A critical review of the antecedents of enabling communities

Abstract

Purpose

Adopting a sense of critical enquiry when examining historical sources, it is possible to gain a richer and broader sense of present practice. The aim of this study is to emphasise the importance of historical research to present practice in teasing out the different elements at work and how they developed. A core assumption is that our consciousness depends on our interactions with others.

Design/methodology/approach

This study is part of ongoing research into the historical background of the practice of discerning compassion. The methods used include archival research and the reading of primary and secondary literature.

Findings

In particular, it becomes clear that this way of working is always going to be problematic for political authorities as it promotes the questioning of accepted beliefs. This study emphasises that the core concepts underlying enabling community practice reach deep into the past and involve events not usually associated with the traditional histories of the approach. In particular, exploring outside of the traditional mental hospital background reveals a greater involvement of women than previously demonstrated. There are processes that have deep historical roots, the culture of enquiry, the benefits of mutual support and the understanding that people flourish better interacting with each other in a supportive and trusting environment rather than through coercion and instruction.

Research limitations/implications

As with all historical research, this paper is limited by the resources available to examine particular events.

Practical implications

Recognition of the importance of historical enquiry as relevant to present-day practice.

Social implications

Historical enquiry helps to acknowledge the importance of social events in shaping our present understanding. As W.H. Rivers argues, we have to understand what happened in the past before comprehending why present sociological events occur.

Originality/value

This paper is a unique enquiry into the early historical antecedents of enabling community practice. It is intended to stimulate more research into the field and to stimulate debate about the relevance of particular aspects of practice. It refers to sources that are not usually part of such discussions and, by implication, suggests that there is more to be explored. It is not an exhaustive account and is to be supplemented by another paper on leadership.

Citation

Harrison, T. (2023), "A critical review of the antecedents of enabling communities", Therapeutic Communities: The International Journal of Therapeutic Communities, Vol. 44 No. 2/3, pp. 59-70. https://doi.org/10.1108/TC-10-2023-0021

Historians and those working in therapeutic communities [1] share a common mindset: that of Tom Main’s “culture of enquiry”. All preconceptions are open to examination. In the movement, there has been a tendency to accept a mythologised history, particularly centred around the contributions of nineteenth-ventury “moral therapy”. Whilst kindness and compassion promoted are significant factors, they do not specifically determine this way of working. This paper highlights others who have demonstrated more particular elements of practice.

The history of enabling environments is poorly documented and often relies on a superficial understanding of past events. Maurice Bridgeland’s study of children’s therapeutic communities in the UK is a notable exception (Bridgeland, 1971). Here, I aim to contribute to a debate about how these practices came into being. Understanding the counter-cultural aspects of how they operate illustrates how this practice is unlikely to ever become easily acceptable. It challenges those who argue for individual rights and property rather than the complexities of shared responsibilities.

Should a journal devoted to “here and now” practice include papers on history? There are many reasons, but here I offer three. Firstly, such enterprises usually began in a spirit of ad hoc enthusiastic optimism. This essential element needs to be tempered with an awareness of their later evolution. The literature is brimming with accounts of how different units achieved success after battling through adversity. Relating how they failed is uncommon. The emotional investment of those involved makes it too painful to investigate objectively. One pertinent sociology text, Nick Manning’s The Therapeutic Community Movement: Charisma and Routinization, points out how “powerful forces other than the rational application of knowledge […] shaped developments” (Manning, 1989, p. 183). My paper is little more than a footnote to his work, but it demonstrates that the challenges facing enabling communities are deeply embedded in our society and not merely part of the present political system.

Secondly, what is the primary task? There is an uneasy dialogue about whether to convert people with difficult behaviour into conforming citizens or to enable us to discover how our welfare and flourishing are dependent on mutually compassionate relationships. Usually, the two are confounded. For instance, religious organisations satisfy both, to some extent. The sense of belonging and mutual support is confined by the necessity to conform to their particular rules and morality.

Finally, history forces an examination of the specifics of practice. The culture of relentless enquiry has already been referred to. In addition, there is the expectation that everyone will contribute to the discussion, with everyone’s viewpoint having validity. Decisions made account for everyone’s expressed opinion. Furthermore, everybody is engaged in the mutual task, supporting each other in an environment permeated by a sense of belonging. Resonating throughout is how leaders listen to and value those with whom they are working.

