assumptions about therapeutic change: the field is far
too complex and pluralistic for disciples of unwavering faith. To this end, I believe it is
most important that we teach and model a basic research orientation to continuing
education in the field. By research orientation, I refer not to a steel-spectacled chi-square
efficiency but instead to an open, self-critical, inquiring attitude toward clinical and
research evidence and conclusions—a posture toward experience that is consistent with a
sensitive and humanistic clinical approach.
Recent developments in psychotherapy research underscore this principle. For a while
there was a fantasy that we could greatly abbreviate clinical training and eliminate
variability in therapy outcome by having therapists adhering to a therapy manual. This
remains an unrealized fantasy: therapy manualization has not improved clinical outcomes.
Ultimately it is the therapist more than the model that produces benefits. Adherence to the
nuts and bolts of a psychotherapy manual is a far cry from the skillful, competent delivery
of psychotherapy. Many practitioners feel that manuals restrict their natural
responsiveness and result in a “herky-jerky” ineffective therapeutic process. Therapist
effectiveness has much to do with the capacity to improvise as the context demands it,
drawing on both new knowledge and accrued wisdom. Manuals on psychotherapy do not
provide that.40
We need to help students critically evaluate their own work and maintain sufficient
technical and attitudinal flexibility to be responsive to their own observations. Mature
therapists continually evolve: they regard each client, each group—indeed, their whole
career—as a learning experience. It is equally important to train students to evaluate group
therapy research and, if appropriate, to adapt the research conclusions to their clinical
work. The inclusion of readings and seminars in clinical research methodology is thus
highly desirable. Although only a few clinicians will ever have the time, funding, and
institutional backing to engage in largescale research, many can engage in intensive
single-person or single-group research, and all clinicians must evaluate published clinical
research. If the group therapy field is to develop coherently, it must embrace responsible,
well-executed, relevant, and credible research; otherwise, group therapy will follow its
capricious, helter-skelter course, and research will become a futile, effete exercise.
Consider how the student may be introduced to a major research problem: outcome
assessment. Seminars may be devoted to a consideration of the voluminous literature on
the problems of outcome research. (Excellent recent reviews may serve to anchor these
discussions.)41 In addition to seminars, each student may engage in a research practicum
by interviewing clients who have recently terminated group therapy.
Once having engaged even to a limited extent in an assessment of change, the student
becomes more sensitive and more constructively critical toward outcome research. The
problem, as the student soon recognizes, is that conventional research continues to
perpetuate the error of extensive design, of failing to individualize outcome assessment.
Clinicians fail to heed or even to believe research in which outcome is measured by

before-and-after changes on standardized instruments—and with good reason. Abundant
clinical and research evidence indicates that change means something different to each
client. Some clients need to experience less anxiety or hostility; for others, improvement
would be accompanied by greater anxiety or hostility. Even self-esteem changes need to
be individualized. It has been demonstrated that a high self-esteem score on traditional
self-administered questionnaires can reflect either a genuinely healthy regard of self or a
defensive posture in which the individual maintains a high self-esteem at the expense of
self-awareness.42 These latter individuals would, as a result of successful treatment, have
lower (but more accurate) self-esteem as measured by questionnaires.
Hence, not only must the general strategy of outcome assessment be altered, but also
the criteria for outcome must be reformulated. It may be an error to use, in group therapy
research, criteria originally designed for individual therapy outcome. I suspect that
although group and individual therapies are equivalent in overall effectiveness, each
modality may affect different variables and have a different type of outcome. For example,
group therapy graduates may become more interpersonally skilled, more inclined to be
affiliative in times of stress, more capable of sustaining meaningful relationships, or more
empathic, whereas individual therapy clients may be more self-sufficient, introspective,
and attuned to inner processes.43
For years, group therapists have considered therapy a multidimensional laboratory for
living, and it is time to acknowledge this factor in outcome research. As a result of
therapy, some clients alter their hierarchy of life values and grow to place more
importance on humanistic or aesthetic goals; others may make major decisions that will
influence the course of their lives; others may be more interpersonally sensitive and more
able to communicate their feelings; still others may become less petty and more elevated
in their life concerns; some may have a greater sense of commitment to other people or
projects; others may experience greater energy; others may come to meaningful terms with
their own mortality; and still others may find themselves more adventuresome, more
receptive to new concepts and experiences. Complicating matters even more is the fact
that many of these changes may be orthogonal to relief of presenting symptoms or to
attainment of greater comfort.44
A research orientation demands that, throughout your career as a therapist, you remain
flexible and responsive to new evidence and that you live with a degree of uncertainty—
no small task. Uncertainty that stems from the absence of a definitive treatment system
begets anxiety.
Many practitioners seek solace by embracing the Loreleis of orthodox belief systems:
they commit themselves to one of the many ideological schools that not only offer a
comprehensive system of explanation but also screen out discrepant facts and discount
new evidence. This commitment usually entails a lengthy apprenticeship and initiation.
Once within the system, students find it difficult to get out: first, they have usually
undergone such a lengthy apprenticeship that abandonment of the school is equivalent to
denouncing a part of oneself; and second, it is extremely difficult to abandon a position of
certainty for one of uncertainty. Clearly, however, such a position of certainty is

antithetical to growth and is particularly stunting to the development of the student
therapist.
On the other hand, there are potential dangers in the abrogation of certainty. Anxious
and uncertain therapists may be less effective. Deep uncertainty may engender therapeutic
nihilism, and the student may resist mastering any organized technique of therapy.
Teachers, by personal example, must offer an alternative model, demonstrating that they
believe, in accordance with the best evidence available, that a particular approach is
effective, but expect to alter that approach as new information becomes available.
Furthermore, the teachers must make clear to their students the pride they derive from
being part of a field that attempts to progress and is honest enough to know its own
limitations.
Practitioners who lack a research orientation with which to evaluate new developments
are in a difficult position. How can they, for example, react to the myriad recent
innovations in the field—for example, the proliferation of brief, structured group
approaches? Unfortunately, the adoption of a new method is generally a function of the
vigor, the persuasiveness, or the charisma of its proponent, and some new therapeutic
approaches have been extraordinarily successful in rapidly obtaining both visibility and
adherents. Many therapists who do not apply a consistent and critical approach to
evidence have found themselves either unreasonably unreceptive to all new approaches or
swept along with some current fad and then, dissatisfied with its limitations, moving on to
yet another.
The critical problem facing group psychotherapy, then, is one of balance. A traditional,
conservative sector is less receptive to change than is optimal; the innovative, challenging
sector is less receptive to stability than is optimal. The field is swayed by fashion, whereas
it should be influenced by evidence. Psychotherapy is a science as well as an art, and there
is no place in science for uncritical orthodoxy or for innovation for its own sake.
Orthodoxy offers safety for adherents but leads to stagnation; the field becomes insensitive
to the zeitgeist and is left behind as the public goes elsewhere. Innovation provides zest
and a readily apparent creative outlet for proponents but, if unevaluated, results in a
kaleidoscopic field without substance—a field that “rides off madly in all directions.”45

Appendix
Information and Guidelines for Participation in Group Therapy
Group therapy has a long, proven record as a highly effective and useful form of
psychotherapy. It is as helpful as, and in some cases more helpful than, individual therapy,
particularly when social support and learning about interpersonal relationships are
important objectives of treatment. The vast majority of individuals who participate in
group therapy benefit from it substantially. Although group therapy is generally highly
supportive, you may at times find it stressful.
SOME GOALS OF GROUP PSYCHOTHERAPY
Many individuals seeking therapy feel isolated and dissatisfied in their particular life
situation. They may have difficulties establishing and maintaining close, mutually
gratifying, and meaningful relationships with others. Frequently they are interested in
learning more about how they relate to others.
Group therapy offers an opportunity to:
• Receive and offer support and feedback
• Improve interpersonal relationships and communication
• Experiment with new interpersonal behaviors
• Talk honestly and directly about feelings
• Gain insight and understanding into one’s own thoughts, feelings, and behaviors by
looking at relationship patterns both inside and outside the group
• Gain understanding of other peoples’ thoughts, feelings, and behaviors
• Improve self-confidence, self-image, and self-esteem
• Undergo personal change inside the group with the expectation of carrying that
learning over into one’s outside life
CONFIDENTIALITY
All statements by participants in psychotherapy must be treated with the utmost respect
and confidentiality. It is an essential part of ethical, professional conduct.

a) Therapists
Group therapists are pledged to maintain complete confidentiality except in one situation:
when there is an immediate risk of serious harm to a group member or to someone else.
If you are in concurrent individual treatment, we request your permission to
communicate with your individual therapist at regular intervals. Your therapists are your
allies and it is important for your therapy that they communicate with one another.
b) Group Members
Confidentiality is similarly expected of all group members. Group members must maintain
confidentiality to create a safe environment for the work of therapy and to develop trust
within the group. Most individuals in therapy prefer to keep the therapy a private place
and refrain from any discussions about it with others. If, however, in discussions with
friends or family, you wish at some point to refer to your group therapy, you should speak
only about your own experience, not about any other member’s experience. Never
mention any other member’s name or say anything that might inadvertently identify any
group members.
WHAT DO YOU DO IN THE GROUP?
HOW ARE YOU EXPECTED TO BEHAVE?
There will not be a prescribed agenda for each session. Participants are encouraged to talk
about any personal or relationship issues relevant to the problems and goals that led them
to therapy.
Participants are encouraged to offer support, to ask questions, to wonder about things
said or not said, to share associations and thoughts. Much emphasis will be placed on
examining the relations between members—that is, the “here-and-now.” Members will
often be asked to share their impressions of one another—their thoughts, fears, and
positive feelings. The more we work in the here-and-now of the group, the more effective
we will be.
Disclosure about oneself is necessary for one to profit from group therapy, but members
should choose to disclose at their own pace. We never pressure members for confessions.
In order to construct a therapeutic group environment, we ask that members always try
to say things to other members in a way that is constructive. Helpful feedback focuses on
what is happening in the here-and-now, does not blame, is relevant, and connects the
member receiving the feedback with the member offering the feedback. This kind of direct
feedback and engagement is novel: rarely in our culture do individuals speak so honestly

and directly. Hence, it may at first feel risky, but it may also feel deeply engaging and
meaningful.
Direct advice-giving from group members and therapists is not generally useful. Neither
are general discussions of such topics as sports or politics helpful unless there is
something about a current event that has particular relevance to one’s personal or
interpersonal issues.
The therapy group is not a place to make friends. Rather, it is a social laboratory—a
place in which one acquires the skills to develop meaningful and satisfying relationships.
In fact, therapy groups (unlike support or social groups) do not encourage social contact
with other members outside the group. Why? Because an outside relationship with another
member or members generally impedes therapy!
How is therapy impeded? To explain this we need first to emphasize that your primary
task in the therapy group is to explore fully your relationships with each and every
member of the group. At first, that may seem puzzling or unrelated to the reasons you
sought therapy.
Yet it begins to make sense when you consider the fact that the group is a social
microcosm—that is, the problems you experience in your social life will emerge also in
your relationships within the group. Therefore, by exploring and understanding all aspects
of your relationships with other members and then transferring this knowledge to your
outside life you begin the process of developing more satisfying relationships.
If, however, you develop a close relationship with another member (or members)
outside the group, you may be disinclined to share all your feelings about that relationship
within the group. Why? Because that friendship may mean so much that you may be
reluctant to say anything that might jeopardize it in any way. What happens in a therapy
group when openness and honesty are compromised? Therapy grinds to a halt!
Therefore, it is best that members who meet outside the group (by chance or design)
share all relevant information with the group. Any type of secrecy about relationships
slows down the work of therapy. At times members develop strong feelings toward other
members. We encourage that these feelings be discussed, both positive feelings as well as
other feelings such as irritation or disappointment. Group members are expected to talk
about feelings without acting on their feelings.
Group Therapists
Your group therapists are not going to “run the show.” Their role is more that of a
participant/facilitator rather than of an instructor. Therapy is most productive when it is a
collaborative and a shared enterprise. Keep in mind that the input from other members
may often be as important as, or even more important than, the leaders’ comments. The
therapists may make observations about group interactions and behavior, or about what
particular individuals say or do in the group. They might also comment on progress or

obstructions within the group.
When you have something to say to the group therapists, we hope that, as much as
possible, you do so in the group sessions. However, if there is something urgent you must
discuss with the group therapists outside of group, between sessions, this can be arranged.
But it is useful to bring up in the next group meeting what was discussed with the
therapists. Even relevant material from your individual or couples therapy with another
therapist should be shared. We hope that there will be really no issues that you cannot talk
about within the group. At the same time, we recognize that trust develops only over time
and that some personal disclosures will be made only when you feel sufficiently safe in
the group.
INITIAL LENGTH OF TRIAL PERIOD OR
COMMITMENT
Group therapy does not generally show immediate positive benefit to its participants.
Because of this fact, participants sometimes find themselves wanting to leave therapy
early on if it becomes stressful for them. We ask that you suspend your early judgment of
the group’s possible benefits and continue to attend and to talk about the stresses involved
and your doubts about group therapy.
We ask that you make an initial commitment to attend and participate in your therapy
group for at least 12 sessions. By then you will have a clearer sense of the potential
helpfulness of the group.
ATTENDANCE AND GROUP COHESION
The group works most effectively if it is cohesive, reliable, and predictable. Regular
attendance is a key part of that, so we request that you make it a priority in your schedule.
Group therapy progresses best when each member values and respects the commitment
and work of each participant. Regular attendance and active participation in the meetings
is an important way to demonstrate that respect and valuing. Similarly, arriving on time to
each session is important. If you know that you are going to be late or absent, we ask that
you call the group therapists as far ahead of time as possible so that they can let the group
know at the beginning of the session.
If you know a week or more ahead of time of a necessary lateness or absence, inform
the group at an earlier session. We ask that you also inform the group of your vacation
plans well ahead of time if possible. The group therapists will do the same.
There may be times when the group is the last place you want to be, because of
uncomfortable feelings. These times may in fact be unusually productive opportunities to

do the work of psychotherapy. In the same vein, you can anticipate that some of the
difficulties that you have experienced in your life will express themselves in the group.
Don’t be discouraged by this. It is in fact a great opportunity, because it means that you
and the group members are tackling the important issues that concern you.
You have decided, by agreeing to participate in group therapy, to begin a process of
giving and receiving support and working toward needed changes in your personal and
interpersonal life. We look forward to the opportunity of working together with you in this
group.

Notes
Additional reference information and suggested readings of relevant articles can be found
at www.yalom.com. Where specific references exist at www.yalom.com, a † has been
added to the text in this book.

http://www.yalom.com

http://www.yalom.com

CHAPTER 1
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11 A. Goldstein, Therapist-Patient Expectancies in Psychotherapy (New York: Pergamon
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12 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”
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13 A. Leuchter, I. Cook, E. Witte, M. Morgan, and M. Abrams, “Changes in Brain
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14 D. Spiegel and C. Classen, Group Therapy for Cancer Patients (New York: Basic
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15 Goldstein, Therapist-Patient Expectancies, 35–53. Kaul and Bednar, “Experiential
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16 Lieberman and Borman, Self-Help Groups.
17 K. Lorig et al., “Evidence Suggesting That a Chronic Disease Self-Management
Program Can Improve Health Status While Reducing Hospitalization: A Randomized
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18 F. Fawzy, N. Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats: An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):
81–89. A. Bandura, Self-Efficacy: The Exercise of Control (New York: Freeman, 1997).
19 J. Moreno, “Group Treatment for Eating Disorders,” in Fuhriman and Burlingame,
Handbook of Group Psychotherapy: 416–457.
20 S. Gold-Steinberg and M. Buttenheim, “‘Telling One’s Story’ in an Incest Survivors’
Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 173–89. F. Mennen and
D. Meadow, “Process to Recovery: In Support of Long-Term Groups for Sexual Abuse
Survivors,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 29–44. M. Schadler,
“Brief Group Therapy with Adult Survivors of Incest,” in Focal Group Therapy, ed. M.
McKay and K. Paleg (Oakland, Calif.: New Harbinger Publications, 1992), 292–322.
21 J. Kelly, “Group Therapy Approaches for Patients with HIV and AIDS,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 145–62. C. Rose, L. Sekula, and E.
Rubenstein, “Group Interventions for Widowed Survivors of Suicide,” Suicide and Life-
Threatening Behavior 31 (2001): 428–41.
22 P. Tsui and G. Schultz, “Ethnic Factors in Group Process,” American Journal of
Orthopsychiatry 58 (1988): 136–42.
23 N. Hansen, F. Pepitone-Arreola-Rockwell, and A. Greene, “Multicultural Competence:
Criteria and Case Examples,” Professional Psychology: Research and Practice 31 (2000):
652–60. G. Nagayama Hall, “Psychotherapy Research with Ethnic Minorities: Empirical,
Ethical, and Conceptual Issues,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 69
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24 M. Jones, “Group Treatment with Particular Reference to Group Projection Methods,”
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25 L. Marsh, “Group Therapy and the Psychiatric Clinic,” Journal of Nervous and Mental
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26 M. Galanter, “Zealous Self-Help Groups as Adjuncts to Psychiatric Treatment: A Study
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“Cults and Zealous Self-Help Movements,” American Journal of Psychiatry 145 (1990):
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27 P. Murray, “Recovery, Inc., as an Adjunct to Treatment in an Era of Managed Care,”

Psychiatric Services 47 (1996): 1378–81.
28 A. Low, Mental Health Through Will Training (Boston: Christopher Publishing House,
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29 Lieberman and Borman, Self-Help Groups, 194–234. G. Goodman and M. Jacobs,
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30 H. Fensterheim and B. Wiegand, “Group Treatment of the Hyperventilation
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31 S. Tenzer, “Fat Acceptance Therapy: A Non-Dieting Group Approach to Physical
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32 Moreno, “Group Treatment for Eating Disorders.”J. Mitchell et al., “A Comparison
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33 M. Kalb, “The Effects of Biography on the Divorce Adjustment Process,” Sexual and
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34 S. Drob and H. Bernard, “Time-Limited Group Treatment of Genital Herpes,”
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35 D. Ornish, Dr. Dean Ornish’s Program for Reversing Heart Disease (New York:
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36 B. Mara and M. Winton, “Sexual Abuse Intervention: A Support Group for Parents
Who Have a Sexually Abused Child,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40
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37 T. Poynter, “An Evaluation of a Group Program for Male Perpetrators of Domestic
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38 I. Yalom and S. Vinogradov, “Bereavement Groups: Techniques and Themes,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 419–46.

39 S. Levine et al., “Group Psychotherapy for HIV-Seropositive Patients with Major
Depression,” American Journal of Psychotherapy 55 (1991): 413–25. G. Tunnell,
“Complication in Group Psychotherapy with AIDS Patients,” International Journal of
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ARC and AIDS in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
40 (1990): 19–30. Kelly, “Group Therapy Approaches for Patients with HIV and AIDS.”
40 S. Price, A. Heinrich, and J. Golden, “Structured Group Treatment of Couples
Experiencing Sexual Dysfunction,” Journal of Sex and Marital Therapy 6 (1981): 247–57.
41 L. Gallese and E. Treuting, “Help for Rape Victims Through Group Therapy,” Journal
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42 R. Kris and H. Kramer, “Efficacy of Group Therapy with Postmastectomy Self-
Perception, Body Image, and Sexuality,” Journal of Sex Research 23 (1986): 438–51.
43 E. Herman and S. Baptiste, “Pain Control: Mastery Through Group Experience,” Pain
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44 S. Abbey and S. Farrow, “Group Therapy and Organ Transplantation,” International
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Depression (New York: Guilford Press, 2002).
46 J. Kabat-Zinn, Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to
Face Stress, Pain, and Illness (New York: Dell, 1990). Segal et al., Mindfulness-Based
Cognitive Therapy.
47 V. Helgeson, S. Cohen, R. Schulz, and J. Yasko, “Education and Peer Discussion
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(1999): 340–47.
48 I. Yalom, P. Houts, G. Newell, and K. Rand, “Preparation of Patients for Group
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52 J. Rubin and K. Locasio, “A Model for Communication Skills Group Using Structured
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(1985): 569–84.

53 J. Flowers, “The Differential Outcome Effects of Simple Advice, Alternatives, and
Instructions in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 29
(1979): 305–15.
54 W. Beardslee, E. Wright, P. Rothberg, P. Salt, and E. Versage, “Response of Families to
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Therapy,” International Journal of Group Therapy 41 (1991): 365–78.

CHAPTER 2
1 R. Baumeister and M. Leary, “The Need to Belong: Desire for Interpersonal
Attachments as a Fundamental Human Motivation,” Psychology Bulletin 117 (1995): 497–
529.
2 J. Bowlby, Attachment and Loss, vol. 3, Loss: Sadness and Depression (New York:
Basic Books, 1980).
3 D. Winnicott, Through Pediatrics to Psychoanalysis (London: Hogarth Press, 1978;
orig. published 1952).
4 S. Mitchell, Relational Concepts in Psychoanalysis (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1988).
5 W. James, The Principles of Psychology, vol. 1 (New York: Henry Holt, 1890), 293.
6 L. Syme, Social Support and Health (Orlando, Fla.: Academic Press, 1985). J. Hartog, J.
Audy, and Y. Cohen, eds., The Anatomy of Loneliness (New York: International
Universities Press, 1980). J. Lynch, The Broken Heart: The Medical Consequences of
Loneliness (New York: Basic Books, 1977).
7 J. House, K. Landis, and D. Umberson, “Social Relationships and Health,” Science 241
(1988): 540–45.
8 E. Maunsell, J. Brisson, and L. Deschenes, “Social Support and Survival Among
Women with Breast Cancer,” Cancer 76 (1995): 631–37. M. Price et al., “The Role of
Psychosocial Factors in the Development of Breast Carcinoma, Part II: Life Event
Stressors, Social Support, Defense Style, and Emotional Control and Their Interactions,”
Cancer 91 (2001): 686–97. J. Leserman et al., “Impact of Stressful Life Events,
Depression, Social Support, Coping, and Cortisol on Progression to AIDS,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 157 (2000): 1221–28.
9 V. Schermer, “Contributions of Object Relations Theory and Self Psychology to
Relational Psychology, Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 199–212.
10 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993).
11 H. Sullivan, The Interpersonal Theory of Psychiatry (New York: Norton, 1953). H.
Sullivan, Conceptions of Modern Psychiatry (New York: Norton, 1940).
12 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: Wiley,
1996).
13 P. Mullahy, “Harry Stack Sullivan,” in Comprehensive Textbook of Psychiatry, ed. H.
Kaplan, A. Freedman, and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1980): 152–55. P.
Mullahy, The Contributions of Harry Stack Sullivan (New York: Hermitage House, 1952).

14 J. McCullough Jr., Treatment for Chronic Depression: Cognitive Behavioral Analysis
System of Psychotherapy (CBASP) (New York: Guilford Press, 2000). D. Hellerstein et al.,
“Adding Group Psychotherapy to Medication Treatment in Dysthymia: A Randomized
Prospective Pilot Study,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10 (2002): 93–
103. J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy (New York: Basic
Books, 1990).
15 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory.
16 Mullahy, Contributions, 22.
17 H. Grunebaum and L. Solomon, “Peer Relationships, Self-Esteem, and the Self,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 475–513.
18 M. Leszcz, “Integrated Group Psychotherapy for the Treatment of Depression in the
Elderly,” Group 21 (1997): 89–113.
19 P. Fonagy, “The Process of Change and the Change of Processes: What Can Change in
a ‘Good Analysis’,” keynote address to the spring meeting of Division 39 of the American
Psychological Association, New York, April 16, 1999.
20 Bowlby, Attachment and Loss.
21 Safran and Segal, Interpersonal Process. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory.
22 H. Strupp and J. Binder, Psychotherapy in a New Key (New York: Basic Books, 1984).
R. Giesler and W. Swann, “Striving for Confirmation: The Role of Self-Verification in
Depression, in The Interactional Nature of Depression, ed. T. Joiner and J. Coyne
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1999), 189–217.
23 Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory. Kiesler describes this interpersonal
vicious circle as a maladaptive transaction cycle (MTC). Current research emphasizes
interpersonal complementarity—the idea that specific behavior elicits specific responses
from others—as the mechanism that initiates and maintains vicious circles of maladaptive
interactions. Consider, for example, two dimensions of behavior much used in
interpersonal research: agency and affiliation. Agency (that is, self definition, assertion and
initiative) ranges from domination to subordination. Complementarity in agency means
that dominating behaviors pull reciprocal counter responses of submission; submissive
behavior in turn will reciprocally pull forth dominating forms of responses. Affiliation
(that is, one’s attitude to interpersonal connection) ranges from hostility to friendliness and
pulls for similarity and agreement: hostility draws further hostility, and friendliness pulls
for friendliness back). Anticipating and understanding specific types of interpersonal pulls
informs the group leader about clients’ actual and potential maladaptive transactions in
therapy. Moreover, this information can be used to help group therapists maintain a
therapeutic perspective in the presence of the strong interpersonal pulls affecting others or
themselves. Once therapists recognize the interpersonal impact of each client’s behavior,
they more readily understand their own countertransference and can provide more
accurate and useful feedback.
24 Mullahy, Contributions, 10.

25 L. Horowitz and J. Vitkis, “The Interpersonal Basis of Psychiatric Symptomatology,”
Clinical Psychology Review 6 (1986): 443–69.
26 Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory.
27 Sullivan, Conceptions, 207.
28 Ibid., 237.
29 B. Grenyer and L. Luborsky, “Dynamic Change in Psychotherapy: Mastery of
Interpersonal Conflicts,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 64 (1996): 411–
16.
30 S. Hemphill and L. Littlefield, “Evaluation of a Short-Term Group Therapy Program
for Children with Behavior Problems and Their Parents,” Behavior Research and Therapy
39 (2001): 823–41. S. Scott, Q. Spender, M. Doolan, B. Jacobs, and H. Espland, “Multi-
Center Controlled Trial of Parenting Groups for Childhood Antisocial Behavior in Clinical
Practice,” British Medical Journal 323 (2001): 194–97.
31 D. Wilfley, K. MacKenzie, V. Ayers, R. Welch, and M. Weissman, Interpersonal
Psychotherapy for Group (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
32 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400.
33 E. Kübler-Ross, On Death and Dying (New York: Macmillan, 1969).
34 F. Alexander and T. French, Psychoanalytic Therapy: Principles and Applications
(New York: Ronald Press, 1946). For a more contemporary psychoanalytic view of the
corrective emotional experience, see T. Jacobs, “The Corrective Emotional Experience: Its
Place in Current Technique,” Psychoanalytic Inquiry 10 (1990): 433–545.
35 F. Alexander, “Unexplored Areas in Psychoanalytic Theory and Treatment,” in New
Perspectives in Psychoanalysis, Sandor Rado Lectures 1957–1963, ed. G. Daniels (New
York: Grune & Stratton, 1965), 75.
36 P. Fonagy, G. Moran, R. Edgcumbe, H. Kennedy, and M. Target, “The Roles of Mental
Representations and Mental Processes in Therapeutic Action,” The Psychoanalytic Study
of the Child 48 (1993): 9–48. J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique
(New York: Guilford Press, 1993).
37 P. Fretter, W. Bucci, J. Broitman, G. Silberschatz, and J. Curtis, “How the Patient’s
Plan Relates to the Concept of Transference,” Psychotherapy Research 4 (1994): 58–72.
38 Alexander, “Unexplored Areas,” 79–80.
39 J. Frank and E. Ascher, “The Corrective Emotional Experience in Group Therapy,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 108 (1951): 126–31.
40 J. Breuer and S. Freud, Studies on Hysteria, in S. Freud, The Standard Edition of the
Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 2 (London: Hogarth Press, 1955).
41 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:

Basic Books, 1973).
42 Ibid.
43 A. Alonso and J. Rutan, “Character Change in Group Therapy,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy, 43, 4 (1993): 439–51.
44 B. Cohen, “Intersubjectivity and Narcissism in Group Psychotherapy: How Feedback
Works,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 163–79.
45 R. Stolorow, B. Brandschaft, and G. Atwood, Psychoanalytic Treatment: An
Intersubjective Approach (Hillsdale, N.J.: Analytic Press, 1987).
46 J. Kleinberg, “Beyond Emotional Intelligence at Work: Adding Insight to Injury
Through Group Psychotherapy,” Group 24 (2000): 261–78.
47 Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory. J. Muran and J. Safran, “A Relational
Approach to Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Handbook of Psychotherapy, ed. F.
Kaslow, vol. 1, Psychodynamic/Object Relations, ed. J. Magnavita (New York: Wiley,
2002), 253–81.
48 M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis
der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69.
49 N. Jacobson et al., “A Component Analysis of Cognitive-Behavioral Treatment for
Depression,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 64 (1996): 295–304.
50 R. Dies, “Group Psychotherapies,” in Essential Psychotherapies: Theory and Practice,
ed. A. Gurman and S. Messer (New York: Guilford Publications, 1998): 488-522. E.
Crouch and S. Bloch, “Therapeutic Factors: Interpersonal and Intrapersonal Mechanisms,”
in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York:
Wiley, 1994), 25–87. R. Dies, “Clinical Implications of Research on Leadership in Short-
Term Group Psychotherapy,” in Advances in Group Psychotherapy, ed. R. Dies and K.
MacKenzie (New York: International Universities Press, 1983), 27–79. J. Frank, “Some
Values of Conflict in Therapeutic Groups,” Group Psychotherapy 8 (1955): 142–51. J.
Kaye, “Group Interaction and Interpersonal Learning,” Small Group Behavior 4 (1973):
424–48. A. German and J. Gustafson, “Patients’ Perceptions of the Therapeutic
Relationship and Group Therapy Outcome,” American Journal of Psychiatry 133 (1976):
1290–94. J. Hodgson, “Cognitive Versus Behavioral-Interpersonal Approaches to the
Group Treatment of Depressed College Students,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 28
(1981): 243–49.
51 J. Donovan, J. Bennett, and C. McElroy, “The Crisis Group: An Outcome Study,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 136 (1979): 906–10.
52 L. Kohl, D. Rinks, and J. Snarey, “Childhood Development as a Predictor of
Adaptation in Adulthood,” Genetic Psychology Monographs 110 (1984): 97–172. K.
Kindler et al., “The Family History Method: Whose Psychiatric History Is Measured?”
American Journal of Psychiatry 148 (1991): 1501–4. P. Chodoff, “A Critique of the
Freudian Theory of Infantile Sexuality,” American Journal of Psychiatry 123 (1966): 507–
18. J. Kagan, “Perspectives on Continuity,” in Constancy and Change in Human

Development, ed. J. Kagan and O. Brim (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1980). J. Kagan, The Nature of the Child (New York: Basic Books, 1984), 99–111.
53 E. Kandel, “A New Intellectual Framework for Psychiatry,” American Journal of
Psychiatry 155 (1998): 457–69.
54 P. Fonagy, H. Kachele, R. Krause, E. Jones, R. Perron, and L. Lopez, “An Open Door
Review of Outcome Studies in Psychoanalysis.” London: International Psychoanalytical
Association, 1999.

CHAPTER 3
1 C. McRoberts, G. Burlingame, and M. Hoag, “Comparative Efficacy of Individual and
Group Psychotherapy: A Meta-analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research,
and Practice 2 (1998): 101–17. W. McDermut, I. Miller, and R. Brown, “The Efficacy of
Group Psychotherapy for Depression: A Meta-Analysis and Review of Empirical
Research,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 8 (2001): 98–116. G. Burlingame,
K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for Effectiveness and
Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley, 2004), 647–96. L.
Luborsky, P. Crits-Christoph, J. Mintz, and A. Auerbach, Who Will Benefit from
Psychotherapy? (New York: Basic Books, 1988). H. Bachrach, R. Galantzer-Levy, A.
Skolnikoff, and S. Waldron, “On the Efficacy of Psychoanalysis,” Journal of the American
Psychoanalytic Association 39 (1991): 871–916. L. Luborsky, L. Diguer, E. Luborsky, B.
Singer, D. Dickter, and K. Schmidt, “The Efficacy of Dynamic Psychotherapy: Is It True
That Everyone Has Won and All Must Have Prizes?” Psychodynamic Treatment Research:
A Handbook for Clinical Practice (New York: Basic Books, 1993): 497–518. M. Lambert
and A. Bergin, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New
York: Wiley, 1994), 143–89. M. Smith, G. Glass, and T. Miller, The Benefits of
Psychotherapy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980). A. Bergin and M.
Lambert, “The Evaluation of Therapeutic Outcomes,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 2nd ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New
York: Wiley, 1978), 139–83. R. Bednar and T. Kaul, “Experiential Group Research: Can
the Canon Fire?” in Garfield and Bergin, Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral
Change, 4th ed., 631–63. C. Tillitski, “A Meta-Analysis of Estimated Effect Sizes for
Group Versus Individual Versus Control Treatments,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 215–24. R. Toseland and M. Siporin, “When to Recommend
Group Therapy: A Review of the Clinical and Research Literature,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 171–201.
2 W. McFarlane et al., “Multiple-Family Groups in Psychoeducation in the Treatment of
Schizophrenia,” Archives of General Psychiatry 52 (1996): 679–87. M. Galanter and D.
Brook, “Network Therapy for Addiction: Bringing Family and Peer Support into Office
Practice,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 101–23. F. Fawzy, N.
Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a Psychoeducational
Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus Individual Formats: An
Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996): 81–89.
3 H. Strupp, S. Hadley, and B. Gomes-Schwartz, Psychotherapy for Better or Worse: The
Problem of Negative Effects (New York: Jason Aronson, 1977). Lambert and Bergin,
“Effectiveness of Psychotherapy,” 176–80. Luborsky et al. raise a dissenting voice: In

their study they found little evidence of negative psychotherapy effects. See Who Will
Benefit from Psychotherapy? M. Lambert and B. Ogles, “The Efficacy and Effectiveness
of Psychotherapy,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior
Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley, 2004): 139–93.
4 D. Martin, J. Garske, and M. Davis, “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome
and Other Variables: A Meta-Analytic Review,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 68 (2000): 438–50. A. Horvath, L. Gaston, and L. Luborsky, “The Therapeutic
Alliance and Its Measures,” in Dynamic Psychotherapy Research, ed. N. Miller, L.
Luborsky, and J. Docherty (New York: Basic Books, 1993): 297–373. L. Gaston, “The
Concept of the Alliance and Its Role in Psychotherapy: Theoretical and Empirical
Considerations,” Psychiatry 27 (1990): 143–53.
5 J. Krupnick et al., “The Role of the Therapeutic Alliance in Psychotherapy and
Pharmacotherapy Outcome: Findings in the National Institute of Mental Health
Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 64
(1996): 532–39. D. Orlinsky and K. Howard, “The Relation of Process to Outcome in
Psychotherapy,” in Garfield and Bergin, Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral
Change, 4th ed., 308–76. H. Strupp, R. Fox, and K. Lessler, Patients View Their
Psychotherapy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1969). P. Martin and A.
Sterne, “Post-Hospital Adjustment as Related to Therapists’ In-Therapy Behavior,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 13 (1976): 267–73. P. Buckley et al.,
“Psychodynamic Variables as Predictors of Psychotherapy Outcome,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 141 (1984): 742–48.
6 W. Meissner, “The Concept of the Therapeutic Alliance,” Journal of the American
Psychoanalytic Association 40 (1992): 1059–87. “Therapeutic alliance” is a term first
used by Zetsel to describe the client’s capacity to collaborate with her psychoanalyst in the
tasks of psychoanalysis. The client’s objectivity and commitment to explore and work
through the thoughts and feelings generated in the treatment are key aspects in this early
definition. Contemporary views of the therapeutic alliance define it more specifically as
the understanding shared between the client and therapist regarding the therapy’s goals
and the therapy’s tasks, along with the mutuality of trust, respect, and positive regard that
characterize a successful therapy experience. (Bordin; Safran and Muran) Wolfe and
Goldfried view the therapeutic alliance as “the quintessential integrative variable.” It lies
at the heart of every effective mental health treatment, regardless of model or therapist
orientation. E. Zetsel, “The Concept of the Transference,” in The Capacity for Emotional
Growth (New York: International Universities Press, 1956), 168–81. E. Bordin, “The
Generalizability of the Psychoanalytic Concept of the Therapeutic Alliance,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 16 (1979): 252–60. J. Safran and J.
Muran, Negotiating the Therapeutic Alliance: A Relational Treatment Guide (New York:
Guilford Press, 2003). B. Wolfe and M. Goldfried, “Research on Psychotherapy
Integration: Recommendations and Conclusions from an NIMH Workshop,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 56 (1988): 448–51.
7 A. Horvath and B. Symonds, “Relation Between Working Alliance and Outcome in

Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analysis,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 38 (1991): 139–49.
F. Fiedler, “A Comparison of Therapeutic Relationships in Psychoanalytic, Non-directive,
and Adlerian Therapy,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 14 (1950): 436–45. M.
Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York: Basic
Books, 1973).
8 R. DeRubeis and M. Feeley, “Determinants of Change in Cognitive Therapy for
Depression,” Cognitive Therapy and Research 14 (1990): 469–80. B. Rounsaville et al.,
“The Relation Between Specific and General Dimension: The Psychotherapy Process in
Interpersonal Therapy of Depression,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 55
(1987): 379–84. M. Salvio, L. Beutler, J. Wood, and D. Engle, “The Strength of the
Therapeutic Alliance in Three Treatments for Depression,” Psychotherapy Research 2
(1992): 31–36. N. Rector, D. Zuroff, and Z. Segal, “Cognitive Change and the Therapeutic
Alliance: The Role of Technical and Non-technical Factors in Cognitive Therapy,”
Psychotherapy 36 (1999): 320–28.
9 J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Validity of Controlled Clinical Trials of Psychotherapy: Findings
from the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 159 (2002): 775–83.
10 L. Castonguay, M. Goldfried, S. Wiser, P. Raus, and A. Hayes, “Predicting the Effect of
Cognitive Therapy for Depression: A Study of Common and Unique Factors,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 65 (1996): 588–98. Rector et al., “Cognitive Change
and the Therapeutic Alliance.”
11 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy,” in A
Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships that Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002). E. Smith, J. Murphy, and S. Coats, “Attachment to
Groups: Theory and Measurement,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77
(1999): 94–110. D. Forsyth, “The Social Psychology of Groups and Group Psychotherapy:
One View of the Next Century,” Group 24 (2000): 147–55.
12 Bednar and Kaul, “Experiential Group Research.”
13 S. Bloch and E. Crouch, Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1985), 99–103. N. Evans and P. Jarvis, “Group Cohesion: A
Review and Reevaluation,” Small Group Behavior 2 (1980): 359–70. S. Drescher, G.
Burlingame, and A. Fuhriman, “Cohesion: An Odyssey in Empirical Understanding,”
Small Group Behavior 16 (1985): 3–30. G. Burlingame, J. Kircher, and S. Taylor,
“Methodological Considerations in Group Therapy Research: Past, Present, and Future
Practices,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame
(New York: Wiley, 1994): 41–82. G. Burlingame, J. Johnson, and K. MacKenzie, “We
Know It When We See It, But Can We Measure? Therapeutic Relationship in Group,”
presented at the annual meeting of the American Group Psychotherapy Association, New
Orleans, 2002.
14 D. Cartwright and A. Zander, eds., Group Dynamics: Research and Theory (Evanston,
Ill.: Row, Peterson, 1962), 74.

15 J. Frank, “Some Determinants, Manifestations, and Effects of Cohesion in Therapy
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 53–62.
16 Bloch and Crouch, “Therapeutic Factors.”
17 Researchers either have had to depend on members’ subjective ratings of attraction to
the group or critical incidents or, more recently, have striven for greater precision by
relying entirely on raters’ evaluations of global climate or such variables as fragmentation
versus cohesiveness, withdrawal versus involvement, mistrust versus trust, disruption
versus cooperation, abusiveness versus expressed caring, unfocused versus focused. See S.
Budman et al., “Preliminary Findings on a New Instrument to Measure Cohesion in Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 75–94.
18 D. Kivlighan and D. Mullison, “Participants’ Perceptions of Therapeutic Factors in
Group Counseling,” Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 452–68. L. Braaten, “The Different
Patterns of Group Climate: Critical Incidents in High and Low Cohesion Sessions of
Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 477–93.
19 D. Kivlighan and R. Lilly, “Developmental Changes in Group Climate as They Relate
to Therapeutic Gain,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 208–
21. L. Castonguay, A. Pincus, W. Agras, and C. Hines, “The Role of Emotion in Group
Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy for Binge Eating Disorder: When Things Have to Feel
Worse Before They Get Better,” Psychotherapy Research 8 (1998): 225–38.
20 R. MacKenzie and V. Tschuschke, “Relatedness, Group Work, and Outcome in Long-
Term Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research
2 (1993): 147–56.
21 G. Tasca, C. Flynn, and H. Bissada, “Comparison of Group Climate in an Eating
Disorders Partial Hospital Group and a Psychiatric Partial Hospital Group,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 419–30.
22 R. Segalla, “Hatred in Group Therapy: A Rewarding Challenge,” Group 25 (2001):
121–32.
23 A. Roarck and H. Sharah, “Factors Related to Group Cohesiveness,” Small Group
Behavior 20 (1989): 62–69.
24 Frank, “Some Determinants.” C. Marmarosh and J. Corazzini, “Putting the Group in
Your Pocket: Using Collective Identity to Enhance Personal and Collective Self-Esteem,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 65–74.
25 H. Grunebaum and L. Solomon, “Peer Relationships, Self-Esteem, and the Self,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 475–513.
26 Frank, “Some Determinants.” Braaten, “The Different Patterns of Group Climate.”
27 K. Dion, “Group Cohesion: From ‘Field of Forces’ to Multidimensional Construct,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 4 (2000): 7–26.
28 K. MacKenzie, “The Clinical Application of a Group Measure,” in Advances in Group
Psychotherapy: Integrating Research and Practice, ed. R. Dies and K. MacKenzie (New

York: International Universities Press, 1983), 159–70. Tasca et al., “Comparison of Group
Climate.”
29 E. Marziali, H. Munroe-Blum, and L. McCleary, “The Contribution of Group Cohesion
and Group Alliance to the Outcome of Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 475–99. J. Gillaspy, A. Wright, C. Campbell, S. Stokes,
and B. Adinoff, “Group Alliance and Cohesion as Predictors of Drug and Alcohol Abuse
Treatment Outcomes,” Psychotherapy Research 12 (2002): 213–29. G. Burlingame and
colleagues have completed a comprehensive review of the current group relationship
measures, describing the strengths and limitations of the available rating measures. See
Burlingame et al., “We Know It When We See It.”
30 H. Spitz, Group Psychotherapy and Managed Mental Health Care: A Clinical Guide
for Providers (New York: Brunner Mazel, 1996). H. Spitz, “Group Psychotherapy of
Substance Abuse in the Era of Managed Mental Health Care,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 21–41.
31 H. Dickoff and M. Lakin, “Patients’ Views of Group Psychotherapy: Retrospections
and Interpretations,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 13 (1963): 61–73.
Twenty-eight patients who had been in either clinic or private outpatient groups were
studied. The chief limitation of this exploratory inquiry is that the group therapy
experience was of brief duration (the mean number of meetings attended was eleven).
32 I. Yalom, The Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy, 1st ed. (New York: Basic
Books, 1970).
33 R. Cabral, J. Best, and A. Paton, “Patients’ and Observers’ Assessments of Process and
Outcome in Group Therapy,” American Journal of Psychiatry 132 (1975): 1052–54.
34 F. Kapp et al., “Group Participation and Self-Perceived Personality Change,” Journal
of Nervous Mental Disorders 139 (1964): 255–65.
35 I. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement in Group Therapy,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68. Three measures of outcome (symptoms, functioning, and
relationships) were assessed both in a psychiatric interview by a team of raters and in a
self-assessment scale.
36 Cohesiveness was measured by a postgroup questionnaire filled out by each client at
the seventh and the twelfth meetings, with each question answered on a 5-point scale:
1. How often do you think your group should meet?
2. How well do you like the group you are in?
3. If most of the members of your group decided to dissolve the group by leaving,
would you like an opportunity to dissuade them?
4. Do you feel that working with the group you are in will enable you to attain most
of your goals in therapy?
5. If you could replace members of your group with other ideal group members, how
many would you exchange (exclusive of group therapists)?

