Some are simply offended by his commercial success. Others criticize his method as a quick fix. No one takes issue with his basic idea. "What he says is quite sensible—compassion is good," says Raymond Novaco, a professor of psychology at the University of California at Irvine who coined the term "anger management" and is renowned in the field. And some commend Stosny for trying to find a new fix for anger—especially since he works with a difficult population that is not psychologically minded, and one that few psychologists want to treat.
The main problem is the lack of evidence. His work has never been stringently analyzed by an outsider, and researchers would like to see structured experiments and peer-reviewed articles that could scientifically establish whether the treatment is effective. "I don't give a lot of credence to [Stosny's technique]," says Novaco. "I've never seen his research published."
Stosny says he would oblige—if he could get the funding to do an independent study. He says he has been criticized in the past for carrying out studies on his own, and had funding pulled after being picketed by feminists who objected to his treatment model.
In 1995 Stosny conducted one-year follow-up research on 285 abusers who had undergone court-mandated treatments, comparing his graduates with those treated with a protocol derived from the power-centered model. After a year, 86 percent of his clients had not engaged in any violent episodes of pushing, grabbing or shoving, compared with 41 percent in the agency programs. Maryland's Department of Motor Vehicles also sampled 312 Stosny clients, comparing their driving records against a random sample of Maryland drivers. Two-thirds of Stosny's clients had aggressive driving records before taking his workshop. A year after treatment, 7 percent of the same group had traffic violations—three times better than those in the standard driver-improvement classes.
Julia Babcock, a professor of psychology at the University of Houston, says the time is right for a serious evaluation of Stosny's model. Babcock, who conducted a comprehensive meta-analysis documenting the weaknesses of domestic violence treatment, thinks Stosny's emphasis on emotions, alliance building and empathy is promising. But, she cautions, the jury's still out. "He needs a well-designed experiment to answer that," she says.
Practicing Compassion
It is impossible to disarm every trigger for anger in today's world, Stosny tells his class. People must instead learn to recognize the early signs of their own angry response—including physical reactions like muscle tension and increased heart rate—and moderate their reaction.
A young man dressed in baggy pants and a do-rag calls out. He has spent the last two classes looking bored, snickering with his girlfriend and another young man at his table. "This is an anger-management class, right? Well, I'm angry," he says.
"Come up and practice," Stosny says.
The young man shuffles, hands in pocket, to the front of the class and stands face to face with Stosny.
"What happened?" asks Stosny.
"My girlfriend made me angry."
"Okay," says Stosny. "Imagine the word heals flashing right over her face." Stosny flicks his fingers in front of the young man's face. "Heals, heals, heals," he says. "Can you see it?" he asks.
"Yeah," says the young man, laughing slightly.
Stosny works him through the steps of the acronym.
"Experience your deepest core hurt," Stosny tells the young man. "If it is trouble with family or a loved one, always go to feeling unlovable."
The young man nods.
"Say out loud—you may not want to do this in the men's room—'I feel unlovable.'"
"I feel unlovable," says the young man, smirking and throwing a glance back to his girlfriend.
He continues, mantralike: "Access your core value. What's the most important thing about your life? Think of the people you love. Your spiritual connection. The compassionate things you've done. See the other person as a human and not a demon."
He pauses, giving the young man a moment to absorb the experience. "Love yourself."
Others in the room are riveted. Can this man be converted?
"Which do you prefer," Stosny asks him. "Being angry or compassionate?"
The young man averts his eyes from Stosny, glancing toward the door. "Sometimes I prefer feeling angry," he says, an edge still in his voice.
"Which way do you like yourself?" says Stosny.
The young man pauses to think, then looks at Stosny. "Compassionate," he says in a resigned tone.
The class claps. Stosny hugs him.
The young man, visibly relieved to be out of the spotlight—or perhaps feeling in some ways forgiven—smiles and walks back to the table and his girlfriend.
If Stosny's workshops do nothing else, they are meant to teach clients that they can regulate their own anger, and recognize the potential in healing the pain at its core. It's not only a way for angry people to regain their equilibrium—it's the way we all learn to connect. "We survived as a species because of compassion," he tells his class, "not because of aggression."
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