These communities were not born in a vacuum. Strands of thought from different sources contribute to the cultural and intellectual environment from which they emerged. I invoke a number of historical examples to illustrate this thesis.

Socratic discourse

The earliest evidence of a discursive approach to examining accepted beliefs is Socrates’ elenchtic discourse (Ettin, 1999, pp. 31–55). In ancient Athens, he conducted his enquiries in informal, spontaneous groups in which all were encouraged to make their views known (Plato 1924a, p. 205). He then challenged their assumptions, prompting them to examine their pre-conceptions. On one occasion, he encouraged those with him to “examine ourselves thoroughly” with regard to how they understood bravery (Plato, 2005, p. 98). Emphasising his own ignorance, he argued that he would listen to the experts first and only intervene if he “had anything to add” (Plato, 2005, p. 87). When questioned about the nature of virtue, he asked his interlocutor what he already knew, before interrogating him intensely (Plato, 1924b). He promoted discussion by asking more questions rather than answering himself, leaving the outcome uncertain.

Nicias found the experience thoroughly disconcerting. Conversations became debates in which the student was cross-examined from every angle. Whatever the original subject, he became trapped into “giving an account of his present life-style”, and past behaviour (Plato, 2005, pp. 95–96). As a result, “you’re bound to be more careful about your way of life in the future” (Plato, 2005, p. 96).

There is a direct connection between Socratic thought and the therapeutic community movement. At Cambridge University, Dr John Rickman, co-founder of the Northfield Experiments, experienced a similar peripatetic group (Slobodin, 1997, pp. 69–70; Harrison, 2000, pp. 33–34). Dr W.H. Rivers, Praelector of Natural Science Studies, organised a club, the “Socratics”, around informal discussions. Siegfried Sassoon captured their flavour, and soon they floated through dessicated forests, mangled myths, and easily argued round megaliths (Sassoon, 2015).

Congruent with the arguments presented here, Rivers argued that we must understand past events to comprehend our present circumstances (Rivers, 1926, p. 7).

Socrates provides an early example of how challenging accepted beliefs provoke authorities. At 80 years old, he was found guilty of sedition and condemned to commit suicide by taking hemlock (Plato, 1966). He revealed how enquiry into preconceptions makes people uncomfortable and wish to escape or retaliate, a continual element of group therapy.

Silence in groups: the Quakers

For 400 years, the Quakers have refined the art of democratic community meetings whilst enduring persecution to maintain their practice. During the 17th century, their founder, George Fox, was imprisoned on many occasions for promoting the idea that salvation was for everyone (Punshon, 1986, pp. 63–69; Walvin, 1997, pp. 13–15). Their democratic egalitarian philosophy earned them the hatred of both rich and poor alike (Borthwick et al., 2001, pp. 429–30). At times, they were physically attacked by the local populace, and early on, 4,000 of them, including women and children, were imprisoned. Their pacifism caused concern up until the First World War, when many were imprisoned and some forcibly transported to the battle front (Punshon, 1986, p. 231).

The meeting is formed of people “with open minds waiting to get some sort of feeling about something that might be worth communicating to other people” (Bridgeland, 2008). Rickman explored “group psychology”, describing how they would “meet in the silence of flesh, and to watch for the stirrings of his (God’s) life”, out of which arises a sense of “mutual aid” (Pennington, 1996, p. 47; Rickman, 2003, 287). The milieu enables an “atmosphere of tolerance” in which thoughts can be expressed, irrespective of their effect (Rickman, 2003, p. 287).

Rickman gave a lecture at Northfield Military Hospital in 1945 to colleagues who were later involved in group therapy and therapeutic communities. He explained how Quaker meetings had no elite clergy, no leadership, and were a “kind of therapeutic session” (Bridger, 1945). His associate at Northfield, Main, was also aware of the Friends’ waiting in silence for emotional spontaneous utterances to emerge (Main, 1989, p. 128). The parallels were equally evident to Robert Rapoport, who remarked on how community meetings at Belmont Hospital were similar to those of the ‘Quakers’ (Rapoport, 1960, p. 92).