6. To what degree do you feel that you are included by the group in the group’s
activities?
7. How do you feel about your participation in, and contribution to, the group work?
8. What do you feel about the length of the group meeting?
9. How do you feel about the group therapist(s)?
10. Are you ashamed of being in group therapy?
11. Compared with other therapy groups, how well would you imagine your group
works together?
37 I. Falloon, “Interpersonal Variables in Behavioral Group Therapy,” British Journal of
Medical Psychology 54 (1981): 133–41.
38 J. Clark and S. Culbert, “Mutually Therapeutic Perception and Self-Awareness in a T-
Group,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 180–94.
39 Outcome was measured by a well-validated rating scale (designed by A. Walker, R.
Rablen, and C. Rogers, “Development of a Scale to Measure Process Changes in
Psychotherapy,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 16 [1960]: 79–85) that measured change
in one’s ability to relate to others, to construe one’s experience, to approach one’s affective
life, and to confront and cope with one’s chief problem areas. Samples of each member’s
speech were independently rated on this scale by trained naive judges from taped excerpts
early and late in the course of the group. Intermember relationships were measured by the
Barrett-Lennard Relationship Inventory (G. Barrett-Lennard, “Dimensions of Therapist
Response as Causal Factors in Therapeutic Change,” Psychological Monographs 76, [43,
Whole No. 562] [1962]), which provided a measure of how each member viewed each
other member (and the therapist) in terms of “unconditional, positive regard, empathic
understanding, and congruence.”
40 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
41 First, a critical incident questionnaire was used to ask each member, after each meeting,
to describe the most significant event of that meeting. All events pertaining to group
attraction, communion, belongingness, and so on were tabulated. Second, a cohesiveness
questionnaire similar to the one described earlier (Yalom et al., “Prediction of
Improvement”) was administered early and late in the course of the group.
42 J. Hurley, “Affiliativeness and Outcome in Interpersonal Groups: Member and Leader
Perspectives,” Psychotherapy 26 (1989): 520–23.
43 MacKenzie and Tschuschke, “Relatedness, Group Work, and Outcome.”
44 Budman et al., “Preliminary Findings on a New Instrument.” Although this scale is
based on the assumption that cohesiveness is multidimensional, results of a well-designed
study of time-limited (fifteen sessions) therapy groups in fact supported cohesiveness as a
single factor. Furthermore, an attempt to distinguish cohesiveness from alliance was also
unsuccessful. The authors suggest that it may be especially critical for group leaders to
attempt to develop a strong working alliance between group members during the first half

hour of each group. S. Budman, S. Soldz, A. Demby, M. Feldstein, T. Springer, and M.
Davis, “Cohesion, Alliance, and Outcome in Group Psychotherapy, Psychiatry 52 (1989):
339–50.
45 Marziali et al., “The Contribution of Group Cohesion.”
46 Budman et al., “Preliminary Findings on a New Instrument.”
47 D. Hope, R. Heimberg, H. Juster, and C. Turk, Managing Social Anxiety: A Cognitive-
Behavioral Therapy Approach (San Antonio: Psychological Corp., 2001).
48 S. Woody and R. Adesky, “Therapeutic Alliance, Group Cohesion, and Homework
Compliance During Cognitive-Behavioral Group Treatment of Social Phobia,” Behavior
Therapy 33 (2002): 5–27.
49 H. Sexton, “Exploring a Psychotherapeutic Change Sequence: Relating Process to
Intersessional and Posttreatment Outcome,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 61 (1993): 128–36.
50 K. MacKenzie, R. Dies, E. Coche, J. Rutan, and W. Stone, “An Analysis of AGPA
Institute Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 55–74.
51 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term Inpatient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
185–208.
52 Horvath and Symonds, “Relation Between Working Alliance and Outcome.” Martin et
al., “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome.”
53 C. Rogers, “A Theory of Therapy, Personality, and Interpersonal Relationships,” in
Psychology: A Study of a Science, vol. 3, ed. S. Koch (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1959),
184–256.
54 F. Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathrusta, trans. R. Hollingsdale (New York: Penguin
Books, 1969).
55 K. Horney, Neurosis and Human Growth (New York: Norton, 1950), 15.
56 J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique (New York: Guilford
Press, 1993).
57 Rector et al., “Cognitive Change and the Therapeutic Alliance.”
58 C. Truax, “The Process of Group Therapy: Relationships Between Hypothesized
Therapeutic Conditions and Intrapersonal Exploration,” Psychological Monographs 75
(5111 [1961]).
59 A. Walker, R. Rablen, and C. Rogers, “Development of a Scale to Measure Process
Changes in Psychotherapy,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 16 (1960): 79–85.
60 Roarck and Sharah, “Factors Related to Group Cohesiveness.” Tschuschke and Dies,
“Intensive Analysis.”
61 A. Bandura, Social Foundations of Thought and Action (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.:

Prentice Hall, 1986).
62 C. Rogers, personal communication, April 1967.
63 C. Rogers, “The Process of the Basic Encounter Group,” unpublished mimeograph,
Western Behavioral Science Institute, La Jolla, Calif., 1966.
64 P. Schlachet, “The Once and Future Group: Vicissitudes of Belonging,” Group 24
(2000): 123–32.
65 I. Rubin, “The Reduction of Prejudice Through Laboratory Training,” Journal of
Applied Behavioral Science 3 (1967): 29–50. E. Fromm, The Art of Loving (New York:
Bantam Books, 1956).
66 M. Leszcz, E. Feigenbaum, J. Sadavoy, and A. Robinson, “A Men’s Group:
Psychotherapy with Elderly Males,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35
(1985): 177–96.
67 D. Miller, “The Study of Social Relationships: Situation, Identity, and Social
Interaction,” in Koch, Psychology: A Study of a Science 3 (1983): 639–737.
68 H. Sullivan, Conceptions of Modern Psychiatry (London: Tavistock, 1955), 22.
69 Smith et al., “Attachment to Groups.”
70 Miller, “Study of Social Relationships,” 696.
71 E. Murray, “A Content Analysis for Study in Psychotherapy,” Psychological
Monographs 70 (13 [1956]).
72 R. DeRubeis and M. Feeley, “Determinants of Change in Cognitive Therapy for
Depression,” Cognitive Therapy and Research 14 (1990): 469–80. Rounsaville et al., “The
Relation Between Specific and General Dimensions.” J. Safran and L. Wallner, “The
Relative Predictive Validity of Two Therapeutic Alliance Measures in Cognitive Therapy,”
Psychological Assessment 3 (1991): 188–95. Rector et al., “Cognitive Change.”
73 Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works. P. Fretter, W. Bucci, J. Broitman, G. Silberschatz,
and J. T. Curtis, “How the Patient’s Plan Relates to the Concept of Transference,”
Psychotherapy Research 4 (1994): 58–72.
74 D. Lundgren and D. Miller, “Identity and Behavioral Change in Training Groups,”
Human Relations Training News 9 (Spring 1965).
75 Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement.”
76 Before beginning therapy, the patients completed a modified Jourard self-disclosure
questionnaire (S. Jourard, “Self-Disclosure Patterns in British and American College
Females,” Journal of Social Psychology 54 [1961]: 315–20). Individuals who had
previously disclosed much of themselves (relevant to the other group members) to close
friends or to groups of individuals were destined to become popular in their groups.
Hurley demonstrated, in a ten-week counseling group, that popularity was correlated with
self-disclosure in the group as well as prior to group therapy (S. Hurley, “Self-Disclosure
in Small Counseling Groups,” Ph.D. diss., Michigan State University, 1967).

77 Measured by the FIRO-B questionnaire (see chapter 10).
78 J. Connelly et al., “Premature Termination in Group Psychotherapy: Pretherapy and
Early Therapy Predictors,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986):
145–52.
79 Ibid.
80 P. Costa and R. McCrae, Revised NEO Personality Inventory and Five-Factor
Inventory Professional Manual (Odessa, Fla.: Psychological Assessment Services, 1992).
The NEO-PI assesses five personality dimensions: extraversion, agreeableness,
conscientiousness, neuroticism, and openness to experience.
81 C. Anderson, O. John, D. Keltner, and A. Kring, “Who Attains Social Status? Effects
of Personality and Physical Attractiveness in Social Groups,” Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology 81 (2001): 116–32.
82 R. Depue, “A Neurobiological Framework for the Structure of Personality and
Emotion: Implications for Personality Disorders,” in Major Theories of Personality
Disorders, ed. J. Clarkin and M. Lenzenweger (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), 342–90.
83 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
84 G. Homans, The Human Group (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1950).
85 Anderson et al., “Who Attains Social Status?”
86 Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement.” I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy
Drop-Outs,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14 (1966): 393–414.
87 E. Nash et al., “Some Factors Related to Patients Remaining in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 264–75.
88 Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Drop-Outs.”
89 I. Yalom and K. Rand, “Compatibility and Cohesiveness in Therapy Groups,” Archives
of General Psychiatry 13 (1966): 267–76. P. Sagi, D. Olmstead, and F. Atalsek,
“Predicting Maintenance of Membership in Small Groups,” Journal of Abnormal Social
Psychology 51 (1955): 308–11. In this study of twenty-three college student organizations,
a significant correlation was noted between attendance and group cohesiveness. Yalom
and Rand, “Compatibility and Cohesiveness.” This study of cohesiveness, among forty
members of five therapy groups found that the members who experienced little cohesion
terminated within the first twelve meetings. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement.” J.
Connelly et al., “Premature Termination.” This study of sixty-six clients revealed that the
twenty-two dropouts had less cohesiveness—they were less engaged, they perceived the
group as less compatible and less supportive, and they were viewed less positively by
other members. H. Roback and M. Smith, “Patient Attrition in Dynamically Oriented
Treatment Groups,” American Journal of Psychiatry 144 (1987): 165–77. Dropouts in this
study reported that they felt less mutual understanding within the group. H. Roback,
“Adverse Outcomes in Group Psychotherapy: Risk Factors, Prevention, and Research
Directions,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9 (2000): 113–22.

90 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
91 I. Yalom, J. Tinklenberg, and M. Gilula, “Curative Factors in Group Therapy,”
unpublished study, Department of Psychiatry, Stanford University, 1968.
92 Braaten, “The Different Patterns of Group Climate.” K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited
Theory and Technique,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H.
Swiller (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1993).
93 M. Sherif et al., Intergroup Conflict and Cooperation: The Robbers’ Cave Experiment
(Norman: University of Oklahoma Book Exchange, 1961).
94 R. Baumeister and M. Leary, “The Need to Belong: Desire for Interpersonal
attachments as a Fundamental Human Motivation,” Psychology Bulletin 117 (1995): 497–
529.
95 P. Evanson and R. Bednar, “Effects of Specific Cognitive and Behavioral Structure on
Early Group Behavior and Atmosphere,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 77 (1978):
258–62. F. Lee and R. Bednar, “Effects of Group Structure and Risk-Taking Disposition
on Group Behavior, Attitudes, and Atmosphere,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 24
(1977): 191–99. J. Stokes, “Toward an Understanding of Cohesion in Personal Change
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 449–67.
96 A. Cota, C. Evans, K. Dion, L. Kilik, and R. Longman, “The Structure of Group
Cohesion,” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 21 (1995): 572–80. N. Evans and
P. Jarvis, “Group Cohesion: A Review and Evaluation,” Small Group Behavior 11 (1980):
357–70. S. Budge, “Group Cohesiveness Reexamined,” Group 5 (1981): 10–18. Bednar
and Kaul, “Experiential Group Research.” E. Crouch, S. Bloch, and J. Wanless,
“Therapeutic Factors: Intrapersonal and Interpersonal Mechanisms,” in Handbook of
Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994):
269–317.
97 Castonguay et al., “The Role of Emotion.”
98 J. Frank, “Some Values of Conflict in Therapeutic Groups,” Group Psychotherapy 8
(1955): 142–151.
99 I. Yalom The Schopenhauer Cure, (New York: HarperCollins, 2005) 175ff.
100 A study by Pepitone and Reichling offers experimental corroboration. Paid college
students were divided into thirteen high-cohesion and thirteen low-cohesion laboratory
task groups. Cohesion was created in the usual experimental manner: members of high-
cohesion groups were told before their first meeting that their group had been composed
of individuals who had been carefully matched from psychological questionnaires to
ensure maximum compatibility. The members of low-cohesion groups were given the
opposite treatment and were told the matching was unsuccessful and they would probably
not get along well together. The groups, while waiting for the experiment to begin, were
systematically insulted by a member of the research team. After he had left, the members
of the high-cohesive groups were significantly more able to express open and intense
hostility about the authority figure (A. Pepitone and G. Reichling, “Group Cohesiveness

and the Expression of Hostility,” Human Relations 8 [1955]: 327–37).
101 S. Schiedlinger, “On Scapegoating in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 131–43.
102 T. Postmes, R. Spears, and S. Cihangir, “Quality of Decision Making and Group
Norms,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 80 (2001): 918–30.
103 I. Janis, Groupthink: Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascoes, 2d ed.
(Boston: Houghton Muffin, 1982), 9.
104 Postmes et al., “Quality of Decision Making.”
105 G. Hodson and R. Sorrentino, “Groupthink and Uncertainty Orientation: Personality
Differences in Reactivity to the Group Situation,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research,
and Practice 1 (1997): 144–55.
106 These findings are strongly correlative—that is, cohesion and the reported group
variables increase together at the same time. Although this does not establish a clear
causeand-effect relationship, it underscores the important relationship between cohesion
and a large number of desired outcomes. Research on the therapeutic alliance in individual
psychotherapy is relevant: there is a strong, enduring positive relationship between
therapeutic alliance and outcome. This is a genuine finding; it is not an artifact of clients
who endorse therapy strongly because of early change in their target symptoms. See
Martin et al., “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome.”
107 A. Goldstein, K. Heller, and L. Sechrest, Psychotherapy and the Psychology of
Behavior Change (New York: Wiley, 1966).
108 Cartwright and Zander, “Group Cohesiveness: Introduction,” in Group Dynamics, 69–
74.
109 K. Back, “Influence Through Social Communication,” Journal of Abnormal Social
Psychology 46 (1951): 398–405.
110 G. Rasmussen and A. Zander, “Group Membership and Self-Evaluation,” Human
Relations 7 (1954): 239–51.
111 S. Seashore, “Group Cohesiveness in the Industrial Work Group,” Monograph, Ann
Arbor, Mich., Institute for Social Research, 1954.
112 Rasmussen and Zander, “Group Membership and Self-Evaluation.” Goldstein et al.,
Psychology of Behavior Change, 329.
113 R. Kirschner, R. Dies, and R. Brown, “Effects of Experiential Manipulation of Self-
Disclosure on Group Cohesiveness,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 46
(1978): 1171–77.
114 S. Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection, and Communication,” Journal of Abnormal
Social Psychology 46 (1951): 190–207. A. Zander and A. Havelin, “Social Comparison
and Intergroup Attraction,” cited in Cartwright and Zander, Group Dynamics, 94. A. Rich,
“An Experimental Study of the Nature of Communication to a Deviate in High and Low

Cohesive Groups,” Dissertation Abstracts 29 (1968): 1976.
115 Goldstein et al., Psychology of Behavior Change. Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection,
and Communication.” These findings stem from experimentally composed groups and
situations. As an illustration of the methodology used in these studies, consider an
experiment by Schachter, who organized groups of paid volunteers to discuss a social
problem—the correctional treatment of a juvenile delinquent with a long history of
recidivism. In the manner described previously, several groups of low and high
cohesiveness were formed, and paid confederates were introduced into each group who
deliberately assumed an extreme position on the topic under discussion. The content of the
discussion, sociometric data, and other postgroup questionnaires were analyzed to
determine, for example, the intensity of the efforts to influence the deviant and the degree
of rejection of the deviant.
116 A. Fuerher and C. Keys, “Group Development in Self-Help Groups for College
Students,” Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 325–41.

CHAPTER 4
1 B. Brown, T. Hedinger, G. Mieling, “A Homogeneous Group Approach to Social Skills
Training for Individuals with Learning Disabilities,” Journal for Specialists in Group
Work 20 (1995): 98–107. D. Randall, “Curative Factor Rankings for Female Incest
Survivor Groups: A Summary of Three Studies,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20
(1995): 232–39. K. Card and L. Schmider, “Group Work with Members Who Have
Hearing Impairments,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 83–90. K.
Kobak, A. Rock, and J. Greist, “Group Behavior Therapy for Obsessive-Compulsive
Disorder,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 26–32. G. Price, P. Dinas, C.
Dunn, and C. Winterowd, “Group Work with Clients Experiencing Grieving: Moving
from Theory to Practice,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 159–67. J.
DeLucia-Waack, “Multiculturalism Is Inherent in All Group Work,” Journal for
Specialists in Group Work 21 (1996): 218–23. J. McLeod and A. Ryan, “Therapeutic
Factors Experienced by Members of an Outpatient Therapy Group for Older Women,”
British Journal of Guidance and Counseling 21 (1993): 64–72. I. Johnson, T. Torres, V.
Coleman, and M. Smith, “Issues and Strategies in Leading Culturally Diverse Counseling
Groups,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 143–50. S. Bloch and E.
Crouch, Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1985). E. Crouch, S. Bloch, and J. Wanless, “Therapeutic Factors: Intrapersonal and
Interpersonal Mechanisms,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and
G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 269–312. R. Rugel, “Addictions Treatment in
Groups: A Review of Therapeutic Factors,” Small Group Research 22 (1991): 475–91. W.
Fawcett Hill, “Further Consideration of Therapeutic Mechanisms in Group Therapy,”
Small Group Behavior 6 (1975): 421–29. A. Fuhriman and T. Butler, “Curative Factors in
Group Therapy: A Review of the Recent Literature,” Small Group Behavior 14 (1983):
131–42. K. MacKenzie, “Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy: A Contemporary
View,” Group 11 (1987): 26–34. S. Bloch, R. Crouch, and J. Reibstein, “Therapeutic
Factors in Group Psychotherapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 38 (1981): 519–26.
2 An alternative method of assessing therapeutic factors is the “critical incident” approach
used by my colleagues and me in a large encounter group study (M. Lieberman, I. Yalom,
and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts [New York: Basic Books, 1973]) and by
Bloch and Crouch (Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy). In this method, clients
are asked to recall the most critical event of the therapy session, and the responses are then
coded by trained raters into appropriate categories. The following are examples of studies
using critical incident methodology:R. Cabral, J. Best, and A. Paton, “Patients’ and
Observers’ Assessments of Process and Outcome in Group Therapy: A Follow-up Study,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 132 (1975): 1052–54. R. Cabral and A. Paton,
“Evaluation of Group Therapy: Correlations Between Clients’ and Observers’
Assessments,” British Journal of Psychiatry 126 (1975): 475–77. S. Bloch and J.
Reibstein, “Perceptions by Patients and Therapists of Therapeutic Factors in Group

Psychotherapy,” British Journal of Psychiatry 137 (1980): 274–78. D. Kivlighan and D.
Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors in Group Counseling: The Role
of Interpersonal Style and Stage of Group Development,” Small Group Behavior 19
(1988): 452–68. D. Kivlighan and D. Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors as a
Function of Stage of Group Development and Participant Interpersonal Attitudes,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 38 (1991): 150–58. G. Mushet, G. Whalan, and R.
Power, “In-patients’ Views of the Helpful Aspects of Group Psychotherapy: Impact of
Therapeutic Style and Treatment Setting,” British Journal of Medical Psychology 62
(1989): 135–41.
3 K. Lese, R. McNair-Semands, “The Therapeutic Factor Inventory Development of a
Scale,” Group 24 (2000): 303–17.
4 R. Bednar and T. Kaul, “Experiential Group Research: Can the Canon Fire?” in
Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed.
S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 631–63.
5 H. Roback, “Experimental Comparison of Outcome in Insight and Non-Insight-Oriented
Therapy Groups,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 38 (1972): 411–17. J. Lomont et al.,
“Group Assertion Training and Group Insight Therapies,” Psychological Reports 25
(1969): 463–70. S. Abramowitz and C. Abramowitz, “Psychological-Mindedness and
Benefit from Insight-Oriented Group Therapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 30 (1974):
610–15. S. Abramowitz and C. Jackson, “Comparative Effectiveness of There-and-Then
Versus Here-and-Now Therapist Interpretations in Group Psychotherapy,” Journal of
Counseling Psychology 21 (1974): 288–94.
6 W. Piper, A. Joyce, M. McCallum, and H. Azim, “Interpretive and Supportive Forms of
Psychotherapy and Patient Personality Variables,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 66 (1998): 558–67. R. Wing and R. Jeffery, “Benefits of Recruiting
Participants with Friends and Increasing Social Support for Weight Loss and
Maintenance,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 132–38.
7 B. Berzon, C. Pious, and R. Parson, “The Therapeutic Event in Group Psychotherapy: A
Study of Subjective Reports by Group Members,” Journal of Individual Psychology 19
(1963): 204–12. H. Dickoff and M. Lakin, “Patients’ Views of Group Psychotherapy:
Retrospections and Interpretations,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 13
(1963): 61–73.
8 J. Reddon, L. Payne, and K. Starzyk, “Therapeutic Factors in Group Treatment
Evaluated by Sex Offenders: A Consumers Report,” Journal of Offender Rehabilitation 28
(1999): 91–101. A. Nerenberg, “The Value of Group Psychotherapy for Sexual Addicts,”
Sexual Addiction and Compulsivity 7 (2000): 197–200). R. Morgan and C. Winterowd,
“Interpersonal Process-Oriented Group Psychotherapy with Offender Populations,”
International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology 46 (2002): 466–
82.
9 K. Lese and R. McNair-Semands, “The Therapeutic Factors Inventory: Development of
a Scale,” Group 24 (2000): 303–17. I. Yalom, J. Tinklenberg, and M. Gilula, “Curative

Factors in Group Therapy,” unpublished study, Department of Psychiatry, Stanford
University, 1968.
10 Spurred by the large data pool of the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative
Research Program, individual psychotherapy researchers have used a method similar to
the Q-sort discussed in detail in this chapter: they developed a 100-item scale, the
Psychotherapy Process Q Set (PQS), which is completed by trained raters evaluating
session recordings at sessions 4 and 12 of a sixteen-session treatment. The PQS evaluates
the therapy, therapist, and therapy relationship on a range of process criteria. Analysis of
the 100 items produces a core of therapeutic factors. Successful therapies, both
interpersonal therapy and cognitive-behavioral therapy, were similar in that in both
treatments created a relationship in which clients developed a positive sense of self and
very strong positive regard for their therapist (J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Psychotherapy
Process in the National Institute of Mental Health Treatment of Depression Collaborative
Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 64–75).
Lese and McNair-Semands (“The Therapeutic Factors Inventory”) developed the group
therapy Therapeutic Factors Inventory (TFI), a self-report instrument. The TFI, which
builds on the original therapeutic factor Q-sort, demonstrates promise as a research tool
with empirically acceptable levels of internal consistency and test-retest reliability.
11 Yalom et al., “Curative Factors in Group Therapy.”
12 There were four checks to ensure that our sample was a successfully treated one: (1)
the therapists’ evaluation; (2) length of treatment (previous research in the same clinic
demonstrated that group members who remained in therapy for that length of time had an
extremely high rate of improvement [I. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement in Group
Therapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 158–68]); (3) the investigators’
independent interview ratings of improvement on a 13-point scale in four areas:
symptoms, functioning, interpersonal relationships, and self-concept; and (4) the
members’ self-rating on the same scale.
13 S Freeman and J. Hurley, “Perceptions of Helpfulness and Behavior in Groups,” Group
4 (1980): 51–58. M. Rohrbaugh and B. Bartels, “Participants’ Perceptions of ‘Curative
Factors’ in Therapy and Growth Groups,” Small Group Behavior 6 (1975): 430–56. B.
Corder, L. Whiteside, and T. Haizlip, “A Study of Curative Factors in Group
Psychotherapy with Adolescents,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 31
(1981): 345–54. P. Sullivan and S. Sawilowsky, “Yalom Factor Research: Threats to
Internal Validity,” presented at the American Group Psychotherapy Convention, San
Diego, Calif., February 1993. M. Stone, C. Lewis, and A. Beck, “The Structure of Yalom’s
Curative Factor Scale,” presented at the American Psychological Association Convention,
Washington, D.C., 1992.
14 The number in each of the seven piles thus approaches a normal distribution curve and
facilitates statistical assessment. For more about the Q-sort technique, see J. Block, The Q-
Sort Method in Personality Assessment and Psychiatric Research (Springfield, Ill.:
Charles C. Thomas, 1961).
15 Freedman and Hurley (“Perceptions of Helpfulness”) studied twenty-eight subjects in

three fifty-hour sensitivity-training groups. Seven of the ten items selected as most helpful
by these subjects were among the ten I listed. The subjects in Freedman and Hurley’s
study placed three new items (21, 23, and 24 in table 4.1) into the top ten. These items are
all interpersonal output items, and it is entirely consistent that members of a sensitivity
group that explicitly focused on modifying interpersonal behavior should value these
items. B. Corder, L. Whiteside, and T. Haizlip (“A Study of Curative Factors in Group
Psychotherapy”) studied sixteen adolescents from four different groups in different
clinical settings, both outpatient and inpatient. The youths did not highly value the adults’
top ranked item (insight), but their next four highest items were identical to those the
adults had chosen. Overall, they valued the therapeutic factors of universality and
cohesiveness more highly than did adults. R. Marcovitz and J. Smith (“Patients’
Perceptions of Curative Factors in Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 [1983]: 21–37) studied thirty high-functioning
inpatients who attended group psychotherapy in a psychiatric hospital. Only three of the
top ten items in their study corresponded to our results, but their method was different:
they asked patients to rate items from 1 to 60, rather than the Q-sort technique of sorting
into piles from most helpful to least helpful. Their subjects’ top selected item was item 60
(Ultimately taking responsibility for my own life). When condensed into the rankings of
overall therapeutic factors, their results were quite similar to ours, with five of the top six
factors the same; their subjects ranked altruism third, notably higher than the outpatient
sample did. M. Rohrbaugh and B. Bartels (“Participants’ Perceptions of ‘Curative
Factors’”) studied seventy-two individuals in both psychiatric settings and growth groups.
Their results were also consistent with our original Q-sort study: interpersonal learning
(both input and output), catharsis, cohesiveness, and insight were the most valued factors,
and guidance, family reenactment, and identification were least valued.
16 M. Weiner, “Genetic Versus Interpersonal Insight,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 24 (1974): 230–37. Rohrbaugh and Bartels, “Participants’ Perceptions.” T.
Butler and A. Fuhriman, “Patient Perspective on the Curative Process: A Comparison of
Day Treatment and Outpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Small Group Behavior 11 (1980):
371–88. T. Butler and A. Fuhriman, “Level of Functioning and Length of Time in
Treatment: Variables Influencing Patients’ Therapeutic Experience in Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 489–504. L. Long and C. Cope,
“Curative Factors in a Male Felony Offender Group,” Small Group Behavior 11 (1980):
389–98. Kivlighan and Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors.” S.
Colijn, E. Hoencamp, H. Snijders, M. Van Der Spek, and H. Duivenvoorden, “A
Comparison of Curative Factors in Different Types of Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 365–78. V. Brabender, E.
Albrecht, J. Sillitti, J. Cooper, and E. Kramer, “A Study of Curative Factors in Short-Term
Group Therapy,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 34 (1993): 643–44. M. Hobbs, S.
Birtchnall, A. Harte, and H. Lacey, “Therapeutic Factors in Short-Term Group Therapy for
Women with Bulimia,” International Journal of Eating Disorders 8 (1989): 623–33. R.
Kapur, K. Miller, and G. Mitchell, “Therapeutic Factors Within Inpatient and Outpatient
Psychotherapy Groups,” British Journal of Psychiatry 152 (1988): 229–33. I. Wheeler, K.
O’Malley, M. Waldo, and J. Murphy, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors in

Groups for Incest Survivors,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 17 (1992): 89–95.
Many of these studies (and the personal-growth therapeutic factor studies and inpatient
group studies discussed later) do not use the sixty-item Q-sort but use instead an
abbreviated instrument based on it. Generally, the instrument consists of twelve
statements, each describing one of the therapeutic factors, which patients are asked to
rank-order. Some studies use the critical incident method described in note 2. In the
Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles encounter group study (Encounter Groups), the most
important factors involved expression of a feeling (both positive and negative) to another
person, attainment of insight, vicarious therapy, and responding with strong positive
and/or negative feelings. In the Bloch and Reibstein study (“Perceptions by Patients and
Therapists”), the most valued factors were self-understanding, self-disclosure (which
includes some elements of catharsis and interpersonal learning on other tests), and
learning from interpersonal actions. Although the structure of the categories is different,
the findings of these projects are consistent with the studies of the therapeutic factor in the
abbreviated Q-sort.
17 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups. S. Freedman and J. Hurley,
“Maslow’s Needs: Individuals’ Perceptions of Helpful Factors in Growth Groups,” Small
Group Behavior 10 (1979): 355–67. Freedman and Hurley, “Perceptions of Helpfulness.”
Kivlighan and Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors.”
18 MacKenzie, “Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy.”
19 Stone et al., “The Structure of Yalom’s Curative Factor Scale.”
20 S. Holmes and D. Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors in Group and
Individual Treatment Process,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 47 (2000): 478–84.
21 A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame, “Consistency of Matter: A Comparison Analysis of
Individual and Group Process Variables,” Counseling Psychologist 18 (1990): 6–63.
Holmes and Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors.”
22 J. Breuer and S. Freud, Studies on Hysteria (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
23 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
24 Bloch and Crouch suggest “purifying” the factor of catharsis. They separate out the
acquisition of the skill of being emotionally expressive and include it in another
therapeutic factor, “learning from interpersonal action.” Furthermore, they split off the
expression of bothersome ideas into a separate category, “self-disclosure.” Cleared of
these, catharsis is left with only “emotional release,” which I think has the advantage of
greater consistency yet becomes separated from any clinical reality, since emotional
expression in the group cannot help but have far-reaching interpersonal ramifications. See
Crouch, Bloch and Wauless, “Therapeutic Factors: Intrapersonal and Interpersonal
Mechanisms.”
25 Freedman and Hurley, “Perceptions of Helpfulness.”
26 M. McCallum, W. Piper, and H. Morin, “Affect and Outcome in Short-Term Group
Therapy for Loss,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 303–19.

27 A. Stanton et al., “Emotionally Expressive Coping Predicts Psychological and Physical
Adjustment to Breast Cancer,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 68 (2000):
875–72.
28 J. Bower, M. Kemeny, S. Taylor, and J. Fahey, “Cognitive Processing, Discovery of
Meaning, CD4 Decline, and AIDS-Related Mortality Among Bereaved HIV-Seropositive
Men,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 66 (1998): 979–86.
29 Rohrbaugh and Bartels, “Participants’ Perceptions.”
30 J. Flowers and C. Booraem, “The Frequency and Effect on Outcome of Different Types
of Interpretation in Psychodynamic and Cognitive-Behavioral Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40: 203–14.
31 A. Maslow, “The Need to Know and the Fear of Knowing,” Journal of General
Psychology 68 (1963): 111–25.
32 J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique (New York: Guilford
Press, 1993).
33 A. Maslow, Motivation and Personality (New York: Harper, 1954).
34 D. Hellerstein, R. Rosenthal, H. Pinsker, L. Samstag, J. Muran, and A. Winston, “A
Randomized Prospective Study Comparing Supportive and Dynamic Therapies: Outcome
and Alliance,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 261–71.
35 Maslow, “The Need to Know.”
36 R. White, “Motivation Reconsidered: The Concept of Competence,” Psychological
Review 66 (1959): 297–333.
37 Dibner exposed forty psychiatric patients to a psychiatric interview after dividing them
into two experimental conditions. Half were prepared for the interview and given cues
about how they should, in a general way, conduct themselves; the other half were given no
such cues (a high-ambiguity situation). During the interview, the subjects in the high-
ambiguity situation experienced far greater anxiety as measured by subjective, objective,
and physiological techniques (A. Dibner, “Ambiguity and Anxiety,” Journal of Abnormal
Social Psychology 56 [1958]: 165–74).
38 L. Postman and J. Brunner, “Perception Under Stress,” Psychological Review 55
(1948): 314–23.
39 S. Korchin et al., “Experience of Perceptual Distortion as a Source of Anxiety,”
Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry 80 (1958): 98–113.
40 Maslow, “The Need to Know.”
41 B. McEwen, “Protective and Damaging Effects of Stress Mediators,” New England
Journal of Medicine 38 (1998): 171–79. B. McEwen and T. Seeman, “Protective and
Damaging Effects of Mediators of Stress: Elaborating and Testing the Concepts of
Allostasis and Allostatic Load,” Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 896 (1999):
30–47.

42 F. Fawzy, N. Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats: An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):
81–89. K. Lorig et al., “Evidence Suggesting That a Chronic Disease Self-Management
Program Can Improve Health Status While Reducing Hospitalization: A Randomized
Trial,” Medical Care 37 (1999): 5–14.
43 F. Wright, “Being Seen, Moved, Disrupted, and Reconfigured: Group Leadership from
a Relational Perspective,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 235–
50.
44 J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Psychotherapy Process in the National Institute of Mental
Health Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting
and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 64–75. D. Rosenthal, “Changes in Some Moral Values
Following Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 19 (1955): 431–36.
45 Colijn et al., “A Comparison of Curative Factors.”
46 D. Randall, “Curative Factor Ratings for Female Incest Survivor Groups: A Summary
of Three Studies,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 232–39.
47 Reddon et al., “Therapeutic Factors in Group Treatment.
48 M. Leszcz, I. Yalom, and M. Norden, “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy
and Therapeutic Process: Patients’ Perceptions,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 331–54. R. Rugal and D. Barry, “Overcoming Denial Through
the Group,” Small Group Research 21 (1990): 45–58. G. Steinfeld and J. Mabli,
“Perceived Curative Factors in Group Therapy by Residents of a Therapeutic
Community,” Criminal Justice and Behavior 1 (1974): 278–88. Butler and Fuhriman,
“Patient Perspective on the Curative Process.” J. Schaffer and S. Dreyer, “Staff and
Inpatient Perceptions of Change Mechanisms in Group Psychotherapy,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 139 (1982): 127–28. Kapur et al., “Therapeutic Factors Within Inpatient and
Outpatient Psychotherapy Groups.” J. MacDevitt and C. Sanislow, “Curative Factors in
Offenders’ Groups,” Small Group Behavior 18 (1987): 72–81.
49 M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group Psychotherapy
for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–74. M. Greenstein and W. Breitbart, “Cancer and the
Experience of Meaning: A Group Psychotherapy Program for People with Cancer,”
American Journal of Psychotherapy 54 (2000): 486–500. D. Spiegel and C. Classen,
Group Therapy for Cancer Patients (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
50 McLeod and Ryan, “Therapeutic Factors Experienced by Members.”
51 L. Lovett and J. Lovett, “Group Therapeutic Factors on an Alcohol In-patient Unit,”
British Journal of Psychiatry 159 (1991): 365–70.
52 R. Morgan, S. Ferrell, and C. Winterowd, “Therapist Perceptions of Important
Therapeutic Factors in Psychotherapy of Therapy Groups for Male Inmates in State
Correctional Facilities,” Small Group Research 30 (1999): 712–29.

53 J. Prochaska and J. Norcross, “Contemporary Psychotherapists: A National Survey of
Characteristics, Practices, Orientations, and Attitudes,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
and Practice 20 (1983): 161–73.
54 R. Dies, “Models of Group Therapy: Sifting Through Confusion,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
55 It is noteworthy that my book, The Gift of Therapy, (New York: HarperCollins, 2002)
which offers eighty-five existential tips for therapy had a wide readership stemming from
all the various therapy ideological schools.
56 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993). S.
Mitchell and M. Black, Freud and Beyond: A History of Modern Psychoanalytic Thought
(New York: Basic Books, 1995).
57 E. Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud, vol. 1 (New York: Basic Books, 1953),
40.
58 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
59 I. Yalom, Love’s Executioner (New York: Basic Books, 1989).
60 I. Yalom, When Nietzsche Wept (New York: Basic Books, 1992).
61 I. Yalom, The Gift of Therapy (New York: HarperCollins, 2002).
62 I. Yalom, Momma and the Meaning of Life (New York: Basic Books, 1999).
63 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005).
64 R. Tedeschi, L. Calhoun, “The Posttraumatic Growth Inventory: Measuring the
Positive Legacy of Trauma,” Journal of Traumatic Stress 9 (1996): 455–71.
65 M. Antoni et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Stress Management Intervention Decreases
Prevalence of Depression and Enhances Benefit Finding Among Women Under Treatment
for Early-Stage Breast Cancer,” Health Psychology 20 (2001): 20–32.
66 D. Cruess et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Stress Management Reduces Serum Cortisol by
Enhancing Benefit Finding Among Women Treated for Early Stage Breast Cancer,”
Psychosomatic Medicine 62 (2000): 304–8.
67 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400. Bower et al., “Cognitive Processing, Discovery of
Meaning, CD4 Decline.” P. Goodwin et al., “The Effect of Group Psychosocial Support on
Survival in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” New England Journal of Medicine 345 (2001):
1719–26.
68 E. Fromm, Escape from Freedom (New York: Henry Holt, 1995).
69 M. Heidegger, Being and Time (New York: Harper & Row, 1962), 210–24.
70 J. Sartre, Being and Nothingness, trans. Hazel Barnes (New York: Philosophical
Library, 1956), 633.
71 K. Jaspers, cited in J. Choron, Death and Western Thought (New York: Collier Books,

1963), 226.
72 Yalom and Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill.”
73 Bower et al., “Cognitive Processing, Discovery of Meaning, CD4 Decline.”
74 F. Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols (London: Penguin Books, 1968), 33. Yalom, The Gift
of Therapy.
75 D. Spiegel, J. Bloom, and I. Yalom, “Group Support for Patients with Metastatic
Cancer,” Archives of General Psychiatry 38 (May 1981): 527–34. I. Yalom, Existential
Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980), 36–37.
76 A. Schopenhauer, in Complete Essays of Schopenhauer, trans. T. Saunders, Book 5
(New York: Wiley, 1942), 18.
77 In a widely cited report, R. Corsini and B. Rosenberg (“Mechanisms of Group
Psychotherapy: Processes and Dynamics,” Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 51
[1955]: 406–11) abstracted the therapeutic factors from 300 pre-1955 group therapy
articles; 175 factors were clustered into nine major categories, which show considerable
overlap with the factors I have described. Their categories, and my analogous categories in
parentheses, are:
1. Acceptance (group cohesiveness)
2. Universalization (universality)
3. Reality testing (includes elements of recapitulation of the primary family and of
interpersonal learning)
4. Altruism
5. Transference (includes elements of interpersonal learning, group cohesiveness, and
imitative behavior)
6. Spectator therapy (imitative behavior)
7. Interaction (includes elements of interpersonal learning and cohesiveness)
8. Intellectualization (includes elements of imparting information)
9. Ventilation (catharsis)
W. Hill, in 1957, interviewed nineteen group therapists and offered these therapeutic
factors: catharsis, feelings of belongingness, spectator therapy, insight, peer agency (that
is, universality), and socialization (W. Hill, “Analysis of Interviews of Group Therapists’
Papers,” Provo Papers 1 [1957], and “Further Consideration of Therapeutic Mechanisms
in Group Therapy,” Small Group Behavior 6 [1975]: 421–29).
78 Fiedler’s study, described in chapter 3, indicates that experts, regardless of their school
of conviction, closely resemble one another in the nature of their relationship with patients
(F. Fiedler, “A Comparison of Therapeutic Relationships in Psychoanalytic, Nondirective,
and Adlerian Therapy,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 14 (1950): 436–45. Truax and
Carkhuff’s work, also discussed in chapter 3 (C. Truax and R. Carkhuff, Toward Effective

Counseling and Psychotherapy [Chicago: Aldine, 1967]), and the Ablon and Jones
analysis of the NIMH depression trial provide further evidence that effective therapists
operate similarly in that they establish a warm, accepting, understanding relationship with
their clients (Ablon and Jones, “Psychotherapy Process in the National Institute of Mental
Health,” and J. Ablon and E. Jones, “Validity of Controlled Clinical Trials of
Psychotherapy: Findings from the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research
Program,” American Journal of Psychiatry 159 [2002]: 775–83). Strupp, Fox, and Lessler,
in a study of 166 patients in individual therapy, reached a similar conclusion: successful
patients underscored the fact that their therapists were attentive, warm, respectful, and,
above all, human (H. Strupp, R. Fox, and K. Lessler, Patients View Their Psychotherapy
(Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1969). A comprehensive review of the
rapidly accumulating research in this area reveals that therapist qualities of acceptance,
nonpossessive warmth, and positive regard are strongly associated with successful
outcomes. See H. Conte, R. Ratto, K. Clutz, and T. Karasu, “Determinants of Outpatients’
Satisfactions with Therapists: Relation to Outcome,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice
and Research 4 (1995): 43–51; L. Alexander, J. Barber, L. Luborsky, P. Crits-Christoph,
and A. Auerbach, “On What Bases Do Patients Choose Their Therapists,” Journal of
Psychotherapy Practice and Research 2 (1993): 135–46; S. Garfield, “Research on Client
Variables in Psychotherapy,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 4th
ed., ed. A. Bergin and S. Garfield (New York: Wiley, 1994), 190–228; M. Lambert, “The
Individual Therapist’s Contribution to Psychotherapy Process and Outcome,” Clinical
Psychology Review 9 (1989): 469–85; S. Butler, L. Flather, and H. Strupp,
“Countertransference and Qualities of the Psychotherapist,” in Psychodynamic Treatment
Research: A Handbook for Clinical Practice, ed. N. Miller, L. Luborsky, J. Barber, and J.
Docherty (New York: Basic Books, 1993), 342–60; and S. Van Wagoner, C. Gelso, T.
Hayes, and R. Diemer, “Countertransference and the Reputedly Excellent Therapist,”
Psychotherapy 28 (1991): 411–21. Furthermore, as reviewed in chapter 3, the link
between a positive therapeutic bond and favorable outcome is one of the most consistent
and certain findings in all of psychotherapy research. These conclusions regarding
therapist contributions to successful psychotherapy are so well established that they have
been incorporated in professional practice psychotherapy guidelines (K. MacKenzie et al.,
“Guidelines for the Psychotherapies in Comprehensive Psychiatric Care: A Discussion
Paper,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 44 (suppl 1) (1999): 4S–17S).
79 Schaffer and Dreyer, “Staff and Inpatient Perceptions.”
80 Lovett and Lovett, “Group Therapeutic Factors.”
81 M. Lee, L. Cohen, S. Hadley, and F. Goodwin, “Cognitive Behavioral Group Therapy
with Medication for Depressed Gay Men with AIDS or Symptomatic HIV Infection,”
Psychiatric Services 58 (1999): 948–52.
82 R. Morgan and C. Winterowd, “Interpersonal Process-Oriented Group Psychotherapy
with Offender Populations,” International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative
Criminology 46 (2002): 466–82. Morgan et al., “Therapist Perceptions of Important
Therapeutic Factors.”J. MacDevitt and C. Sanislow, “Curative Factors in Offenders’

Groups,” Small Group Behavior 18 (1987): 72–81.
83 D. Randall, “Curative Factor Rankings for Female Incest Survivor Groups: A Summary
of Three Studies,” Journal of Specialists in Group Work 20 (1995): 232–39.
84 H. Feifel and J. Eells, “Patients and Therapists Assess the Same Psychotherapy,”
Journal of Consulting Psychology 27 (1963): 310–18.
85 I. Yalom and G. Elkin, Every Day Gets a Little Closer: A Twice-Told Therapy (New
York: Basic Books, 1975; reissued 1992).
86 D. Orlinsky, K. Grawe, and B. Parks, “Process and Outcome in Psychotherapy,” in
Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed.
S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 270–370. D. Martin, J. Garske, and
M. Davis, “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with Outcome and Other Variables: A
Meta-Analytic Review,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 68 (2000): 438–
50.
87 Colijn et al., “A Comparison of Curative Factors.” M. Kahn, P. Webster, and M. Storck,
“Curative Factors in Two Types of Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 579–85. Kapur et al., “Therapeutic Factors
Within Inpatient and Outpatient Psychotherapy Groups.” V. Tschuschke and R. Dies,
“Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic and Outcome in Long-Term Inpatient Groups,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 185–208. J. Maxmen and N.
Hannover, “Group Therapy as Viewed by Hospitalized Patients,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 28 (1973): 404–8. Steinfeld and Mabli, “Perceived Curative Factors.” Butler
and Fuhriman, “Patient Perspective on the Curative Process.” N. Macaskill, “Therapeutic
Factors in Group Therapy with Borderline Patients,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 61–73. Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy.” Marcovitz and Smith, “Patients’ Perceptions of Curative Factors.”
Schaffer and Dreyer, “Staff and Inpatient Perceptions.”Mushet et al., “In-patients’ Views
of the Helpful Aspects.”
88 Marcovitz and Smith, “Patients’ Perceptions of Curative Factors.”
89 J. Falk-Kessler, C. Momich, and S. Perel, “Therapeutic Factors in Occupational
Therapy Groups,” American Journal of Occupational Therapy 45 (1991): 59–66.
90 P. Kellerman, “Participants’ Perceptions of Therapeutic Factors in Psychodrama,”
Journal of Group Psychotherapy, Psychodrama, and Sociometry 38 (1985): 123–32.
91 M. Lieberman and L. Borman, Self-Help Groups for Coping with Crisis (San
Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1979), 202–5.
92 S. Horowitz, S. Passik, and M. Malkin, “In Sickness and in Health: A Group
Intervention for Spouses Caring for Patients with Brain Tumors,” Journal of Psychosocial
Oncology 14 (1996): 43–56.
93 P. Chadwick, S. Sambrooke, S. Rasch, and E. Davies, “Challenging the Omnipotence
of Voices: Group Cognitive Behavior Therapy for Voices,” Behavior Research and
Therapy 38 (2000): 993–1003.

