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When I ask what's the matter, some young people who come to see me (not quite understanding) say, "I've got anger management!" as if they've got a disease. They may well be feeling angry or their apparent anger may be a defence against more difficult feelings such as loss, hurt and powerlessness. Either way, they've been led to believe that there's something wrong with them.
I'm often asked to provide ‘anger management' for young people who lose their tempers or seem to be in a state of perpetual rage. Everyone seems to have heard of this thing called ‘anger management' and everyone seems to think it would be great for the young people they know. By the sound of it, it'll sort everything out. It'll make family life happy again. It'll stop young people being excluded from school and turn them into loving, obedient, grateful sons and daughters. And I'm supposed to be the Dumbledore-figure with this magic potion called ‘anger management'.
I could explain to young people something about the physiology of anger. I could suggest breathing exercises or ways of trying to think different thoughts whenever they feel angry. Instead I find myself listening to stories of promises broken, love betrayed, attachments ripped away and, more often than not, I find myself saying, "I'm not surprised you're angry!"
The young person heaves a sigh of relief.
I'm not denigrating good work done with individuals or groups in the name of ‘anger management'. My concern is that sometimes we simplify and medicate life's most difficult problems. If someone's unhappy, then give him a pill. If life's complex, then pretend it's simple. If someone's angry, then find a magician to give him a dose ‘anger management' and he won't be angry any more.
Anger can't be managed away. Good work done with angry young people will always involve listening, listening and listening because young people have reasons to be angry. Usually they're angry because they've been hurt, because painful things have happened in their lives and because those things have been unfair. They get angry because they care. If they didn't get angry I'd be worried because anger is healthy. It's the opposite of depression. It means being alive, committed, energetic and potentially creative. Nelson Mandela was angry. Jesus Christ was angry. Over the centuries, the world has only improved because people got angry.
Of course, what we do with our anger, the way anger is expressed matters hugely. Hitting people, swearing at them or damaging their property are absolutely not acceptable ways of expressing anger. But anger itself isn't the problem. The problem is when no one's prepared to listen to the anger. When adults won't listen to the anger of young people expressed as words (usually because the adults are so angry themselves), young people are obliged to turn their words into actions in order to be heard or to get a response. Unfortunately, that's when all hell breaks loose and Dumbledore is summoned.
We learn to regulate our feelings once they're recognised and understood by other people. A baby learns this under the gaze of an attentive parent, recognising and responding to its feelings. Eventually the baby internalises this capacity to recognise its feelings and can do the job for itself without needing a parent any longer to be physically present. But for young people who have never developed this capacity to recognise and think about their own feelings, there's no alternative to the experience of being well listened to by another person and then slowly, gradually developing an ability to regulate and listen to themselves.