This engagement of the Friends with enabling communities is not coincidental. They have had long-standing concerns with humane treatment, equality and care in education and penal environments (Boyling, 2011, p. 65). Their calmness and tolerance are frequently annoying to outsiders (Punshon, 1986, p. 1). However, through adopting a stance of non-violence and industry, they have been successful in surviving whilst remaining small in numbers. I argue that their contribution is profound and deserves greater attention. Their acceptance of silence, trusting that something of value will emerge, is fundamental to group therapy.

Working with children: Pestalozzi

During the 18th century, Jean Jaques Rousseau wrote about the unique nature of childhood, which he argued necessitated a specific, holistic education (Rousseau, 1974). Johann Pestalozzi was an enthusiastic follower who, in 1762, joined protests against the condemnation of his mentor’s writings by the Genevan Government. Seen as a dangerous revolutionist, he was fined and imprisoned a number of times (Cooke, 1894, pp. xvi–xvii). This erstwhile subversive found his metier when he was sent to work with war orphans in Stans in December 1798 (Cooke, 1894, p. xix). Here, he put into practice ideas he had been incubating for the previous half century.

In spite of the adverse circumstances that forced the 80 children to enter the school, lacking staff and support from the local population, Pestalozzi gained the trust of his charges (Tröhler, 2013, p. 67). In caring for them alone, he became a teacher, handy man, pay master and father, all rolled into one (Pestalozzi, 1894, p. 15; Tröhler, 2013, p. 67). He was primarily concerned with their moral education, which he believed had emerged from within rather than being coerced from without (Tröhler, 2013, p. 68).

Unsure how to proceed, he improvised. Through “pronouncing sounds” in front of all the children, there ensued the “noise of the whole school speaking together”, “a pleasant harmony of words, quite intelligible, in measured time, like a chorus, as powerful and as firmly united” (Pestalozzi, 1894, pp. 15–16; Herbart quoted in 1894, 215). He recited words, explanations, phrases and long sentences loudly and often, getting them to repeat what he had said to exercise their observations and thoughts (Fischer and Pestalozzi, 1894).

For him, in the absence of love, “neither the physical nor the intellectual powers of the child will develop naturally” (Pestalozzi, 1950, p. 33). Fundamentally, he was concerned with satisfying their needs for emotional and physical warmth, including nourishment and clothing (Tröhler, 2013, p. 67). Belonging in a safe and trusting family environment would help combat the rottenness of the contemporary world. In his community, the youngsters “were out of the world, they were out of Stans; they were with me, and I was with them” (Pestalozzi quoted in Tröhler, 2013, p. 67). This desire to withdraw from society is a recurring theme in such environments and regularly contributes to their demise.

Following Rousseau’s maxims “Do the opposite of what is usually done, and you will be right” and “all men are bad by institutions, not by nature”, he approached education by stimulating the “sense impressions” provided by nature before naming them (Cooke, 1894, p. xvi; Pestalozzi, 1894, p. 205). Understanding should come before reading and writing (Pestalozzi, 1894, p. 29). He encouraged conversation about the different objects the children were seeing and feeling whilst offering them a vocabulary with which to discuss them (Pestalozzi, 1894, pp. 32–33). He discovered in them a “hitherto unknown power, and particularly a general sense of beauty and order” (Pestalozzi, 1894, p. 17). They helped each other to learn. The most able were placed between two less able, and they “sat lovingly by each other” and a happy “sympathy animated their souls” (Pestalozzi, 1894, p. 18). He was astonished to discover that youngsters already contained the basis of order and discipline and so “all educative instruction must be drawn out” of them (Pestalozzi, 1894, p. 17).

After six months, the school closed because of the outbreak of war. Another appointment was terminated after four years as the new government in Berne had no interest in his work (Green, 1910, p. 56). Although he gained another position at Yverdun, his work continued to court controversy, both from colleagues and authorities (Green, 1910, pp. 62–63).