94 E. Pence and M. Paymar, Power and Control: Tactics of Men Who Batter, rev. ed.
(Duluth: Minnesota Program Development, 1990).
95 F. Mishna, “In Their Own Words: Therapeutic Factors for Adolescents Who Have
Learning Disabilities,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 265–72.
96 McLeod and Ryan, “Therapeutic Factors Experienced by Members.”
97 H. Riess, “Integrative Time-Limited Group Therapy for Bulimia Nervosa,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 1–26.
98 Kivlighan, Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factor.”
99 Tschuschke and Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome.”V.
Tschuchke, K. MacKenzie, B. Nasser, and G. Janke, “Self-Disclosure, Feedback, and
Outcome in Long-Term Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Journal of Psychotherapy
Practice and Research 5 (1996): 35–44.
100 Fuhriman and Butler, “Curative Factors in Group Therapy.”
101 Kivlighan and Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors.”
102 Kivlighan and Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors.”
103 J. Schwartz and M. Waldo, “Therapeutic Factors in Spouse-Abuse Group Treatment,”
Journal for Specialists in Group Work 24 (1999): 197–207.
104 Mushet et al., “In-patients’ Views of the Helpful Aspects.”
105 Yalom et al., “Curative Factors in Group Therapy.”
106 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
107 Butler and Fuhriman, “Level of Functioning and Length of Time in Treatment.”
108 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.”
109 Encounter group “high learners” valued vicarious learning: they had the ability to
learn from the work of others (Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups). Clients
who are dominant interpersonally discount interpersonal feedback and altruism and are
less open to group influence, and clients who are overly responsible appear to discount
cohesion and value altruism, suggesting that they feel burdened by others’ needs yet
compelled to help (R. MacNair-Semands and K. Lese, “Interpersonal Problem and the
Perception of Therapeutic Factors in Group Therapy,” Small Group Research 31 [2002]:
158–79). High self/other acceptors tended to value deeper insight into their interpersonal
relations and into their family structure, whereas low self/other acceptors placed more
value on universality and advice/guidance from members and leaders. Highly affiliative
students in time-limited counseling groups gained more through self-understanding,
whereas the nonaffiliative members benefited more from interpersonal learning, self-
disclosure, and altruism (Kivlighan and Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic
Factors”; Kivlighan and Goldfine, “Endorsement of Therapeutic Factors”).

CHAPTER 5
1 T. Postmes, R. Spears, S. Cihangir, “Quality of Decision Making and Group Norms.”
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 80(2001): 918–30.
2 D. Shapiro and L. Birk, “Group Therapy in Experimental Perspective,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 211–24.
3 E. Coche, R. Dies, and K. Goettelman, “Process Variables Mediating Change in
Intensive Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41
(1991): 379–97.
4 D. Kivlighan, J. Tarrant, “Does Group Climate Mediate the Group Leadership–Group
Member Outcome Relationship? A Test of Yalom’s Hypothesis About Leadership
Priorities,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 3 (2001): 220–34.
5 D. Strassberg, H. Roback, K. Anchor, S. Abramowitz, “Self-Disclosure in Group
Therapy with Schizophrenics,” Archives of General Psychiatry 32 (1975): 1259–61.
6 Shapiro and Birk, “Group Therapy in Experimental Perspective.” See also R. Nye, The
Legacy of B. F. Skinner (Pacific Grove, Calif.: Brooks Cole, 1992).
7 I. Goldfarb, “A Behavioral Analytic Interpretation of the Therapeutic Relationship,”
Psychological Record 42 (1992): 341–54. R. Kohlenberg, “Functional Analytic
Psychotherapy,” in Psychotherapists in Clinical Practice: Cognitive and Behavioral
Perspectives, ed. N. Jacobson (New York: Guilford Press, 1987), 388–443. D. Powell,
“Spontaneous Insights and the Process of Behavior Therapy: Cases in Support of
Integrative Psychotherapy,” Psychiatric Annals 18 (1988): 288–94.
8 R. Heckel, S. Wiggins, and H. Salzberg, “Conditioning Against Silences in Group
Therapy,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 18 (1962): 216–17.
9 M. Dinoff et al., “Conditioning the Verbal Behavior of a Psychiatric Population in a
Group Therapy–Like Situation,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 16 (1960): 371–72.
10 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy,” in A
Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships That Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002).
11 A. Bandura, “Modelling Approaches to the Modification of Phobic Disorders,”
presented at the Ciba Foundation Symposium, “The Role of Learning in Psychotherapy,”
London, May 1968. A. Bandura, J. Grusec, and F. Menlove, “Vicarious Extinction of
Avoidance Behavior,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 5 (1967): 16–23.
12 A. Bandura, D. Ross, and J. Ross, “Imitation of Film Mediated Aggressive Models,”
Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 66 (1963): 3–11.
13 J. McCullough, Treatment for Chronic Depression: Cognitive Behavioral Analysis

System of Psychotherapy (CBASP) (New York: Guilford Press, 2000).
14 D. Morran, R. Stockton, J. Cline, and C. Teed, “Facilitating Feedback Exchange in
Groups: Leader Interventions,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 23 (1998): 257–60.
15 A. Schwartz and H. Hawkins, “Patient Models and Affect Statements in Group
Therapy,” presented at the American Psychological Association Meetings, Chicago,
September 1965.
16 A. Goldstein et al., “The Use of Planted Patients in Group Psychotherapy,” American
Journal of Psychotherapy 21 (1967): 767–74.
17 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “The Experience of the Neophyte
Group Therapist,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 46 (1996): 543–52.
18 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), 213.
19 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980), 178–87.
20 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), 214–20.
21 S. Gold-Steinberg and M. Buttenheim, “‘Telling One’s Story’ in an Incest Survivors
Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 173–89.

CHAPTER 6
1 L. Mangione and R. Forti, “The Use of the Here and Now in Short-Term Group
Psychotherapy,” in Innovation in Clinical Practice: A Source Book, ed. L. VandeCreeke
and T. Jackson (Sarasota: Professional Resources Press, 2001), 241–56.
2 R. Dies, “Models of Group Therapy: Sifting Through Confusion,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
3 J. Flowers and C. Booraem, “The Effects of Different Types of Interpretation on
Outcome in Group Therapy,” Group 14 (1990): 81–88. This small (N = 24 clients),
intensive study also indicated that here-and-now interpretations that focused on patterns of
behavior were most effective in producing positive outcomes, followed by interpretations
of impact of behavior on others, and then by historical interpretations. Interpretations of
motivation were often countertherapeutic.
4 N. Brown, “Conceptualizing process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 53
(2003): 225–47. M. Ettin, “From Identified Patient to Identifiable Group: The Alchemy of
the Group as a Whole,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 137–62.
5 M. Miles, “On Naming the Here-and-Now,” unpublished essay, Columbia University,
1970.
6 B. Cohen, M. Ettin, and J. Fidler, “Conceptions of Leadership: The ‘Analytic Stance’ of
the Group Psychotherapist,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 2 (1998):
118–31.
7 Y. Agazarian, “Contemporary Theories of Group Psychotherapy: A Systems Approach,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 177–202.
8 D. Morran, R. Stockton, J. Cline, C. Teed, “Facilitating Feedback Exchange in Groups:
Leader Interventions,” Journal for Specialists in Group Work 23 (1998): 257–60.
9 J. McCullough, Treatment for Chronic Depression: Cognitive Behavioral Analysis
System of Psychotherapy (CBASP) (New York: Guilford Press, 2000). S. Knox, S. Hess,
D. Petersen, and C. Hill, “A Qualitative Analysis of Client Perceptions of the Effects of
Helpful Therapist Self-Disclosure in Long-Term Therapy,” Journal of Counseling
Psychology 44 (1997): 274–83. M. Barrett and J. Berman, “Is Psychotherapy More
Effective When Therapists Disclose Information About Themselves?” Journal of
Consulting Clinical Psychology 69 (2001): 597–603.
10 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973). Group research offers corroborative evidence. In one group project,
the activating techniques (structured exercises) of sixteen different leaders were studied
and correlated with outcome. There were two important relevant findings: (1) the more
structured exercises the leader used, the more competent did members (at the end of the

thirty-hour group) deem the leader to be; (2) the more structured exercises used by the
leader, the less positive were the results (measured at a six-month follow-up). In other
words, members desire leaders who lead, who offer considerable structure and guidance.
They equate a large number of structured exercises with competence. Yet this is a
confusion of form and substance: having too much structure or too many activating
techniques is counterproductive.
11 L. Ormont, “The Leader’s Role in Resolving Resistances to Intimacy in the Group
Setting,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 29–47.
12 D. Kiesler, “Therapist Countertransference: In Search of Common Themes and
Empirical Referents,” Journal of Clinical Psychology/In Session 57 (2001): 1023–63.
13 D. Marcus and W. Holahan, “Interpersonal Perception in Group Therapy: A Social
Relations Analysis,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 62 (1994): 776–82.
14 G. Brown and G. Burlingame, “Pushing the Quality Envelope: A New Outcome
Management System,” Psychiatric Services 52 (2001): 925–34.
15 M. Leszcz, “Geriatric Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Textbook of Geriatric
Psychiatry, 3rd ed., ed. J. Sadavoy, L. Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Myers (New York:
Norton, 2004), 1023–54.
16 Kiesler “Therapist Countertransference.”
17 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach, 2nd
ed. (Baltimore: Penguin, 1965), 153.
18 Ormont, “The Leader’s Role in Resolving Resistances.”
19 D. Martin, J. Garske, and M. Davis, “Relation of the Therapeutic Alliance with
Outcome and Other Variables: A Meta-Analytic Review,” Journal of Consulting and
Clinical Psychology 68 (2000): 438–50.
20 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: Wiley,
1996). McCullough, Treatment for Chronic Depression. J. Muran and J. Safran, “A
Relational Approach to Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Handbook of Psychotherapy,
ed. F. Kaslow, vol. 1, Psychodynamic/Object Relations, ed. J. Magnavita (New York:
Wiley, 2002), 253–81. S. Stuart and M. Robertson, Interpersonal Psychotherapy: A
Clinical Guide (London: Arnold Press, 2003).
21 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “The Experience of the Neophyte
Group Therapist,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 543–52.
22 Interpreting motivations tends to be unhelpful. Flowers and Booraem have
demonstrated that here-and-now comments (about patterns of behavior or impact of
behavior) were positively correlated with group therapy outcome, whereas motivational
interpretations were correlated with negative outcome (Flowers and Booraem, “The
Effects of Different Types of Interpretation”).
23 M. Keller et al. “A Comparison of Nefazodone, Cognitive Behavioral-Analysis System
of Psychotherapy, and Their Combination for the Treatment of Chronic Depression,” New

England Journal of Medicine 342 (2000): 1462–70.
24 O. Rank, Will Therapy and Truth and Reality (New York: Knopf, 1950). R. May, Love
and Will (New York: Norton, 1969). S. Arieti, The Will to Be Human (New York:
Quadrangle Books, 1972). L. Farber, The Ways of the Will (New York: Basic Books,
1966). A. Wheelis, “Will and Psychoanalysis,” Journal of the Psychoanalytic Association
4 (1956): 285–303. I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
25 Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy, 286–350.
26 Farber, Ways of the Will.
27 Psychological treatments for addictions and eating disorders have particularly benefited
from an appreciation of the role of the client’s will in the process of change. Several
research teams have employed five stages of motivation and then match therapy
interventions to the client’s stage of motivation or “change readiness.” The five stages are:
1. The precontemplation stage (no recognition that a problem exists)
2. The contemplation stage (some recognition of the problem but with ambivalence
about doing something about it)
3. The preparation stage (a desire to change but a lack of knowledge about how to do
so)
4. The action stage (actual behavioral shifts)
5. The maintenance stage (consolidating gains and preventing regression or relapse)
J. Prochaska, C. DiClemente, and J. Norcross, “In Search of How People Change:
Applications to Addictive Behaviors,” American Psychologist 47 (1992): 1102–14. R.
Feld, D. Woodside, A. Kaplan, M. Olmstead, J. Carter, “Pre-treatment of Motivational
Enhancement Therapy for Eating Disorders,” International Journal of Eating Disorders
29 (2001): 393–400. W. Miller and S. Rollnick, Motivational Interviewing: Preparing
People To Change Addictive Behavior (New York: Guilford Press, 2002).
28 T. Aquinas, quoted in P. Edwards, ed., The Encyclopedia of Philosophy, vol. 7 (New
York: Free Press, 1967), 112.
29 Keep in mind that explanatory systems benefit therapists as well as clients: It provides
therapists with focus, stability, confidence and tenacity. B. Wampold, The Great
Psychotherapy Debate: Models, Methods and Findings (Mahwah, N.J.: Erlbaum, 2001).
G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for
Effectiveness and Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley and
Sons, 2004), 647–96.
30 J. Frank and J. Frank, Persuasion and Healing: A Comparative Study of
Psychotherapy, 3rd ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991), 21–51.
31 D. Spence, Narrative Truth and Historical Truth (New York: Norton, 1982).
32 Sandra Blakeslee, “Brain-Updating Machinery May Explain False Memories,” New

York Times, September 19, 2000.
33 See Dies, “Models of Group Therapy.”
34 B. Slife and J. Lanyon, “Accounting for the Power of the Here and Now: A Theoretical
Revolution,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35 (1991): 225–38.
35 J. S. Rutan and W. M. Stone, Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapy, 3rd ed. (New
York: Guilford Press, 2001).
36 J. Lichtenberg, F. Lachmann, and J. Fossaghe, Self and Motivational Systems
(Hillsdale, N.J.: Analytic Press, 1992). J. Sandler and A. Sandler, “The Past Unconscious,
the Present Unconscious, and Interpretation of Transference,” Psychoanalytic Inquiry 4
(1984): 367–99.
37 Frank and Frank, Persuasion and Healing.
38 J. Weiss, How Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique (New York: Guilford
Press, 1993).
39 C. Rycroft, Psychoanalysis Observed (London: Constable, 1966), 18.
40 W. Bion, Experiences in Groups and Other Papers (New York: Basic Books, 1959).
For more information about Bion’s contributions, see an earler edition of this text or go to
my Web site, www.yalom.com.
41 M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International Journal of Group Therapy 50
(2000): 455-472.
42 M. Klein, cited in J. Strachey, “The Nature of the Therapeutic Action of
Psychoanalysis,” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 15 (1934): 127–59.

http://www.yalom.com

CHAPTER 7
1 J. Breuer and S. Freud, Studies on Hysteria, in S. Freud, The Standard Edition of the
Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud [hereafter Standard Edition], vol. 2
(London: Hogarth Press, 1955): 253–305.
2 S. Freud, Five Lectures on Psycho-Analysis, in Standard Edition, vol. 11 (London:
Hogarth Press, 1957): 3–62.
3 In contemporary psychotherapy the client’s schema describes the core beliefs the client
holds about both himself and his relationship with his interpersonal world, along with the
interpersonal behaviors that arise from these beliefs and cognitions. The schema also
encompasses the client’s usual way of perceiving his environment and processing
information. See J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy (New
York: Basic Books, 1990).
4 N. Miller, L. Luborsky, J. Barber, and J. Docherty, Psychodynamic Treatment Research
(New York: Basic Books, 1993).
5 J. Marmor, “The Future of Psychoanalytic Therapy,” American Journal of Psychiatry
130 (1973): 1197–1202.
6 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993), 25.
7 V. Schermer, “Contributions of Object Relations Theory and Self Psychology to
Relational Psychology and Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 199–212. F. Wright, “The Use of Self in Group Leadership: A
Relational Perspective, ” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 181–
98. F. Wright, “Introduction to the Special Section on Contemporary Theoretical
Developments and the Implications for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 445–48.
8 P. Cohen, “The Practice of Modern Group Psychotherapy: Working with Past Trauma in
the Present,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 489–503.
9 M. Khan, “Outrageous, Complaining, and Authenticity,” Contemporary Psychoanalysis
22 (1986): 629–50.
10 O. Kernberg, “Love in the Analytic Setting,” Journal of the American Psychoanalytic
Association 42 (1994): 1137–58.
11 R. Greenson, The Technique and Practice of Psychoanalysis (New York: International
Universities Press, 1967).
12 A. Cooper, cited in G. Gabbard, Psychodynamic Psychiatry in Clinical Practice
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1987).
13 M. West and J. Livesley, “Therapist Transparency and the Frame for Group Therapy,”

International Journal of Psychoanalysis 36 (1986): 5–20.
14 L. Horwitz, “Discussion of ‘Group as a Whole’,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 143–48.
15 H. Durkin and H. Glatzer, “Transference Neurosis in Group Psychotherapy: The
Concept and the Reality,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 183–
99. Reprinted from: H. Durkin and H. Glatzer, “Transference Neurosis in Group
Psychotherapy: The Concept and the Reality,” in Group Therapy 1973: An Overview, ed.
L. Wolberg and E. Schwartz (New York: Intercontinental Book Corp., 1973). P. Kauff,
“Transference and Regression in and Beyond Analytic Group Psychotherapy: Revisiting
Some Timeless Thoughts,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997):
201–10.
16 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in Standard Edition, vol. 18
(London: Hogarth Press, 1955): 62–143.
17 G. Gabbard, “Advances in Psychoanalytic Therapy,” presented to the Department of
Psychiatry, University of Toronto, May 13, 1998.
18 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego.
19 E. Fromm, Escape from Freedom (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1941), 21.
20 L. Horwitz, “Narcissistic Leadership in Psychotherapy Groups,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 219–35. M. Leszcz, “Reflections on the Abuse of
Power, Control, and Status in Group Therapy and Group Therapy Training,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 389–400. I. Harwood, “Distinguishing
Between the Facilitating and Self-Serving Charismatic Group Leader,” Group 27 (2004):
121–29.
21 S. Scheidlinger, “Freud’s Group Psychology Revisited: An Opportunity Missed,”
Psychoanalytic Psychology 20 (2003): 389–92. Scheidlinger underscores that Freud
relished his power as the leader of the psychoanalytic study group. He was relentlessly
authoritarian and demanded total acceptance of his theories. Scheidlinger comments that
Freud could have made an even larger contribution to group psychology and group
psychotherapy had he not abandoned his work in this area because of a falling out with
Trigant Burrow. Burrow, a former associate of Freud and early president of the American
Psychoanalytic Association developed a model of group analysis that Freud felt
challenged some of his own ideas. He ended his relationship with Burrow and gave no
further thought in writing to groups.
22 L. Tolstoy, War and Peace (New York: Modern Library, Random House, 1931; orig.
published 1865–69), 231.
23 Ibid., 245.
24 M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 455–72.
25 M. Levy, “A Helpful Way to Conceptualize and Understand Re-Enactments,” Journal

of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 227–38.
26 S. Freud, The Future of an Illusion, in Standard Edition, vol. 21 (London: Hogarth
Press, 1961), 1–56.
27 G. Thorne, When It Was Dark, cited by S. Freud in Group Psychology and the Analysis
of the Ego.
28 S. Knox, S. Hess, D. Petersen, and C. Hill, “A Qualitative Analysis of Client
Perceptions of the Effects of Helpful Therapist Self-Disclosure in Long-Term Therapy,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 44 (1997): 274–83. B. Cohen and V. Schermer,
“Therapist Self-Disclosure in Group Psychotherapy from an Intersubjective and Self-
Psychological Standpoint,” Group 25 (2001): 41–57.
29 R. Dies, “Models of Group Therapy: Sifting Through Confusion,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
30 I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1983). E. Berne,
“Staff Patient Conferences,” American Journal of Psychiatry 125 (1968): 286–88.
31 A. Rachman, Sandor Ferenczi, The Psychotherapist of Tenderness and Passion (New
York: Jason Aronson, 1996).
32 J. Rutan, “Sandor Ferenczi’s Contributions to Psychodynamic Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 53 (2003): 375–84.
33 S. Ferenczi, quoted in Interpersonal Analysis: The Selected Papers of Clara M.
Thompson, ed. M. Green (New York: Basic Books, 1964), 70. For a brief period, Ferenczi
conducted the ultimate experiment in therapist transparency: mutual analysis. He and the
analysand alternated roles: one hour he analyzed the client, and the next hour the client
analyzed him. Eventually he dropped this impractical format, but he was not convinced
that the transparency impeded therapy (S. Ferenczi, The Clinical Diaries of S. Ferenczi
[Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1993]).
34 S. Foulkes, “A Memorandum on Group Therapy,” British Military Memorandum,
ADM, July, 1945.
35 I. Yalom, Love’s Executioner (New York: Basic Books, 1990). I. Yalom, Lying on the
Couch (New York: Basic Books, 1996). I. Yalom, Momma and the Meaning of Life (New
York: Basic Books, 1999). I. Yalom, When Nietzsche Wept (New York: Basic Books,
1992).
36 I. Yalom, The Schopenhauer Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005).
37 D. Fromm, G. Dickey, J. Shaefer, “Group Modification of Affective Verbalization:
Reinforcements and Therapist Style Effects,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 39 (1983):
893–900. R. Dies, “Therapist Variables in Group Psychotherapy Research,” in Handbook
of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994):
114–54. R. Dies, “Research in Group Psychotherapy: Overview and Clinical
Applications,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1993): 473–518.

38 M. Nichols and R. Schwartz, Family Therapy: Concepts and Methods (Needham
Heights, Mass.: Allyn and Bacon, 1991), 265.
39 S. Wiser and M. Goldfried, “Therapist Interventions and Client Emotional
Experiencing in Expert Psychodynamic-Interpersonal and Cognitive-Behavioral
Therapies,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 66 (1998): 634–40. T. Eels,
“What Do We Know About Master Therapists?” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 67 (1999): 314–17.
40 F. Wright, “Being Seen, Moved, Disrupted, and Reconfigured: Group Leadership from
a Relational Perspective,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 235–
50.
41 S. Foreman, “The Significance of Turning Passive into Active in Control Mastery
Theory,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 106–21.
42 S. Knox, S. Hess, D. Peterson, and C. Hill, “A Qualitative Analysis of Client
Perceptions of the Effects of Helpful Therapist Self-Disclosure in Long-Term Therapy,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 49 (1997): 274–83.
43 M. Allan, “An Investigation of Therapist and Patient Self-Help Disclosure in
Outpatient Therapy Groups,” Dissertation Abstracts International 41 (1980), no. 8021155.
44 H. Conte, R. Ratto, K. Clutz, and T. Karasu, “Determinants of Outpatients’
Satisfactions with Therapists: Relation to Outcome,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice
and Research 4 (1995): 43–51.
45 S. Wilkinson and G. Gabbard, “Therapeutic Self-Disclosure with Borderline Patients,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 2 (1993): 282–95.
46 K. Ullman, “Unwitting Exposure of the Therapist Transferential and
Countertransferential Dilemmas,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10
(2001): 14–21.
47 T. Gutheil and G. Gabbard, “The Concepts of Boundaries in Clinical Practice:
Theoretical and Risk-Management Dimensions,” American Journal of Psychiatry 150
(1993): 188–96.
48 T. Gutheil and G. Gabbard, “Misuses and Misunderstandings of Boundary Theory in
Clinical and Regulatory Settings,” American Journal of Psychiatry 155 (1998): 409–14.
A. Elfant, “Group Psychotherapist Self-Disclosure: Why, When, and How?” presented at
the annual meeting of the American Group Psychotherapy Association, New Orleans,
February 21, 2003.
49 Self-disclosure was carried to extreme in the time-extended marathon groups popular
in the 1970s (see chapter 10), which met from twenty-four to forty-eight consecutive
hours and placed paramount emphasis on total self-disclosure of the group as well as the
group leader. The sheer physical fatigue wore down defenses and abetted maximal
disclosure. Then there is the ultimate in self-disclosure: group therapy in the nude. In the
late 1960s and early 1970s, the mass media (for example, Time magazine) gave
considerable coverage to nude marathons in Southern California (Time, February 23,

1968, 42). Many of the wilder innovations in therapy have sprung from Southern
California. It brings to mind Saul Bellow’s fanciful notion in Seize the Day (New York:
Viking Press, 1956) of someone tilting a large, flat map of the United States and observing
that “everything that wasn’t bolted or screwed down slid into Southern California.”
50 D. Kivlighan and J. Tarrant, ”Does Group Climate Mediate the Group Leadership-
Group Member Outcome Relationship? A Test of Yalom’s Hypothesis About Leadership
Priorities,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 3 (2001): 220–34.
51 M. Parloff, “Discussion of Accelerated Interaction: A Time-Limited Approach Based
on the Brief Intensive Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 28 (1968):
239–44.
52 Ferenczi, quoted in M. Green, Interpersonal Analysis.
53 R. Dies, “Leadership in Short-Term Groups,” in Advances in Group Psychotherapy, ed.
R. Dies and R. MacKenzie (New York: International Universities Press, 1983), 27–78. R.
Dies, “Group Therapist Transparency: A Critique of Theory and Research,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 27 (1977): 177–200. R. Dies and L. Cohen, “Content
Considerations in Group Therapist Self-Disclosure,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 26 (1976): 71–88.
54 S. McNary and R. Dies, “Co-Therapist Modeling in Group Psychotherapy: Fact or
Fantasy,” Group 17 (1993): 131–42.
55 E. O’Neill, The Iceman Cometh (New York: Random House, 1957).
56 H. Ibsen, The Wild Duck (New York: Avon Press, 1965; orig. published 1884).
57 V. Frankl, personal communication, 1975.

CHAPTER 8
1 W. Piper, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Patient Personality
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 525–52. R. Kadden, M. Litt, N. Cooney, E. Kabela, H.
Getter, “Prospective Matching of Alcoholic Clients to Cognitive-Behavioral or
Interactional Group Therapy,” Journal of Studies on Alcohol May (2001): 359–69.
2 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Mosier, “The Differential Effectiveness of Group
Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and
Practice 7 (2003): 3–12. G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group
Treatment: Evidence for Effectiveness and Mechanism of Change,” in Bergin and
Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert
(New York: Wiley, 2004), 647–96.
3 R. Toseland and M. Siporin, “When to Recommend Group Treatment: A Review of the
Clinical and the Research Literature,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36
(1986): 171–201.
4 C. McRoberts, G. Burlingame, and M. Hoag, “Comparative Efficacy of Individual and
Group Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Research, and Practice 2 (1998): 101–17.
5 K. MacKenzie, “Where Is Here and When Is Now? The Adaptational Challenge of
Mental Health Reform for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 407–28. M. Parloff and R. Dies, “Group Psychotherapy
Outcome Research,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 27 (1977): 281–322.
W. Piper and A. Joyce, “A Consideration of Factors Influencing the Utilization of Time-
Limited, Short-Term Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46
(1996): 311–28.
6 K. Graham, H. Annis, P. Brett, P. Venesoen, and R. Clifton, “A Controlled Field Trial of
Group Versus Individual Cognitive-Behavioral Training for Relapse Prevention,”
Addiction 91 (1996): 1127–39.
7 D. Renjilian, M. Peri, A. Nezu, W. McKelvey, R. Shermer, and S. Anton, “Individual
Versus Group Therapy for Obesity: Effects of Matching Participants to the Treatment
Preferences,” Journal of Consulting Clinical Psychology 69 (2001): 717–21.
8 F. Fawzy, N. Fawzy, and J. Wheeler, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats: An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):
81–89.
9 E. Westbury and L. Tutty, “The Efficacy of Group Treatment for Survivors of Childhood
Abuse,” Child Abuse and Neglect 23 (1999): 31–44.

10 K. MacKenzie, “Where Is Here and When Is Now? The Adaptational Challenge of
Mental Health Reform for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 407–28.
11 S. Holmes and D. Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors in Group and
Individual Treatment Processes,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 47 (2000): 478–84.
12 G. Gazda, “Discussion of When to Recommend Group Treatment: A Review of the
Clinical and the Research Literature,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36
(1986): 203–6. F. de Carufel and W. Piper, “Group Psychotherapy or Individual
Psychotherapy: Patient Characteristics As Predictive Factors,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 169–88.
13 E. Nash et al., “Some Factors Related to Patients Remaining in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 264–75. J. Johnson, Group
Psychotherapy: A Practical Approach (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1963). E. Fried, “Basic
Concepts in Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Group Therapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B.
Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1971), 50–51.
14 L. Horwitz, “Indications and Contraindications for Group Psychotherapy,” Bulletin of
the Menninger Clinic 40 (1976): 505–7.
15 S. Slavson, “Criteria for Selection and Rejection of Patients for Various Kinds of
Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (1955): 3–30. S.
Adrian, “A Systematic Approach to Selecting Group Participants,” Journal of Psychiatric
Nursing 18 (1980): 37–41.
16 Nash et al., “Some Factors.” Johnson, Group Psychotherapy. Fried, “Basic Concepts.”
R. MacNair-Semands, “Predicting Attendance and Expectations for Group Therapy,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 6 (2002): 219–28.
17 M. Weiner, “Group Therapy in a Public Sector Psychiatric Clinic,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 355–65. M. Rosenbaum and E. Hartley, “A
Summary Review of Current Practices of Ninety-Two Group Therapists,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 12 (1962): 194–98. W. Friedman, “Referring Patients for
Group Therapy: Some Guidelines,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 27 (1976): 121–
23. A. Frances, J. Clarkin, and J. Marachi, “Selection Criteria for Outpatient Group
Psychotherapy,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 31 (1980): 245–49. M. Woods and J.
Melnick, “A Review of Group Therapy Selection Criteria,” Small Group Behavior 10
(1979): 155–75.
18 R. Morgan and C. Winterowd, “Interpersonal Process-Oriented Group Psychotherapy
with Offender Populations,” International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative
Criminology 46 (2002): 466–82. Toseland and Siporin, “When to Recommend Group
Treatment.”I. Yalom, “Group Therapy of Incarcerated Sexual Deviants,” Journal of
Nervous Mental Disorders 132 (1961): 158–70.
19 Friedman, “Referring Patients.” Woods and Melnick, “Group Therapy Selection
Criteria.” Frances, Clarkin, and Marachi, “Selection Criteria.” Horwitz, “Indications and

Contraindications.”
20 Horwitz, “Indications and Contraindications.” Friedman, “Referring Patients.” H.
Grunebaum and W. Kates, “Whom to Refer for Group Psychotherapy,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 130–33.
21 M. Linehan, “Dialectical Behavior Therapy for Borderline Personality Disorder: A
Cognitive Behavioral Approach to Parasuicide,” Journal of Personality Disorders 1
(1987): 328–33. M. Linehan, “Naturalistic Follow-Up of a Behavioral Treatment for
Chronically Parasuicidal Borderline Patients,” Archives of General Psychiatry 50 (1993):
971–74. E. Marziali and H. Munroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy for
Borderline Personality Disorder (New York: Basic Books, 1994).
22 I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14
(1966): 393–414.
23 M. Wierzbicki and G. Pekarik, “A Meta-Analysis of Psychotherapy Dropouts,”
Professional Psychology: Research and Practice 24 (1993): 190–95.
24 W. Stone and J. Rutan, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34(1984): 93–109. M. Leszcz, “Guidelines for the
Practice of Group Psychotherapy,” in Guidelines and Standards for the Psychotherapies,
ed. P. Cameron, J. Ennis and J. Deadman (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998),
199–227. H. Roback, “Adverse Outcomes in Group Psychotherapy: Risk Factors,
Prevention, and Research Directions,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9
(2000): 113–22.
25 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1972).
26 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”
American Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
27 W. Piper, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and H. Azim, “Psychological Mindedness, Work and
Outcome in Day Treatment,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
291–311; M. McCallum, W. Piper, and A. Joyce, “Dropping Out from Short-Term Group
Therapy,” Psychotherapy 29 (1992): 206–13. In a study of 109 patients with prolonged or
pathological grief in brief (twelve-week), analytically oriented group therapy, the 33
dropouts were found to be significantly less psychologically minded than continuers. They
also tended to have greater psychiatric symptomatology and greater intensity of target
symptoms. S. Rosenzweig and R. Folman, “Patient and Therapist Variables Affecting
Premature Termination in Group Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research and
Practice 11 (1974): 76–79. In a study of thirteen dropouts from V.A. outpatient clinic
groups a battery of psychological tests did not distinguish between the continuers and the
dropouts, but the therapists’ pretherapy judgments about their ability to empathize with the
clients, their clients’ ability to form a therapeutic relationship, and the therapists’ overall
liking of a client were significantly predictive of premature termination. B. Kotkov and A.
Meadow, “Rorschach Criteria for Continuing Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 2 (1952): 324–31. A study of Veterans Administration

ambulatory groups found that dropouts had less capacity to withstand stress, less desire for
empathy, less ability to achieve emotional rapport, a lower Wechsler verbal scale IQ, and
came from a lower socioeconomic class. (Many other studies have reported that dropouts
[from any psychotherapeutic format] are disproportionately high among the lower
socioeconomic class.) R. Klein and R. Carroll, “Patient Characteristics and Attendance
Patterns in Outpatient Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36
(1986): 115–32; H. Roback and M. Smith, “Patient Attrition in Dynamically Oriented
Treatment Groups,” American Journal of Psychiatry 144 (1987): 426–43; L. Gliedman et
al., “Incentives for Treatment Related to Remaining or Improving in Psychotherapy,”
American Journal of Psychotherapy 11 (1957): 589–98. M. Grotjahn, “Learning from
Dropout Patients: A Clinical View of Patients who Discontinued Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 22 (1972): 306–19. Grotjahn studied his
long-term analytic groups and noted that, over a six-year period, forty-three group
members (35 percent) dropped out within the first twelve months of therapy. He felt that,
in retrospect, approximately 40 percent of the dropouts were predictable and fell into three
categories: (1) clients with diagnoses of manifest or threatening psychotic breakdowns; (2)
clients who used the group for crisis resolution and dropped out when the emergency had
passed; (3) highly schizoid, sensitive, isolated individuals who needed more careful,
intensive preparation for group therapy. Nash et al., “Some Factors.” Nash and his co-
workers studied thirty group therapy clients in a university outpatient clinic. The
seventeen dropouts (three or fewer meetings) differed significantly from the thirteen
continuers in several respects: they were more socially ineffective, experienced their
illness as progressive and urgent or were high deniers who terminated therapy as their
denial crumbled in the face of confrontation by the group. R. MacNair and J. Corazzini,
“Clinical Factors Influencing Group Therapy Dropout,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice and Training 31 (1994): 352–61. MacNair and colleagues also studied two large
groupings of clients treated at a university counseling service in 16 session interactional
interpersonal group therapy. This study of 155 and 310 clients respectively over several
years employed The Group Therapy Questionnaire (GTQ) to evaluate the group members.
Dropouts and poor attenders could be predicted by the following characteristics: anger,
hostility and argumentativeness; social inhibition; substance abuse; and somatization. In
contrast, prior experience in some form of psychotherapy was a protective variable. (R.
MacNair-Semands, “Predicting Attendance and Expectations for Group Therapy,” Group
Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 6 [2002]: 219–28.) This latter finding echoes an
earlier report that demonstrated that dropouts were much more likely to be individuals for
whom group therapy was their first experience in psychotherapy. W. Stone and J. Rutan,
“Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 93–109. G. Tasca et al., “Treatment Completion and Outcome
in a Partial Hospitalization Program: Interaction Among Patient Variables,”
Psychotherapy Research 9 (1999): 232–47. Tasca and colleagues studied 102 clients in an
intensive group therapy day hospital program and reported that dropouts were predicted
by the combined presence of reduced psychological-mindedness and chronicity of
problems. High degrees of psychological-mindedness offset the negative impact of illness
chronicity on treatment completion. M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A.

Joyce, “Early Process and Dropping Out from Group Therapy for Conplicated Grief,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 6 (2002): 243–54. Dropout rates for 139
clients participating in 12 session group therapy for complicated grief were 23%
(regardless whether they were in an interpretive or a supportive model of group therapy).
Dropouts experienced far less positive emotion in the early sessions and were less
compatible with, and less important to the group. The therapists reported they had less
emotional investment in these clients from the outset of therapy. The phenomenon of very
early therapist divestment and antipathy to the clients who ultimately drop out has been
reported by others as well. (L. Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout
Phenomenon Revisited,” American Journal of Psychiatry 135 [1978]: 1492–95; O.
Stiwne, “Group Psychotherapy with Borderline Patients: Contrasting Remainers and
Dropouts,” Group 18 [1994]: 37–45. T. Oei and T. Kazmierczak, “Factors Associated with
Dropout in a Group Cognitive Behavior Therapy for Mood Disorders,” Behavior,
Research and Therapy 35 [1997]: 1025–30.) In a study of 131 clients in CBT groups for
depression, 63 clients (48%) dropped out prematurely. Pretherapy variables, including
degree of depression did not predict dropouts. In contrast however, lack of participation in
the group activities and exercises was predictive. Race and ethnicity are also important
considerations. A number of recent studies have shown that visible minorities may
terminate prematurely, feeling a lack of universality, comfort and familiarity within the
group. (S. Sue, D. Hu, D. Takevch, and N. Zane, “Community Mental Health Services for
Ethnic Minority Groups: A Test of the Cultural Responsiveness Hypothesis,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 59 [1991]: 533–40; K. Organista, “Latinos,” in
Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for Specific Problems and Populations, ed. J. White
and A. Freeman [Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 2000], 281–303; H.
Chang and D. Sunders, “Predictors of Attrition in Two Types of Group Programs for Men
Who Batter,” Journal of Family Violence 17 [2002]: 273–92.) Clients’ negative
expectations built upon negative experiences in society also play an important role. (C.
Taft, C. Murphy, J. Elliott, and T. Morrel, “Attendance Enhancing Procedures in Group
Counseling for Domestic Abusers,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 48 [2001]: 51–60.)
28 Notes for Table 8.1:
a R. Klein and R. Carroll, “Patient Characteristics and Attendance Patterns in Outpatient
Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 115–32.
b M. McCallum and W. Piper, “A Controlled Study for Effectiveness and Patient
Suitability for Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 431–52.
c M. McCallum, W. Piper, and A. Joyce, “Dropping Out from Short-Term Group
Therapy,” Psychotherapy 29 (1992): 206–13.
d Nash et al., “Some Factors.”
e B. Kotkov, “The Effects of Individual Psychotherapy on Group Attendance,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (1955): 280–85.

f S. Rosenzweig and R. Folman, “Patient and Therapist Variable Affecting Premature
Termination in Group Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research and Practice 11
(1974): 76–79.
g Yalom, “Group Therapy Dropouts.”
h E. Berne, “Group Attendance: Clinical and Theoretical Considerations,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (1955): 392–403.
i Johnson, Group Psychotherapy.
j M. Grotjahn, “Learning from Dropout Patients: A Clinical View of Patients Who
Discontinued Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 22
(1972): 306–19.
k L. Koran and R. Costell, “Early Termination from Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 24 (1973): 346–59.
l S. Budman, A. Demby, and M. Randall, “Short-Term Group Psychotherapy: Who
Succeeds, Who Fails,” Group 4 (1980): 3–16.
m M. Weiner, “Outcome of Psychoanalytically Oriented Group Therapy,” Group 8
(1984): 3–12.
n W. Piper, E. Debbane, J. Blenvenu et al., “A Comparative Study of Four Forms of
Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52 (1984): 268–79.
o W. Stone and S. Rutan, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 93–109.
p K. Christiansen, K. Valbak, and A. Weeke, “Premature Termination in Analytic Group
Therapy,” Nordisk-Psykiatrisk-Tidsskrift 45 (1991): 377–82.
q R. MacNair and J. Corazzini, “Clinical Factors Influencing Group Therapy Dropouts,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice and Training 31 (1994): 352-61.
r M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Early Process and Dropping
Out.”
s T. Oei and T. Kazmierczak, “Factors Associated with Dropout in a Group Cognitive
Behavior Therapy for Mood Disorders,” Behaviour Research and Therapy 35 (1997):
1025-30.
29 Yalom, “Group Therapy Dropouts.”
30 W. Piper, M. McCallum, and H. Azim, Adaption to Loss Through Short-Term Group
Psychotherapy (New York: Guilford Press, 1992).
31 McCallum et al., “Early Process and Dropping Out.”
32 W. Stone, “Group Psychotherapy with the Chronically Mentally Ill,” in Comprehensive
Group Psychotherapy, eds. M. Kaplan and B. Sadock. (Baltimore: Williams and Wilkins,

1993), 419–29.
33 M. Horowitz, “The Recall of Interrupted Group Tasks: An Experimental Study of
Individual Motivation in Relation to Group Goals,” In Group Dynamics: Research and
Theory, ed. D. Cartwright and A. Zander (New York: Row, Peterson, 1962), 370–94.
34 L. Coch and J. French Jr., “Overcoming Resistance to Change,” in Cartwright and
Zander, Group Dynamics, 31–41. E. Stotland, “Determinants of Attraction to Groups,”
Journal of Social Psychology 49 (1959): 71–80.
35 D. Lundgren and D. Miller, “Identity and Behavioral Changes in Training Groups,”
Human Relations Training News (Spring 1965).
36 Lieberman, Yalom, Miles, Encounter Groups, p. 324.
37 I. Yalom and P. Houts, unpublished data, 1966.
38 S. Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection, and Communication,” in Cartwright and Zander,
Group Dynamics, 260–85.
39 H. Leavitt, “Group Structure and Process: Some Effects of Certain Communication
Patterns on Group Performance,” in Readings in Social Psychology, eds. E. Maccoby, T.
Newcomb, E. Hartley (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1958), 175–83.
40 J. Jackson, “Reference Group Processes in a Formal Organization,” in Cartwright and
Zander, Group Dynamics, 120–40.
41 L. Festinger, S. Schachter, and K. Back, “The Operation of Group Standards,” in
Cartwright and Zander, Group Dynamics, 241–59.
42 C. Anderson, O. John, D. Kelter, and A. Kring, “Who Attains Social Status? Effects of
Personality and Physical Attractiveness in Social Groups,” Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology 8 (2001): 116–32.
43 M. Sherif, “Group Influences Upon the Formation of Norms and Attitudes,” in
Maccoby et al., Readings in Social Psychology, 219–32.
44 S. Asch, “Interpersonal Influence: Effects of Group Pressure Upon the Modification
and Distortion of Judgments,” in Maccoby et al., Readings in Social Psychology, 175–83.
45 P. Leiderman, “Attention and Verbalization: Differentiated Responsivity of
Cardiovascular and Electrodermo Systems,” Journal of Psychosomatic Research 15
(1971): 323–28.
46 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
47 Schachter, “Deviation, Rejection, and Communication.”
48 McCallum et al., “Early Process and Dropping Out.”
49 R. Harrison and B. Lubin, “Personal Style, Group Composition, and Learning—Part I,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 286–94.
50 Similar findings were reported in the NIMH trial of the treatment of depression. Clients
with poor interpersonal functioning could not utilize interpersonal therapy effectively. (S.

Sotsky et al., “Patient Predictors of Response to Psychotherapy and Pharmacotherapy:
Findings in the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 148 (1991): 997–1008.)
51 R. Lee, M. Draper, and S. Lee, “Social Connectedness, Dysfunctional Interpersonal
Behaviors, and Psychological Distress: Testing a Mediator Model,” Journal of Counseling
Psychology 48 (2001): 310–18.
52 Clients do well with intensive psychotherapies if they have mature relationship
capacities (measured by the Quality of Object Relations Scale (QOR) (H. Azim et al.,
“The Quality of Object Relations Scale,” Bulletin of the Menninger Clinic 55 (1991): 323–
43). Clients with less mature QOR scores do poorly with intensive therapy, often
experiencing interpretations as hurtful criticisms. These clients do much better with the
more supportive therapies. (A. Joyce, M. McCallum, W. Piper, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Role
Behavior Expectancies and Alliance Change in Short-Term Individual Psychotherapy,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9 (2000): 213–25.) Higher
psychological-mindedness, not surprisingly, is a general predictor of positive outcome for
all psychotherapies. (Joyce et al., ibid; Piper et al., “Patient Personality and Time-Limited
Group.”)
53 M. Pines, “The Self as a Group: The Group as a Self,” in Self-Experiences in Group:
Objective and Self-Psychological Pathways to Human Understanding, ed. I. Harwood and
M. Pines (Philadelphia: Taylor & Francis, 1998): 24–29. A. Gray, “Difficult Terminations
in Group Therapy: A Self-Psychologically Informed Perspective,” Group 25 (2001): 27–
39.
54 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 311–35.
55 Nash et al., “Some Factors.”
56 H. Bernard and S. Drob, “Premature Termination: A Clinical Study,” Group 13 (1989):
11–22.
57 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy.”
58 L. Bellak, “On Some Limitations of Dyadic Psychotherapy and the Role of the Group
Modalities,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 7–21. J. Rutan and
A. Alonso, “Group Therapy, Individual Therapy, or Both?” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 267–82.
59 Grunebaum and Kates, “Whom to Refer.”
60 Frances, Clarkin, and Marachi, “Selection Criteria,” 245.
61 H. Swiller, “Alexithymia: Treatment Utilizing Combined Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 47–61.
62 L. Horowitz and J. Vitkis, “The Interpersonal Basis of Psychiatric Symptomatology,”
Clinical Psychology Review 6 (1986): 443–69.
63 P. Crits-Christoph and M. Connolly, “Patient Pretreatment Predictors of Outcome,” in

Psychodynamic Treatment Research, ed. N. Miller, L. Luborsky, J. Barber, and J. Docherty
(New York: Basic Books, 1993), 185.
64 I. Yalom, P. Houts, S. Zimerberg, and K. Rand, “Predictions of Improvement in Group
Therapy,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68.
65 The forty clients studied were adult, middle class, well educated, psychologically
sophisticated outpatients who suffered from neurotic or characterological problems.
Outcome was evaluated by a team of raters who, on the basis of a structured interview,
evaluated (with excellent reliability) change in symptoms, functioning, and relationships.
The clients also independently rated their own outcome, using the same scale.
Psychological-mindedness was measured by subscale of the California Personality
Inventory and by the therapists after an initial screening interview. The therapists rated
each client on a seven-point scale after the initial interview for how well they thought he
or she would do in therapy. Previous self-disclosure was measured by a modification of
the Jourard Self-Disclosure Questionnaire (S. Jourard, “Self-Disclosure Patterns in British
and American College Females,” Journal of Social Psychology 54 (1961): 315–20). The
clients’ attraction to group therapy and their general popularity in the group were
measured by a group cohesiveness questionnaire and a sociometric questionnaire.
66 C. Anderson, “Who Attains Social Status?”
67 Using a comprehensive personality inventory researchers found, unsurprisingly, that
the Extraversion factor (exemplified by individuals who are energetic, sociable, assertive,
and display positive emotionality) is strongly associated with popularity. (R. McCrae and
R. Costa, “The NEO Personality Inventory: Using the Five-Factor Model in Counseling,”
Journal of Counseling and Development 69 (1991): 367–72.) These individuals draw
others to them because their ready and warm responsiveness rewards and encourages
overtures for engagement. (R. Depue, “A Neurobiological Framework for the Structure of
Personality and Emotion: Implications for Personality Disorders,” in Major Theories of
Personality Disorders, ed. J. Clarkin and M. Lenzenweger [New York: Guilford Press,
1996], 342–90.)
68 Lieberman, Yalom, and Miles, Encounter Groups.
69 J. Melnick and G. Rose, “Expectancy and Risk-Taking Propensity,” Small Group
Behavior 10 (1979): 389–401. Scales: Jackson Risk-Taking inventory and the Hill
Interactional Matrix. Sociometric assessment: Depth of Involvement Scale (Evensen and
Bednar), Moos and Humphrey Group Environment Scale.
70 J. Frank and J. Frank, Persuasion and Healing: A Comparative Study of Psychotherapy
, 3rd ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991), pp. 132–53. W. Piper, “Client
Variables,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame
(New York: Wiley, 1994): 83–113.
71 Joyce et al., “Role Behavior Expectancies and Alliance Change.” J. Rooney and R.
Hanson, “Predicting Attrition from Treatment Programs for Abusive Men,” Journal of
Family Violence 16 (2001): 131–49.

72 Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout Phenomenon.” McCallum et al., “Early
Process and Dropping Out.”
73 J. Frank, “Some Determinants, Manifestations, and Effects of Cohesiveness in Therapy
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 7 (1957): 53–63.
74 Oei and Kazmierczak, “Factors Associated with Dropout.”
75 The amount of “group work” accomplished (as reported by the client, comembers, and
the group therapist) predicts outcome. (Piper et al., “Psychological Mindedness, Work, and
Outcome.”) Piper and colleagues define “group work” in clear terms: “to work in therapy
means that you are trying to explain a problem that you are facing by exploring your own
contributions to it.” It involves taking responsibility for one’s role in one’s difficulties and
helping other members do the same. (M. McCallum, W. Piper, and J. O’Kelly, “Predicting
Patient Benefit from a Group-Oriented Evening Treatment Program,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 291–314, 300.)
76 M. Parloff, “Therapist-Patient Relationships and Outcome of Psychotherapy,” Journal
of Consulting Psychology 25 (1961): 29–38.
77 R. Heslin and D. Dunphy, “Three Dimensions of Member Satisfaction in Small
Groups,” Human Relations 17 (1964): 99–112.
78 Frank, “Some Determinants.”E. Ends and C. Page, “Group Psychotherapy and
Psychological Changes,” Psychological Monographs 73 (1959): 480.

CHAPTER 9
1 D. Waltman and D. Zimpfer, “Composition, Structure, and the Duration of Treatment,”
Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 171–84.
2 P. Costa and R. McCrae, “Revised NEO Personality Inventory (NEO PI-R) and NEO
Five-Factor Inventory (NEO-FFI),” Professional Manual (Odessa, Fla.: Psychological
Assessment Resources, 1992).
3 M. First et al., “DSM-IV and Behavioral Assessment,” Behavioral Assessment 14
(1992): 297–306. J. Shedler and D. Westen, “Refining Personality Disorder Diagnosis:
Integrating Science and Practice,” American Journal of Psychiatry 161 (2004): 1350–65.
The chief architect of the DSM, Robert Spitzer, chronicles the challenges of developing
the DSM in an interview with Alix Spiegel in the January 3, 2005, issue of The New
Yorker.
4 P. Crits-Christoph and M. Connolly Gibbon, “Review of W. Piper, A. Joyce, M.
McCallum, H. Azim, and J. Ogrodniczuk, Interpersonal and Supportive Psychotherapies:
Matching Therapy and Patient Personality,” Psychotherapy Research 13 (2003): 117–19.
5 W. Piper, “Client Variables,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman
and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 83–113.
6 W. Piper and M. Marrache, “Selecting Suitable Patients: Pretraining for Group Therapy
as a Method for Group Selection,” Small Group Behavior 12 (1981): 459–74. Group
behavior was measured by the Hill Interaction Matrix, W. Hill, Hill Interactional Matrix
(Los Angeles: Youth Studies Center, University of Southern California, 1965).
7 As DSM-IV-TR states, “A common misconception is that a classification of mental
disorders classifies people, when actually what are being classified are disorders that
people have” (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 4th ed., rev.
American Psychiatric Association, 2000, xxxi).
8 A. Camus, The Fall (New York: Knopf, 1956).
9 J. Deer and A. Silver, “Predicting Participation and Behavior in Group Therapy from
Test Protocols,” Journal of Clinical Psychology 18 (1962): 322–25. C. Zimet, “Character
Defense Preference and Group Therapy Interaction,” Archives of General Psychiatry 3
(1960): 168–75. E. Borgatta and A. Esclenbach, “Factor Analysis of Rorschach Variable
and Behavior Observation,” Psychological Reports 3 (1955): 129–36.
10 T. Miller, “The Psychotherapeutic Utility of the Five-Factor Model of Personality: A
Clinician’s Experience,” Journal of Personality Assessment 57 (1991): 415–33.
11 K. Menninger, M. Mayman, and P. Pruyser, The Vital Balance (New York: Viking
Press, 1963).
12 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”

American Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
13 L. Beutler, “Predictors of Differential Response to Cognitive, Experiential, and Self-
Directed Psychotherapeutic Procedures,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology
59 (1991): 333–40.
14 H. Hoberman, P. Lewinson, and M. Tilson, “Group Treatment of Depression:
Individual Predictors of Outcome,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 56
(1988): 393–98.
15 S. Joure et al., “Differential Change Among Sensitivity-Training Participants as a
Function of Dogmatism,” Journal of Psychology 80 (1972): 151–56.
16 R. Harrison and B. Lubin, “Personal Style, Group Composition, and Learning: Part 2,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 294–301.
17 C. Crews and J. Melnick, “The Use of Initial and Delayed Structure in Facilitating
Group Development,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 23 (1976): 92–98.
18 P. Kilmann and R. Howell, “The Effects of Structure of Marathon Group Therapy and
Locus of Control on Therapeutic Outcome,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 42 (1974): 912.
19 R. Robinson, “The Relationship of Dimension of Interpersonal Trust with Group
Cohesiveness, Group Status, and Immediate Outcome in Short-Term Group Counseling,”
Dissertation Abstracts 40 (1980): 5016-B.
20 J. Melnick and G. Rose, “Expectancy and Risk-Taking Propensity: Predictors of Group
Performance,” Small Group Behavior 10 (1979): 389–401. Melnick and Rose
demonstrated, in a well-designed experiment involving five undergraduate student
experiential groups, that social risk-taking propensity was significantly predictive of
therapeutically appropriate self-disclosure, risk-taking behavior, and high verbal activity in
the group sessions.
21 K. Horney, Neurosis and Human Growth (New York: Norton, 1950).
22 J. Bowlby, Attachment and Loss, vol. 1, Attachment (New York: Basic Books, 1969);
vol. 2, Separation (1973); vol. 3, Loss (1980). C. George, N. Kaplan, and M. Main, Adult
Attachment Interview, 3rd ed. Unpublished manuscript, University of California at
Berkeley, 1996. J. Cassidy ad J. Mohr, “Unsolvable Fear, Trauma, and Psychopathology:
Theory, Research, and Clinical Considerations Related to Disorganized Attachment
Across the Life Span,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 8 (2001): 275–98.
23 R. Maunder and J. Hunter, “An Integrated Approach to the Formulation and
Psychotherapy of Medically Unexplained Symptoms: Meaning and Attachment-Based
Intervention,” American Journal of Psychotherapy 58 (2004): 17–33. E. Chen and B.
Mallinckrodt, “Attachment, Group Attraction, and Self-Other Agreement in Interpersonal
Circumplex Problems and Perceptions of Group Members,” Group Dynamics: Therapy,
Research and Practice 6 (2002): 311–24.
24 C. Tyrrell, M. Dozier, G. Teague, and R. Fallot, “Effective Treatment Relationships for

Persons with Serious Psychiatric Disorders: The Importance of Attachment States of
Mind,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 67 (1999): 725–33. E. Smith, J.
Murphy, and S. Coats, “Attachment and Group Theory and Measurement,” Journal of
Personality and Social Psychology 77 (1999): 94–110.
25 L. Horwitz, S. Rosenberg, B. Baer, G. Ureno, and V. Villasenor, “Inventory of
Interpersonal Problems: Psychometric Properties and Clinical Applications,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 56 (1988): 885–92. K. MacKenzie and A. Grabovac,
“Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group (IPT-G) for Depression,” Journal of Psychotherapy
Practice and Research 10 (2001): 46–51.
26 Contemporary interpersonal circumplex methodology is built on Leary’s original
interpersonal circle (T. Leary, Interpersonal Diagnosis of Personality [New York: Ronald
Press, 1957]) and bears some similarity to Schutz’s FIRO (Fundamental Interpersonal
Relations Inventory) FIRO-B: Interpersonal Underworld (Palo Alto, Calif.: Science and
Behavior Books, 1966). See M. Gutman and J. Balakrishnan, “Circular Measurement
Redux: The Analytical Interpretation of Interpersonal Circle Profile,” Clinical Psychology
Science and Practice 5 (1998): 344–60. This approach provides a visual schema of the
individual’s interpersonal style that synthesizes two key interpersonal dimensions:
affiliation (ranging from hostile to friendly) and agency or control (ranging from dominant
to submissive). Individuals can be described along the lines of hostile, hostile-dominant,
hostile-submissive, hostile or friendly, friendly-dominant, friendly-submissive,
submissive, respectively.
27 Chen and Mallinckrodt, “Attachment, Group Attraction, and Self-Other Agreement.”
R. MacNair-Semands and K. Lese, “Interpersonal Problems and the Perception of
Therapeutic Factors in Group Therapy,” Small Group Research 31 (2000): 158–74.
28 J. Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, A. Joyce, M. McCallum, and J. Rosie, “NEO–Five Factor
Personality Traits as Predictors of Response to Two Forms of Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 53 (2003): 417–43.
29 P. Costa and R. McCrae, “Normal Personality Assessment in Clinical Practice: The
NEO Personality Inventory,” Psychological Assessment 4 (1992): 5–13. The NEO
Personality Inventory (NEO-PI) and its shorter version, the NEO-FFI, are self-report
inventories that are easy to administer, reliable, and well validated across cultures. Five
personality variables are evaluated: Neuroticism (distress, vulnerability to stress and
propensity for shame); Extraversion (verbal, eager to engage, and enthusiastic);
Conscientiousness (hard working, committed, able to delay gratification); Openness
(embraces the novel and unfamiliar with creativity and imagination); and Agreeableness
(trusting, cooperative, altruistic).
30 W. Piper, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and H. Azim, “Psychological Mindedness, Work and
Outcome in Day Treatment,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
291–311. M. McCallum, W. Piper, and J. Kelly, “Predicting Patient Benefit from a Group-
Oriented Evening Treatment Program,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47
(1997): 291–314. W. Piper, A. Joyce, M. McCallum, H. Azim, and J. Ogrodniczuk,
Interpersonal and Supportive Psychotherapies: Matching Therapy and Patient

Personality (Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 2001). W. Piper, J.
Ogrodniczuk, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, and J. Rosie, “Expression of Affect as a Mediator
of the Relationship Between Quality of Object Relations and Group Therapy Outcome for
Patients with Complicated Grief,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 71
(2003): 664–71. M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Relationships
Among Psychological Mindedness, Alexithymia, and Outcome in Four Forms of Short-
Term Psychotherapy,” Psychology and Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 76
(2003): 133–44.
31 Piper, Joyce, Rosie, and Azim, “Psychological Mindedness.”
32 W. Piper et al., “Expression of Affect as a Mediator.” McCallum et al., “Relationships
Among Psychological Mindedness, Alexithymia, and Outcome.” M. McCallum, W. Piper,
and J. Kelly, “Predicting Patient Benefit from a Group-Oriented Evening Treatment
Program,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 291–314.
33 Piper et al., “Expression of Affect as a Mediator.” J. Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, M.
McCallum, A. Joyce, and J. Rosie, “Interpersonal Predictors of Group Therapy Outcome
for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 511–
35.
34 S. Sotsky et al., “Patient Predictors of Response to Psychotherapy and
Pharmacotherapy: Findings in the NIMH Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research
Program,” American Journal of Psychiatry 148 (1991): 997–1008. S. Blatt, D. Quinlan, P.
Pilkonis, and M. Shea, “Impact of Perfectionism and Need for Approval on the Brief
Treatment of Depression: The National Institute of Mental Health Treatment of
Depression Collaborative Research Program Revisited,” Journal of Consulting and
Clinical Psychology 63 (1995): 125–32.
35 A. Goldstein, K. Heller, and L. Sechrest, Psychotherapy and the Psychology of
Behavior Change (New York: Wiley, 1966), 329.
36 R. Moos and S. Clemes, “A Multivariate Study of the Patient-Therapist System,”
Journal of Consulting Psychology 31 (1967): 119–30. C. Zimet, “Character Defense
Preference and Group Therapy Interaction,” Archives of General Psychiatry 3 (1960):
168–75. F. Giedt, “Predicting Suitability for Group Therapy,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 15 (1961): 582–91.
37 Moos and Clemes, “A Multivariate Study.”
38 G. McEvoy and R. Beatty, “Assessment Centers and Subordinate Appraisals of
Managers: A Seven-Year Examination of Predictive Validity,” Personnel Psychology 42
(1989): 37–52. H. Fields, “The Group Interview Test: Its Strength,” Public Personnel
Review 11 (1950): 39–46. Z. Shechtman, “A Group Assessment Procedure as a Predictor
of On-the-Job Performance of Teachers,” Journal of Applied Psychology 77 (1992): 383–
87. R. Baker, “Knowing What You’re Looking For: An Outcome-Based Approach to
Hiring,” Leadership Abstracts 13 (2000), Worldwide Web Edition.
39 E. Borgatta and R. Bales, “Interaction of Individuals in Reconstituted Groups,”

Sociometry 16 (1953): 302–20.
40 E. Borgatta and R. Bales, “Task and Accumulation of Experience as Factors in the
Interaction of Small Groups,” Sociometry 16 (1953): 239–52. B. Bass, Leadership,
Psychology, and Organizational Behavior (New York: Harper & Row, 1960).
41 V. Cerbin, “Individual Behavior in Social Situations: Its Relation to Anxiety,
Neuroticism, and Group Solidarity,” Journal of Experimental Psychology 51 (1956): 161–
68.
42 Ibid.
43 R. Cattell, D. Saunders, and G. Stice, “The Dimensions of Syntality in Small Groups,”
Journal of Social Psychology 28 (1948): 57–78.
44 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach
(Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957). G. Bach, Intensive Group Therapy (New
York: Ronald Press, 1954).
45 W. Stone, M. Parloff, and J. Frank, “The Use of Diagnostic Groups in a Group Therapy
Program,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 4 (1954): 274–84.
46 W. Stone and E. Klein, “The Waiting-List Group,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 417–28.
47 E. Klein, W. Stone, D. Reynolds, and J. Hartman, “A Systems Analysis of the
Effectiveness of Waiting List Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 417–23.
48 W. Piper and M. Marrache, “Selecting Suitable Patients: Pretraining for Group Therapy
as a Method for Group Selection,” Small Group Behavior 12 (1981): 459–74.
49 J. Connelly and W. Piper, “An Analysis of Pretraining Work Behavior as a
Composition Variable in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 173–89.
50 H. Sullivan, The Psychiatric Interview (New York: Norton, 1954).
51 G. Klerman, M. Weissman, B. Rounsaville, and E. Chevron, Interpersonal
Psychotherapy of Depression (New York: Basic Books, 1984). McCullough, Treatment for
Chronic Depression.
52 F. Powdermaker and J. Frank, Group Psychotherapy (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1953), 553–64.
53 This framework is a central component of a number of contemporary psychotherapy
approaches. It may be alternately identified as the client’s “plan” (J. Weiss, How
Psychotherapy Works: Process and Technique [New York: Guilford Press, 1993]) or
“cognitive-interpersonal schema” (J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in
Cognitive Therapy [New York: Basic Books, 1990]). M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The
Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed.
V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69. D. Kiesler, Contemporary

Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: Wiley, 1996).
54 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy,” in A
Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships and Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002): 71–88.
55 M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 455–72.
56 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1972).
57 A. Francis, J. Clarkin, and J. Morachi, “Selection Criteria for Outpatient Group
Psychotherapy,” Hospital and Community Psychiatry 31 (1980): 245–250. J. Best, P.
Jones, and A. Paton, “The Psychotherapeutic Value of a More Homogeneous Group
Composition,” International Journal of Social Psychiatry 27 (1981): 43–46. J. Melnick
and M. Woods, “Analysis of Group Composition Research and Theory for
Psychotherapeutic and Growth Oriented Groups,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science
12 (1976): 493–513.
58 G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Psychotherapy.”
59 M. Siebert and W. Dorfman, “Group Composition and Its Impact on Effective Group
Treatment of HIV and AIDS Patients,” Journal of Developmental and Physical
Disabilities 7 (1995): 317–34.
60 M. Esplen et al., “A Multi-Centre Phase II Study of Supportive-Expressive Group
Therapy for Women with BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations,” Cancer (2004): 2237–2342.
61 Foulkes and Anthony, Group Psychotherapy, 94.
62 I. Yalom et al., “Prediction of Improvement in Group Therapy,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68. I. Yalom et al., “Preparation of Patients for Group Therapy:
A Controlled Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 416–27. A. Sklar et al.,
“Time-Extended Group Therapy: A Controlled Study,” Comparative Group Studies
(1970): 373–86. I. Yalom and K. Rand, “Compatibility and Cohesiveness in Therapy
Groups,” Archives of General Psychiatry 13 (1966): 267–76.
63 F. Rabinowitz, “Group Therapy for Men,” in The New Handbook of Psychotherapy and
Counseling with Men: A Comprehensive Guide to Settings, Problems, and Treatment
Approaches, vol. 2, ed. G. Brooks and G. Good (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2001), 603–
21. L. Holmes, “Women in Groups and Women’s Groups,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 171–88.
64 Ibid. F. Wright and L. Gould, “Research on Gender-Linked Aspects of Group
Behaviors: Implications for Group Psychotherapy,” in Women and Group Psychotherapy:
Theory and Practice, ed. B. DeChant (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), 333–50. J.
Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, and A. Joyce, “Differences in Men’s and Women’s Responses to
Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy Research 14 (2004): 231–43.
65 T. Newcomb, “The Prediction of Interpersonal Attraction,” American Psychology 11

(1956): 575–86.
66 M. Lieberman, “The Relationship of Group Climate to Individual Change,” Ph.D. diss.,
University of Chicago, 1958.
67 C. Fairbairn et al., “Psychotherapy and Bulimia Nervosa,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 50 (1993): 419–28. D. Wilfley et al., “Group Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy
and Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for the Nonpurging Bulimic Individual: A
Controlled Comparison,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 296–
305.

CHAPTER 1 0
1 N. Taylor, G. Burlingame, K. Kristensen, A. Fuhriman, J. Johansen, and D. Dahl, “A
Survey of Mental Health Care Providers’ and Managed Care Organization Attitudes
Toward Familiarity With, and Use of Group Interventions,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 243–63. S. Rosenberg and C. Zimet, “Brief Group
Treatment and Managed Health Care,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45
(1995): 367–79. P. Cox, F. Ilfeld, B. Ilfeld, and C. Brennan, “Group Therapy Program
Development: Clinician-Administrator Collaborations in New Practice Settings,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 3–24.
2 S. Green and S. Bloch, “Working in a Flawed Mental Health Care System: An Ethical
Challenge,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (2001): 1378–83.
3 K. Long, L. Pendleton, B. Winter, “Effects of Therapist Termination on Group Process”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy, 38 (1988): 211–22.
4 B. Donovan, A. Padin-Rivera, and S. Kowaliw, “Transcend: Initial Outcomes from a
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder/Substance Abuse Treatment Program,” Journal of
Traumatic Stress 14 (2001): 757–72. S. Lash, G. Petersen, E. O’Connor, and L. Lahmann,
“Social Reinforcement of Substance Abuse Aftercare Group Therapy Attendance,”
Journal of Substance Abuse Treatment 20 (2001): 3–8. M. Leszcz, “Geriatric Group
Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Textbook of Geriatric Psychiatry, ed. J. Sadavoy, L.
Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Meyers (New York: Norton, 2004), 1023–54.
5 K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 41–60.
6 S. Budman, Treating Time Effectively (New York: Guilford Press, 1994).
7 R. Weigel, “The Marathon Encounter Group: Vision or Reality: Exhuming the Body for
a Last Look,” Consulting Psychology Journal: Practice and Research 54 (2002): 186–
298.
8 F. Stoller, “Accelerated Interaction: A Time-Limited Approach Based on the Brief
Intensive Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 18 (1968): 220–35.
9 G. Bach, “Marathon Group Dynamics,” Psychological Reports 20 (1967): 1147–58.
10 A. Rachman, “Marathon Group Psychotherapy,” Journal of Group Psychoanalysis and
Process 2 (1969): 57–74.
11 F. Stoller, “Marathon Group Therapy,” in Innovations to Group Psychotherapy, ed. G.
Gazda (Springfield, Ill.: Charles C. Thomas, 1968), 71.
12 G. Bach and F. Stoller, “The Marathon Group,” cited in N. Dinges and R. Weigel, “The
Marathon Group: A Review of Practice and Research,” Comparative Group Studies 2
(1971): 339–458.

13 M. Gendron, “Effectiveness of the Intensive Group Process–Retreat Model in the
Treatment of Bulimia,” Group 16 (1992): 69–78.
14 C. Edmonds, G. Lockwood, and A. Cunningham, “Psychological Response to Long-
Term Group Therapy: A Randomized Trial with Metastatic Breast Cancer Patients,”
Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 74–91. Weigel, “The Marathon Encounter.”
15 S. Asch, “Effects of Group Pressure upon the Modification and Distortion of
Judgments,” in Group Dynamics: Research and Theory, ed. D. Cartwright and A. Zander
(New York: Harper and Row, 1960): 189–201.
16 T. Loomis, “Marathon vs. Spaced Groups: Skin Conductance and the Effects of Time
Distribution on Encounter Group Learning,” Small Group Behavior 19 (1988): 516–27.
17 C. Winnick and A. Levine, “Marathon Therapy: Treating Rape Survivors in a
Therapeutic Community,” Journal of Psychoactive Drugs 24 (1992): 49–56.
18 R. Page, B. Richmond, and M. de La Serna, “Marathon Group Counseling with Illicit
Drug Abusers: Effects on Self-Perceptions,” Small Group Behavior 14 (1987): 483–97. N.
Dinges and R. Weigel, “The Marathon Group: A Review of Practice and Research,”
Comparative Group Studies 2 (1971): 220–35. P. Kilmann and W. Sotile, “The Marathon
Encounter Group: A Review of the Outcome Literature,” Psychological Bulletin 83
(1976): 827–50.
19 A. Sklar et al., “Time-Extended Group Therapy: A Controlled Study,” Comparative
Group Studies 1 (1970): 373–86.
20 Thus, during their first sixteen meetings, each group had one six-hour session and
fifteen meetings of conventional length (ninety minutes). Tape recordings of the second,
sixth, tenth, twelfth, and sixteenth meetings were analyzed to classify the verbal
interaction. Postgroup questionnaires measuring members’ involvement with the group
and with each other were obtained at these same meetings. The Hill Interaction Matrix
method of scoring interaction was used. The middle thirty minutes of the meeting were
systematically evaluated by two trained raters who were naive about the design of the
study. (The six-hour meeting itself was not analyzed, since we were interested primarily in
studying its effect on the subsequent course of therapy.) (W. Hill, HIM: Hill Interaction
Matrix [Los Angeles: Youth Study Center, University of Southern California, 1965].)
21 B. Jones reports similar findings in a study of three ongoing therapy groups, two of
which had weekend marathons (B. Jones, “The Effect of a Marathon Experience upon
Ongoing Group Therapy,” Dissertation Abstracts [1977]: 3887-B).
22 I. Yalom et al., “The Impact of a Weekend Group Experience on Individual Therapy,”
Archives of General Psychiatry 34 (1977): 399–415.
23 I. Yalom et al., ibid.
24 Taylor et al., “A Survey of Mental Health Care Providers.”
25 M. Koss and J. Butchner, “Research on Brief Therapy,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy
and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 3rd ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin

(New York: Wiley, 1986), 626.
26 K. MacKenzie, “Where Is Here and When Is Now? The Adaptational Challenges of
Mental Health Reform for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 407–20. D. Wilfley, K. MacKenzie, R. Welch, V. Ayres, and M.
Weissman, Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Group (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
27 S. Budman and A. Gurman, Theory and Practice of Brief Therapy (New York:
Guilford Press, 1988), 248.
28 S. Budman, Treating Time Effectively.
29 K. Howard, S. Kopta, and M. Krause, “The Dose-Effect Relationship in
Psychotherapy,” American Psychologist 41 (1986): 159–64.
30 S. Kopta, K. Howard, J. Lowry, and L. Beutler, “Patterns of Symptomatic Recovery in
Time-Limited Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting Clinical Psychology 62 (1994):
1009–16. S. Kadera, M. Lambert, and A. Andrew, “How Much Therapy Is Really
Enough? A Session-By-Session Analysis of the Psychotherapy Dose-Effect Relationship,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 132–51.
31 N. Doidge, B. Simon, L. Gillies, and R. Ruskin, “Characteristics of Psychoanalytic
Patients Under a Nationalized Health Plan: DSM-III-R Diagnoses, Previous Treatment,
and Childhood Trauma,” American Journal of Psychiatry 151 (1994): 586–90.
32 R. Klein, “Short-Term Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group
Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993),
257–70. K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy.”
33 S. Budman, S. Cooley, A. Demby, G. Koppenaal, J. Koslof, and T. Powers, “A Model
of Time-Effective Group Psychotherapy for Patients with Personality Disorders,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 315–24. K. MacKenzie, “Where
Is Here and When Is Now?” K. MacKenzie, Time-Managed Group Psychotherapy:
Effective Clinical Applications (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1997).
34 Budman and Gurman, Theory and Practice of Brief Therapy.
35 J. Mann and R. Goldman, A Casebook in Time-limited Psychotherapy (Washington,
D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1987).
36 Budman and Gurman, Theory and Practice of Brief Therapy.
37 Wilfley et al., Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Group.
38 In an HMO setting, Budman employs the pregroup individual session primarily for
screening and reframing the patient’s problems to facilitate the client’s working in a brief
time frame. Much of the group preparation is held in a large-group (approximately twelve
patients) ninety-minute workshop that is both didactic and experiential. This preparatory
model has also proved highly effective in reducing dropouts. (Budman and Gurman,
Theory and Practice.)
39 K. MacKenzie, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy.” K. MacKenzie, Time-Managed

Group Psychotherapy. K. MacKenzie and A. Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy
Group (IPT-G) for Depression,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10
(2001): 46–51. S. Budman, P. Simeone, R. Reilly, and A. Demby, “Progress in Short-Term
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy: Evidence and Implications,” in Handbook of
Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994):
319–39.
40 M. Esplen et al., “A Supportive-Expressive Group Intervention for Women with a
Family History of Breast Cancer: Results of a Phase II Study,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000):
243–52.
41 J. Hardy and C. Lewis, “Bridging the Gap Between Long- and Short-Term Therapy: A
Viable Model,” Group 16 (1992): 5–17.
42 W. McDermut, I. Miller, and R. Brown, “The Efficacy of Group Psychotherapy for
Depression: A Meta-Analysis and a Review of Empirical Research,” Clinical Psychology:
Science and Practice 8 (2001): 98–104.
43 MacKenzie and Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group.” A. Ravindran et al.,
“Treatment of Primary Dysthymia with Group Cognitive Therapy and Pharmacotherapy:
Clinical Symptoms and Functional Impairments,” American Journal of Psychiatry 156
(1999): 1608–17.
44 W. Piper, M. McCallum, and A. Hassan, Adaptation to Loss Through Short-Term
Group Psychotherapy (New York: Guilford Press, 1992).
45 W. Piper, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Patient Personality
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 525–52.
46 E. Marziali and H. Munroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy for Borderline
Personality Disorder (New York: Basic Books, 1994).
47 A. Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease, Part
I: Effects on Psychosocial and Functional Outcomes at Different Phases of Illness,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 29–82.
48 W. Piper, E. Debbane, J. Bienvenue, and J. Garant, “A Comparative Study of Four
Forms of Psychotherapy,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52 (1984): 268–
79.
49 S. Budman et al., “Comparative Outcome in Time-Limited Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 63–86.
50 M. Koss and J. Shiang, “Research in Brief Psychotherapy,” in Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed. S. Garfield
and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 664–700.
51 I. Elkin, “Perspectives on the NIMH Collaborative Treatment of Depression Study,”
presented at Mount Sinai Hospital, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, April 1995.
52 . Fulkerson, D. Hawkins, and A. Alden, “Psychotherapy Groups of Insufficient Size,”

International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 31 (1981): 73–81.
53 J. White and M. Keenan, “Stress Control: A Pilot Study of Large Group Therapy for
Generalized Anxiety Disorder,” Behavioral Psychotherapy 18 (1990): 143–46.
54 T. Oei, M. Llamas, and L. Evans, “Does Concurrent Drug Intake Affect the Long-Term
Outlook of Group Cognitive Behavior Therapy in Panic Disorder with or Without
Agoraphobia?” Behavior Research and Therapy 35 (1997): 851–57.
55 A. Cunningham, C. Edmonds, and D. Williams, “Delivering a Very Brief
Psychoeducational Program to Cancer Patients and Family Members in a Large Group
Format,” Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 177–82.
56 A. Cunningham, “Adjuvant Psychological Therapy for Cancer Patients: Putting It on
the Same Footing as Adjunctive Medical Therapies,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 367–71.
57 G. Castore, “Number of Verbal Interrelationships as a Determinant of Group Size,”
Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 64 (1962): 456–57.
58 A. Hare, Handbook of Small Group Research (New York: Free Press of Glencoe,
1962), 224–45.
59 L. Carter et al., “The Behavior of Leaders and Other Group Members,” Journal of
Abnormal Social Psychology 46 (1958): 256–60.
60 A. Marc, ”A Study of Interaction and Consensus in Different Sized Groups,” American
Social Review 17 (1952): 261–67.
61 Y. Slocum, “A Survey of Expectations About Group Therapy Among Clinical and
Nonclinical Populations,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 39–
54.
62 M. Bowden, “Anti-Group Attitudes and Assessment for Psychotherapy,”
Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy 16 (2002): 246–58. M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 455–72.
63 M. Bowden, ibid.
64 H. Bernard, “Patterns and Determinants of Attitudes of Psychiatric Residents Toward
Group Therapy,” Group 15 (1991): 131–40.
65 S. Sue, “In Search of Cultural Competence in Psychotherapy Counseling,” American
Psychologist 53 (1998): 440–48. M. LaRoche and A. Maxie, “Ten Considerations in
Addressing Cultural Differences in Psychotherapy,” Professional Psychology: Research
and Practice 34 (2003): 180–86.
66 B. Meyer, J. Krupnick, S. Simmens, P. Pilkonis, M. Egan, and S. Sotsky, “Treatment
Expectancies, Patient Alliance, and Outcome: Further Analysis from the NIMH Treatment
of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 70 (2002): 1051–55. C. Carver and M. Schriver, On the Self-Regulation of
Bulimia (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998).
67 M. Connolly Gibbon, P. Crits-Christoph, C. de la Cruz, J. Barber, L. Siqueland, and M.

Gladis, “Pretreatment Expectations, Interpersonal Functioning, and Symptoms in the
Prediction of the Therapeutic Alliance Across Supportive-Expressive Psychotherapy and
Cognitive Therapy,” Psychotherapy Research 13 (2003): 59–76.
68 H. Roback, R. Moor, F. Bloch, and M. Shelton, “Confidentiality in Group
Psychotherapy: Empirical Finds and the Law,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 117–35. H. Roback, E. Ochoa, F. Bloch, and S. Purdon,
“Guarding Confidentiality in Clinical Groups: The Therapist’s Dilemma,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 426–31.
69 J. Beahrs and T. Gutheil, “Informed Consent in Psychotherapy,” American Journal of
Psychiatry 158 (2001): 4–10.
70 R. Crandall, “The Assimilation of Newcomers into Groups,” Small Group Behavior 9
(1978): 331–36.
71 E. Gauron and E. Rawlings, “A Procedure for Orienting New Members to Group
Psychotherapy,” Small Group Behavior 6 (1975): 293–307.
72 W. Piper, “Pretraining for Group Psychotherapy: A Cognitive-Experiential Approach,”
Archives of General Psychiatry 36 (1979): 1250–56. W. Piper et al., “Preparation of
Patients: A Study of Group Pretraining for Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 309–25. S. Budman et al., “Experiential Pre-Group
Preparation and Screening,” Group 5 (1981): 19–26.
73 S. Budman et al., “Experiential Pre-group Preparation and Screening,” Group 5 (1981):
19–26. S. Budman, S. Cooley, A. Demby, G. Koppenaal, J. Koslof, and T. Powers, “A
Model of Time-Effective Group Psychotherapy for Patients with Personality Disorders,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 315–24.
74 J. Connelly and W. Piper, “An Analysis of Pretraining Work Behavior as a
Composition Variable in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 173–89.
75 R. Kadden, M. Litt, N. Cooney, and D. Busher, “Relationship Between Role-Play
Measures of Coping Skills and Alcoholism Treatment Outcome,” Addiction Behavior 17
(1992): 425–37.
76 W. Piper et al., “Preparation of Patients: A Study of Group Pretraining for Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 309–25.
77 J. Prochaska, C. DiClemente, and J. Norcross, “In Search of How People Change:
Applications to Addictive Behaviors,” American Psychologist 47 (1992): 1102–14.
78 R. Feld, D. Woodside, A. Kaplan, M. Olmstead, and J. Carter, “Pre-Treatment
Motivational Enhancement Therapy for Eating Disorders: A Pilot Study,” International
Journal of Eating Disorders 29 (2001): 393–400. G. O’Reilly, T. Morrison, D. Sheerin, A.
Carr, “A Group-Based Module for Adolescents to Improve Motivation to Change Sexually
Abusive Behavior,” Child Abuse Review 10 (2001): 150–69. W. Miller and S. Rollnick,
Motivational Interviewing: Preparing People to Change Addictive Behavior (New York:
Guilford Press, 2002).