In spite of this opposition, Pestalozzi gained an international reputation as an educator (Tröhler, 2013, 106). In Germany, Pestalozzian schools were founded during the early 19th century (Tröhler, 2013, p. 90). Wealthy parents sent their children to him for their education (Tröhler, 2013, pp. 91–92, 96). Other educators went to learn at firsthand about his methods and set up institutions based on them (Tröhler, 2013, pp. 132–33). Pestalozzi Children’s Villages continue to operate in Switzerland and 12 other countries today (Pestalozzi Foundation, 2022a). One, founded in the UK in 1959, takes disadvantaged children from around the world (Pestalozzi Foundation, 2022b). His practice led to changes in teaching methodology, from the repetitive verbosity of traditional pedagogy to providing opportunities for children to learn from experience (Kilpatrick, 1950).

Pestalozzi believed in the fundamental goodness of those he was working with and demonstrated how they worked together to promote their mutual flourishing. In spite of this, he wished to protect them from the society to which they were to return. This philosophy, derived from Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who believed that society corrupts the “Noble Savage”, continues to affect how many communities see themselves as protecting their “good” nature against the depredations of the “bad” outside world (Rousseau, 1984, pp. 82–83).

Ragged children and the vicious and incorrigible dangerous or perishing classes

Another member of the Society of Friends, in 1813, was shocked by the deplorable conditions of women prisoners in Newgate Gaol. A total of 300 were housed in two cells, awaiting trial or punishments such as whipping, hanging or transportation (McGowen, 1998, p. 72). Filthy, sleeping without bedding on the floor or in hammocks and poorly clothed, their situation was worse than in most mental hospitals (Rose, 2007, p. 99). Newborn babies lay naked and crying. Upstairs in the sick quarters, severely ill women lay barely covered on straw on the floor in freezing conditions (Stephen Grellet, quoted in Opperman, 2015, p. 151). All ages were crowded together. They were seen as “vicious and incorrigible” (Opperman, 2015, p. 173; Rose, 2007, p. 115). Their violence even scared the prison governor, and Elizabeth Fry was initially refused entry on this account (Babington, 1971, pp. 152-153). However, she persisted and set about making reforms, beginning with the women themselves.

Clearly, Fry was driven by her religion and encouraged the women to become model Christians. But there was more to how she approached her task. More than mere benevolence or philanthropy, she engaged with them directly. She and her brother-in-law, theologian J. J. Gurney, relied on personal contact to effect change in people rather than relying on regimes or institutions (McGowen, 1998, p. 87). Wearing the plain clothes of her religion, she sat on a low seat in front of a 100 mistrustful and potentially violent women, took off her bonnet and, calling them “friends”, proceeded to explain to them “what we were about” (Susanna Corder, quoted in Rose, 2007, 141–42; Opperman, 2015, p. 171). She would then mildly ask them if they wished to turn their lives around for the better or whether they would prefer better conditions for the children incarcerated with them. She asked if they would vote for a set of rules that they would follow in prison that would improve their lives (Rose, 2007, pp. 120–22).

Whilst this form of democracy was to an extent coercive, relying on her charisma, it was still revolutionary. She engaged with people who were used to being treated as beneath contempt. Instead, she sought to awaken in them a sense of “sympathy” for those around them, including those incarcerating them. Punishment moved from the physical to the moral, encouraging a more open relation to society and dissolving the boundaries between self and others (McGowen, 1986, p. 327, 331). Attempting to carry out the wishes of some women who wanted employment and to learn to read and sew, she inevitably met with hostility from the authorities, but she persevered, successfully organising other members of the Friends to provide materials and training (Opperman, 2015, 175–77).

Elsewhere, also driven by Christian ideals, Sarah Martin worked with prisoners in Yarmouth gaol for 25 years until 1843. Unlike Fry, she was a working woman, coming from the same background as those she visited (Rogers, 2014, p. 726). There was, however, a similar level of benign coercion present, with her wishing to be seen as a friend and instructor rather than as an authoritarian figure. Some repentant smugglers, after giving up this trade to become ordinary seamen, remained in contact with her, sending her presents in gratitude for her efforts. Clearly, friendship had become part of the relationship. Furthermore, these mariners continued to look out for their former comrades (Rogers, 2014, p. 728).