79 I. Yalom et al., “Preparation of Patients for Group Therapy,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 17 (1967): 416–27.
80 The interaction of the groups was measured by scoring each statement during the
meeting on the a sixteen-cell matrix (W. Hill, HIM: Hill Interaction Matrix [Los Angeles:
Youth Study Center, University of Southern California, 1965]). Scoring was performed by
a team of raters naive to the experimental design. Faith in therapy was tested by postgroup
patient-administered questionnaires.
81 D. Meadow, “Preparation of Individuals for Participation in a Treatment Group:
Development and Empirical Testing of a Model,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 367–85. R. Bednar and T. Kaul, “Experiential Group Research:
Can the Canon Fire?” in Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavioral Change: An
Empirical Analysis, 4th ed., ed. S. Garfield and A. Bergin (New York: Wiley, 1994): 631–
63. G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and J. Mosier, “The Differential Effectiveness of Group
Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and
Practice 7 (2003): 3–12.
82 M. Wogan et al., “Influencing Interaction and Outcomes in Group Psychotherapy,”
Small Group Behavior 8 (1977): 25–46.
83 W. Piper and E. Perrault, “Pretherapy Training for Group Members,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 17–34. Piper et al., “Preparation of Patients.”
W. Piper and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Pregroup Training,” in Praxis der Gruppenpsychotherapie,
ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001): 74–78. Connelly and Piper, “An Analysis of
Pretraining Work Behavior.” S. Budman and M. Bennet, “Short-Term Group
Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group Psychotherapy, 2nd ed., ed. H. Kaplan and B.
Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1983), 138–44. D. France and J. Dugo,
“Pretherapy Orientation as Preparation for Open Psychotherapy Groups,” Psychotherapy
22 (1985): 256–61.
84 J. Heitler, “Clinical Impressions of an Experimental Attempt to Prepare Lower-Class
Patients for Expressive Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 29 (1974): 308–22. K. Palmer, R. Baker, and T. Miker, “The Effects of
Pretraining on Group Psychotherapy for Incest-Related Issues,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 71–89.
85 W. Piper and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Pregroup Training.”
86 E. Werth, “A Comparison of Pretraining Models for Encounter Group Therapy,”
Dissertation Abstracts 40 (1979).
87 G. Silver, “Systematic Presentation of Pre-therapy Information in Group
Psychotherapy: Its Relationship to Attitude and Behavioral Change,” Dissertation
Abstracts (1976): 4481-B.
88 Piper et al., “Preparation of Patients.” L. Annis and D. Perry, “Self-Disclosure in
Unsupervised Groups: Effects of Videotaped Models,” Small Group Behavior 9 (1978):
102–8. J. Samuel, “The Individual and Comparative Effects of a Pre-group Preparation

Upon Two Different Therapy Groups,” Dissertation Abstracts International 41 (1980):
1919-B. S. Barnett, “The Effect of Preparatory Training in Communication Skills on
Group Therapy with Lower Socioeconomic Class Alcoholics,” Dissertation Abstracts
International 41 (1981): 2744-B.
89 Barnett, ibid. P. Pilkonis et al, “Training Complex Social Skills for Use in a
Psychotherapy Group: A Case Study,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30
(1980): 347–56.
90 Pilkonis et al., ibid.
91 T. Zarle and S. Willis, “A Pre-Group Training Technique for Encounter Group Stress,”
Journal of Counseling Psychology 22 (1975): 49–53.
92 T. Curran, “Increasing Motivation to Change in Group Treatment,” Small Group
Behavior 9 (1978): 337–48.
93 J. Steuer et al., “Cognitive Behavior and Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapy in
Treatment of Geriatric Depression,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52
(1984): 180–89.

94 O. Farrell, T. Cutter, and F. Floyd, “Evaluating Marital Therapy for Male Alcoholics,”
Behavior Therapy 16 (1985): 147–67.
95 Curran, “Increasing Motivation to Change.”
96 M. Cartwright, “Brief Reports: A Preparatory Method for Group Counseling,” Journal
of Counseling Psychology 23 (1976): 75–77.
97 A. Hare, “A Study of Interaction and Consensus in Different Sized Groups,” American
Social Review 17 (1952): 261–67.
98 C. Taft, C. Murphy, J. Elliott, and T. Morrel, “Attendance Enhancing Procedures in
Group Counseling for Domestic Abusers,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 48 (2001):
51–60.
99 Piper and Ogrodniczuk, “Pregroup Training.”
100 I. Gradolph, “The Task-Approach of Groups of Single-Type and Mixed-Type Valency
Compositions,” in Emotional Dynamics and Group Culture, ed. D. Stock and H. Thelen
(New York: New York University Press, 1958), 127–30. D. Stock and W. Hill,
“Intersubgroup Dynamics as a Factor in Group Growth,” Emotional Dynamics and Group
Culture, ed. D. Stock and H. Thelen (New York: New York University Press, 1958), 207–
21.
101 Piper (Piper & Perrault 1989) suggests that clients tend to drop out of therapy groups
if they receive no pretherapy preparation because of excessive anxiety: that is, they did not
have the opportunity to extinguish anxiety by experiencing controlled modulation of
anxiety in the presence of experienced leaders. R. Curtis, “Self-Organizing Processes,
Anxiety, and Change,” Journal of Psychotherapy Integration 2 (1992): 295–319.
102 R. White, “Motivation Reconsidered: The Concept of Competence,” Psychological
Review 66 (1959): 297–333.
103 B. Rauer and J. Reitsema, “The Effects of Varied Clarity of Group Goal and Group
Path Upon the Individual and His Relation to His Group,” Human Relations 10 (1957):
29–45. A. Cohen, “Situational Structure, Self-Esteem, and Threat-Oriented Reactions to
Power,” in Studies in Social Power, ed. D. Cartwright (Ann Arbor, Mich.: Research Center
for Group Dynamics, 1959), 35–52. A. Goldstein, K. Heller, and L. Sechrest,
Psychotherapy and the Psychology of Behavior Change (New York: Wiley, 1966), 405.
104 Goldstein et al., ibid., 329. E. Murray, “A Content Analysis for Study in
Psychotherapy,” Psychological Monographs 70 (1956).
105 Beahrs and Gutheil, “Informed Consent.”
106 American Psychological Association, Ethical Principles of Psychologists and the
Code of Conduct (Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1992).
107 American Psychiatric Association, The Principles of Medical Ethics with Annotations
Especially Applicable to Psychiatry (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric
Association, 1998), 24.

108 E. Aronson and J. Mills, “The Effect of Severity of Initiation on Liking for a Group,”
Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 59 (1959): 177–81. R. Cialdini, “Harnessing the
Science of Persuasion,” Harvard Business Review 79 (2001): 72–79.

CHAPTER 11
1 B. Tuckman, “Developmental Sequences in Small Groups,” Psychological Bulletin 63
(1965): 384–99. Tuckman’s third stage—“norming”—refers to the development of group
cohesion. His fourth stage—“performing”—refers to the emergence of insight and
functional role-relatedness.
2 K. MacKenzie, “Clinical Application of Group Development Ideas,” Group Dynamics :
Theory, Research and Practice 1 (1997): 275–87. Y. Agazarian and S. Gantt, “Phases of
Group Development: Systems-centered Hypotheses and Their Implications for Research
and Practice,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 7 (2003): 238–52. S.
Wheelan, B. Davidson and F. Tilin, “Group Development Across Time: Reality or
Illusion?” Small Group Research 34 (2003): 223–45. G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, B.
Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for Effectiveness and Mechanisms of
Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th
ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: John Wiley & Sons Ltd., 2004), 647–96.
3 D. Kivlighan and D. Mullison, “Participants’ Perception of Therapeutic Factors in Group
Counseling: The Role of Interpersonal Style and Stage of Group Development,” Small
Group Behavior 19 (1988): 452–68. D. Kivlighan and R. Lilly, “Developmental Changes
in Group Climate as They Relate to Therapeutic Gain,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 208–21.
4 S. Wheelan, “Group Development and the Practice of Group Psychotherapy,” Group
Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 288–93. S. Wheelan, D. Murphy, E.
Tsumura, and S. Fried-Kline, “Member Perceptions of Internal Group Dynamics and
Productivity,” Small Group Research 29 (1998): 371–93. Wheelan and Hochberger
developed and validated the Group Development Questionnaire (GDQ) as a measure of
group development in work and task groups. The GDQ, a self-report measure, consists of
a series of questions that fall into four domains: (1) dependency/inclusion; (2)
counterdependence /flight; (3) trust/structure; and (4) work/productivity. The GDQ has not
been applied to psychotherapy groups to date, but it holds promise in this regard (S.
Wheelan and J. Hochberger, “Validation Studies of the Group Development
Questionnaire,” Small Group Research 27 [1996]: 143–70).
5 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “Some Observations on the
Subjective Experience of Neophyte Group Therapy Trainees,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 543–52.
6 R. Kamm, “Group Dynamics and Athletic Success,” presented at the annual meeting of
the American Group Psychotherapy Association, New York City, February, 27, 2004.
7 C. Kieffer, “Phases of Group Development: A View from Self-Psychology,” Group 25
(2002): 91–105.

8 P. Flores, “Addiction as an Attachment Disorder: Implications for Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 63–82.
9 M. Ettin, “From Identified Patient to Identifiable Group: The Alchemy of the Group as a
Whole,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 137–62. Kieffer,
“Phases of Group Development.”
10 I. Harwood, “Distinguishing Between the Facilitating and Self-Serving Charismatic
Group Leader,” Group 27 (2003): 121–29.
11 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in Standard Edition, vol. 18
(London: Hogarth Press, 1955), 67–143.
12 C. Rich and F. Pitts Jr., “Suicide by Psychiatrists: A Study of Medical Specialists
Among 18,730 Consecutive Physician Deaths During a Five-Year Period, 1967–72,”
Journal of Clinical Psychiatry 41 (1980): 261–63. E. Frank, H. Biola, and C. Burnett,
“Mortality Rates Among U.S. Physicians,” American Journal of Preventive Medicine 19
(2000): 155–59.
13 J. Ogrodniczuk and W. Piper, “The Effect of Group Climate on Outcome in Two Forms
of Short-Term Group Therapy,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 7 (1):
64–76.
14 W. Schutz, The Interpersonal Underworld (Palo Alto, Calif.: Science and Behavior
Books, 1966), 24. K. Roy MacKenzie and W. John Livesley, “A Developmental Model for
Brief Group Therapy,” in Advances in Group Therapy, ed. R. Dies and K. Roy MacKenzie
(New York: International Universities Press, 1983), 101–16. Tuckman, “Developmental
Sequences in Small Groups.”
15 G. Bach, Intensive Group Psychotherapy (New York: Ronald Press, 1954), 95.
16 P. Slater, Microcosm (New York: Wiley, 1966).
17 S. Freud, Totem and Taboo, in S. Freud, Standard Edition of the Complete
Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 13 (London: Hogarth Press, 1953), 1–161.
18 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in S. Freud, Standard Edition,
vol. 18 (London: Hogarth Press, 1955), 123.
19 W. Bennis, “Patterns and Vicissitudes in T-Group Development,” in T-Group Theory
and Laboratory Method: Innovation in Re-Education, ed. L. Bradford, J. Gibb, and K.
Benne (New York: Wiley, 1964), 248–78.
20 T. Mills, personal communication, April 1968.
21 Tuckman, “Developmental Sequences in Small Groups.” I. Harwood, “Distinguishing
Between the Facilitating and Self-Serving Charismatic Group Leader,” Group 27 (2003):
121–29.
22 Murphy et al., “Some Observations on the Subjective Experience.”
23 N. Harpaz, “Failures in Group Psychotherapy: The Therapist Variable,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 3–19. M. Leszcz, “Discussion of Failures in

Group Psychotherapy: The Therapist Variable,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 25–31.
24 S. Scheidlinger, “Presidential Address: On Scapegoating in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 131–43. A. Clark,
“Scapegoating: Dynamics and Interventions in Group Counseling,” Journal of Counseling
and Development 80 (2002): 271–76.
25 E. Schein and W. Bennis, Personal and Organizational Change Through Group
Methods (New York: Wiley, 1965), 275.
26 S. Hayes, “Acceptance, Mindfulness and Science,” Clinical Psychology: Science and
Practice 9 (2002): 101–06. A. Wells, “GAD, Metacognition, and Mindfulness: An
Information Processing Analysis,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 9 (2002):
95–100.
27 Bennis, “Patterns and Vicissitudes.”
28 F. Taylor, “The Therapeutic Factors of Group-Analytic Treatment,” Journal of Mental
Science 96 (1950): 976–97.
29 R. Shellow, J. Ward, and S. Rubenfeld, “Group Therapy and the Institutionalized
Delinquent,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 8 (1958): 265–75.
30 D. Whitaker and M. Lieberman, Psychotherapy Through the Group Process (New
York: Atherton Press, 1964). M. Grotjahn, “The Process of Maturation in Group
Psychotherapy and in the Group Therapist,” Psychiatry 13 (1950): 63–67. MacKenzie and
Livesley, “A Developmental Model.”
31 J. Abrahams, “Group Psychotherapy: Implications for Direction and Supervision of
Mentally Ill Patients,” in Mental Health in Nursing, ed. T. Muller (Washington, D.C.:
Catholic University Press, 1949), 77–83.
32 J. Thorpe and B. Smith, “Phases in Group Development in Treatment of Drug
Addicts,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 3 (1953): 66–78.
33 A. Beck and L. Peters, “The Research Evidence for Distributed Leadership in Therapy
Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 31 (1981): 43–71. R. Josselson,
“The Space Between in Group Psychotherapy: A Multidimensional Model of
Relationships,” Group 27 (2003): 203–19.
34 Schutz, The Interpersonal Underworld, 170.
35 I. Janis, Groupthink: Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascoes, 2nd ed.
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1982). G. Hodson and R. Sorrentino, “Groupthink and
Uncertainty Orientation: Personality Differences in Reactivity to the Group Situation,”
Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 144–55.
36 G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment.”
37 S. Drescher, G. Burlingame, and A. Fuhriman, “An Odyssey in Empirical
Understanding,” Small Group Behavior 16 (1985): 3–30.

38 I. Altman, A. Vinsel, and B. Brown, cited in K. MacKenzie, “Group Development,” in
Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York:
Wiley, 1994), 223–68.
39 D. Barker, “The Behavioral Analysis of Interpersonal Intimacy in Group
Development,” Small Group Research 22 (1991): 76–91.
40 D. Kivlighan and R. Lilly, “Developmental Changes in Group Climate.” L.
Castonguay, A. Pincers, W. Agrees, C. Hines, “The Role of Emotion in Group Cognitive-
Behavioral Therapy for Binge Eating Disorder: When Things Have to Feel Worse Before
They Get Better,” Psychotherapy Research 8 (1998): 225–38.
41 D. Hamburg, personal communication, 1978.
42 M. Nitsun, The Anti-Group: Destructive Forces in the Group and Their Creative
Potential (London: Routledge, 1996). M. Nitsun, “The Future of the Group,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 455–72.
43 B. Rasmussen, “Joining Group Psychotherapy: Developmental Considerations,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 513–28.
44 D. Jung and J. Sasik, “Effects of Group Characteristics on Work Group Performance: A
Longitudinal Investigation,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research and Practice 3 (1999):
279–90.
45 I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14
(1966): 393–414.
46 A. Beck describes a similar set of behavior for clients she terms “scapegoat leaders”
(Beck and Peters, “The Research Evidence for Distributed Leadership”).
47 D. Kiesler, Contemporary Interpersonal Theory and Research (New York: J. Wiley &
Sons Ltd., 1996).
48 A. Rice, Learning for Leadership (London: Tavistock Publications, 1965).
49 W. Henry, H. Strupp, S. Butler, T. Schacht, and J. Binder, “Effects of Training in Time-
Limited Dynamic Psychotherapy: Changes in Therapist Behavior,” Journal of Consulting
and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 434–40. J. Waltz, M. Addis, K. Koerner, and N.
Jacobson, “Testing the Integrity of a Psychotherapy Protocol: Assessment of Adherence
and Competence,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 620–30. W.
Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, “Therapy Manuals and the Dilemma of Dynamically Oriented
Therapists and Researchers,” American Journal of Psychotherapy 53 (1999): 467–82.
50 I. Yalom, P. Houts, S. Zimerberg, and K. Rand, “Predictions of Improvement in Group
Therapy: An Exploratory Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68.
51 L. Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout Phenomenon Revisited,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 135 (1978): 1492–95.
52 W. Stone, M. Blase, and J. Bozzuto, “Late Dropouts from Group Therapy,” American
Journal of Psychotherapy 34 (1980): 401–13.

53 W. Stone and S. Rutan, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 101–17. R. MacNair and J. Corazzini,
“Clinical Factors Influencing Group Therapy Dropout,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice and Training 31 (1994): 352–61.
54 S. Budman, A. Demby, and M. Randall, “Short-Term Group Psychotherapy: Who
Succeeds, Who Fails,” Group 4 (1980): 3–16. H. Roback and M. Smith, “Patient Attrition
in Dynamically Oriented Treatment Groups,” American Journal of Psychiatry 144 (1987):
426–43. W. Piper et al., “A Comparative Study of Four Forms of Psychotherapy,” Journal
of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 52 (1984): 268–79. M. McCallum, W. Piper, and
A. Joyce, “Dropping Out from Short-Term Therapy,” Psychotherapy 29 (1992): 206–15.
55 R. Tolman and G. Bhosley, “A Comparison of Two Types of Pregroup Preparation for
Men Who Batter,” Journal of Social Services Research 13 (1990): 33–44. S. Stosny,
“Shadows of the Heart: A Dramatic Video for the Treatment Resistance of Spouse Abuse,”
Social Work 39 (1994): 686–94.
56 C. Taft, C. Murphy, J. Elliott, and T. Morrel, “Attendance-Enhancing Procedures in
Group Counseling for Domestic Abusers,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 48 (2001):
51–60.
57 Stone et al., “Late Dropouts.”
58 W. Piper, M. McCallum, A. Joyce, J. Rosie, and J. Ogrodniczuk, “Patient Personality
and Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for Complicated Grief,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 525–52.
59 Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts.”
60 Lothstein, “The Group Psychotherapy Dropout Phenomenon Revisited.”
61 H. Bernard, “Guidelines to Minimize Premature Terminations,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 523–29. H. Roback, “Adverse Outcomes in Group
Psychotherapy: Risk Factors, Prevention and Research Directions,” Journal of
Psychotherapy, Practice, and Research, 9 (2000): 113–22.
62 Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts.”
63 M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Early Process and Dropping
Out from Short-term Group Therapy for Complicated Grief,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Practice and Research 6 (2002): 243–54. L. Samstag, S. Batchelder, J. Muran, J. Safran,
A. Winston, “Early Identification of Treatment Failures in Short-Term Psychotherapy,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 126–43.
64 J. Weinberg, “On Adding Insight to Injury,” Gerontologist 16 (1976): 4–10.
65 M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group Psychotherapy
for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–73.
66 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach
(Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957).

67 L. Rosenthal, “The New Member: ‘Infanticide’ in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 277–86.
68 B. Rasmussen, “Joining Group Psychotherapy.” E. Shapiro and R. Ginzberg, “The
Persistently Neglected Sibling Relationship and Its Applicability to Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 327–41.
69 R. Crandall, “The Assimilation of Newcomers into Groups,” Small Group Behavior 9
(1978): 331–37.

CHAPTER 12
1 K. MacKenzie, Time-Managed Group Psychotherapy: Effective Clinical Applications
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1997). A. Berman and H. Weinberg, “The
Advanced-Stage Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 498–
518.
2 J. Silverstein, “Acting Out in Group Therapy: Avoiding Authority Struggles,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 31–45.
3 R. White and R. Lippit, “Leader Behavior and Member Reaction in Three ‘Social
Climates,’” in Group Dynamics: Research and Theory, ed. D. Cartwright and A. Zander
(New York: Row, Peterson, 1962), 527–53.
4 G. Hodson, R. Sorrentino, “Groupthink and Uncertainty Orientation: Personality
Differences in Reactivity to the Group Situation,” Group Dynamics 2 (1997): 144–55.
5 I. Yalom, “A Study of Group Therapy Dropouts,” Archives of General Psychiatry 14
(1966): 393–414.
6 S. Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, in S. Freud, Standard Edition
of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 18 (London: Hogarth Press,
1955), 69–143. I. Yalom, “Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego: A Review,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 24 (1974): 67–82.
7 I. Yalom and P. Houts, unpublished data, 1965.
8 Y. Agazarian, “Contemporary Theories of Group Psychotherapy: A Systems Approach
to the Group-as-a-Whole,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 177–
204. G. Burlingame, R. MacKenzie, B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for
Effectiveness and Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th Ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley & Sons,
2004), 647–96.
9 M. Dubner, “Envy in the Group Therapy Process,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 519–31.
10 J. Kelly Moreno, “Group Treatment for Eating Disorders,” in Handbook of Group
Psychotherapy, ed. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 416–57. J.
Bohanske and R. Lemberg, “An Intensive Group Process Retreat Model for the Treatment
of Bulimia,” Group 11 (1987): 228–37.
11 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400. M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and
Foundations of Group Psychotherapy for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–73.
12 A. Camus, The Fall (New York: Vintage, 1956), 58.

13 Ibid., 68.
14 Ibid., 63.
15 L. Ormont, “Developing Emotional Insulation,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 44 (1994): 361–75. L. Ormont, “Meeting Maturational Needs in the Group
Setting,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 343–59.
16 B. Buchele, “Etiology and Management of Anger in Groups: A Psychodynamic View,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 275–85. A. Alonso, “Discussant
Comments for Special Section on Anger and Aggression in Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 331–39.
17 My discussion of conflict in the therapy group draws much from essays by Jerome
Frank and Carl Rogers. J. Frank, “Some Values of Conflict in Therapeutic Groups,” Group
Psychotherapy 8 (1955): 142–51. C. Rogers, “Dealing with Psychological Tensions,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 1 (1965): 6–24.
18 S. Foulkes and E. Anthony, Group Psychotherapy: The Psychoanalytic Approach
(Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1957).
19 Frank, “Some Values of Conflict.”
20 F. Dostoevsky, “The Double,” in Great Short Works of Fyodor Dostoevsky, ed. R.
Hingley (New York: Harper & Row, 1968).
21 L. Horwitz, “Projective Identification in Dyads and Groups,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 254–79.
22 W. Goldstein, “Clarification of Projective Identification,” American Journal of
Psychiatry 148 (1991): 153–61. T. Ogden, Projective Identification and Psychotherapeutic
Technique (New York: Jason Aronson, 1982).
23 L. Horwitz, “Projective Identification in Dyads.”
24 M. Livingston and L. Livingston, “Conflict and Aggression in Group Psychotherapy: A
Self Psychological Vantage Point,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 381–91. J. Gans and R. Weber, “The Detection of Shame in Group Psychotherapy:
Uncovering the Hidden Emotion,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50
(2000): 381–96. W. Stone, “Frustration, Anger, and the Significance of Alter-Ego
Transference in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45
(1995): 287–302.
25 J. Gans, “Hostility in Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
39 (1989): 499–517. M. Dubner, “Envy in the Group Therapy Process.”
26 A. Clark, “Scapegoating: Dynamics and Intervention in Group Counselling,” Journal
of Counseling and Development 80 (2002): 271–76. B. Cohen and V. Schermer, “On
Scapegoating in Therapy Groups: A Social Constructivist and Intersubjective Outlook,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 89–109.
27 R. Giesler and W. Swann, “Striving for Confirmation: The Role of Self-Verification in

Depression,” in The Interactional Nature of Depression, ed. T. Joiner and J. Coyne
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1999), 189–217.
28 Terence, The Self-Tormentor, trans. Betty Radice (New York: Penguin, 1965).
29 P. Fonagy, “Multiple Voices Versus Meta-Cognition: An Attachment Theory
Perspective,” Journal of Psychotherapy Integration 7 (1997): 181–94. A. Wells, “GAD,
Metacognition, and Mindfulness: An Information Processing Analysis,” Clinical
Psychology 9 (2002): 95–100. M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the
Characterologically Difficult Patient,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39
(1989): 311–35.
30 D. Winnicott, Maturational Processes and the Facilitating Environment (London:
Hogarth Press, 1965).
31 L. Ormont, “The Leader’s Role in Dealing with Aggression in Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 553–72.
32 E. Berne, Games People Play (New York: Grove Press, 1964).
33 M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis
der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69.
34 M. Livingston, “Vulnerability, Tenderness and the Experiences of Self-Object
Relationship: A Self Psychological View of Deepening Curative Process in Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 19–40.
35 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term In-Patient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
185–208. G. Burlingame, R. MacKenzie, B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment.”
36 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term In-Patient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 44 (1994):
185–208. G. Burlingame, A. Fuhriman, and L. Johnson, “Cohesion in Group Therapy,” in
A Guide to Psychotherapy Relationships That Work, ed. J. Norcross (Oxford, England:
Oxford University Press, 2002), 71–88.
37 I. Yalom et al., “Predictions of Improvement in Group Therapy: An Exploratory
Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 17 (1967): 159–68.
38 S. Hurley, “Self-Disclosure in Small Counseling Groups,” Ph.D. diss., Michigan State
University, 1967.
39 M. Worthy, A. Gary, and G. Kahn, “Self-Disclosure as an Exchange Process,” Journal
of Personality and Social Psychology 13 (1969): 59–63.
40 S. Bloch and E. Crouch, Therapeutic Factors in Group Psychotherapy (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1985). S. Bloch and E. Crouch, “Therapeutic Factors:
Intrapersonal and Interpersonal Mechanisms,” in Handbook of Group Psychotherapy, ed.
A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame (New York: Wiley, 1994): 269–318. W. Query, “Self-
Disclosure as a Variable in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 14 (1964): 107–15. D. Johnson and L. Ridener, “Self-Disclosure,

Participation, and Perceived Cohesiveness in Small Group Interaction,” Psychological
Reports 35 (1974): 361–63.
41 P. Cozby, “Self-Disclosure, Reciprocity, and Liking,” Sociometry 35 (1972): 151–60.
42 N. Brown, “Conceptualizing Process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
53 (2003): 225–44.
43 C. Truax and R. Carkhuff, “Client and Therapist Transparency in the Psychotherapeutic
Encounter,” Journal of Consulting Psychology 12 (1965): 3–9.
44 H. Peres, “An Investigation of Non-Directive Group Therapy,” Journal of Consulting
Psychology 11 (1947): 159–72.
45 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
46 S. Wiser and M. Goldfried, “Therapist Interventions and Client Emotional
Experiencing in Expert Psychodynamic–Interpersonal and Cognitive-Behavioral
Therapies,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 66 (1998): 634–40. J. Ablon
and E. Jones, “Psychotherapy Process in the National Institute of Mental Health Treatment
of Depression Collaborative Research Program,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 67 (1999): 64–75. B. Cohen and V. Schermer, “Therapist Self-Disclosure.”
47 R. Slavin, “The Significance of Here-and-Now Disclosure in Promoting Cohesion in
Group Psychotherapy,” Group 17 (1993): 143–50.
48 S. Mitchell, Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (New York: Basic Books, 1993).
49 D. Medeiros and A. Richards, “Sharing Secrets: Where Psychotherapy and Education
Meet,” in Studies in Humanistic Psychology, ed. C. Aanstoos (Carollton: West Georgia
College Studies in the Social Sciences, vol. 29, 1991).
50 L. Vosen, “The Relationship Between Self-Disclosure and Self-Esteem,” Ph.D. diss.,
University of California at Los Angeles, 1966, cited in Culbert, Interpersonal Process of
Self-Disclosure: It Takes Two to See One (Washington, D.C.: NTL Institute for Applied
Behavioral Science, 1967).
51 Culbert, Interpersonal Process.
52 J. Sternbach, “Self-Disclosure with All-Male Groups,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 53 (2003): 61–81. S. Bergman, Men’s Psychological Development: A
Relational Perspective (Wellesley, Mass.: The Stone Center, 1991).
53 E. Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday
Anchor Books, 1959). S. Jourard and P. Lasakow, “Some Factors in Self-Disclosure,”
Journal of Abnormal Social Psychology 56 (1950): 91–98.
54 D. Strassberg and his colleagues studied eighteen patients with chronic schizophrenic
for ten weeks in inpatient group therapy and concluded that high self-disclosing patients
made less therapeutic progress than their counterparts who revealed less personal material
(D. Strassberg et al., “Self-Disclosure in Group Therapy with Schizophrenics,” Archives of

General Psychiatry 32 [1975]: 1259–61.)
55 A. Maslow, unpublished mimeographed material, 1962.
56 I. Yalom, See The Schopenhauer Cure, pp. 237ff.
57 N. Fieldsteel, “The Process of Termination in Long-term Psychoanalytic Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 25–39. R. Klein,
“Introduction to Special Section on Termination and Group Therapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 1–4.
58 J. Pedder, “Termination Reconsidered,” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 69
(1988): 495–505.
59 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
60 M. Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,”
American Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
61 S. Kopta, K. Howard, J. Lowry, and L. Beutler, “Patterns of Symptomatic Recovery in
Time-Unlimited Psychotherapy,” Journal of Clinical and Consulting Psychology 62
(1994): 1009–16. S. Kadera, M. Lambert, A. Andrews, “How Much Therapy Is Really
Enough: A Session-by-Session Analysis of the Psychotherapy Dose-Effect Relationship,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 132–51.
62 S. Freud, Analysis Terminable and Interminable, in S. Freud, Standard Edition of the
Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, vol. 23 (London: Hogarth Press, 1968),
211–53.
63 Pedder, “Termination Reconsidered.” B. Grenyer and L. Luborsky, “Dynamic Change
in Psychotherapy: Mastery of Interpersonal Conflicts,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 64 (1996): 411–16.
64 V. Schermer and R. Klein, “Termination in Group Psychotherapy from the Perspectives
of Contemporary Object Relations Theory and Self Psychology,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 99–115.
65 Scott Rutan, personal communication, 1983.
66 Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient.” M.
Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient,” in Handbook of Borderline
Disorders, ed. D. Silver and M. Rosenbluth (Madison, Conn.: International Universities
Press, 1992), 435–69.
67 J. Rutan and W. Stone, “Termination in Group Psychotherapy,” in Psychodynamic
Group Therapy (New York: Guilford Press, 1993): 239–54. E. Shapiro and R. Ginzberg,
“Parting Gifts: Termination Rituals in Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 317–36.
68 D. Nathanson, “The Nature of Therapeutic Impasse.”
69 K. Long, L. Pendleton, and B. Winters, “Effects of Therapist Termination on Group
Process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 211–22.

70 E. Counselman and R. Weber, “Changing the Guard: New Leadership for an
Established Group,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 373–86.

CHAPTER 13
1 F. Wright, “Discussion of Difficult Patients,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 339–48. J. Gans and A. Alonso, “Difficult Patients: Their
Construction in Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 311–26. P. Cohen, “The Practice of Modern Group Psychotherapy: Working with
Post Trauma in the Present,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001):
489–503.
2 R. Dies, “Models of Group Psychotherapy: Shifting Through Confusion,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 42 (1992): 1–17.
3 S. Scheidlinger, “Group Dynamics and Group Psychotherapy Revisited Four Decades
Later,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 141–59.
4 I. Yalom and P. Houts, unpublished data, 1965.
5 L. Ormont, “Cultivating the Observing Ego in the Group Setting,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 489–502. L. Ormont, “Meeting Maturational Needs in
the Group Setting,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 343–59.
6 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
7 D. Lundgren and D. Miller, “Identity and Behavioral Changes in Training Groups,”
Human Relations Training News (spring 1965).
8 R. Coyne and R. Silver, “Direct, Vicarious, and Vicarious-Process Experiences,” Small
Group Behavior 11 (1980): 419–29. R. Rosner, L. Beutler, and R. Daldrup, “Vicarious
Emotional Experience and Emotional Expression in Group Psychotherapy,” Journal of
Counseling Psychology 56 (2000): 1–10.
9 V. Tschuschke and R. Dies, “Intensive Analysis of Therapeutic Factors and Outcome in
Long-Term Inpatient Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy (1994):
185–208. V. Tschuschke, K. MacKenzie, B. Haaser, and G. Janke, “Self-Disclosure,
Feedback, and Outcome in Long-Term Inpatient Psychotherapy Groups,” Journal of
Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 35–44.
10 J. Gans and E. Counselman, “Silence in Group Psychotherapy: A Powerful
Communication,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 71–86. J.
Rutan, “Growth Through Shame and Humiliation,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 511–16.
11 L. Ormont, “The Craft of Bridging,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40
(1990): 3–17.
12 M. Leszcz and J. Malat, “The Interpersonal Model of Group Psychotherapy,” in Praxis
der Gruppenpsychotherapie, ed. V. Tschuschke (Frankfurt: Thieme, 2001), 355–69. S.

Cohen, “Working with Resistance to Experiencing and Expressing Emotions in Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 47 (1997): 443–58.
13 M. McCallum, W. Piper, J. Ogrodniczuk, and A. Joyce, “Relationships Among
Psychological Mindedness, Alexithymia and Outcome in Four Forms of Short-Term
Psychotherapy,” Psychology and Psychotherapy: Theory, Research and Practice 76
(2003): 133–44. G. Taylor, R. Bagby, D. Ryan, J. Parker, K. Dooday, and P. Keefe,
“Criterion Validity of the Toronto Alexithymia Scale,” Psychosomatic Medicine 50
(1988): 500–09.
14 H. Swiller, “Alexithymia: Treatment Utilizing Combined Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 47–61. M.
Beresnevaite, “Exploring the Benefits of Group Psychotherapy in Reducing Alexithymia
in Coronary Heart Disease Patients: A Preliminary Study,” Psychotherapy and
Psychosomatics 69 (2000): 117–22.
15 P. Sifneos, “The Prevalence of ‘Alexithymic’ Characteristics in Psychosomatic
Patients,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics 22 (1973): 255–62.
16 Beresnevaite, “Exploring the Benefits of Group Psychotherapy.” The researchers in this
study employed a sixteen-session integrative model of group therapy, combining the
active identification of subjective feelings, role play, empathy exercises, and stress
reduction in the treatment of patients with heart disease. The groups produced significant
reductions in alexithymia ratings and improvements in cardiac functioning that were
sustained over a two-year period.
17 W. Shields, “Hope and the Inclination to Be Troublesome: Winnicott and the Treatment
of Character Disorder in Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 87–103.
18 J. Kirman, “Working with Anger in Group: A Modern Analytic Approach,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 303–29. D. Kiesler, “Therapist
Countertransference: In Search of Common Themes and Empirical Referents,” In Session:
Psychotherapy in Practice 57 (2001): 1053–63. G. Gabbard, “A Contemporary
Psychoanalytic Model of Countertransference,” In Session: Psychotherapy in Practice 57
(2001): 983–91. J. Hayes, “Countertransference in Group Psychotherapy: Waking a
Sleeping Dog,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45 (1995): 521–35.
19 J. Frank et al., “Behavioral Patterns in Early Meetings of Therapeutic Groups,”
American Journal of Psychiatry 108 (1952): 771–78.
20 E. Shapiro, “Dealing with Masochistic Behavior in Group Therapy from the
Perspective of the Self,” Group 25 (2002): 107–20. R. Maunder and J. Hunter, “An
Integrated Approach to the Formulation and Psychotherapy of Medically Unexplained
Symptoms: Meaning- and Attachment-Based Intervention,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 58 (2004): 17–33. M. Berger and M. Rosenbaum, “Notes on Help-
Rejecting Complainers,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 357–
70. S. Brody, “Syndrome of the Treatment-Rejecting Patient,” Psychoanalytic Review 51
(1964): 75–84. C. Peters and H. Grunebaum, “It Could Be Worse: Effective Group

Psychotherapy with the Help-Rejecting Complainers,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 27 (1977): 471–80.
21 Maunder and Hunter, “An Integrated Approach.”
22 E. Shapiro, “Dealing with Masochistic Behavior in Group Therapy from the
Perspective of the Self,” Group 25 (2002): 107–20. Maunder and Hunter, “An Integrated
Approach.” S. Foreman, “The Significance of Turning Passive into Active in Control
Mastery: Theory,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 5 (1996): 106–21.
Both self psychological and attachment paradigms converge here. From an attachment
perspective, the client relates in a preoccupied and insecure attachment pattern. The
preoccupation with the caregiver is rooted in the wish to connect. Complaining is intended
to create closeness by pulling the caregiver near. Simultaneously the client’s past
experience of inconsistent, unreliable caregiving fuels his vigilance for any evidence that
he will be eventually abandoned. Accepting help and being sated fuels the dread of this
very abandonment.
23 Do not neglect to consider the real meaning of the help-rejecting complainer’s
complaint. Some clinicians propose that there may be a hidden positive or adaptive value
to the unrelenting complaints that needs to be understood.
24 Frank et al., “Behavioral Patterns in Early Meetings.” E. Berne, Games People Play
(New York: Grove Press, 1964). Peters and Grunebaum, “It Could Be Worse.”
25 Wright, “Discussion of Difficult Patients.” R. Jacobs and D. Campbell, “The
Perpetuation of an Arbitrary Tradition Through Several Generations of a Laboratory
Microculture,” Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology 62 (1961): 649–58.
26 R. Moos and I. Yalom, “Medical Students’ Attitudes Toward Psychiatry and
Psychiatrists,” Mental Hygiene 50 (1966): 246–56.
27 L. Coch and J. French, “Overcoming Resistance to Change,” Human Relations 1
(1948): 512–32.
28 N. Kanas, “Group Psychotherapy with Bipolar Patients: A Review and Synthesis,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 321–35. F. Volkmar et al.,
“Group Therapy in the Management of Manic-Depressive Illness,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 35 (1981): 226–33. I. Patelis-Siotis et al., “Group Cognitive-Behavioral
Therapy for Bipolar Disorder: A Feasibility and Effectiveness Study,” Journal of Affective
Disorders 65 (2001): 145–53. M. Sajatovic, M. Davies, and D. Hrouda, “Enhancement of
Treatment Adherence Among Patients with Bipolar Disorder,” Psychiatric Services 55
(2004): 264–69. R. Weiss, L. Najavits, and S. Greenfield, “A Relapse Prevention Group
for Patients with Bipolar and Substance Use Disorders,” Journal of Substance Abuse
Treatment 16 (1999): 47–54. F. Colom et al., “A Randomized Trial on the Efficacy of
Group Psychoeducation in the Prophylaxis of Recurrences in Bipolar Patients Whose
Disease Is in Remission,” Archives of General Psychiatry 60 (2003): 402–7.
29 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 311–35. L. Ormont, “The Role

of the Leader in Managing the Preoedipal Patient in the Group Setting,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 147–71. R. Klein, J. Orleans, and C. Soule,
“The Axis II Group: Treating Severely Characterologically Disturbed Patients,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 97–115. D. Silver,
“Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient,” Canadian Journal of
Psychiatry 28 (1983): 513–21.
30 J. Shedler and D. Westen, “Refining Personality Disorder Diagnosis: Integrating
Science and Practice,” American Journal of Psychiatry 161 (2004): 1350–65.
31 Gans and Alonso, “Difficult Patients.”
32 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient,” in Handbook of
Borderline Disorders, ed. D. Silver and M. Rosenbluth (Madison, Conn.: International
Universities Press, 1992), 435–70. E. Marziali and H. Monroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group
Psychotherapy for Borderline Personality Disorder (New York: Basic Books, 1994). S.
Budman, A. Demby, S. Soldz, and J. Merry, “Time-Limited Group Psychotherapy for
Patients with Personality Disorders: Outcomes and Dropouts,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 357–77. S. Budman, S. Cooley, A. Demby, G.
Koppenaal, J. Koslof, and T. Powers, “A Model of Time-Effective Group Psychotherapy
for Patients with Personality Disorders: A Clinical Model,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 329–55. A. Bateman and P. Fonagy, “Treatment of
Borderline Personality Disorder with Psychoanalytically Oriented Partial Hospitalization:
An 18-Month Follow-Up,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (2001): 36–42. W. Piper
and J. Rosie, “Group Treatment of Personality Disorders: The Power of the Group in the
Intensive Treatment of Personality Disorders,” In Session: Psychotherapy in Practice 4
(1998): 19–34. W. Piper, J. Rosie, A. Joyce, and H. Azim, Time-Limited Day Treatment for
Personality Disorders: Integration of Research and Practice in a Group Program
(Washington, D.C. : American Psychological Association, 1996). M. Chiesa and P.
Fonagy, “Psychosocial Treatment for Severe Personality Disorder: 36-Month Follow-Up,”
British Journal of Psychiatry 183 (2003): 356–62.
33 J. Herman, Trauma and Recovery (New York: Harper Collins, 1992). M. Zanarin, F.
Frankenburg, E. Dubo, A. Sickel, A. Trikha, and A. Levin, “Axis I Comorbidity of
Borderline Personality Disorder,” American Journal of Psychiatry 155 (1998): 1733–39. J.
Ogrodniczuk, W. Piper, A. Joyce, and M. McCallum, “Using DSM Axis IV Formulation
to Predict Outcome in Short-Term Individual Psychotherapy,” Journal of Personality
Disorders 15 (2001): 110–22. C. Zlotnick et al., “Clinical Features and Impairment in
Women with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder
(PTSD), BPD Without PTSD, and Other Personality Disorders with PTSD,” Journal of
Nervous and Mental Diseases 191 (2003): 706–13.
34 M. Leszcz, “Group Therapy,” in Treatment of Psychiatric Disorders, vol. 3, ed. J.
Gunderson (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1990), 2667–78.
35 J. Sartre, The Age of Reason, trans. Eric Sutton (New York: Knopf, 1952), 144.
36 American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental

Disorders, 4th ed. Text Rev. (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 2000).
37 O. Kernberg, “An Ego Psychology Object Relations Theory of the Structure and
Treatment of Pathologic Narcissism: An Overview,” Psychiatric Clinics of North America
12 (1989): 723–29. O. Kernberg, Borderline Conditions and Pathological Narcissism
(New York: Jason Aronson, 1975).
38 J. Perry, “Problems and Considerations in the Valid Assessment of Personality
Disorders,” American Journal of Psychiatry 149 (1992): 1645–53. G. Mellsop et al., “The
Reliability of Axis II of DSM-III,” American Journal of Psychiatry 139 (1982): 1360–61.
39 Kernberg, “An Ego Psychology Object Relations Theory.” Kernberg, Borderline
Conditions and Pathological Narcissism. H. Kohut, The Analysis of the Self (New York:
International Universities Press, 1971). H. Kohut, The Restoration of the Self (New York:
International Universities Press, 1977).
40 J. Gunderson, Borderline Personality Disorder: A Clinical Guide (Washington, D.C.:
American Psychiatric Press, 2001). Piper and Rosie, “Group Treatment of Personality
Disorders.” Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient.” Marziali and
Monroe-Blum, Interpersonal Group Psychotherapy for Borderline Personality Disorder.
Bateman and Fonagy, “Treatment of Borderline Personality Disorder.” American
Psychiatric Association, “Practice Guideline for the Treatment of Patients with Borderline
Personality Disorder,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (suppl 11 2001): 1–52.
41 L. Horwitz, “Group Psychotherapy for Borderline and Narcissistic Patients,” Bulletin
of the Menninger Clinic 44 (1980): 181–200. N. Wong, “Clinical Considerations in Group
Treatment of Narcissistic Disorders,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 29
(1979): 325–45. R. Kretsch, Y. Goren, and A. Wasserman, “Change Patterns of Borderline
Patients in Individual and Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
37 (1987): 95–112. Klein et al., “The Axis II Group.” J. Grobman, “The Borderline Patient
in Group Psychotherapy: A Case Report,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
30 (1980): 299–318. B. Finn and S. Shakir, “Intensive Group Psychotherapy of Borderline
Patients,” Group 14 (1990): 99–110. K. O’Leary et al., “Homogeneous Group Therapy of
Borderline Personality Disorder,” Group 15 (1991): 56–64. S. Shakir, personal
communication, February 1994. M. Leszcz, I. Yalom, and M. Norden, “The Value of
Inpatient Group Psychotherapy: Patients’ Perceptions,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 411–33. I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York:
Basic Books, 1983). N. Macaskill, “The Narcissistic Core as a Focus in the Group
Therapy of the Borderline Patient,” British Journal of Medical Psychology 53 (1980):
137–43. S. Budman, A. Demby, S. Soldz, and J. Merry, “Time-Limited Group
Psychotherapy for Patients with Personality Disorders: Outcomes and Dropouts,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 357–77.
42 M. Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient.”
43 Klein et al., “The Axis II Group.”
44 M. Bond, E. Banon, and M. Grenier, “Differential Effects of Interventions on the
Therapeutic Alliance with Patients with Borderline Personality Disorders,” Journal of

Psychotherapy Practice and Research 7 (1998): 301–18.
45 K. Heffernan and M. Cloitre, “A Comparison of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder with and
Without Borderline Personality Disorder Among Women with a History of Childhood
Sexual Abuse: Etiological and Clinical Characteristics,” Journal of Nervous and Mental
Diseases 188 (2000): 589–95. M. Cloitre and K. Koenen, “The Impact of Borderline
Personality Disorder on Process Group Outcomes Among Women with Posttraumatic
Stress Disorder Related to Childhood Abuse,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 379–98.
46 Leszcz, “Group Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient.” Horwitz,
“Group Psychotherapy for Borderline and Narcissistic Patients.” Wong, “Clinical
Considerations in Group Treatment of Narcissistic Disorders.” N. Wong, “Combined
Group and Individual Treatment of Borderline and Narcissistic Patients,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 389–403. Klein et al., “The Axis II Group.”
47 J. Kosseff, “The Unanchored Self: Clinical Vignettes of Change in Narcissistic and
Borderline Patients in Groups: Introduction,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 387–88.
48 Shedler and Westen, “Refining Personality Disorder Diagnosis.”
49 American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental
Disorders, 4th ed., 661.
50 Kernberg, “An Ego Psychology Object Relations Theory.” Kernberg, Borderline
Conditions and Pathological Narcissism.
51 M. Livingston and L. Livingston, “Conflict and Aggression in Group Psychotherapy: A
Self Psychological Vantage Point,” International Journal of Psychotherapy 48 (1998):
381–91. J. Horner, “A Characterological Contraindication for Group Psychotherapy,”
Journal of American Academy of Psychoanalysis 3 (1975): 301–05.
52 The tasks of therapy may be facilitated by theoretical frames of reference such as a self
psychological framework or an intersubjective framework. Both approaches sharpen our
focus on the subjective experience of the narcissistically vulnerable client. Leszcz, “Group
Psychotherapy of the Characterologically Difficult Patient.” Livingston and Livingston,
“Conflict and Aggression in Group Psychotherapy.” M. Baker and H. Baker, “Self-
Psychological Contributions to the Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy,” in
Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller (Washington, D.C.:
American Psychiatric Press, 1993), 49–68. I. Harwood, “Distinguishing Between the
Facilitating and the Self-Serving Charismatic Group Leader,” Group 27 (2003): 121–29.
W. Stone, “Self Psychology and the Higher Mental Functioning Hypothesis:
Contemporary Theories,” Group Analysis 29 (1996): 169–81. D. Brandchaft and R.
Stolorow, “The Difficult Patient: Intersubjective Perspective,” in Borderline and
Narcissistic Patients in Therapy, ed. N. Slavinsky-Holy (Madison, Conn.: International
Universities Press, 1988), 243–66.
53 M. Pines, “Group Analytic Therapy of the Borderline Patient,” Group Analysis 11

(1978): 115–26.

CHAPTER 14
1 E. Paykel, “Psychotherapy, Medication Combinations, and Compliance.” Journal of
Clinical Psychiatry 56 (1995): 24–30. D. Greben, “Integrative Dimensions of
Psychotherapy Training,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 49 (2004): 238–48.
2 H. Bernard and S. Drob, “The Experience of Patients in Conjoint Individual and Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 129–46. K. Porter,
“Combined Individual and Group Psychotherapy: A Review of the Literature, 1965–
1978,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 107–14.
3 K. Schwartz, “Concurrent Group and Individual Psychotherapy in a Psychiatric Day
Hospital for Depressed Elderly,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54
(2004): 177–201.
4 B. Roller and V. Nelson, “Group Psychotherapy Treatment of Borderline Personalities,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 369–85. F. DeZuleta and P.
Mark, “Attachment and Contained Splitting: A Combined Approach of Group and
Individual Therapy to the Treatment of Patients from Borderline Personality Disorder,”
Group Analysis 33 (2000): 486–500. E. Fried, “Combined Group and Individual Therapy
with Passive Narcissistic Patients,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5
(1955): 194.
5 K. Chard, T. Weaver, and P. Resick, “Adapting Cognitive Processing Therapy for Child
Sexual Abuse Survivors,” Cognitive and Behavioral Practice 4 (1997): 31–52. N.
Lutwack, “Shame, Women, and Group Psychotherapy,” Group 22 (1998): 129–43.
6 L. Ormont, “Principles and Practice of Conjoint Psychoanalytic Treatment,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 138 (1981): 69–73.
7 J. Rutan and A. Alonso, “Group Therapy, Individual Therapy, or Both?” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 267–82. K. Porter, “Combined Individual and
Group Psychotherapy,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H.
Swiller (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association Press, 1993), 309–41.
8 Ormont, “Principles and Practice of Conjoint Psychoanalytic Treatment.” M. Leszcz,
“Group Psychotherapy of the Borderline Patient,” in Handbook of Borderline Disorders,
ed. D. Silver and M. Rosenbluth (Madison, Conn.: International Universities Press, 1992),
435–69. J. Schacter, “Concurrent Individual and Individual In-a-Group Psychoanalytic
Psychotherapy,” Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association 36 (1988): 455–71.
9 J. Gans, “Broaching and Exploring the Question of Combined Group and Individual
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 123–37.
10 K. Ulman, “The Ghost in the Group Room: Countertransferential Pressures Associated
with Conjoint Individual and Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group

Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 387–407. K. Porter, “Combined Individual and Group
Psychotherapy,” in Group Therapy in Clinical Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller
(Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1993): 309–41.
11 K. Porter, “Combined Individual and Group Psychotherapy.” S. Lipsius, “Combined
Individual and Group Psychotherapy: Guidelines at the Interface,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 313–27. H. Swiller, “Alexithymia: Treatment Using
Combined Individual and Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 37 (1988): 47–61. J. Rutan and A. Alonso, “Common Dilemmas in
Combined Individual and Group Treatment,” Group 14 (1990): 5–12.
12 E. Amaranto and S. Bender, “Individual Psychotherapy as an Adjunct to Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 40 (1990): 91–101. S.
Budman, personal communication, 1993.
13 J. Rutan and W. Stone, “Duration of Treatment in Group Psychotherapy,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 93–109. A study comparing conjoint and
combined group therapy for patients with eating disorders found that the combined format
was far more effective at preventing dropouts. (More than three times as many patients
dropped out of conjoint groups.) K. Scheuble et al., “Premature Termination: A Risk in
Eating Disorder Groups,” Group (1987): 85–93.
14 R. Matano and I. Yalom, “Approaches to Chemical Dependency: Chemical
Dependency and Interactive Group Therapy: A Synthesis,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 41 (1991): 269–93. M. Freimuth, “Integrating Group Psychotherapy and
12-Step Work: A Collaborative Approach,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
50 (2000): 297–314.
15 E. Khantzian, “Reflection on Group Treatments as Corrective Experiences in Addictive
Vulnerability,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 11–20.
16 P. Flores, “Addition as an Attachment Disorder: Implications for Group Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 63–82. M. Litt, R. Kadden, N.
Cooney, and E. Kabela, “Coping Skills and Treatment Outcomes in Cognitive-Behavioral
and Interactional Group Therapy for Alcoholism,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical
Psychology 71 (2003): 118–28.
17 Project MATCH Research Group, “Matching Alcoholism Treatments to Client
Heterogeneity: Project MATCH Post-Treatment Drinking Outcomes,” Journal of Studies
in Alcohol 58 (1997): 7–29. Stephanie Brown, personal communication, 2004. M.
Seligman, “The Effectiveness of Psychotherapy: The Consumer Reports Study,” American
Psychologist 50 (1995): 965–74.
18 P. Ouimette, R. Moos, and J. Finney, “Influence of Outpatient Treatment and 12-Step
Group Involvement on One Year Substance Abuse Treatment Outcomes,” Journal of
Studies on Alcohol 59 (1998): 513–22. S. Lash, G. Petersen, E. O’Connor, and L.
Lahmann, “Social Reinforcement of Substance Abuse After Care Group Therapy
Attendants,” Journal of Substance Abuse Treatment 20 (2001): 3–8.

19 Matano and Yalom, “Approaches to Chemical Dependency.” Freimuth, “Integrating
Group Psychotherapy and 12-Step Work.”
20 Matano and Yalom, “Approaches to Chemical Dependency.”
21 Research studies of therapists’ preferences demonstrate that 75–90 percent prefer the
cotherapy mode (I. Paulson, J. Burroughs, and C. Gelb, “Co-Therapy: What Is the Crux of
the Relationship?” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 26 [1976]: 213–24). R.
Dies, J. Mallet, and F. Johnson, “Openness in the Co-Leader Relationship: Its Effect on
Group Process and Outcome,” Small Group Behavior 10 (1979): 523–46. H. Rabin, “How
Does Co-Therapy Compare with Regular Group Therapy?” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 21 (1967): 244–55.
22 C. Hendrix, D. Fournier, and K. Briggs, “Impact of Co-Therapy Teams on Client
Outcomes and Therapist Training in Marriage and Family Therapy,” Contemporary
Family Therapy: An International Journal 23 (2001): 63–82.
23 H. Rabin, “How Does Co-therapy Compare.” H. Spitz and S. Kopp, “Multiple
Psychotherapy,” Psychiatric Quarterly Supplement 31 (1957): 295–331. Paulson et al.,
“CoTherapy: What Is the Crux.” Dies et al., “Openness in the Co-leader Relationship.” R.
Dick, K. Lessler, and J. Whiteside, “A Developmental Framework for Co-Therapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 273–85.
24 M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group Psychotherapy
for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–74.
25 I. Harwood, “Creative Use of Gender in a Co-Therapy Group Composition When
Addressing Early Attachment, Trauma, and Cross-Cultural Issues,” Psychoanalytic
Inquiry 23 (2003): 697–712. L. Livingston, “Transferences Toward the Co-Therapist
Couple: Dyadic Relationships and Self-Object Needs,” Group 25 (2001): 59–72.
26 B. Roller and V. Nelson, The Art of Co-Therapy: How Therapists Work Together (New
York: Guilford Press, 1991). R. Dies, “Current Practice in the Training of Group
Therapists,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 30 (1980): 169–85.
27 I. Yalom, J. Tinklenberg, and M. Gilula, unpublished data, Department of Psychiatry,
Stanford University, 1967.
28 S. McNary and R. Dies, “Co-Therapist Modeling in Group Psychotherapy: Fact or
Fiction?” Group 15 (1993): 131–42.
29 J. Haley, Problem Solving Therapy, 2nd ed. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1987).
30 B. Roller and V. Nelson, “Cotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group Psychotherapy, ed. H.
Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993), 304–12.
31 Paulson et al., “Co-therapy: What Is the Crux.”
32 Roller and Nelson, “Cotherapy.”
33 L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collins, and J. Salvendy, “Some Observations on the

Subjective Experience of Neophyte Group Therapy Trainees,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy (1996): 543–52.
34 A model for co-therapy development has been described that identifies 9 stages:
forming a contract about the work; forming an identity as a team; developing mutuality
and respect; developing closeness; defining strengths and limitations; exploring
possibilities; supporting self confrontation; implementing change; closing or re-
organizing. (J. Dugo and A. Beck, “Significance and Complexity of Early Phases in the
Development of the Co-Therapy Relationship,” Group Dynamics: Theory, Research, and
Practice 1 (1997): 294–305. S. Wheelan, “Co-Therapists and the Creation of a Functional
Psychotherapy Group: A Group Dynamics Perspective,” Group Dynamics: Theory,
Research, and Practice 1 (1997): 306–10.
35 R. Desmond and M. Seligman, “A Review of Research on Leaderless Groups,” Small
Group Behavior 8 (1977): 3–24.
36 Rutan and Stone, Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapy 3rd ed. (New York: Guilford,
2000).
37 Yalom, Tinklenberg, and Gilula, unpublished data.
38 D. Derr and D. Zampfer, “Dreams in Group Therapy: A Review of Models,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 46 (1996): 501–15.
39 M. Livingston, “Self-Psychology, Dreams, and Group Psychotherapy: Working in the
Play Space,” Group 25 (2001): 15–26.
40 J. Pawlik et al., “The Use of Dreams in a Small Analytic Group,” Group Analysis 23
(1990): 163–71. C. Kieffer, “Using Dream Interpretation to Resolve Group Developmental
Impasses,” Group 20 (1996): 273–85.
41 M. Alpert, “Videotaping Psychotherapy,” The Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 5 (1996): 93–105.
42 M. Berger, ed., Videotape Techniques in Psychiatric Training and Treatment (New
York: Brunner/Mazel, 1978). D. Skafte, “Video in Groups: Implications for a Social
Theory of Self,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37 (1987): 389–402.
43 D. Miller, “The Effects of Immediate and Delayed Audio and Videotaped Feedback on
Group Counseling,” Comparative Group Studies 1 (1970): 19–47. M. Robinson, “A Study
of the Effects of Focused Videotaped Feedback in Group Counseling,” Comparative
Group Studies 1 (1970): 47–77.
44 M. Berger, “Use of Videotape in Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group
Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993):
355–62.
45 N. Mayades and D. O’Brien, “The Use of Videotape in Group Therapy,” in Videotape
Techniques in Psychiatric Training and Treatment, ed. M. Berger (New York: Brunner
/Mazel, 1978), 216–29.
46 M. Ravensborg, “Debunking Video Magic,” International Journal of Group

Psychotherapy 38 (1988): 521–22.
47 M. Berger, “The Use of Video Tape with Psychotherapy Groups in a Community
Mental Health Program.”
48 J. Rubin and K. Locascio, “A Model for Communicational Skills Group Using
Structured Exercises and Audiovisual Equipment,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 569–84.
49 M. Alpert, “Videotaping Psychotherapy,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 5 (1996): 93–105.
50 C. Classen et al., “Effectiveness of a Training Program for Enhancing Therapists’
Understanding of the Supportive-Expressive Treatment Model for Breast Cancer Groups,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 6 (1997): 211–18.
51 J. Waltz, M. Addis, K. Koerner, and N. Jacobson, “Testing the Integrity of a
Psychotherapy Protocol: Assessment of Adherence and Competence,” Journal of
Consulting Clinical Psychology 61 (1994): 620–30. P. Goodwin et al., “Lessons Learned
from Enrollment in the BEST Study: A Multicenter Randomized Trial of Group
Psychosocial Support in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” Journal of Clinical Epidemiology 53
(2000): 47–55.
52 I. Yalom, S. Brown, and S. Bloch, “The Written Summary as a Group Psychotherapy
Technique,” Archives of General Psychiatry 32 (1975): 605–13.
53 R. Beck, “The Written Summary in Group Psychotherapy Revisited,” Group 13 (1989):
102–11. M. Aveline, “The Use of Written Reports in a Brief Group Psychotherapy
Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 36 (1986): 477–82.
54 It is noteworthy as well that the last ten to twenty years has marked an explosion in
narrative approaches in medicine and psychological treatments in which clients and/or
caregivers write about their emotional experience and reactions to illness, trauma, and the
provision of treatment. Such writing results in significant benefits that include not only
subjective reports of psychological wellbeing but also objective measures of medical
health and illness. (M. White and D. Epston, Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends, [New
York: Norton, 1990].) R. Lieb and S. Kanofsky, “Toward a Constructivist Control Mastery
Theory: An Integration with Narrative Therapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice, Training 40 (2003): 187–202. There are also reports of therapists writing letters
to clients delineating obstacles to therapy during the course of the treatment or shortly
after termination. (B. Laub and S. Hoffmann, “Dialectical Letters: An Integration of
Dialectical Cotherapy and Narrative Therapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research,
Practice, Training 39 [2002]: 177–83.)
55 M. Chen, J. Noosbond, and M. Bruce, “Therapeutic Document in Group Counseling:
An Active Change Agent,” Journal of Counseling and Development 76 (1998): 404–11.
56 S. Brown and I. Yalom, “Interactional Group Therapy with Alcoholics,” Journal of
Studies on Alcohol 38 (1977): 426–56.
57 H. Spitz, Group Psychotherapy and Managed Mental Health Care: A Clinical Guide

for Providers (New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1996), 159–69. M. Leszcz, “Recommendations
for Psychotherapy Documentation,” Guidelines of the University of Toronto, Department
of Psychiatry, Psychotherapy Program, 2001.
58 M. Leszcz, “Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Review of Geriatric Psychiatry, 3rd
Edition, J. Sadavoy, L. Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Meyers, eds. (New York: Norton,
2004) 1023–54. I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books,
1983). B. van der Kolk, “The Body Keeps the Score: Approaches to the Psychobiology of
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” in Traumatic Stress, the Effects of Overwhelming
Experience on Mind, Body and Society, ed. B. van der Kolk, A.C. McFarlane, and L.
Weisaeth (New York: Guilford Press, 1996), 214–41.
59 J. Kabat-Zinn, Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday
Life (New York: Hyperion, 1994). Z. Segal, M. Williams, J. Teasdale, Mindfulness-Based
Cognitive Therapy for Depression: a New Approach to Preventing Relapse (New York:
Guilford Press, 2001).
60 P. Finkelstein, B. Wenegrat, and I. Yalom, “Large Group Awareness Training,” Annual
Review of Psychology 33 (1982):515–39.
61 F. Perls, The Gestalt Approach and Eyewitness to Therapy (Ben Lomond, Calif.:
Science and Behavior Books, 1974). F. Perls, Gestalt Therapy Verbatim (Moab, Utah:
Real People Press, 1969). F. Perls, Ego, Hunger, and Aggression (New York: Vintage
Books, 1969).
62 R. Harmon, “Recent Developments in Gestalt Group Therapy,” International Journal
of Group Psychotherapy 34 (1984): 473–83. R. Feder and R. Ronall, Beyond the Hot Seat:
Gestalt Approaches to Group (New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1980). D. Greve, “Gestalt
Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B.
Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993), 228–35. C. Naranjo, Gestalt Therapy: The
Attitude and Practice of an Atheoretical Experimentalism (Nevada City, Nev.: Gateways
/IDHHB Publishing, 1993). S. Ginger and A. Ginger, “Gestalt Therapy Groups: Why?”
Gestalt 4 (2000). J. Earley, “A Practical Guide to Fostering Interpersonal Norms in a
Gestalt Group,” Gestalt Review 4 (2000): 138–51.
63 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York: Basic
Books, 1973).
63. Ibid.

CHAPTER 15
1 Neither space limitations nor the rapidly growing numbers of specialized groups permit
a comprehensive list and bibliography in this text. Computer literature searches are so
accessible and efficient that the reader may easily obtain a recent bibliography of any
specialized group.
2 P. Cox, F. Ilfeld Jr., B. Squire Ilfeld, and C. Brennan, “Group Therapy Program
Development: Clinician-Administrator Collaboration in New Practice Settings,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 3–24. E. Lonergan, “Discussion
of ‘Group Therapy Program Development’,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 43–45. G. Burlingame, D. Earnshaw, M. Hoag, S. Barlow, “A
Systematic Program to Enhance Clinician Group Skills in an Inpatient Psychiatric
Hospital,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 555–87.
3 J. Salvendy, “Brief Group Therapy at Retirement,” Group 13 (1989): 43–57. H. Nobler,
“It’s Never Too Late to Change: A Group Therapy Experience for Older Women,” Group
16 (1992): 146–55.
4 M. Leszcz, “Group Therapy,” in Comprehensive Review of Geriatric Psychiatry, 3rd ed.,
ed. J. Sadavoy, L. Jarvik, G. Grossberg, and B. Meyers (New York: Norton, 2004), 1023–
54.
5 R. Klein and V. Schermer, “Introduction and Overview: Creating a Healing Matrix,” in
Group Psychotherapy for Psychological Trauma, ed. R. Klein and V. Schermer (New
York: Guilford Press, 2000), 3–46. J. Herman, Trauma and Recovery, rev. ed. (New York:
Basic Books, 1997). H. Lubin, M. Loris, J. Burt, and D. Johnson, “Efficacy of
Psychoeducational Group Therapy in Reducing Symptoms of Posttraumatic Stress
Disorder Among Multiply Traumatized Women,” American Journal of Psychiatry 155
(1998): 1172–77. M. Robertson, P. Rushton, D. Bartrum, and R. Ray, “Group-Based
Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder: Theoretical and Clinical
Aspects,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 145–75.
6 A. McKarrick et al., “National Trends in the Use of Psychotherapy in Psychiatric
Inpatient Settings,” Hospital Community Psychiatry 39 (1988): 835–41.
7 In the following discussion, I draw heavily from my book Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1983), where interested readers may find more
in-depth discussion. Although this model was developed for the inpatient ward, it has been
modified and adapted to many other settings, including partial hospitalization groups and
intensive two- to three-week programs for substance abusers. (In chapter 10, I discussed a
particularly common major group therapy modification: the time-limited, brief, closed
therapy group.)
8 M. Leszcz, I. Yalom, and M. Norden, “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy:

Patients’ Perceptions,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 35 (1985): 411–35.
Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, 313–35.
9 M. Echternacht, “Fluid Group: Concept and Clinical Application in the Therapeutic
Milieu,” Journal of the American Psychiatric Nurses Association 7 (2001): 39–44.
10 S. Green and S. Bloch, “Working in a Flawed Mental Health Care System: An Ethical
Challenge,” American Journal of Psychiatry 158 (2001): 1378–83.
11 B. Rosen et al., “Clinical Effectiveness of ‘Short’ Versus ‘Long’ Psychiatric
Hospitalization,” Archives of General Psychiatry 33 (1976): 1316–22.
12 A. Alden et al., “Group Aftercare for Chronic Schizophrenics,” Journal of Clinical
Psychiatry 40 (1979): 249–52. R. Prince et al., “Group Aftercare: Impact on a Statewide
Program,” Diseases of the Nervous System 77 (1977): 793–96. J. Claghorn et al., “Group
Therapy and Maintenance Therapy of Schizophrenics,” Archives of General Psychiatry 31
(1974): 361–65. M. Herz et al., “Individual Versus Group Aftercare Treatment,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 131 (1974): 808–12. C. O’Brien et al., “Group Versus Individual
Psychotherapy with Schizophrenics: A Controlled Outcome Study,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 27 (1972): 474–78. L. Mosher and S. Smith, “Psychosocial Treatment:
Individual, Group, Family, and Community Support Approaches,” Schizophrenia Bulletin
6 (1980): 10–41.
13 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.” Yalom, Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy, 313–35.
14 Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, 34. B. Corder, R. Corder, and A. Hendricks,
“An Experimental Study of the Effects of Paired Patient Meetings on the Group Therapy
Process,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 21 (1971): 310–18. J. Otteson,
“Curative Caring: The Use of Buddy Groups with Chronic Schizophrenics,” Journal of
Consulting and Clinical Psychology 47 (1979): 649–51.
15 A number of effective clinical models have been described, each predicated upon a
different conceptual frame such as psychoeducation, problem-solving, psychoanalytic,
cognitive-behavioral. V. Brabender and A. Fallow, Models of Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy (Washington, D.C.: American Psychological Association, 1993).
16 C. Williams-Barnard and A. Lindell, “Therapeutic Use of ‘Prizing’ and Its Effect on
Self-Concept of Elderly Clients in Nursing Homes and Group Homes,” Issues in Mental
Health Nursing 13 (1992): 1–17.
17 W. Stone, “Self Psychology and the Higher Mental Functioning Hypothesis:
Contemporary Theories,” Group Analysis 29 (1996): 169–81.
18 Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy, 134.
19 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.”
20 M. Leszcz, “Inpatient Group Therapy,” in APA Annual Update V (Washington, D.C.:
American Psychiatric Associative Press, 1986): 729–43.
21 Leszcz et al, “The Value of Inpatient Group.”

22 I. Yalom, M. Lieberman, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
23 For an excellent example of departures from and modifications of my model, see W.
Froberg and B. Slife, “Overcoming Obstacles to the Implementation of Yalom’s Model of
Inpatient Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 37
(1987): 371–88.
24 Froberg and Slife, “Overcoming Obstacles to the Implementation of Yalom’s Model.”
25 Leszcz et al., “The Value of Inpatient Group Psychotherapy.” Yalom, Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy, 262.
26 A. Cunningham, “Adjuvant Psychological Therapy for Cancer Patients: Putting It on
the Same Footing as Adjunctive Medical Therapies,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 367–71.
M. Leszcz, “Gruppenpsychotherapie fur brustkrebspatientinnen,” Psychotheraput 49
(2004): 314–30. K. Lorig et al., “Evidence Suggesting That a Chronic Disease Self-
Management Program Can Improve Health Status While Reducing Hospitalization,”
Medical Care 37 (1999): 5–14.
27 J. Kelly, “Group Psychotherapy for Persons with HIV and AIDS-Related Illnesses,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 143–62. S. Abbey and S.
Farrow, “Group Therapy and Organ Transplantation,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 163–85. R. Allan and S. Scheidt, “Group Psychotherapy for
Patients with Coronary Heart Disease,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 187–214. B. Toner et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for Patients with
Irritable Bowel Syndrome,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998):
215–43. M. Leszcz and P. Goodwin, “The Rationale and Foundations of Group
Psychotherapy for Women with Metastatic Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 245–73. J. Spira, Group Therapy for Medically Ill Patients
(New York: Guilford Press, 1997). The ENRICHD Investigators, “Enhancing Recovery in
Coronary Heart Disease (ENRICHD) Study Intervention: Rationale and Design,”
Psychosomatic Medicine 63 (2001): 747–55. L. Paparella, “Group Psychotherapy and
Parkinson’s Disease: When Members and Therapist Share the Diagnosis,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 401–9. A. Sherman et al., “Group
Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part I. Effects on Psychosocial
and Functional Outcomes at Different Phases of Illness,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 29–82. A. Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients
with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part II. Effects on Immune, Endocrine, and Disease
Outcomes at Different Phases of Illness,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
54 (2004): 203–33. A. Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and
HIV Disease: Part III. Moderating Variables and Mechanisms of Action,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 347–87.
28 Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part
I.”
29 The ENRICHD Investigators, “Enhancing Recovery in Coronary Heart Disease.”Allan

and Scheidt, “Group Psychotherapy for Patients with Coronary Heart Disease.”
30 Sherman et al., “Group Interventions for Patients with Cancer and HIV Disease: Part
I.” Spira, Group Therapy for Medically Ill Patients.
31 M. Hewitt, N. Breen, and S. Devesa, “Cancer Prevalence and Survivorship Issues:
Analyses of the 1992 National Health Interview Survey,” Journal of the National Cancer
Institute 91 (1999): 1480–86.
32 M. Esplen, B. Toner, J. Hunter, G. Glendon, K. Butler, and B. Field, “A Group Therapy
Approach to Facilitate Integration of Risk Information for Women at Risk for Breast
Cancer,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry: Psychosomatics Edition 43 (1998): 375–80. M.
Esplen et al., “A Multi-Centre Phase II Study of Supportive-Expressive Group Therapy for
Women with BRCA1 and BRCA2 Mutations,” Cancer 101 (2004): 2327–40.
33 M. Stuber, S. Gonzalez, H. Benjamino, and M. Golart, “Fighting for Recovery,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 4 (1995): 286–96. M. Figueiredo, E.
Fries, and K. Ingram, “The Role of Disclosure Patterns and Unsupportive Social
Interactions in the Well-Being of Breast Cancer Patients,” Psycho-Oncology 13 (2004):
96–105.
34 L. Fallowfield, S. Ford, and S. Lewis, “No News Is Not Good News: Information
Preferences of Patients with Cancer,” Psycho-Oncology 4 (1995): 197–202. M. Slevin, et
al., “Emotional Support for Cancer Patients: What Do Patients Really Want?” British
Journal of Cancer 74 (1996): 1275–79.
35 I. Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1980).
36 L. Baider, “Psychological Intervention with Couples After Mastectomy,” Support Care
Cancer 3 (1995): 239–43. B. Bultz, M. Speca, P. Brasher, P. Geggie, and S. Page, “A
Randomized Controlled Trial of a Brief Psychoeducational Support Group for Partners of
Early Stage Breast Cancer Patients,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 303–13.
37 Leszcz, “Group Therapy.”
38 S. Folkman and S. Greer, “Promoting Psychological Well-Being in the Face of Serious
Illness: When Theory, Research, and Practice Inform Each Other,” Psycho-Oncology 9
[2000]: 11–19.) Not surprisingly, integrating these coping dimensions creates particularly
powerful interventions as noted by R. Lazarus, “Toward Better Research on Stress and
Coping,” American Psychologist 55 (2000): 665–73.
39 D. Kissane et al., “Cognitive-Existential Group Psychotherapy for Women with
Primary Breast Cancer: A Randomized Controlled Trial,” Psycho-Oncology 12 (2003):
532–46. V. Helgeson, S. Cohen, R. Schulz, and J. Yasko, “Education and Peer Discussion
Group Interventions and Adjustment to Breast Cancer,” Archives of General Psychiatry 56
(1999): 340–47. D. Scaturo, “Fundamental Clinical Dilemmas in Contemporary Group
Psychotherapy,” Group Analysis 37 (2004): 201–17.
40 F. Fawzy and N. Fawzy, “A Post-Hoc Comparison of the Efficiency of a
Psychoeducational Intervention for Melanoma Patients Delivered in Group Versus
Individual Formats : An Analysis of Data from Two Studies,” Psycho-Oncology 5 (1996):

81–89.
41 I. Yalom, Gift of Therapy (New York: HarperCollins, 2003), 6–10.
42 SEGT addresses the following main areas: (1) medical illness and treatment; (2)
cognitive and behavioral coping skills for the illness and treatment; (3) family and social
network issues; (4) relationships with health care providers; (5) life values and priorities;
(6) self-image; (7) death and dying; and (8) group functioning regarding task and
engagement. Each group ends with a stress reduction exercise of relaxation and guided
imagery. D. Spiegel and J. Spira, Supportive Expressive Group Therapy: A Treatment
Manual of Psychosocial Interventions for Women with Recurrent Breast Cancer (Stanford:
Psychosocial Treatment Laboratories, 1991). Leszcz and Goodwin, “The Rationale and
Foundations.” D. Spiegel and C. Classen, Group Therapy for Cancer Patients: A
Research-Based Handbook of Psychosocial Care (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
43 C. Classen et al., “Effectiveness of a Training Program for Enhancing Therapists’
Understanding of the Supportive-Expressive Treatment Model for Breast Cancer Groups,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 6 (1997): 211–18. D. Spiegel et al.,
“Group Psychotherapy for Recently Diagnosed Breast Cancer Patients: A Multicenter
Feasibility Study,” Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 482–93. P. Goodwin et al., “Lessons
Learned from Enrollment in the BEST Study: A Multicenter, Randomized Trial of Group
Psychosocial Support in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” Journal of Clinical Epidemiology 53
(2000): 47–55.
44 Spiegel et al., “Group Psychotherapy for Recently Diagnosed.” M. Esplen et al., “A
Supportive-Expressive Group Intervention for Women with a Family History of Breast
Cancer: Results of a Phase II Study,” Psycho-Oncology 9 (2000): 243–52.
45 I. Yalom and C. Greaves, “Group Therapy with the Terminally Ill,” American Journal
of Psychiatry 134 (1977): 396–400. D. Spiegel, J. Bloom, and I. Yalom, “Group Support
for Patients with Metastatic Cancer,” Archives of General Psychiatry 38 (1981): 527–33.
D. Spiegel and M. Glafkides, “Effects of Group Confrontation with Death and Dying,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 433–37. F. Fawzy et al.,
“Malignant Melanoma: Effects of an Early Structured Psychiatric Intervention, Coping,
and Affective State on Recurrence and Survival 6 Years Later,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 50 (1993): 681–89. T. Kuchler et al., “Impact of Psychotherapeutic Support on
Gastrointestinal Cancer Patients Undergoing Surgery: Survival Results of a Trial,”
Hepatogastroenterology 46 (1999): 322–35. S. Edelman, J. Lemon, D. Bell, and A.
Kidman, “Effects of Group CBT on the Survival Time of Patients with Metastatic Breast
Cancer,” Psycho-Oncology 8 (1999): 474–81. A. Ilnyckj, J. Farber, M. Cheang, and B.
Weinerman, “A Randomized Controlled Trial of Psychotherapeutic Intervention in Cancer
Patients,” Annals of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada 27 (1994):
93–96. Kissane et al., “Cognitive-Existential Group Psychotherapy.”
46 Spiegel notes that contemporary trials may not demonstrate a survival effect because
the baseline of psychosocial care provided for all patients with cancer (including the
control sample) has improved significantly over the past ten to twenty years, a welcome
advance emerging from the recognition that state of mind affects state of body (D. Spiegel,

“Mind Matters: Group Therapy and Survival in Breast Cancer,” New England Journal of
Medicine 345 (2001): 1767–68. D. Spiegel, J. Bloom, H. Kraemer, and E. Gottheil,
“Effect of Psychosocial Treatment on Survival of Patients with Metastatic Breast Cancer,”
Lancet 8669 (1989): 888–91. A. Cunningham et al., “A Randomized Controlled Trial of
the Effects of Group Psychological Therapy on Survival in Women with Metastatic Breast
Cancer,” Psycho-Oncology 7 (1998): 508–17. P. Goodwin et al., “The Effect of Group
Psychosocial Support on Survival in Metastatic Breast Cancer,” New England Journal of
Medicine 345 (2001): 1719–26.
47 C. Classen et al., “Supportive-Expressive Group Therapy and Distress in Patients with
Metastatic Breast Cancer: A Randomized Clinical Intervention Trial,” Archives of General
Psychiatry 58 (2001): 494–501. Spiegel et al., “Group Psychotherapy for Recently
Diagnosed.”
48 A. Beck, Cognitive Therapy and the Emotional Disorders (New York: International
Universities Press, 1976). G. Klerman, M. Weissman, B. Rounsaville, and E. Chevron,
Interpersonal Psychotherapy of Depression (New York: Basic Books, 1984).
49 Leszcz, “Gruppenpsychotherapie fur brustkrebspatientinnen.”
50 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973).
51 N. Morrison, “Group Cognitive Therapy: Treatment of Choice or Sub-Optimal
Option?” Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy 29 (2001): 311–32.
52 J. White, “Introduction,” in Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for Specific
Problems and Populations, ed. J. White and A. Freeman (Washington, D.C.: American
Psychological Association, 2000), 3–25.
53 Beck, Cognitive Therapy and the Emotional Disorders.
54 J. Safran and Z. Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy (New York: Basic
Books, 1990).
55 T. Oei and L. Sullivan, “Cognitive Changes Following Recovery from Depression in a
Group Cognitive-Behaviour Therapy Program,” Australian and New Zealand Journal of
Psychiatry 33 (1999): 407–15.
56 M. Enns, B. Coz, and S. Pidlubny, “Group Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for Residual
Depression: Effectiveness and Predictors of Response,” Cognitive Behaviour Therapy 31
(2002): 31–40.
57 A. Ravindran et al., “Treatment of Primary Dysthymia with Group Cognitive Therapy
and Pharmacotherapy: Clinical Symptoms and Functional Impairments,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 156 (1999): 1608–17.
58 S. Ma and J. Teasdale, “Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy for Depression:
Replication and Exploration of Differential Relapse Prevention Effects,” Journal of
Consulting Clinical Psychology 72 (2004): 31–40.
59 C. Kutter, E. Wolf, and V. McKeever, “Predictors of Veterans’ Participation in

Cognitive-Behavioral Group Treatment for PTSD,” Journal of Traumatic Stress 17
(2004): 157–62. D. Sorenson, “Healing Traumatizing Provider Interaction Among Women
Through Short-Term Group Therapy,” Archives of Psychiatric Nursing 17 (2003): 259–69.
60 C. Wiseman, S. Sunday, F. Klapper, M. Klein, and K. Halmi, “Short-Term Group CBT
Versus Psycho-Education on an Inpatient Eating Disorder Unit,” Eating Disorders 10
(2002): 313–20. N. Leung, G. Waller, and G. Thomas, “Outcome of Group Cognitive-
Behavior Therapy for Bulimia Nervosa: The Role of Core Beliefs,” Behaviour Research
and Therapy 38 (2000): 145–56.
61 C. Dopke, R. Lehner, and A. Wells, “Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy for
Insomnia in Individuals with Serious Mental Illnesses: A Preliminary Evaluation,”
Psychiatric Rehabilitation Journal 3 (2004): 235–42.
62 J. Lidbeck, “Group Therapy for Somatization Disorders in Primary Care,” Acta
Psychiatrica Scandinavia 107 (2003): 449–56.
63 C. Taft, C. Murphy, P. Musser, and N. Remington, “Personality, Interpersonal, and
Motivational Predictors of the Working Alliance in Group Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy
for Partner Violent Men,” Journal of Consulting Clinical Psychology 72 (2004): 349–54.
64 W. Rief, S. Trenkamp, C. Auer, and M. Fichter, “Cognitive Behaviour in Panic
Disorder and Comorbid Major Depression,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics 69
(2000): 70–78.
65 A. Volpato Cordioli et al., “Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy in Obsessive-
Compulsive Disorder: A Randomized Clinical Trial,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics
72 (2003): 211–16.
66 A. Page and G. Hooke, “Outcomes for Depressed and Anxious Inpatients Discharged
Before or After Group Cognitive Behaviour Therapy: A Naturalistic Comparison,”
Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease 191 (2003): 653–59. M. Dugas et al., “Group
Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy for Generalized Anxiety Disorder: Treatment Outcome and
Long-Term Follow-Up,” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 71 (2003): 821–
25.
67 R. Heimberg et al., “Cognitive Behavioural Group Therapy vs. Phenelzine Therapy for
Social Phobia: 12-Week Outcome,” Archives of General Psychiatry 55 (1998): 1133–41.
68 R. Siddle, F. Jones, and F. Awenat, “Group Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for Anger: A
Pilot Study,” Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy 31 (2003): 69–83.
69 L. Johns, W. Sellwood, J. McGovern, and G. Haddock, “Battling Boredom: Group
Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for Negative Symptoms of Schizophrenia,” Behavioural
and Cognitive Psychotherapy 30 (2002): 341–46. P. Chadwick, S. Sambrooke, S. Rasch,
and E. Davies, “Challenging the Omnipotence of Voices: Group Cognitive Behaviour
Therapy for Voices,” Behaviour Research and Therapy 38 (2000): 993–1003.
70 P. Schnurr et al., “Randomized Trial of Trauma-Focused Group Therapy for
PostTraumatic Stress Disorder: Results from a Department of Veterans Affairs
Cooperative Study,” Archives of General Psychiatry 60 (2003): 481–89.

71 White, “Introduction,” in White and Freeman, eds.
72 Heimberg et al., “Cognitive Behavioral Group Therapy vs. Phenelzine.”
73 Safran and Segal, Interpersonal Process in Cognitive Therapy.
74 White, “Introduction,” in White and Freeman, eds.
75 Heimberg et al., “Cognitive Behavioral Group Therapy vs. Phenelzine.”
76 Klerman et al., Interpersonal Psychotherapy of Depression.
77 D. Wilfley, K. MacKenzie, R. Welch, V. Ayers, and M. Weissman, Interpersonal
Psychotherapy for Group (New York: Basic Books, 2000).
78 D. Wilfley et al., “Group Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy and Group Interpersonal
Psychotherapy for the Nonpurging Bulimic Individual: A Controlled Comparison,”
Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 61 (1993): 296–305. K. MacKenzie and A.
Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group (IPT-G) for Depression,” Journal of
Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10 (2001): 46–51. C. Klier, M. Muzik, K.
Rosenblum, and G. Lenz, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Adapted for the Group Setting in
the Treatment of Postpartum Depression,” Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and
Research 10 (2001): 124–31. H. Verdeli et al., “Adapting Group Interpersonal
Psychotherapy (IPT-G-U) for a Developing Country: Experience in Uganda,” World
Psychiatry (June 2003): 114–20. P. Ravitz, “The Interpersonal Fulcrum: Interpersonal
Therapy for Treatment of Depression,” CPA Bulletin 36 (2203): 15–19. Robertson et al.,
“Group-Based Interpersonal Psychotherapy.”
79 Y. Levkovitz et al., “Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Patients with Major
Depression Disorder: Pilot Study,” Journal of Affective Disorders 60 (2000): 191–95.
80 H. Verdeli et al., “Adapting Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy.” P. Bolton et al.,
“Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for Depression in Rural Uganda: A Randomized
Controlled Trial,” JAMA 289 (2003): 3117–24.
81 MacKenzie and Grabovac, “Interpersonal Psychotherapy Group.”
82 R. Kessler, K. Mickelson, and S. Zhao, “Patterns and Correlations of Self-Help Group
Membership in the United States,” Social Policy 27 (1997): 27–47.
83 F. Riessman and E. Banks, “A Marriage of Opposites: Self-Help and the Health Care
System,” American Psychologist 56 (2001): 173–74. K. Davison, J. Pennebaker, and S.
Dickerson, “Who Talks? The Social Psychology of Support Groups,” American
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History, Effectiveness, Knowledge Gaps, and Research Opportunities,” Clinical
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Nebeker, and E. Anderson, “Meta-Analysis of Medical Self-Help Groups,” International
Journal of Group Psychotherapy 50 (2000): 53–69.