Mary Carpenter similarly saw below the surface of the “scum of the populace, fit only to be swept as vermin from the face of the earth”; juvenile offenders in the middle of the 19th century (Carpenter, 1968, p. 3). In response to their desperate circumstances, their filth and rags, she determined to set up “ragged” schools in the spirit of “love”, “wise as well as kind” (Carpenter, 1968, pp. 69–74). She understood that in everyone there is “a weary longing for kindness from our fellow-men” (Carpenter, 1968, p. 74). The task was to encourage the children to “feel the brotherhood of man” and to gain a sense of safety and belonging (Carpenter, 1968, p. 75). She achieved this through a sense of discipline, order and obedience whilst engaging their “interests”.

These neglected children were told about “God who loved them” (Mair, 2018, p. 166). A benefit for women of becoming actively involved with religion was the sense of comradeship and mutual support that participants gained. It provided a sense of belonging and agency in the work they carried out (Crawford, 1993, p. 74; Fitzherbert, 2016, p. 19). This central aspect of enabling communities, promoted by much Christian philanthropy in the 19th century, is neglected in the “coldly functional approach” of Foucauldian academics, who emphasise the concurrent imposition of social conformity (Pollock, 2011, p. 153). This companionship is emphasised by the scores of letters from graduates to their erstwhile mentors expressing their affection and gratitude (Mair, 2018).

These women, sustained by their beliefs, understood that people fundamentally want to support and care for each other, in spite of appearances and behaviour. It took courage and persistence to achieve their ends.

Democracy within bounds

In France, the incarceration of adolescent prisoners with adults was an anathema to two philanthropists, Judge Frederick-Auguste Demetz and his friend Viscount Louis Hermann de Bretigneres de Courteilles. In 1840, they founded an institution deep in the countryside, based on religious and strict moralistic principles, where children were sent “to renew themselves […] to regain in the open fields the strength lost in the foul air of our crowded cities” (Ramsland, 1990; Rousseau, 1974, 26 Bk. 1). It was a highly structured establishment with 247 regulations and a strict regime of non-corporal punishments, including solitary confinement (Ramsland, 1990, p. 34). The boys were organised into groups of 40, living in their own houses under the responsibility of a chef de famille and two assistants. Each cluster was subdivided into family groups of ten who lived and worked together (Anderson, 2018, p. 468). Every three months, the boys elected one from amongst them as their leader, who would liaise with the masters. Within a few years, Mettray gained an international reputation. A similar institution was set up in the rural idyll of the Surrey downs, which was opened by the Queens’ consort, Prince Albert, indicating the importance attached to rescuing “several hundred smart boys” from the “Babylon” of London (Anon, 1849, p. 441). A report refers specifically to Demetz’s practice being administered with “never-failing kindliness” and a “painstaking and strict” discipline so that the conduct of the youths “is forced to be so good”, recalling the role of kindness in contemporary mental hospitals (Anon, 1849, p. 442). Mettray continued in operation until 1937, in spite of increasing rebellions by inmates against its military discipline (Ramsland, 1990, p. 43; Anon, 1876, p. 134).

In Britain, these moves were paralleled by reforms in “public” (actually private) schools where the sons of the gentry were sent for their education (Anderson, 2018, pp. 464–66). Following the advice of Dr Thomas Arnold, headmaster at Rugby School, boys were encouraged to develop a form of supervised self-government. The management of minor infractions of school rules was delegated to those young men who were “fitted by age, character and position”, rather than relying on those with the greatest physical strength (Her Majesty’s Commissioners, 1864, p. 42). This was seen as a method by which “a high and sound tone of feeling and opinion” could be maintained and fostered and through which boys learned “independence and manliness of character” (Her Majesty’s Commissioners, 1864, p. 43). The system of “fagging”, in which younger lads carried out “some special personal services” for older ones, such as cleaning their shoes, making drinks or cleaning their rooms, was intended to develop a friendly relation between “master and fag” and even some degree of patronage (Her Majesty’s Commissioners, 1864, pp. 43–44). I remain more than a little sceptical, as a result of my own experiences in a school where such practices continued in the 1960s. Indeed, the perversion of the original intentions has been well documented, leading to bullying, corruption and bigotry in later life. (Beard, 2022; Verkaik, 2019).