84 Riessman and Banks, “A Marriage of Opposites.” Davison et al., “Who Talks?”
85 An unpublished study by a Turkish colleague comparing the therapeutic factors of AA
and a professional therapy group (N = 44 patients) revealed that interpersonal learning
input and output were ranked significantly higher by the therapy group, whereas
universality, cohesiveness, and instillation of hope were chosen by the AA members (Cem
Atbasoglu, personal communication, 1994).
86 Ibid.
87 S. Cheung and S. Sun, “Helping Processes in a Mutual Aid Organization for Persons
with Emotional Disturbance,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001):
295–308. Riessman and Banks, “A Marriage of Opposites.” Davison et al., “Who Talks?”
M. Salzer, J. Rappaport, and L. Segre, “Professional Appraisal of Professionally Led and
Self-Help Groups,” American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 69 (1999): 536–40.
88 L. Roberts, D. Salem, J. Rappaport, P. Toro, D. Luke, and E. Seidman, “Giving and
Receiving Help: Interactional Transactions in Mutual-Help Meetings and Psychosocial
Adjustment of Members,” American Journal of Community Psychology 27 (1999): 841–
68. K. Prior and M. Bond, “The Roles of Self-Efficacy and Abnormal Illness Behaviour in
Osteoarthritis Self-Management,” Psychology, Health, and Medicine 9 (2004): 177–92.
89 Davison et al., “Who Talks?”
90 Kelly, “Self-Help for Substance-Use Disorders.”
91 J. Tonigan, R. Toscova, and W. Miller, “Meta-Analysis of the Literature on Alcoholics
Anonymous: Sample and Study Characteristics Moderate Findings,” Journal of Studies on
Alcohol 57 (1996): 65–72.
92 M. Lieberman and L. Snowden, “Problems in Assessing Prevalence and Membership
Characteristics of Self-Help Group Participants,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science
29 (1993): 166–80. B. Carlsen, “Professional Support of Self-Help Groups: A Support
Group Project for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome Patients,” British Journal of Guidance and
Counselling 31 (2003): 289–303.
93 Data are from PEW Internet and America Life Project (www.pewinternet.org), July 16,
2003.
94 J. Alleman, “Online Counseling: The Internet and Mental Health Treatment,”
Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training 39 (2002): 199–209. M. White and
S. Dorman, “Receiving Social Support Online: Implications for Health Education,” Health
Education Research 16 (2001): 693–707. M. Lieberman, M. Golant, A. Winzelberg, and F.
McTavish, “Comparisons Between Professionally Directed and Self-Directed Internet
Groups for Women with Breast Cancer,” International Journal of Self-Help and Self Care
2 (2004): 219–35.
95 S. Hopss, M. Pepin, and J. Boisvert, “The Effectiveness of Cognitive-Behavioral
Group Therapy for Loneliness via Inter-Relay-Chat Among People with Physical
Disabilities,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training 40 (2003): 136–47. J.
Walther, “Computer-Mediated Communication: Impersonal, Interpersonal, and

http://www.pewinternet.org

Hyperpersonal Interaction,” Communication Research 23 (1996): 3–43. Alleman, “Online
Counseling.” White and Dorman, “Receiving Social Support Online.”
96 V. Waldron, M. Lavitt, and K. Douglas, “The Nature and Prevention of Harm in
Technology-Mediated Self-Help Settings: Three Exemplars,” Journal of Technology in
Human Services 17 (2000): 267–93. White and Dorman, “Receiving Social Support
Online.” R. Kraut, M. Patterson, V. Lundmark, S. Kiesler, T. Mukopadhyay, and S.
Scherlis, “Internet Paradox: A Social Technology that Reduces Social Involvement and
Psychological Well-Being,” American Psychologist 53 (1998): 1017–31.
97 H. Weinberg, “Community Unconscious on the Internet,” Group Analysis 35 (2002):
165–83.
98 Alleman, “Online Counseling.” A. Ragusea and L. VandeCreek, “Suggestions for the
Ethical Practice of Online Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice,
Training 40 (2003): 94–102.
99 Hopss et al., “The Effectiveness of Cognitive-Behavioral Group Therapy.”
100 K. Luce, A. Winzelberg, and M. Zabinski, “Internet-Delivered Psychological
Interventions for Body Image Dissatisfaction and Disordered Eating,” Psychotherapy:
Theory, Research, Practice, Training 40 (2003): 148–54.
101 D. Tate, R. Wing, and R. Winett, “Using Internet Technology to Deliver a Behavioral
Weight Loss Program,” JAMA 285 (2001): 1172–77. A. Celio and A. Winzelberg,
“Improving Compliance in On-line, Structured Self-Help Programs: Evaluation of an
Eating Disorder Prevention Program,” Journal of Psychiatric Practice 8 (2002): 14–20.
102 M. Zabinski et al., “Reducing Risk Factors for Eating Disorders: Targeting At-Risk
Women with a Computerized Psychoeducational Program,” Journal of Eating Disorders
29 (2001): 401–8. M. Zabinski, D. Wilfley, K. Calfas, A. Winzelberg, and C. Taylor, “An
Interactive, Computerized Psychoeducational Intervention for Women at Risk of
Developing an Eating Disorder,” presented at the 23rd annual meeting of the Society for
Behavioral Medicine, Washington, D.C., 2002.
103 T. Houston, L. Cooper, and D. Ford, “Internet Support Groups for Depression: A 1-
Year Prospective Cohort Study,” American Journal of Psychiatry 159 (2002): 2062–68.
104 Ibid., 2066.
105 White and Dorman, “Receiving Social Support Online.” D. Gustafson et al.,
“Development and Pilot Evaluation of a Computer-Based Support System for Women
with Breast Cancer,” Journal of Psychosocial Oncology 11 (1993): 69–93. D. Gustafson et
al., “Impact of a Patient-Centered, Computer-Based Health Information/Support System,”
American Journal of Preventive Medicine 16 (1999): 1–9
106 Winzelberg et al., “Evaluation of an Internet Support Group.”
107 M. Lieberman et al., “Electronic Support Groups for Breast Carcinoma: A Clinical
Trial of Effectiveness,” Cancer 97 (2003): 920–25.
108 M. Lieberman, personal communication, 2004.

109 Lieberman et al., “Comparisons Between Professionally Directed and Self-Directed
Internet Groups.”

CHAPTER 16
1 H. Coffey, personal communication, 1967. A. Bavelas, personal communication, 1967.
A. Marrow, “Events Leading to the Establishment of the National Training Laboratories,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 3 (1967): 144–50. L. Bradford, “Biography of an
Institution,” Journal of Applied Behavioral Science 3 (1967): 127–44. K. Benne, “History
of the T-Group in the Laboratory Setting,” in T-Group Theory and Laboratory Method, ed.
L. Bradford, J. Gibb, and K. Benne (New York: Wiley, 1964), 80–135.
2 Benne, “History of the T-Group.”
3 E. Schein and W. Bennis, Personal and Organizational Change Through Group
Methods (New York: Wiley, 1965), 41.
4 Ibid., 43.
5 J. Luft, Group Processes: An Introduction to Group Dynamics (Palo Alto, Calif.:
National Press, 1966).
6 I. Wechsler, F. Messarik, and R. Tannenbaum, “The Self in Process: A Sensitive Training
Emphasis,” in Issues in Training, ed. I. Wechsler and E. Schein (Washington, D.C.:
National Education Association, National Training Laboratories, 1962), 33–46.
7 M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, Encounter Groups: First Facts (New York:
Basic Books, 1973). M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and M. Miles, “The Group Experience
Project: A Comparison of Ten Encounter Technologies,” in Encounter, ed. L. Blank, M.
Gottsegen, and G. Gottsegen (New York: Macmillan, 1971). M. Lieberman, I. Yalom, and
M. Miles, “The Impact of Encounter Groups on Participants: Some Preliminary Findings,”
Journal of Applied Behavioral Sciences 8 (1972): 119–70.
8 These self-administered instruments attempted to measure any possible changes
encounter groups might effect—for example, in self-esteem, self-ideal discrepancy,
interpersonal attitudes and behavior life values, defense mechanisms, emotional
expressivity, values, friendship patterns, and major life decisions. Much third-party
outcome assessment was collected—evaluations by leaders, by other group members, and
by a network of each subject’s personal acquaintances. The assessment outcome was
strikingly similar to that of a psychotherapy project but with one important difference:
since the subjects were not clients but ostensibly healthy individuals seeking growth, no
assessment of target symptoms or chief complaints was made.
9 M. Ettin, “By the Crowd They Have Been Broken, By the Crowd They Shall Be Healed:
The Advent of Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 38
(1988): 139–67. M. Ettin, “Come on, Jack, Tell Us About Yourself: The Growth Spurt of
Group Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 39 (1989): 35–59.
S. Scheidlinger, “History of Group Psychotherapy,” in Comprehensive Group
Psychotherapy, ed. H. Kaplan and B. Sadock (Baltimore: Williams & Wilkins, 1993), 2–

10.
10 M. Rosenbaum and M. Berger, Group Psychotherapy and Group Function (New York:
Basic Books, 1963).
11 E. Lazell, “The Group Treatment of Dementia Praecox,” Psychoanalytic Review 8
(1921): 168–79.
12 L. Marsh, “Group Therapy and the Psychiatric Clinic,” Journal of Nervous and Mental
Disorders 32 (1935): 381–92.
13 L. Wender, “Current Trends in Group Psychotherapy,” American Journal of
Psychotherapy 3 (1951): 381–404. T. Burrows, “The Group Method of Analysis,”
Psychoanalytic Review 19 (1927): 268–80. P. Schilder, “Results and Problems of Group
Psychotherapy in Severe Neurosis,” Mental Hygiene 23 (1939): 87–98. S. Slavson,
“Group Therapy,” Mental Hygiene 24 (1940): 36–49. J. Moreno, Who Shall Survive?
(New York: Beacon House, 1953).
14 L. Horwitz, “Training Groups for Psychiatric Residents,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 421–35. L. Horwitz, “Transference in Training Groups
and Therapy Groups,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 14 (1964): 202–13.
S. Kaplan, “Therapy Groups and Training Groups: Similarities and Differences,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 17 (1967): 473–504.
15 R. Morton, “The Patient Training Laboratory: An Adaptation of the Instrumented
Training Laboratory,” in Personal and Organizational Change Through Group Methods,
ed. E. Schein and W. Bennis (New York: Wiley, 1965), 114–52.
16 J. Simon, “An Evaluation of est as an Adjunct to Group Psychotherapy in the
Treatment of Severe Alcoholism,” Biosciences Communications 135 (1977): 141–48. J.
Simon, “Observations on 67 Patients Who Took Erhard Seminars Training,” American
Journal of Psychiatry 135 (1978): 686–91.

CHAPTER 17
1 C. McRoberts, G. Burlingame, and M. Hoag, “Comparative Efficacy of Individual and
Group Psychotherapy: A Meta-Analytic Perspective,” Group Dynamics 2 (1998): 101–17.
G. Burlingame, K. MacKenzie, and B. Strauss, “Small-Group Treatment: Evidence for
Effectiveness and Mechanisms of Change,” in Bergin and Garfield’s Handbook of
Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert (New York: Wiley, 2004),
647–96.
2 I. Yalom, “Problems of Neophyte Group Therapists,” International Journal of Social
Psychiatry 7 (1996): 52–59. L. Murphy, M. Leszcz, A. Collings, and J. Salvendy, “Some
Observations on the Subjective Experience of Neophyte Group Therapy Trainees,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy (1996): 543–52. R. Billow, “The
Therapist’s Anxiety and Resistance to Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 225–42. S. Scheidlinger, “Response to ‘The Therapist’s Anxiety
and Resistance to Group Psychotherapy,’” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
52 (2002): 295–97.
3 S. Feiner, “Course Design: An Integration of Didactic and Experiential Approaches to
Graduate Training of Group Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48
(1998): 439–60. A. Fuhriman and G. Burlingame, “Group Psychotherapy Training and
Effectiveness,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 5 (2001): 399–416. H.
Markus and A. Abernethy, “Joining with Resistance: Addressing Reluctance to Engage in
Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 191–
204. H. Markus and D. King, “A Survey of Group Psychotherapy Training During
Predoctoral Psychology Internship,” Professional Psychology, Research, and Practice 34
(2003): 203–9.
4 American Group Psychotherapy Association, “Guidelines for Certification: Group
Psychotherapy Credentials.” Available at www.agpa.org.
5 N. Taylor, G. Burlingame, K. Kristensen, A. Fuhriman, J. Johansen, and D. Dahl, “A
Survey of Mental Health Care Provider’s and Managed Care Organization Attitudes
Toward, Familiarity With, and Use of Group Interventions,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 51 (2001): 243–63.
6 B. Schwartz, “An Eclectic Group Therapy Course for Graduate Students in Professional
Psychology,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, and Practice 18 (1981): 417–23.
7 Although didactic courses are among the least effective methods of teaching, over 90
percent of psychiatric residency teaching programs use them. E. Pinney, “Group
Psychotherapy Training in Psychiatric Residency Programs,” Journal of Psychiatric
Education 10 (1986): 106.
8 J. Gans, J. Rutan, and E. Lape, “The Demonstration Group: A Tool for Observing Group

http://www.agpa.org

Process and Leadership Style,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002):
233–52.
9 See I. Yalom, Inpatient Group Psychotherapy (New York: Basic Books, 1983), 259–73,
for a full discussion of this format.
10 To order, go to psychotherapy.net/ and click on “videotapes.” V. Brabender, “Videotape
Resources for Group Psychotherapists: A 5-Year Retrospective,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 253–63. Brabender (2002) has completed a detailed
summary of currently available video tape training resources. A particularly effective
approach in training that is often used in clinical trials is an intensive workshop in which
trainees watch videotape segments of group therapy—led well and poorly. Trainees then
discuss how they understand what they observed; what worked and why; what failed and
why; what alternative approaches could be used?
11 H. Bernard, “Introduction to Special Issue on Group Supervision of Group
Psychotherapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 153–57.
12 Murphy et al., “Some Observations on the Subjective Experience.” J. Kleinberg, “The
Supervisory Alliance and the Training of Psychodynamic Group Psychotherapists,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 159–79. S. Shanfield, V.
Hetherly, and D. Matthews, “Excellent Supervision: The Residents’ Perspective,” Journal
of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 10 (2001): 23–27. M. Bowers Jr., “Supervision in
Psychiatry and the Transmission of Values,” Academic Psychiatry 23 (1999): 42–45. M.
Leszcz, “Reflections on the Abuse of Power, Control, and Status in Group Therapy and
Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 389–
400.
13 A. Alonso, “On Being Skilled and Deskilled as a Psychotherapy Supervisor,” Journal
of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 9 (2000): 55–61.
14 M. Leszcz and L. Murphy, “Supervision of Group Psychotherapy,” in Clinical
Perspectives on Psychotherapy Supervision, ed. S. Greben and R. Ruskin (Washington,
D.C.: American Psychiatric Press, 1994), 99–120. Shanfield et al., “Excellent
Supervision.”
15 M. Hantoot, “Lying in Psychotherapy Supervision: Why Residents Say One Thing and
Do Another,” Academic Psychiatry 24 (2000): 179–87.
16 G. Burlingame et al., “A Systematic Program to Enhance Clinician Group Skills in an
Inpatient Psychiatric Hospital,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002):
555–87.
17 Murphy et al., “Some Observations on the Subjective Experience.”
18 G. Ebersole, P. Leiderman, and I. Yalom, “Training the Nonprofessional Group
Therapist,” Journal of Nervous and Mental Disorders 149 (1969): 294–302.
19 L. Tauber, “Choice Point Analysis: Formulation, Strategy, Intervention, and Result in
Group Process Therapy and Supervision,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy
28 (1978): 163–83.

http://psychotherapy.net/

20 H. Roback, “Use of Patient Feedback to Improve the Quality of Group Therapy
Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 26 (1976): 243–47.
21 J. Elizur, “‘Stuckness’ in Live Supervision: Expanding the Therapist’s Style,” Journal
of Family Therapy 12 (1990): 267–80. V. Alpher, “Interdependence and Parallel
Processes: A Case Study of Structural Analysis of Social Behavior in Supervision and
Short-Term Dynamic Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy 28 (1991): 218–31.
22 A. Alonso, “Training for Group Psychotherapy,” in Group Therapy and Clinical
Practice, ed. A. Alonso and H. Swiller (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Press,
1993), 521–32. Leszcz and Murphy, “Supervision of Group Psychotherapy.”
23 D. Altfeld, “An Experiential Group Model for Psychotherapy Supervision,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 237–54. E. Counselman and R.
Weber, “Organizing and Maintaining Peer Supervision Groups,” International Journal of
Group Psychotherapy 54 (2004): 125–43.
24 D. Janoff and J. Schoenholtz-Read, “Group Supervision Meets Technology: A Model
for Computer-Mediated Group Training at a Distance,” International Journal of Group
Psychotherapy 49 (1999): 255–72.
25 C. Classen et al., “Effectiveness of a Training Program for Enhancing Therapists’
Understanding of the Supportive-Expressive Treatment Model for Breast Cancer Groups,”
Journal of Psychotherapy Practice and Research 6 (1997): 211–18. H. Verdeli et al.,
“Adapting Group Interpersonal Psychotherapy for a Developing Country: Experience in
Rural Uganda,” World Psychiatry 2 (2002): 114–20. S. Feiner, “Course Design: An
Integration of Didactic and Experiential Approaches to Graduate Training of Group
Therapy,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 48 (1998): 439–60.
26 Pinney, “Group Psychotherapy Training in Psychiatric Residency Programs.” J. Gans,
J. Rutan, and N. Wilcox, “T-Groups (Training Groups) in Psychiatric Residency Programs:
Facts and Possible Implications,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 45
(1995): 169–83. V. Nathan and S. Poulsen, “Group-Analytic Training Groups for
Psychology Students: A Qualitative Study,” Group Analysis 37 (2004): 163–77.
27 M. Aveline, “Principles of Leadership in Brief Training Groups for Mental Health
Professionals,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 43 (1993): 107–29.
28 E. Coche, F. Dies, and K. Goettelmann, “Process Variables Mediating Change in
Intensive Group Therapy Training,” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 41
(1991): 379–98. V. Tschuschke and L. Greene, “Group Therapists’ Training: What
Predicts Learning?” International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 52 (2002): 463–82.
29 D. Scaturo, “Fundamental Clinical Dilemmas in Contemporary Group Psychotherapy,”
Group Analysis 37 (2004): 201–17.
30 Aveline, “Principles of Leadership in Brief Training Groups.”
31 C. Mace, “Personal Therapy in Psychiatric Training,” Psychiatric Bulletin 25 (2001):
3–4.

32 J. Guy et al., “Personal Therapy for Psychotherapists Before and After Entering
Professional Practice,” Professional Psychology: Research and Practice 19 (1988): 474–
76.
33 J. Norcross, “Personal Therapy for Therapists: One Solution, 96th annual meeting of
the American Psychological Association: The Hazards of the Psychotherapeutic Practice
for the Clinician (1988, Atlanta, Georgia),” Psychotherapy in Private Practice 8 (1990):
45–59. J. Prochaska and J. Norcross, “Contemporary Psychotherapists: A National Survey
of Characteristics, Practices, Orientations, and Attitudes,” Psychotherapy: Theory,
Research, and Practice 20 (1983): 161–73.
34 D. Weintraub, L. Dixon, E. Kohlhepp, and J. Woolery, “Residents in Personal
Psychotherapy: A Longitudinal Cross-Sectional Perspective,” Academic Psychiatry 23
(1999): 14–19.
35 I. Yalom, The Gift of Therapy (New York: HarperCollins, 2003).
36 N. Elman and L. Forrest, “Psychotherapy in the Remediation of Psychology Trainees:
Exploratory Interviews with Training Directors,” Professional Psychology: Research and
Practice 35 (2004): 123–30. L. Beutler et al., “Therapist Variables,” in Bergin and
Garfield’s Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, 5th ed., ed. M. Lambert
(New York: Wiley, 2004), 647–96. The research in this area is problematic. There is
substantial evidence that therapist psychological well-being is associated with better
clinical outcomes but personal psychotherapy is not. Perhaps the best explanation for these
findings is that engaging in personal psychotherapy by itself is not synonymous with
psychological well-being. Many practitioners may have long struggled personally and not
yet achieved what they need from their personal psychotherapy. Even so, personal
psychotherapy makes therapists more resilient in the face of the demands of the clinical
work.
37 The Canadian Group Psychotherapy Association, as of 1986, required ninety hours of
personal experience in either a bona fide therapy group or a prolonged experiential
workshop with other professionals (Kent Mahoney, personal communication, 1994). J.
Salvendy, “Group Therapy Trainees as Bona Fide Members in Patient Groups,” in Group
and Family Therapy, ed. L. Wolberg and M. Aronson (New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1983).
R. Alnoes and B. Sigrell, “Evaluation of the Outcome of Training Groups Using an
Analytic Group Psychotherapy Technique,” Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics 25
(1975): 268–75. R. Dies, “Attitudes Toward the Training of Group Psychotherapists,”
Small Group Behavior 5 (1974): 65–79. H. Mullan and M. Rosenbaum, Group
Psychotherapy (New York: Free Press, 1978), 115–73. M. Pines, “Group Psychotherapy:
Frame of Reference for Training,” in Psychotherapy: Research and Training, ed. W.
DeMoor, W. Wijingaarden, and H. Wijngaarden (Amsterdam: Elsevier/North Holland
Biomedical Press, 1980), 233–44. J. Salvendy, “Group Psychotherapy Training: A Quest
for Standards,” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 25 (1980): 394–402. R. Battegay, “The
Value of Analytic Self-Experiencing Groups in the Training of Psychotherapists,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 33 (1983): 199–213.
38 Coche et al., “Process Variables Mediating Change.”

39 Counselman and Weber, “Organizing and Maintaining Peer Supervision Groups.”
40 E. Bein et al., “The Effects of Training in Time-Limited Dynamic Psychotherapy:
Changes in Therapeutic Outcome,” Psychotherapy Research 10 (2000): 119–32. B.
Wampold, The Great Psychotherapy Debate: Models, Methods, and Findings (Mahwah,
N.J.: Erlbaum, 2001). I. Elkin, “A Major Dilemma in Psychotherapy Outcome Research:
Disentangling Therapists from Therapies,” Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice 6
(1999): 10–32. S. Miller and J. Binder, “The Effects of Manual-Based Training on
Treatment Fidelity and Outcome: A Review of the Literature on Adult Individual
Psychotherapy,” Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training 39 (2002): 184–98.
41 Burlingame et al., “Small-Group Treatment.”
42 E. Silber and J. Tippet, “Self-Esteem: Clinical Assessment and Validation,”
Psychological Reports 16 (1965): 1017–71.
43 S. Holmes and D. Kivlighan, “Comparison of Therapeutic Factors in Group and
Individual Treatment Processes,” Journal of Counseling Psychology 47 (2000): 478–84.
44 M. Lieberman and I. Yalom, “Brief Psychotherapy for the Spousally Bereaved: A
Controlled Study,” International Journal of Group Psychiatry 42 (1992): 117–33.
45 S. Leacock, “Gertrude the Governess or Simple 17,” A Treasury of the Best Works of
Stephen Leacock (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1954).

Index
AA. See Alcoholics Anonymous
AA serenity prayer
Absenteeism; of group members; meaning of; value of
Acceleration of interaction
Acceptance; among juveniles; enhanced by group; group; importance of; by others;
universal need for; valued by group members
Activating procedures; curvilinear nature of
Active coping
Actualizing tendency
Acute inpatient therapy groups: acute inpatient hospitalization v.; alleviating hospital-
related anxiety in; altruism in; clinical setting for; formulation of goals in; maladaptive
interpersonal behavior in; modes of structure in; modification of technique for; working
model for higher-level group. See also Inpatient groups
Adaptive social skills, augmented by group popularity
Adaptive spiral; facilitated by therapist; through imitative behavior; in therapy groups
Addition of new members to group: group response to; therapeutic guidelines for; timing
of
Adult Survivors of Incest
Advice-giving
Advice-seeking, interpersonal pathology and
Affect; borderline clients and; critical incident and; expression of; illness and; modeled by
therapist
Affiliation
Affiliativeness
Agreeableness
Ahistorical focus
Alcohol treatment groups; existential factors and; as twelve-step groups. See also
Alcoholics Anonymous (AA); Twelve-step groups
Alcoholics Anonymous (AA); direct advice used by; here-and-now focus in; higher power
and; large-group format of; therapeutic factors and. See also Twelve-step groups
Alcoholism

Alexander, Franz
Alexithymia
Alienation
Allport, G.
Aloneness
Altruism; in AA; in acute inpatient therapy groups; in medical illness groups; in systems
of healing
Alzheimer’s caregiver groups, moving to leaderless format
Ambiguity, decreased by self-knowledge
Ambulatory groups; written summaries for
American Counseling Association
American Group Psychotherapy Association; experiential groups; training groups
American Psychiatric Association
American Psychological Association
American Self-Help Clearinghouse
Analysis of resistance
Analysis Terminable and Interminable (Freud)
Analytic movement
Analytic theory
Anamnestic technique
Anger: expression of; group; in leaderless meetings; prejudice as source of; scapegoating
and; sources in group therapy; transferential
Anthony, E.
Antigroup development
“Antigroup” forces
Antitherapeutic group norms
Anxiety; decreased by information; extrinsic; in group meetings; hospital-related;
intrinsic; issues in; separation; socialization; of therapists
Anxiety-laden issues; in clinical example
Aquinas, Thomas
Arousal hierarchy
“As if” assumption

Asch, S.
Assertive training groups
Assessment of clinical situation
Asynchronous groups
At-risk clients
Attachment; behavior; to group; styles of
Attendance; group cohesiveness influenced by; harnessing group pressure for; influencing;
irregular; pregroup training and; research on; resistance to therapy and
Attraction to group
Audiovisual technology; client response to; declining interest in; use of, in therapy groups.
See also Videotaping of groups
Autonomy; of group members
Axis I psychiatric disorders
Axis II clients
Bandura, A.
Basic encounter groups
Behavioral change; interpersonal learning required for
Behavioral experimentation
Behavioral group therapy
Behavioral patterns in social microcosm
Behavioral therapy: techniques; therapeutic alliance in
Behaviorism
Behavior-shaping groups: direct suggestions used by
Belonging: group; need for
Bereavement groups
Berne, Eric
Binge eating disorders
Bioenergetics
Bion, WIlfred
Bipolar affective disorder, treatment for
Bipolar clients; clinical example in early stage of group; clinical example in mature group;

in early phases of group; in later stage of group
Blending therapy groups; formula for
Borderline clients; advantages of therapy group for; concurrent individual therapy for;
conjoint therapy for; co-therapy and; description of; dynamics of; feedback for;
heterogeneous groups and; individual therapy and; regression with; therapist interest in
Borderline personality disorder; dreams and; group therapy and; origins of
Boredom
Boring clients: group reaction to; individual therapy for; masochism and; therapist’s
reaction to; underlying dynamics of
Bosom Buddies
Boundary experiences
Bowlby, John
Breast cancer groups; research on; SEGT recommended for
Brevity of therapy
Brideshead Revisited (Waugh)
Brief group therapy: economic pressure for; effectiveness of; features of; general
principles for leading; here-and-now focus in; individual short-term treatment and; length
of; long-term treatment therapy and; research on; size of group; structured exercises in
Brief therapy groups; as closed groups; opportunities in; procedural norms for; termination
of
British Group Analytic Institute
British National Health Service study
Budman, S.
Bugenthal, J.
Bulimia groups
Bulimia nervosa
Burdened family caregivers groups
Burrows, T.
Camus, A.
Canadian Group Psychotherapy Association
Cancer groups; adding members to; co-therapy in; emotional expression and; engagement
with life challenges and; extreme experience and; here-and-now focus in; large-group

format and; subgrouping as benefit to. See also Breast cancer groups
Catalysts
Catharsis; limitations of; research on; role of in therapeutic process
Causality
CBASP. See Cognitive behavioral analysis system psychotherapy
CBT. See Cognitive-behavioral therapy
CBT-G. See Cognitive-behavioral group therapy
Chance, group development and
Change: behavioral; characterological; explanation; group cohesiveness and; group
conflict and; interpretive remarks to encourage; preconditions for; process commentary
sequence for; process illumination and; process of; readiness; responsibility and; as
responsibility of client; self-understanding v.; therapeutic; therapeutic strategies for; as
therapy group goal; transtheoretical model; will and
Change readiness, stages of
Characterological change
Characterologically difficult clients; borderline clients; overview of; schizoid clients
CHESS. See Comprehensive Health Enhancement Support System
Childhood conduct disorders, communication linked to
Chronic depression
Chronic pain groups
Circle of Friends
Classical psychoanalytic theory
Client(s): accepting process illumination; in acute situational crisis; assuming process
orientation; at-risk; Axis II; behavior of; bipolar; borderline; boring; characterologically
difficult; deselection of; difficulties of; discomfort levels of; expectations of; as focus of
irritation in group; higher-level; “in or out” concerns of; interpersonal life of; interpersonal
problems of; with intimacy problems; modeling; narcissistic; “near or far” concerns of;
needs of therapy group and; primary task of group and; psychotic; removing from group;
reports; schizoid; screening; selection of; silent; suicidal; tasks of; termination of; “top or
bottom” concerns of; valuing therapeutic factors; willful action and. See also Group
members; Therapist/client relationship
Client modeling
Client reports
Client selection: exclusion criteria; group members influenced by; inclusion criteria for;
participation in group activities and; pride in group membership; procedure overview;

relationships with group members and; research on inclusion criteria; satisfying personal
needs; therapists feelings and
Clinical populations, of group therapy
Closed group therapy
Closed groups; adding new members to; as brief therapy groups; length of
Clustering, of personality pathology
Cognition
Cognitive approach, goals of
Cognitive behavioral analysis system psychotherapy (CBASP)
Cognitive map
Cognitive psychotherapy; interpersonal therapy v.; therapeutic alliance in
Cognitive restructuring
Cognitive-behavioral group therapy (CBT-G); application of; PTSD and; social phobia
treatment and; strategies of
Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT)
Cognitive-behavioral therapy groups; here-and-now focus in; imitation’s value for;
subgrouping as benefit to; therapeutic factors and; therapist-client relationship in
Cohesion, See Group cohesiveness
“Cold processing,”
Combined therapy; advantages of; beginning with individual therapy; clinical examples
of; confidentiality and; dropouts discouraged by; envy in group; open-ended
psychotherapy groups and; resistance to; therapist role in; time-limited groups;
unpredictable interaction in group
Common group tensions; struggle for dominance as
Communicational skills groups: direct advice used by
Compassionate Friends
Composition of therapy groups: clinical observations; cohesiveness as primary guideline
for; crafting an ideal group; cultural factors in; ethno-racial factors in; gender and; group
function influenced by; group process influenced by; heterogeneous mode of;
homogeneous mode of; overview of; prediction of behavior and; principles of; research
summary; sexual orientation in; subsequent work influenced by
Comprehensive Health Enhancement Support System (CHESS)
Concurrent individual therapy; for borderline clients
Confidentiality; combined therapy and; in subgrouping; value of in therapy groups;
written summaries and

Conflict; among group members; areas exposed by group members; around
control/dominance in group; change and; climate of; decreased; dominance and; envy as
fuel for; feedback and; group; in group development; in individual therapy; inevitability
of; in inpatient groups; intimacy and; rivalry as fuel for; self-disclosure enhanced by; in
sphere of intimacy; therapeutic process and; therapists and; in therapy groups. See also
Conflict resolution; Hostility
Conflict resolution; empathy’s value in; role switching and; stages of
Conflictual infantile passions
Confrontation, norms and
Conjoint therapy; for borderline clients; clinical examples of; complications with;
individual therapist in; recommended for characterologically difficult clients; resistance
to; therapist collaboration in; value of here-and-now focus to
Conscientiousness
Conscious mimicry
Consensual group action/cooperation/mutual support
Consensual validation
Constructive loop of trust
Contact, patients’ need for
Content; examples in groups; process v.; revelations of
Content of explanation
Continuity
Contracting
Convergence of twelve-step/group therapy approaches
Coping: active; emphasis; SEGT and; skills; style
Coronary heart disease groups
Corrective emotional experience; components of; conditions required for; as cornerstone
of therapeutic effectiveness; importance of; in individual therapy
Co-therapists; clinical example of disagreeing; countertransference and; male-female
teams; modeling and; selecting; senior vs. junior; “splitting” of
Co-therapy; advantages of; borderline clients and; for cancer groups; disadvantages of;
research on; subgrouping in; in supervised clinical experience; value of collaboration in
Counterdependents
Countertransference; co-therapist and; by therapist; therapist reaction to
Creation of group

Creation of therapy groups: brief group therapy; duration/frequency of meetings;
preliminary considerations for; preparing for group therapy
Crisis group
Crisis-intervention therapy
Critical incidents; affect and; in therapy groups
“Crosstalk,”
Culture building; compared to game of chess
Current forces
Day hospital groups, existential factors in
Death; as co-therapist
Debriefing interviews
Decreased conflict, setting norms for
Denial
Dependency
Depression; “cause and effect” and; heart attack and; prevention of, relapse groups;
research on
Depue, R.
Derepression
Deselection; of clients
Deskilling
Determinism
Devaluation
Developmental tasks
Deviancy
Diagnostic label
Didactic instruction; employment of
Diluted therapy
Direct advice
Direct suggestions, with behavior-shaping groups
Discharge planning groups, therapeutic factors and
Disciplined personal involvement

Discomfort levels; value of in therapy groups
Discordant tasks
Disengagement
Disintegration
Displaced aggression
Displacement
Dissonance theory
Distrust
Diverse interpersonal styles, classification of
Domestic violence
Dominance; conflict and; by group members; struggle for
Dose-effect of individual therapy
Dostoevsky, F.
Double-mirror reactions
Draw-a-Person test
Dreams: borderline personality disorder and; family reenactment and; group work and;
group-relevant themes in; loss of faith in therapist and; role in group therapy; sense of self
and; termination and; therapy groups and; transference and
Drop-in crisis groups
Dropouts; categories of; characteristics of; with chronic mental illness; discouraged by
combined therapy; emotional contagion and; external factors and; group behavior of;
group deviancy and; intimacy problems and; other reasons for; pretherapy preparation;
preventing; rates for; reasons for; removing client from group; research on. See also
Premature termination
DSM-IV-TR. See 2000 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
Dynamic; meaning of
Dynamic psychotherapy; history of; therapist’s task in
Dysphoria
Eating disorders groups
Effectance
“Eggshell” therapy
Electroconvulsive therapy

Elkin, G.
Emotion
Emotional catharsis
Emotional contagion
Emotional experience
Emotional expression; in HIV/AIDS groups; intensity of; linked with hope
Emotional responses: pathology and; recognized by therapists; by therapists
Empathetic capacity: as component of emotional intelligence
Empathetic processing
Empathy; critical to successful group; in narcissistic clients; value of in conflict resolution
Empirical observation
Encounter ethos
Encounter groups; definition of; effectiveness of; end of; evolution of; extragroup
therapeutic factors and; leader’s role in; Lieberman, Yalom, Miles study on; members’
attraction to; relationship to therapy groups; research on; self-disclosure in; silent
members in; structured exercises in. See also T-groups
End-of-meeting reviews: for inpatient groups; phases of; research on
Engagement
Entire group as dyad
Entrapment: by group members; of therapists
Environmental stress
Envy; in combined therapy; as fuel for conflict; termination and
Escape from Freedom (Fromm)
Espirt de corps: group cohesiveness and; low
Ethics Guidelines of the American Psychological Association
European philosophic tradition
Every Day Gets a Little Closer (Yalom/Elkin)
Exclusion criteria for client selection
Existential factors; alcohol treatment groups and; in day hospital groups; inpatient groups
and; in medical illness groups; in prison groups; in psychiatric hospital groups
Existential force
Existential Psychotherapy (Yalom)

Existential shock therapy
Existential therapy
Existential-humanistic approach
Experiential groups; process exploration and; research on
Experiential learning
Explanation: change and; originology v.; personal mastery and; types of
Explanatory scheme
Explicit instruction
Explicit memory
Expression of strong dislike/anger
External stress
Extragroup behavior
Extragroup contact; therapist discussion/analysis of
Extragroup relationships: as part of therapy; problems with
Extragroup therapeutic factors
Extragroups; informing group members of; medical illness groups and; silence about; as
undermining therapist. See also Subgrouping
Extraversion
Extreme experience; cancer groups and; generated by therapists
Extrinsic anxiety
Extrinsic limiting factors
Extrinsic problems
Factor analysis
Fair Employment Practices Act
Faith: in treatment mode
Faith healing
The Fall (Camus)
False connections
Family reenactment; dreams and; incest survivor groups and; sex offender groups and
Favorite child

Fear: of group therapy; of isolation; of loneliness; of psychotic clients; of retaliation; of
revealing secrets
Feedback; for borderline clients; conflict and; monopolists; principles for receiving;
reinforcing effective; T-groups and; timing of
Fellow sufferers
Ferenczi, Sandor
Fitzgerald, F. Scott
Focused feedback
Focusing on positive interaction
Fonagy, P.
Forgetfulness of being
Formulation of goals
Foulkes, S.
Fractionalization
Frank, Jerome
Frankl, Victor
Freedom
“Freezing the frame,”
Freud, S.
Freudian clinicians
Freudian psychology
Fromm, E.
Fromm-Reichman, Frieda
Future determinism
The Future of an Illusion (Freud)
Galilean concept of causality
Gamblers Anonymous
Gay Alcoholics
Genetic insight
Genuineness
Geriatric groups; therapeutic factors and

Gestalt therapy
The Gift of Therapy (Yalom)
Global accusations
Global group characteristics
Global historical survey
Go-Go Stroke Club
Groundlessness
Group behavior: of dropouts; extragroup; operant techniques in; prediction of; pretherapy;
pretherapy encounter and
Group boundaries
Group climate
Group cohesiveness; attendance influenced by; attendance/participation and; attributes of;
condition of; consequences of; contributions to; development of; early stages of; effects
of; espirt de corps and; expression of hostility and; impact of; importance of; intense
emotional experiences and; as mediator for change; monopolists’ influence on; not
synonymous with comfort/ease; precondition for; research on; self-disclosure essential to;
self-esteem influenced by; sexual love relationship and; subgrouping and; therapist-client
relationship and; therapy-relevant variables and; wish to be favored and
Group cohesiveness precondition: precondition for therapeutic factors
Group communication
Group conflict; change and
Group culture: designed by therapist; techniques for shaping
Group current
Group demoralization
Group development: antigroup forces; chance and; clients’ impact on; clinical application
of theory; conflict in; as epigenetic; first group meeting and; formative stages of; hostility
as part of; initial stage of; membership problems in; overview of; problems in; regression
and; research on; second stage of; “storming” stage of; third stage of
Group developmental theory
Group deviancy; research on
Group deviant: definition of; development of; group members v.; group support and;
schizophrenics as; screening for
Group dynamics; research in
Group engagement; resisting
Group environment

Group evaluation: individual’s self-evaluation vs.. See also public esteem
Group experience; delayed benefit of
Group experience for trainees; leaders for; leadership technique in; length of; resistance
to; training group vs. therapy group in; voluntary; warnings about
Group flight; intervention against; tardiness/absence as
Group fragmentation
Group Helpful Impacts Scale
Group history
Group identity
Group integration/mutuality
Group integrity
Group interaction; maladaptive transaction cycle in
Group interpersonal therapy (IPT-G); binge eating disorders and; compared to individual
interpersonal therapy
Group interventions: timing of
Group isolate
Group meetings; with absent members; anxiety in; canceling of; duration/frequency of;
first meeting; leaderless; protocol of for inpatient groups; symptom description in
Group members; absent; acceptance and; “acting out” by; in advanced group; as agents of
help; ambivalence towards new; attrition of; autonomy of; behavior of; with cross-cultural
issues; detachment of; disturbed interpersonal skills of; dominance by; environment of; as
generators of cohesion; gift giving by; giving/seeking advice; group environment and;
group therapy guidelines for; hierarchy of dominance among; higher functioning; hostile;
ideal members (plants) among; importance of group to; influence of; inner worlds of;
interpersonal pathology displayed by; limits of intimacy learned by; long-term
engagement of; lower functioning; maladaptive interpersonal patterns of; “mascot”
among; membership problems; from minority backgrounds; morale of old/new; neophyte;
number of new to add; personal needs of; personal responsibility among; problem;
removal of; response to observation; responsibility of; responsible for group; satisfaction
of; self-ratings by; senior; signs of schism among; tasks of, in new groups; therapeutic
considerations for departing; therapeutic process enhanced by; therapist attacks by;
unrealistic view of therapist by; welcome/support towards new
Group membership: price of; pride in; rewards of
Group name vs. work of therapy
Group norms
Group orientation

Group popularity; adaptive social skills augmented by; advantages of; prerequisites for;
self-esteem augmented by; variables for
Group pressure
Group process: in specialized groups
Group properties
Group role
Group size
Group spirit
Group status
Group summary
Group support; group deviant and
Group survival
Group task; satisfaction with
Group termination; decreasing early; external stress and; reasons for early
Group themes
Group therapy: accent in; adapting CBT to; adapting IPT to; ancestral; balance as critical
problem of; based on therapist/client alliance; as bridge building; as cheap therapy;
“curative” factor in; demystification of; development of; effectiveness of; evolution of;
expected behavior in; goals of; guidelines for group members; history of; honesty as core
of; individual therapy augmented by; individual therapy combining with; individual
therapy v.; length of; as life dress rehearsal; misconceptions about; as multidimensional
laboratory; for normals; “one-size-fits-all” approach to; potency of; preparation for;
pretherapy expectations of; public beliefs about; recommendations for; research on
effectiveness; sequence for; stimulus and; termination phase of; twelve-step groups
combining with
Group therapy record keeping
Group therapy training; components of; group experience for trainees during; how to do
vs. how to learn in; as lifelong process; observation of experienced clinicians during;
outcome assessment and; overview of; personal psychotherapy in; sequence in; standards
for; supervised clinical experience in; videotaping of groups in
Group work; dreams and; dynamics in
Group-as-a-whole; antitherapeutic group norms and; anxiety-laden issues and;
interpretation; rationale of
Groupness
Group-relevant behavior: direct sampling of

Groupthink
Grunebaum, H.
Guidance; limits to
Guided-fantasy exercise
Hamburg, D.
Heidegger, M.
Helmholtz school ideology
Help-rejecting complainers (HRC); description of; distrust of authority by; dynamics of;
influence on therapy group; management guidelines for
Here-and-now focus; in AA; activating phase of; as ahistorical approach; ahistorical value
of; of brief group therapy; in cancer groups; in cognitive-behavior groups; components of;
content and; experience vs. process illumination in; experiencing of; of group therapy;
group therapy’s success in; groups for; illumination of process; illustration of; importance
of; in inpatient groups; process and; process illumination phase; in psychoeducation;
research on; resistance in; self-disclosure in; sexual relationships in groups and; shifting
to; steps of; subgrouping and; symbiotic tiers of; techniques of activation; therapeutic
effectiveness influenced by; therapist disclosure and; therapist’s role in; therapists’ tasks
in; of therapy groups; thinking; value to conjoint therapy
Here-and-now groups
Herpes groups
Hesitant participation
Hesse, Herman
Heterogeneity; for conflict areas; of pathology
Heterogeneous groups; borderline clients and; homogeneous groups v.; long-term
intensive interactional group therapy and
Heterogeneous mode of composition
Hierarchical pyramid
High turnover
Hillel
HIV/AIDS groups; emotional expression and; moving to leaderless format; social
connection affected by; therapeutic factors and
Holocaust survivors
Homogeneity; ego strength and

Homogeneous groups; advantages of; group leaders and; heterogeneous groups v.;
members of; research on; superficiality in
Homogeneous mode of composition
Hope
Horizontal disclosure, See meta-disclosure
Horney, Karen
Hospital discharge/transition groups: direct advice used by
Hostility: group cohesiveness and; group development and; group fragmentation caused
by; intergroup; management of; new group members and; off-target; parataxic distortions
and; sources of; subgrouping and; towards therapists; transference and
“Hot processing,”
Hot-seat technique
HRC. See Help-rejecting complainers
Human experience
Human potential groups
Human relations groups
Human stress response
Humanistic force. See Existential force
Husserl, Edmund
Ibsen, Henrik
ICD–10. See International Classification of Disease
The Iceman Commeth
Ideal group
Identification. See also Imitative behavior
Illumination of process
Imitative behavior; adaptive spiral and; research on; therapeutic impact of; therapists and;
in therapy group(s); as transitional therapeutic factor
Implicit memory
Incest, self-disclosure of
Incest survivor groups; family reenactment and; written summaries and
Inclusion criteria for client selection

Increased engagement: setting norms for
Increased therapist transparency
Individual therapy; augmented by group therapy; beginning for combined therapy;
borderline clients and; for boring clients; clients recommended for group; client/therapist
discrepancies in; combining with group therapy; conflict in; corrective emotional
experience; “curative” factor in; “does-effect” of; effectiveness of; good rapport’s
influence on; group therapy v.; preferences for; recruitment for; research on effectiveness;
termination from; therapist disclosure in; therapist-client relationship in; universality’s role
in
Inference, degrees of
Information: decreasing anxiety; imparting of
Informed consent; preparation for group therapy and
Inner experience
Inpatient groups; agenda filling in; client turnover; common themes in; conflict in;
decreasing isolation in; disadvantages of structure in; end of meeting review for;
existential factors and; goals for; here-and-now focus in; instillation of hope and; personal
agenda setting in; session protocol for; spatial/temporal boundaries for; therapeutic factors
selected by; therapist role in; therapist style in; therapist time in; ward problems and. See
also Acute inpatient therapy groups
Insight; evaluating; genetic; levels of; motivational
Insight groups
Instillation of hope
Intensive retreats
Interactional group therapy; structured exercises in; therapist-client relationship in
Internal working model
International Classification of Disease (ICD–10)
Internet support groups; effectiveness of; ethical concerns with; growth of; norms of;
problems with; research on
Interpersonal behavior; examination of; of group members; identifying
Interpersonal circumplex; research on
Interpersonal coercion
Interpersonal communication
Interpersonal compatibility
Interpersonal competence
Interpersonal distortions

Interpersonal dynamics
Interpersonal dysfunction
Interpersonal input
Interpersonal intake interview
Interpersonal learning; overview of; required for behavioral change; self-disclosure as part
of
Interpersonal mastery
Interpersonal model of group therapy
Interpersonal nosological system; development of
Interpersonal pathology: advice-seeking and; displayed by group members
Interpersonal relationships; contemporary schema for; disturbed; importance of; as key to
group therapy; mental health and; request for help in; theory of
Interpersonal satisfaction
Interpersonal shifts
Interpersonal styles: in therapy groups
Interpersonal theory; aspects of; concepts of
Interpersonal theory of psychiatry
Interpersonal therapy (IPT); adapting to group therapy; cognitive therapy v.; compared to
group interpersonal therapy
Interpretation; concepts of; in context of acceptance/trust
Interpretive remarks
Intersubjective model
Intervention; in CBT-G; for manual-guided groups; for medical illness; observing in
supervised clinical experience; structured; by therapist
In-therapy variables
Intimacy; conflict and; dropouts and; establishment of; limits of by group members;
problems with
Intrapsychic factors
Intrinsic anxiety
Intrinsic limiting factors
Intrinsic problems
IPT. See Interpersonal therapy
IPT-G. See Group interpersonal therapy

Isolation; decreasing in inpatient groups; feared by terminally ill
James, William
Janis, I.
Johari window
Jones, Maxwell
Judeo-Christian National Marriage Encounter programs
Kernberg, Otto
Kiesler, D.J.
Klein, Melanie
Knowledge deficiency
Kübler-Ross, Elisabeth
Laboratory groups: members’ attraction to
Language; value of to therapist
Large-group format
Lazell, E.
Leaderless meetings; in Alzheimer’s caregiver groups; anger in; in HIV/AIDS groups;
member concerns about; reporting on; in support groups; in time-limited groups;
unpopularity of
Leadership: technique; transfer of
Learning disability groups: therapeutic factors and
Lebensphilosophie
Letters of credit
Lewin, Kurt
Liberation
Lieberman, M. A.
Life skills groups
Lifespring
Limit-setting

Loneliness; specter of; types of; universal fear of
Long-term dynamic group; silent members in
Long-term interactional group
Love’s Executioner (Yalom)
Low, Abraham
Low-inference commentary
Lying on the Couch (Yalom)
MacKenzie, K.R.
MADD. See Mothers Against Drunk Driving
Magister Ludi (Hesse)
Maintenance of group
Make Today Count
Maladaptive interpersonal behavior; in acute inpatient therapy groups;
demonstration/meaning of
Maladaptive transaction cycle
Male batterers groups
Marathon groups; history of; research on; transfer of learning and
Marmor, Judd
Marsh, L.
Mascotting
Maslow, A.
Masochism
Mastery
May, R.
MBSR. See Mindfulness-based stress reduction
Meaninglessness
Mechanistic psychotherapy: therapeutic alliance in
Mediating mechanisms
Medical illness groups; altruism evident in; clinical illustration of; coping emphasis in;
existential factors in; extragroup contact and; group cohesiveness in; modeling in;
modifying group therapy technique for; psychological distress in; universality in; value of

imitative behavior in
Medical stress
Meditation stress reduction
Melnick, J.
Membership problems: addition of new members; attendance/punctuality; dropouts;
removing client from group; turnover
Memory, forms of
Men Overcoming Violence
Mended Heart
Mental disorder: disturbed interpersonal relationships and; makeup of
Mental health, interpersonal relationships and
Mental Health Through Will Training (Low)
Metacommunication
Metadisclosure
Miles, M.
Mindfulness of being
Mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR)
Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI)
Mirroring
Mitchell, Stephen
MMPI. See Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory
Modeling; co-therapist and; in medical illness groups; process orientation
Model-setting participant, therapist’s role as
Modification of technique
Momma and the Meaning of Life (Yalom)
Moms in Recovery
Monopolistic behavior: causes of; clinical illustration of; research on; therapist’s job to
check
Monopolists; as catalyst for group anger; crisis method of; feedback and; group
cohesiveness influenced by; group reaction to; group therapy influenced by; guiding to
self-reflective therapy process; as interrogators; self-concealment and; social suicide and;
therapeutic considerations for
Monopolization

Moreno, J.
Mother-child relationship
Mother-infant pair
Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD)
Motivation
Multicultural groups
Multimodal group approach
Multiple observers
Mutual recognition
Napoleon
Narcissistic clients; clinical example of; empathy in; examples of; general problems with;
overgratified/undergratified; overview of; therapeutic factors and; therapist management
of; in therapy group
National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH); Collaborative Treatment Depression Study;
time-limited therapy study of; Treatment of Depression Collaboration Research Program
National Mental Health Consumers Self-Help Clearinghouse
National Registry of Certified Group Psychotherapists
Need frustration
NEO-FFI. See NEO-Five Factor Inventory
NEO-Five Factor Inventory (NEO-FFI)
Neurotic symptoms
Neuroticism
Nietzche, F.
NIMH. See National Institute of Mental Health
2000 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV-TR)
Nitsun, M.
Nonverbal exercises
Norms; antitherapeutic; of caution; confrontation and; construction of; established early in
therapy groups; evolution of in group; examples of; group summary and; of Internet
support groups; modeling and; as prescription for/proscription against behavior;
procedural; procedural for brief therapy groups; self-disclosure and; self-perpetuating;
setting for decreased conflict; setting for increased engagement; shaped by therapists;

shaped in first group meeting; social; social reinforcement and; support and; undermining
of; value of; written summaries and
Obesity groups
Objectivity
Observant participation
Observation of experienced clinicians; group member response to; postmeeting
discussions for
Occupational therapy groups
Off-target hostility
O’Neill, Eugene
One-person psychology
Ongoing outpatient groups
Open groups; termination of
Open, long-term outpatient group therapy
Open-ended psychotherapy group; combined therapy and; therapeutic goals of
Openness
Operant techniques
Oral summaries
Organ transplant groups
Orinology
Ormont, L.
Outcasts, social needs of
Outcome research strategies
Outpatient groups; therapeutic factors selected by
Overeaters Anonymous
Panic
Panic disorder
Panic disorder groups
Paranoid panic disorder

Parataxic distortions; emergence of; as self-perpetuating; as source of hostility; in therapy
groups. See also Transference
Parent group
Parent-child relationship
Parents Anonymous
Parents of Murdered Children
Parents Without Partners
Parloff, M.
Partial hospitalization groups
Past: distant; reconsititution/excavation of; use of; value of in therapy
Past unconscious
Pathogenic beliefs
Pathology display
Payoffs
Peer supervision groups
Perceived goal incompatibility
Perls, Fritz
Personal agenda: in acute inpatient therapy groups; exercise for; filling of
Personal growth groups
Personal history
Personal psychotherapy: for therapists
Personal responsibility: in group therapy
Personal worth. See Self-esteem
Phenomenology
Physical abuser groups
Placebo treatment
Point of urgency
Popularity
Postmeeting discussions
Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD); CBT-G and
Potency: of group therapy
Powdermaker

Power equalization
Power maintenance
Pratt, Joseph Hersey
Pregroup individual sessions: emphasizing points of; helping members reframe
problems/hone goals; purpose of; therapeutic alliance established in; value of
Pregroup interview: objectives of; purpose of
Pregroup orientation
Pregroup preparation; benefits of; group processes/client outcomes and; introducing new
therapist; for new in established group
Pregroup testing
Pregroup training: attendance and; concepts of; research on
Prejudice, as source of anger
Premature termination
Preparing for group therapy: common group problems; inadequate preparation and;
informed consent and; misconceptions about group therapy; other approaches; rationale
behind; reduction of extrinsic anxiety and; research on; system of; timing/style of. See
also Appendix I
Present unconscious
Pretherapy preparation; dropouts and
Primal horde
Primal scream
Primary family experience
Primary family group, corrective recapitulation of. See also Family reenactment
Primary task; meaning of; secondary gratification and; of therapy group
Primordial, existential loneliness
Prison groups, existential factors and
Problem-solving
Problem-solving groups, large-group format and
Problem-solving projects
Problem-specific groups
Procedural memory. See Implicit memory
Process: as apparent in group; beginning of; content v.; definition of; examples in groups;
as power source of group; recognizing; review of; therapist recognition of

Process commentary; group-as-a-whole and; progression of; sequence for change;
sequence initiated by therapist; series for; as short lived; as taboo social behavior;
theoretical overview of; therapist’s role and; in training groups. See also Process
illumination
Process group
Process illumination; helping clients accept; leading to change; techniques of; will and.
See also Process commentary
Process inquiry
Process orientation: helping clients assume; modeling of
Process review
Procrastination
Professional therapist groups
Pro-group behavior
Projective identification
Promiscuity
Provocateurs
Psychiatric hospital groups, existential factors and
Psychiatric inpatient groups
Psychic functioning
Psychoanalytic revisionists
Psychodrama groups, therapeutic factors and
Psychodynamic pathways
Psychoeducation; here-and-now focus in
Psychoeducational groups; large-group format and
Psychological trauma groups
Psychological-mindedness
Psychotherapy: American; compared to game of chess; conditions for effective; current
aims of; demystification of; evolution of; existential force in; necessary conditions for; as
obstruction removal; reliance on nondeliberate social reinforcers; as shared journey of
discovery; task of; therapeutic fads of; transformative power of; value of therapist/client
relationship in
Psychotic clients; clinical example in early stage of group; clinical example in mature
group; danger to group; in early phases of group; fear of; in later stage of group
PTSD. See Posttraumatic stress disorder

Public esteem; evidence for; increase of; influence of; raising in therapy groups; raising
of; under-evaluation of
Punctuality
QOR. See Quality of Object Relations scale
Quality of Object Relations scale (QOR)
Rape groups
Rashomon nature of therapeutic venture
Reality testing
Reasoned therapy
Rebellion
Recovery, Inc.; direct advice used by; large-group format of; organization of; therapeutic
factors and
Reductionism
Reflected appraisals
Regression: borderline clients and; group development and
Relational matrix
Relational model
Relationship; development of
Relationship attachment
Relaxation training
Removing clients from group: member reaction to; reasons for
Repetitive patterns
Repression
Resistance; to conjoint therapy; as pain avoidance
Responsibility; change and; of therapist
Retirement groups
Rice, A. K.
Risk appraisal
Risk taking

Rivalry: feelings of; as fuel for conflict; transference and
Robbers’ Cave experiment
Rogerian clinicians
Rogers, Carl
Role behavior
Role heterogeneity
“Role suction,”
Role switching: as conflict resolution
Role versatility
Role-play
Rorschach test
Rose, G.
Rosencrantz and Guilderstern Are Dead
Ross, Elisabeth Kübler
Rutan, Scott
Rycroft, C.
Safety; provided for self-disclosure
Sartre, J.
Satisfaction
Scapegoating; anger and; definition of
Schachter, S.
Scheidlinger, S.
Schema
Schilder, P.
Schizoid clients; emotional isolation of; therapeutic approach to; therapist and; therapy
group and
Schizophrenia; behavior in therapy groups; as group deviants; group task and; intimacy
problems of
Schopenhauer, A.
The Schopenhauer Cure (Yalom)
Screening clients

Search for meaning
Seating arrangements
Seating patterns
Secondary gratification
Secrets: compulsive; fear of revealing; sexual; in subgrouping; subgrouping and;
therapeutic value in revealing; therapist counseling to reveal; in therapy groups; in third
phase of group development; timing disclosure of
SEGT. See Supportive-expressive group therapy
Selection of clients. See Client selection
Self-absorption
Self-accusation
Self-actualization
Self-concealment
Self-disclosure; adaptive functions of; appropriate; balancing; blockages; as characteristic
of interpersonal model; delaying; discouraged by therapist; dread of; enhanced by conflict;
essential to group cohesiveness; of feelings toward other group members; here-and-now
focus in; horizontal vs. vertical; from imitative behavior; as impersonal act; of incest;
maladaptive; by men; methods for; minor; norms and; objection to; as part of interpersonal
learning; premature; reinforcement for; research on; resistance to; risk in; safety provided
for; sequence of; of sexual abuse; by therapists; timing of; too little; too much; value in
transfer of learning; value to therapy outcome; by women; written summaries and. See
also Secrets
Self-esteem; augmented by group popularity and; evidence for; influenced by group
cohesiveness; meaning of
Self-evaluation
Self-exploration
Self-fulfilling prophecy
Self-help groups; efficacy of; information imparting and; subgrouping as benefit to; for
substance abuse disorders; therapeutic factors and; value of
Self-image adjustment after mastectomy groups
Self-knowledge; ambiguity decreased by
Self-monitoring group
Self-observation
Self psychology
Self-reflection

Self-reflective loop: crucial to therapeutic experience; in here-and-now focus
Self-reinforcing loop: in therapy groups
Self-reporting: of distressed patients; in therapy group
Self-respect
Self-responsibility
Self-transcendance
Self-understanding; change v.; promoting change
Self-worth
Sensitivity-training groups
Sensory awareness groups
Sentence Completion test
Separation anxiety
Setbacks
Sex offender groups; family reenactment and
Sexual abuse: self-disclosure of
Sexual abuse groups; universality’s impact on
Sexual attraction, to therapist
Sexual dysfunction groups
Sexual fantasies
Sexual relationships in groups: clinical example of; here-and-now focus and; subgrouping
and
Sherif, M.
Short-term structured groups; dropout rates in; silent members in
Silent clients; management of; reasons for; therapist’s process checks with
Skills groups
Slavson, S.
Sledgehammer approach
Social connection
Social engineering
Social groups vs. therapy groups .
Social isolation; morality affected by
Social loneliness

Social microcosm: as artificial; as bidirectional; as dynamic interaction; group as; learning
from; reality of; recognizing behavioral patterns in; therapy groups as
Social microcosm theory
Social norms
Social psychology
Social reinforcement; norms and
Social support
Socialization anxiety
Socializing techniques: development of
Sociometric measures
Sociopaths; group therapy and
Socratic posture
Solidarity
Solomon, L.
Specialized diagnostic procedures: direct sampling of group-relevant behavior; general
categories for; interpersonal intake interview; interpersonal nosological system
Specialized therapy groups; group process and; steps in development of
Specific change mechanisms
Spectator therapy
Spousal abuser groups; therapeutic factors and
Spouses caring for brain tumor partner groups
Standard diagnostic interview; research on
Standard psychological testing
“State” of silence vs. “trait” of silence
Stigma
Stoppard, Tom
“Storming” stage of group development
Strong positive affect
Structured exercises; encounter groups; function of; injudicious use of; in interactional
group therapy; Lieberman, Yalom, Miles study on; in T-groups; value of
Structured meetings
Student Bodies

Subgrouping; clinical appearance of; clinical example of; confidentiality in; conspiracy of
silence in; in co-therapy; effects of; exclusion and; extragroup socializing as first stage of;
group cohesiveness and; group factors in; here-and-now focus; hostility and; as
impediment to therapy; inclusion and; individual factors in; overview of; secrecy and;
suicide and; therapeutic considerations for; turning to therapeutic advantage
Substance abuse treatment programs
Suicidal clients; effect on group; interactionally focused group and
Suicide; among psychiatrists; subgrouping and
Sullivan, Harry Stack
Supervised clinical experience; benefits of; characteristics of; co-therapy in; length of;
recommendations for; recording major themes in; research on; using Internet
Supervisory alliance
Support groups: engagement with life challenges and; moving to ongoing leaderless
format; subgrouping as benefit to. See also Internet support groups
Support, norms and
Support/freedom of communication
Supportive-expressive group approach
Supportive-expressive group therapy (SEGT); coping and
Survivors of Incest
Symptomatic relief
Synchronous groups
Systematic reality testing
Systematic research approach
Systems-oriented psychotherapy
Taboos
Tardiness
Target symptom
Targets
Task groups: members’ attraction to
TAT. See Thematic Apperception Test
Tavistock approach
Technical expert, therapist as

Temporal stability
Temporary groups
Tensions: common group; in therapy groups
Terence
Terminally ill, isolation concerns of
Termination; of client; deciding; denial of; dread of; envy and; mourning period due to;
postponing; reasons for; remaining members reaction to; rituals to mark; signs of
readiness; of therapist; of therapy group. See also Group termination; Premature
termination
Termination work
Testimonials
T-groups; birth of; cognitive aids in; feedback and; observant participation and; research
and; shift to therapy groups; structured exercises in; unfreezing and. See also Encounter
groups
Thematic Apperception Test (TAT)
“Then-and there” focus
Therapeutic alliance; in effective treatment; impairment of; in pregroup individual
sessions; therapy outcome and
Therapeutic benefit
Therapeutic change; due to group internalizing; evidence for; as multi-dimentional
Therapeutic disconfirmation
Therapeutic effectiveness; centered in here-and-now focus; corrective emotional
experience as cornerstone of
Therapeutic experience
Therapeutic facilitation
Therapeutic factors; AA and; as arbitrary constructs; categories/rankings of 60 items;
client/therapist discrepancies on; clustering of; in cognitive-behavioral therapy groups; in
different group therapies; differential value of; in discharge planning groups; encounter
groups and; evaluating; extragroup; in geriatric groups; group cohesiveness precondition
for; group members and; in HIV/AIDS groups; individual differences and; inpatient
groups’ selection of; interdependence of; in learning disability groups; least valued of;
modifying forces of; with narcissistic clients; in occupational therapy groups; outside of
group; in psychodrama groups; ranking of; in Recovery, Inc.; research on; research results;
selected by outpatient groups; in self-help groups; in spousal abuser groups; in spouses
caring for brain tumor partner groups; stages of therapy; therapists’ views; in therapy
groups; valued by clients

Therapeutic fads
Therapeutic failure
Therapeutic impact
Therapeutic intervention; bolstered by empirical observation
Therapeutic opportunity
Therapeutic posture
Therapeutic power; through interpersonal learning
Therapeutic process; conflict and;demystification of; dual nature of; enhanced by new
group members; role of catharsis in; therapist’s feelings in
Therapeutic relationship; control of; as “fellow traveler,” mechanism of action for
Therapeutic social system
Therapeutic strength
Therapeutic value
Therapist(s): affect modeled by; American; American vs. European; analytical; attackers
of; attitudes towards; defenders/champions of; disclosure by; errors by; European;
expectations of treatment by; as facilitator for self-expansion; feelings and; fees and; as
gatekeepers; getting “unhooked,” as group historian; increasing efficacy and; individual
vs. group; inpatient vs. outpatient; internal experience of; interpersonal shifts and;
neophyte; as observer/participant in group; omnipotent/distant role by; as paid
professionals; personal psychotherapy and; process-oriented; research orientation required
for; responsibility of; silent; styles of; tasks of; as technical expert; techniques of;
termination of; using social microcosm
Therapist disclosure; effects of; example of; in individual therapy; research on; timing of
Therapist engagement
Therapist transparency: indiscriminate; influence on therapy group; pitfalls of; types of
Therapist/client alliance
Therapist/client engagement
Therapist/client relationship; abuse in; characteristic process of ideal; characteristics of;
client improvement due to; in cognitive-behavior group; group cohesion and; ideal; in
individual therapy; in interactional group therapy; professionalism and; trust in; value in
psychotherapy
Therapy expectations
Therapy group(s): amalgamation of; attraction to members; attrition in; autonomous
decisions by; change as goal of; characterological trends in; “check-in” format
discouraged in; early stage of flux in; effectiveness of; first meeting of; formative stages
of; as “hall of mirrors,” immediate needs of; individual therapy v.; interpersonal sequence

in; interpersonal styles in; members’ attraction to; membership problems with; outside
contracts and; physical setting for; primary task of; “privates” of; range of perspectives in;
as reincarnation of primary family; relationship to encounter groups; senior members in;
social groups v.; as social laboratory; as social microcosm; stages of; struggle for control
in; “take turns” format in; termination of; therapeutic atmosphere of; treatment settings of;
unique potential of; “veterans” in. See also Group meetings
Therapy manualization
Therapy outcome; self-disclosure’s value to; therapeutic alliance and; time-delayed
“There-and-then,”
Thorne, G.
Time-extended groups; research on
Time-limited groups; adding new members to; combined therapy and; moving to ongoing
leaderless format; recommended size of
Tolstoy, L.
“Tough love,”
Traditional group therapy, for specialized clinical situations
Training: group therapists; pregroup; relaxation
Training groups; leader tasks in; process commentary in
Transfer of leadership
Transfer of learning; self-disclosure’s value to; therapist attention to
Transference; analysis of; definitions of; development of; dreams and; as form of
interpersonal perceptual distortion; inevitability of; negative; “no favorites” and; result of;
as source of hostility; sources of; therapist/client; in therapy groups
Transference distortions; resolution of
Transference interpretation
Transference neurosis
Transference resolution
Transferential anger
Transparency: of therapist. See also Therapist transparency
Transtheoretical model of change
Traumatic anxieties
Treatment expectations
Treatment settings
Truax, C.

Trust; constructive loop of; between peers
“Trust fall,”
Truth; historical
Turnover: group membership and
Twelve-step groups; alcohol treatment groups and; combining with group therapy;
misconceptions about; subgrouping as benefit to; value of
Two-person relational psychology
Unfreezing
Uniqueness
Universal mechanisms
Universality; clinical factor of; demonstration of; group members and; in medical illness
groups; role in individual therapy; sexual abuse groups impacted by
Vertical disclosure; see also Metadisclosure
Vicarious experience vs. direct participation
Vicarious therapy. See Spectator therapy
Videotape playback
Videotaping of groups; in group therapy training; in research; in teaching
Viewing window
Waiting-list group
War and Peace (Tolstoy)
Warmth
Waugh, Evelyn
“Wave effect,”
We-consciousness unity
Weight Watchers
Wellness Community
Wender, L.
West, Paula

When It Was Dark (Thorne)
When Nietzche Wept (Yalom)
White, R.
White, William Alanson
The Wild Duck
Will; change and; process illumination and; stifled/bound
Willful action: guiding clients to; obstacles to
Winnicott, D.
Written summaries; for ambulatory groups; confidentiality and; to convey therapist
thoughts; example; functions of; group norms and; with incest survivor groups; key to
understanding process; for new members; oral summaries v.; overview of; preparing;
revivification/continuity and; in teaching; therapeutic leverage facilitated by; as therapy
facilitator; as vehicle for therapist self-disclosure
Yalom, I.
“Yes… but” patient

a
We are better able to evaluate therapy outcome in general than we are able to measure the
relationships between these process variables and outcomes. Kivlighan and colleagues
have developed a promising scale, the Group Helpful Impacts Scale, that tries to capture
the entirety of the group therapeutic process in a multidimensional fashion that
encompasses therapy tasks and therapy relationships as well as group process, client, and
leader variables.
b
There are several methods of using such information in the work of the group. One
effective technique is to redistribute the anonymous secrets to the members, each one
receiving another’s secret. Each member is then asked to read the secret aloud and reveal
how he or she would feel if harboring such a secret. This method usually proves to be a
valuable demonstration of universality, empathy, and the ability of others to understand.
c
In 1973, a member opened the first meeting of the first group ever offered for advanced
cancer patients by distributing this parable to the other members of the group. This woman
(whom I’ve written about elsewhere, referring to her as Paula West; see I. Yalom, Momma
and the Meaning of Life [New York: Basic Books, 1999]) had been involved with me from
the beginning in conceptualizing and organizing this group (see also chapter 15). Her
parable proved to be prescient, since many members were to benefit from the therapeutic
factor of altruism.
d
In the following clinical examples, as elsewhere in this text, I have protected clients’
privacy by altering certain facts, such as name, occupation, and age. Also, the interaction
described in the text is not reproduced verbatim but has been reconstructed from detailed
clinical notes taken after each therapy meeting.
e
Dynamic is a frequently used term in the vocabulary of psychotherapy and must be
defined. It has a lay and a technical meaning. It derives from the Greek dunasthi, meaning
“to have power or strength.” In the lay sense, then, the word evokes energy or movement
(a dynamic football player or orator), but in its technical sense it refers to the idea of
“forces.” In individual therapy, when we speak of a client’s “psychodynamics,” we are
referring to the various forces in conflict within the client that result in certain
configurations of experienced feelings and behavior. In common usage since the advent of
Freud, the assumption is made that some of the forces in conflict with one another exist at
different levels of awareness—indeed, some of them are entirely out of consciousness and,
through the mechanism of repression, dwell in the dynamic unconsciousness. In group
work, dynamics refers to inferred, invisible constructs or group properties (for example,
cohesiveness, group pressure, scapegoating, and subgrouping) that affect the overall
movements of the group.

f
The list of sixty factor items passed through several versions and was circulated among
senior group therapists for suggestions, additions, and deletions. Some of the items are
nearly identical, but it was necessary methodologically to have the same number of items
representing each category. The twelve categories are altruism, group cohesiveness;
universality; interpersonal learning, input; interpersonal learning, output; guidance;
catharsis; identification; family reenactment; self-understanding; instillation of hope; and
existential factors. They are not quite identical to those described in this book; we
attempted, unsuccessfully, to divide interpersonal learning into two parts: input and
output. One category, self-understanding, was included to permit examination of
depression and genetic insight.
The twelve factor Q-sort utilized in this research evolved into the eleven therapeutic
factors identified in Chapter 1. Imparting information replaces Guidance. The corrective
recapitulation of the primary family group replaces Family reenactment. Development of
socializing techniques replaces Interpersonal learning—output. Interpersonal learning
replaces Interpersonal learning—input and Self-understanding. Finally, Imitative behavior
replaces Identification.
The therapeutic factor was meant to be an exploratory instrument constructed a priori
on the basis of clinical intuition (my own and that of experienced clinicians); it was never
meant to be posited as a finely calibrated research instrument. But it has been used in so
much subsequent research that much discussion has arisen about construct validity and
test-retest reliability. By and large, test-retest reliability has been good; factor analytic
studies have yielded varied results: some studies showing only fair, others good, item-to-
individual scale correlation. A comprehensive factor analytic study provided fourteen item
clusters that bore considerable resemblance to my original twelve therapeutic factor
categories. Sullivan and Sawilowsky have demonstrated that some differences between
studies may be related to inconsistencies in brief, modified forms of the questionnaire.
Stone, Lewis, and Beck have constructed a brief, modified form with considerable internal
consistency.
g
The twelve categories are used only for analysis and interpretation. The clients, of course,
were unaware of these categories and dealt only with the sixty randomly sorted items. The
rank of each category was obtained by summing the mean rank of the five items in it.
Some researchers have used brief versions of a therapeutic factor questionnaire that
require clients to rank-order categories. The two approaches require different tasks of the
subject, and it is difficult to assess the congruence of the two approaches.
h
In considering these results, we must keep in mind that the subject’s task was a forced
sort, which means that the lowest ranked items are not necessarily unimportant but are
simply less important than the others.
i

Factor analysis is a statistical method that identifies the smallest number of hypothetical
constructs needed to explain the greatest degree of consistency in a data set. It is a way to
compress large quantities of data into a smaller but conceptually and practically consistent
data groupings.
j
Recent research on the human stress response and the impact of one’s exposure to
potentially traumatic events demonstrates that making sense of, and finding meaning in,
one’s life experience reduces the psychological and physiological signs of stress.
k
The timeless and universal nature of these existential concerns is reflected in the words of
the sage Hillel, 2000 years ago. Addressing his students, Hillel would say: “If I am not for
myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now,
when?”
l
Metacommunication refers to the communication about a communication. Compare, for
example: “Close the window!” “Wouldn’t you like to close the window? You must be
cold.” “I’m cold, would you please close the window?” “Why is this window open?” Each
of these statements contains a great deal more than a simple request or command. Each
conveys a metacommunication: that is, a message about the nature of the relationship
between the two interacting individuals.
m
These phenomena play havoc with outcome research strategies that focus on initial target
symptoms or goals and then simply evaluate the clients’ change on these measures. It is
precisely for this reason that experienced therapists are dismayed at naive contemporary
mental health maintenance providers who insist on evaluating therapy every few sessions
on the basis of initial goals. Using more comprehensive global outcome questionnaires
instead, such as the Outcome Questionnaire 45, can provide meaningful feedback to
therapists that keeps them aligned productively with their clients.
n
A well-conducted multisite psychotherapy trial with over 700 clients with chronic
depression clearly demonstrated the importance of therapeutic approaches that help clients
develop interpersonal effectiveness and reclaim personal responsibility and accountability
for their interpersonal actions. A key principle of this model of psychotherapy, cognitive
behavioral analysis system psychotherapy (CBASP), is that chronic depression is directly
correlated with the depressed client’s loss of a sense of “cause and effect” in his or her
personal world.
o
In the psychoanalytic literature, definitions of transference differ (see C. Rycroft, Critical
Dictionary of Psychoanalysis [New York: Basic Books, 1968], and J. Sandler, G. Dave,

and A. Holder, “Basic Psychoanalytic Concepts: III. Transference,” British Journal of
Psychiatry 116 [1970]: 667–72). The more rigorous definition is that transference is a state
of mind of a client toward the therapist, and it is produced by displacement onto the
therapist of feelings and ideas that derive from previous figures in the client’s life. Other
psychoanalysts extend transference to apply not only to the analysand-analyst relationship
but to other interpersonal situations. In this discussion and elsewhere in this text, I use the
term “transference” liberally to refer to the irrational aspects of any relationship between
two people. In its clinical manifestations, the concept is synonymous with Sullivan’s term
“parataxic distortion.” As I shall discuss, there are more sources of transference than the
simple transfer or displacement of feeling from a prior to a current object.
p
A small study of individual therapy demonstrated that certain non–here-and-now therapist
self-disclosure could be effective in strengthening the real (nontransference) relationship
between client and therapist. Personal disclosure by the therapist about common interests
or activities, when it followed the client’s lead, served to normalize and support clients
and indirectly deepened their learning.
q
At a recent psychotherapy convention, manufacturers promoted video systems that
therapists could use to record every session as a safeguard against frivolous litigation.
r
A rich example of this principle is found in Magister Ludi, in which Herman Hesse
describes an event in the lives of two renowned ancient healers (H. Hesse, Magister Ludi
[New York: Frederick Unger, 1949], 438–67). Joseph, one of the healers, severely afflicted
with feelings of worthlessness and self-doubt, sets off on a long journey across the desert
to seek help from his rival, Dion. At an oasis, Joseph describes his plight to a stranger,
who miraculously turns out to be Dion, whereupon Joseph accepts Dion’s invitation to go
home with him in the role of patient and servant. In time, Joseph regains his former
serenity and zest and ultimately becomes the friend and colleague of his master. Only after
many years have passed and Dion lies on his deathbed, does he reveal that at their
encounter at the oasis, he had reached a similar impasse in his life and was en route to
request Joseph’s assistance.
s
This review included only studies that used random assignment to treatment situations
(rather than matching or nonrandom assignment), which clearly specified the independent
variables employed, and which measured dependent variables by one or more
standardized instruments.
t
Meta-analysis is a statistical approach that examines a large number of scientific studies
by pooling their data together into one large data set to determine findings that might be
missed if one were only to examine smaller data sets.

u
Laboratory group research generally involves volunteers or, more often, university
students taking courses in group therapy or counseling. The participants’ educational
objective is to learn about group dynamics through firsthand experience in groups created
for that purpose. Because these groups are well structured, time limited, and composed of
members willing to answer study questionnaires, they lend themselves naturally to group
research.
v
The dropout categories have substantial overlap. Many of the clients who dropped out
because of problems of intimacy began to occupy a deviant role because of the behavioral
manifestations of their intimacy problems. Had the stress of the intimacy conflict not
forced them to terminate, it is likely that the inherent stresses of the deviant role would
have created pressures leading to termination.
w
Psychological-mindedness is the ability to identify intrapsychic factors and relate them to
one’s difficulties. It appears to be a durable personality trait that does not change over time
even with therapy. The Quality of Object Relations (QOR) Scale evaluates clients’
characteristic manner of relating along a continuum ranging from mature to primitive.
x
One is reminded of the farmer who attempted to train his horse to do with smaller and
smaller amounts of food, but eventually lamented, “Just as I had taught it to manage with
no food at all, the darn critter went and died on me.”
y
It is for this very reason that I decided to write a group therapy novel, The Schopenhauer
Cure (New York: HarperCollins, 2005), in which I attempt to offer an honest portrayal of
the effective therapy group in action.
z
The limits of confidentiality in group therapy is an area that has not been broadly explored
in the professional literature, but rare reports do surface of comembers being called to
testify in criminal or civil proceedings. One questionnaire survey of 100 experienced
group therapists noted that over half of the respondents experienced some minor
confidentiality breach.
aa
The transtheoretical model of change postulates that individuals advance through five
phases in the change process. Therapy will be more effective if it is congruent with the
client’s particular state of change readiness. The stages are precontemplation,
contemplation, preparation, action, and maintenance.
ab

In a classic paper on scapegoating, Scheidlinger recalls the Biblical origins of the
scapegoat. One goat is the bearer of all the people’s sins and is banished from the
community. A second goat is the bearer of all the positive features of the people and is
sacrificed on the altar. To be a scapegoat of either sort bodes poorly for one’s survival (S.
Scheidlinger, “Presidential Address: On Scapegoating in Group Psychotherapy,”
International Journal of Group Psychotherapy 32 (1982): 131–43).
ac
This is the same Ginny with whom I coauthored a book about our psychotherapy: Every
Day Gets a Little Closer: A Twice-Told Therapy (New York: Basic Books, 1975; reissued
1992).
ad
Therapist countertransference is always a source of valuable data about the client, never
more so than with provocative clients whose behavior challenges our therapeutic
effectiveness. Group leaders should determine their role in the joint construction of the
problem client’s difficulties. Any therapist reaction or behavior that deviates from one’s
baseline signals that interpersonal pulls are being generated. Therapists must take care to
examine their feelings before responding. Together, these perspectives inform and balance
the therapist’s use of empathic processing, confrontation and feedback.
ae
Moos and I demonstrated, for example, that medical students assigned for the first time to
a psychiatric ward regarded the psychotic patients as extremely dangerous, frightening,
unpredictable, and dissimilar to themselves. At the end of the five-week assignment, their
attitudes had undergone considerable change: the students were less frightened of their
patients and realized that psychotic individuals were just confused, deeply anguished
human beings, more like themselves than they had previously thought.
af
In Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited (Boston: Little, Brown, 1945), the protagonist is
counseled that if he is not circumspect, he will have to devote a considerable part of his
second year at college to get rid of undesirable friends he has made during his first year.
ag
I learned a great deal about psychotherapy from this experiment. For one thing, it brought
home to me the Rashomon nature of the therapeutic venture (see chapter 4). The client and
I had extraordinarily different perspectives of the hours we shared. All my marvelous
interpretations? She had never even heard them! Instead, Ginny heard, and valued, very
different parts of the therapy hour: the deeply human exchanges; the fleeting supportive,
accepting glances; the brief moments of real intimacy. The exchange of summaries also
provided interesting instruction about psychotherapy, and I used the summaries in my
teaching. Years later the client and I decided to write a prologue and an afterword and
publish the summaries as a book. (Every Day Gets a Little Closer. New York: Basic
Books, 1974.)

ah
Higher-level clients are the more verbal clients who are motivated to work in therapy and
whose attention span permits them to attend an entire meeting. Elsewhere I describe a
group design for lower-functioning, more regressed clients (Yalom, Inpatient Group
Psychotherapy, 313–35).
ai
We can think of coping as the means and adaptation as the end. Maximizing adaptation
generally improves quality of life. One may categorize the medical groups according to
their basic coping emphasis:
1. Emotion-based coping—social support, emotional ventilation
2. Problem-based coping—active cognitive and behavioral strategies,
psychoeducation, stress reduction techniques
3. Meaning-based coping—increasing existential awareness, realigning life priorities
aj
For a full description of the first group led for cancer patients, see my story “Travels with
Paula” in Momma and the Meaning of Life (New York: HarperCollins, 1999, 15–53).
ak
The authors of a large meta-analysis concluded that although problems with addictions
respond well to self-help groups, clients with medical problems in such groups do not
demonstrate objective benefits commensurate with how highly the participants value the
groups.
al
The American Counseling Association has issued specific ethics guidelines for online
therapists (American Counseling Association, “Ethical Standards for Internet Online
Counseling” [1999]; available at www.counseling.org). Other organizations, such as the
American Psychological Association, have not yet distinguished online from face-to-face
care. It is certain that the future will see new statements from licensing bodies and
professional organizations addressing this area.
am
This is not to say that the encounter ethos suddenly vanished. Many aspects of the
encounter movement linger. For one thing, it was transformed and commercialized in the
large group awareness training enterprises like est and Lifespring (versions of which are
still viable in various parts of the world) and is much in evidence in such programs as the
widespread Judeo-Christian National Marriage Encounter programs.

http://www.counseling.org

Copyright © 2005 by Irvin Yalom and Molyn Leszcz

Published by Basic Books,
A Member of the Perseus Books Group

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address Basic Books,
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Yalom, Irvin D., 1931–
The theory and practice of group psychotherapy / Irvin D. Yalom with
Molyn Leszcz.—5th ed. p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
eISBN : 978-0-465-01291-6
1. Group psychotherapy. I. Leszcz, Molyn, 1952–II. Title.
RC488.Y3 2005
616.89’152—dc22
2005000056

/

ALSO BY IRVIN D. YALOM
Title Page
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS
INSTILLATION OF HOPE
UNIVERSALITY
IMPARTING INFORMATION
ALTRUISM
THE CORRECTIVE RECAPITULATION OF THE PRIMARY FAMILY GROUP
DEVELOPMENT OF SOCIALIZING TECHNIQUES
IMITATIVE BEHAVIOR
Chapter 2 – INTERPERSONAL LEARNING
THE IMPORTANCE OF INTERPERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS
THE CORRECTIVE EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCE
THE GROUP AS SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM: A DYNAMIC INTERACTION
RECOGNITION OF BEHAVIORAL PATTERNS IN THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM
THE SOCIAL MICROCOSM—IS IT REAL?
OVERVIEW
TRANSFERENCE AND INSIGHT
Chapter 3 – GROUP COHESIVENESS
THE IMPORTANCE OF GROUP COHESIVENESS
MECHANISM OF ACTION
SUMMARY
Chapter 4 – THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: AN INTEGRATION
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: THE CLIENT’S VIEW
COMPARATIVE VALUE OF THE THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: DIFFERENCES BETWEEN CLIENTS’ AND …
THERAPEUTIC FACTORS: MODIFYING FORCES
Chapter 5 – THE THERAPIST: BASIC TASKS
CREATION AND MAINTENANCE OF THE GROUP
CULTURE BUILDING
HOW DOES THE LEADER SHAPE NORMS?
EXAMPLES OF THERAPEUTIC GROUP NORMS
Chapter 6 – THE THERAPIST: WORKING IN THE HERE – AND – NOW
DEFINITION OF PROCESS
PROCESS FOCUS: THE POWER SOURCE OF THE GROUP
THE THERAPIST’S TASKS IN THE HERE-AND-NOW
TECHNIQUES OF HERE-AND-NOW ACTIVATION
TECHNIQUES OF PROCESS ILLUMINATION
HELPING CLIENTS ASSUME A PROCESS ORIENTATION
HELPING CLIENTS ACCEPT PROCESS-ILLUMINATING COMMENTS
PROCESS COMMENTARY: A THEORETICAL OVERVIEW
THE USE OF THE PAST
GROUP – AS – A – WHOLE PROCESS COMMENTARY
Chapter 7 – THE THERAPIST: TRANSFERENCE AND TRANSPARENCY
TRANSFERENCE IN THE THERAPY GROUP
THE PSYCHOTHERAPIST AND TRANSPARENCY
Chapter 8 – THE SELECTION OF CLIENTS
CRITERIA FOR EXCLUSION
CRITERIA FOR INCLUSION
AN OVERVIEW OF THE SELECTION PROCEDURE
SUMMARY
Chapter 9 – THE COMPOSITION OF THERAPY GROUPS
THE PREDICTION OF GROUP BEHAVIOR
PRINCIPLES OF GROUP COMPOSITION
OVERVIEW
A FINAL CAVEAT
Chapter 10 – CREATION OF THE GROUP: PLACE, TIME, SIZE, PREPARATION
PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS
DURATION AND FREQUENCY OF MEETINGS
BRIEF GROUP THERAPY
PREPARATION FOR GROUP THERAPY
Chapter 11 – IN THE BEGINNING
FORMATIVE STAGES OF THE GROUP
THE IMPACT OF CLIENTS ON GROUP DEVELOPMENT
MEMBERSHIP PROBLEMS
Chapter 12 – THE ADVANCED GROUP
SUBGROUPING
CONFLICT IN THE THERAPY GROUP
SELF-DISCLOSURE
TERMINATION
Chapter 13 – PROBLEM GROUP MEMBERS
THE MONOPOLIST
THE SILENT CLIENT
THE BORING CLIENT
THE HELP-REJECTING COMPLAINER
THE PSYCHOTIC OR BIPOLAR CLIENT
THE CHARACTEROLOGICALLY DIFFICULT CLIENT
Chapter 14 – THE THERAPIST: SPECIALIZED FORMATS AND PROCEDURAL AIDS
CONCURRENT INDIVIDUAL AND GROUP THERAPY
COMBINING GROUP THERAPY AND TWELVE-STEP GROUPS
CO-THERAPISTS
THE LEADERLESS MEETING
DREAMS
AUDIOVISUAL TECHNOLOGY
WRITTEN SUMMARIES
GROUP THERAPY RECORD KEEPING
STRUCTURED EXERCISES
Chapter 15 – SPECIALIZED THERAPY GROUPS
MODIFICATION OF TRADITIONAL GROUP THERAPY FOR SPECIALIZED CLINICAL SITUATIONS: …
THE ACUTE INPATIENT THERAPY GROUP
GROUPS FOR THE MEDICALLY ILL
ADAPTATION OF CBT AND IPT TO GROUP THERAPY
SELF-HELP GROUPS AND INTERNET SUPPORT GROUPS
Chapter 16 – GROUP THERAPY: ANCESTORS AND COUSINS
WHAT IS AN ENCOUNTER GROUP?
ANTECEDENTS AND EVOLUTION OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
GROUP THERAPY FOR NORMALS
THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE ENCOUNTER GROUP
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE ENCOUNTER GROUP AND THE THERAPY GROUP
Chapter 17 – TRAINING THE GROUP THERAPIST
OBSERVATION OF EXPERIENCED CLINICIANS
SUPERVISION
A GROUP EXPERIENCE FOR TRAINEES
PERSONAL PSYCHOTHERAPY
SUMMARY
BEYOND TECHNIQUE
Appendix – Information and Guidelines for Participation in Group Therapy
Notes
Index
Copyright Page