During the middle of the 19th century, separate reformatories were established in the United Kingdom for juvenile offenders (Anderson, 2018, p. 466). How these should be run has caused significant debate. Captain Alexander Maconochie advocated a liberal approach, publishing his ideas in a pamphlet in 1845 on the system of transporting prisoners to Australia (Anderson, 2018, p. 466). He was aware of Demetz’s work and reflected the latter’s principle of establishing bonds of “mutual affection and responsibility”, in a society that fostered “a social or family spirit” amongst those incarcerated (Demetz quoted in Anderson, 2018, p. 467).

Arguing that man “is a social being; - his duties are social; - and only in society […] can he be adequately trained for it”, Maconochie was appalled at the “severe coercive discipline” he found in the Australian convict system (Maconochie, 1838, p. 60; Maconochie quoted in Clay, 2001, 70). To combat this, as Commandant of the Norfolk Island penal colony, he instituted a system of awarding “marks” to reward good behaviour (Clay, 2001, p. 145; Moore, 2018, p. 185). These contributed to improved conditions and the ability to purchase luxuries such as tobacco. His original intention that they would promote early release was disallowed by higher authorities (Clay, 2001, p. 146). He contended that in this manner, the men had more control over their situation and would become “the artisans of their future fortunes” (Maconochie, quoted in Clay, 2001, p. 147). Each was allocated to a “Mess” of six men, and these “families” became responsible for the behaviour of each other, gaining or losing “marks” accordingly. Punishments, which hitherto had been physical, including flogging, were restricted to solitary confinement and reductions in food quality. The aim was not to subjugate the men but to lead them to be useful members of society able to act on religious principles (Anderson, 2018, p. 467). Whilst Maconochie gained a significant reputation amongst reformers, he was unable to carry out his modifications in full either in Australia or subsequently in the Birmingham prison (Moore, 2018, pp. 182–83; 2016).

The bounding of democracy in these organisations, whilst driven by humanitarian motives, aimed at conformity to society. This leads to consideration of how rules, or guidance, to conduct in enabling communities should be drawn up and implemented. With changing circumstances, they become fossilised and lose their original purpose. Tom Main, at the Cassell Hospital, illustrated how one rule encouraging patients to go home at weekends evolved into a coercive effort to eject everyone over this period (Main, 1990).

Kind paternalism and orderly conduct: William Tuke at the York Retreat

As Pestalozzi was working in Stans, the Tukes set out to reform mental hospitals in England. Histories of the therapeutic community movement often identify their work at the York Retreat as an important early influence (Kennard and Roberts, 1983, pp. 16–17; Manning, 1989, p. 3; Pearce and Haigh, 2017, 19). It was founded in 1796 by William Tuke in response to the deplorable conditions in the city asylum (Tuke, 1964, pp. 22–23). Housing 30 inmates, it aimed to provide a “surrogate home and family in which to resocialize the patient” and to stop them from being “obnoxious to the family” (Digby, 1985, p. 34; Tuke, 1964, p. 157). The task was for them to “restrain their different propensities”. Godlee has pointed out that quiet behaviour is more important than the state of the inner self (Godlee, 1983, p. 75). Essential elements of the practice were “judicious kindness”, encouragement of “self-restraint” and “mild treatment” (Tuke, 1964, pp. 131–62). Samuel Tuke stated how the regimen relied on the “physical and moral regime” (Tuke, 1964, p. 133). The apothecary reported that by being gentle and kind, he succeeded in “procuring from them (the patients) respect and obedience” (Tuke, 1964, p. 135). He explained that fear “is considered as of great importance in the management of patients”, and their treatment, avoiding chains and corporal punishment, depended on how they conducted themselves (Tuke, 1964, 141–42). Such coercion flowed as a necessary consequence to encourage the development of self-control. It included a strong linen restraint to confine the patient to the bed, forced feeding and the use of the “eye” (Tuke, 1964, 163–76). This latter was the ability of the physician to catch the patient’s eye and, through will power, subjugate that individual’s rebelliousness (Porter, 1990, 209–11).

Tuke fully united “with the intelligent Dr Pinel”, in his valuation of moral and medical means (Tuke, 1964, 132). The latter purportedly removed the chains off of those in his care in 1793 and later abolished them at the Salpêtrière in 1795, although it was the hospital manager, Jean-Baptiste Pussin, who actually effected their removal (Shorter, 1997, 11). In spite of this, he still had patients “bound and closely confined” and used “intimidation without severity” and “oppression without violence” (Phillippe Pinel, 1806, 60, 68). As sociologists Michael Bloor and his colleagues remark, the claim that therapeutic communities began with the social experiments of Pinel and Tuke “is a bit of a fiction” (Bloor, McKeganey and Fonkert, 1988, 18). This is not to underestimate the fact that these individuals recognised the humanity of those that they were working with in a manner uncommon in contemporary practice. As Pinel expressed it, those affected by mental illness required their reason restoring, rather than punishment (Philippe Pinel, 2008, 78).

They were not the first to see kindness as necessary for treatment. Dionys Fitzherbert, in the early 1600s, was afflicted by a psychosis that led her to feel that she was going to be burned alive. She was cared for as “a very good gentelwoman and exeding carfuly atending me many tymes with her owne hands, with very great compation (compassion)” (Fitzherbert, 2016, 188). Advertisements for private houses caring for the mentally ill emphasised the benevolence of their treatment. Joseph Proud asserted in 1756 that those “committed to his Care, may depend on being treated with the greatest Humanity” (Proud, 1756). Similarly, John Chadwick stated in 1775 that people in “that unhappy Situation will be treated with the utmost Care, Humanity, and Tenderness” (Chadwick, 1775). Mr Ricketts welcomed people to his care, promising that “the idea of confinement is removed by every humane and kind attention” (Ricketts, 1804).

Here, we see the different roles of kindness. Without discernment and understanding of others’ experience of life, it becomes a tool of coercion. Whilst those at the York Retreat undoubtedly improved the care of those in their charge compared with other asylums, they still remained reliant on different forms of control. On the other hand, intelligently used compassion enters into the world of the sufferer and promotes their dignity and well-being.

Emergent themes

I have offered samples of contributing intellectual streams that led to the emergence of enabling communities. An argument developed here is that those individuals who were most influential listened with deep compassion to those with whom they were working, allowing members of the group, to a greater or lesser extent, to dictate the course of the discussion. They had the humility to acknowledge that those they aimed to help could teach them. Elizabeth Fry could not have known what would emerge when she sat down and took her hat off in front of scores of potentially dangerous women. She believed that they shared the same humanity as herself, as did Pestalozzi and others. Most people discussed here did not find institutions but took what was in front of them and adapted their approach. Socrates proclaimed his ignorance and listened intently to what others had to say, albeit critically, without being certain of the outcome. From him, we learn that a culture of critical enquiry into our motives is both dangerous and revealing. Humility is the touchstone of Quakerism. What anyone says is worth listening to. Rickman was renowned for his ability to make others feel that what they said was valuable.

Too often, atheistic thinkers, including myself, undervalue the importance of Victorian philanthropy in offering a sense of belonging and mutual support that Christian churches offered. Whilst critical of the subservient morality that such organisations proffer, it is clear that this aspect of religion is an essential element of the enabling community. Even the somewhat bounded democracies promoted by Mettray, public schools and Maconochie provided elements of mutual support, though again the overall intentions were less to do with the flourishing of independent thought and more to do with social conformity. Fry, on the other hand, responded to the wish of the women she worked with to learn and work by taking up the cudgels on their behalf to achieve their aims.

Conclusion

Kindness and love are fundamental elements of the enabling community, but they are not enough on their own. They can easily become patronising without the discernment to listen and enable independent thought. When Dr Joseph Pratt gave a series of didactic lectures to groups of his tubercular patients, his surprise and delight engendered by the consequent “fine spirit of camaraderie” that emerged were echoed by Pestalozzi’s discovery that children have a finely developed sense of morality (Pratt, 1922, 403). This came as no surprise to the three women referred to here. Their leadership recognised both their shared humanity and the value of what those they were working with had to say. The nature of such leadership is not discussed here and deserves another study. Here the evidence describes how enabling communities have developed from different facets of the belief that we develop our morality through our caring interactions with others, not through coercion. Once this insight is trusted and we are enabled to develop with others in an environment in which we sense that we belong, we can flourish.

Note

1. Throughout this paper, the phrases enabling environments, therapeutic communities and enabling communities will be used interchangeably. Each of course has a specific meaning, but here it is the underlying practices that are common to all that are under examination.