Rebellion is an Adaptive Trait

My wife and I have had four dogs over the course of our three and a half decades together. Whenever I have made the mistake of pulling on any of their leashes, they have all pulled in the opposite direction, every time. Believe me, left to their own devices, they always want to go where ever I go. I know this because when there is no leash involved they follow right on my heels, hot breath on the backs of my legs, tripping me up when I turn around unexpectedly, but if they sense I'm compelling them, their instinctive response is to rebel.

I've found this to be true in humans as well. No one likes to be told what to do, even when we know it's for our own good, even when it's something we want to do. Imagine being commanded, "Eat your dessert!" I might still eat that dessert, but there will be a moment of reluctance, of rebellion, even if it's chocolate ice cream. When I do eat it, it's not going to taste as good after being bossed into it. And depending on who says it and how they say it, there's about an equal chance I won't eat that damn ice cream at all.

Rebellion is built into us and ultimately it is an adaptive trait. We all pull back against the leash because we are designed to act according to the pull of our own instincts and the tug of our own knowledge. Of course, we've all found ourselves in circumstances when we've decided that we must stuff our rebellious urges, but we always grow to despise those dictatorial bosses, teachers, or spouses. If we do well it's usually "in spite" of them. And, of course, we wriggle out of those particular leashes as soon as we possibly can.

We set limits and rules and our children always test them. Even the most patient and progressive among us know, from the inside, that teeth grinding spiral of commands and refusals, until we finally resort to either physical force or the heavy hand of punishment. It leaves everyone feeling angry, resentful, and abused. And if we're not careful, if we're not conscious adults, these smaller spirals become part of a larger whirlpool of ever escalating rule breaking and punishments because every pull on the leash, every punishment, leads to a pull in the opposite direction.

Some of us have decided that this rebellion is a bad thing, at least when it's directed at us, and it must be quashed at all costs. We're the parents or teachers after all. We will not have our authority challenged. If that's your approach, your future will likely be either one of temporary, savorless victories followed by frustration, or a regime that involves punishments of increasingly extreme severity. Every study ever done on the subject of punishment (both parental and societal) winds up concluding that punishments only work under two circumstances:

1. when the punisher is present; or
2. when the punishment is debilitating (e.g., so disproportionately severe that one will never again risk it.)

Most of us are unwilling or unable to play the role of ever-present punisher. And I hope that none of us are the type to inflict debilitating punishments on a child.

And rewards, frankly, are just the flip side of the same coin, but instead of teaching children that those with power get to tell them what to do, a fundamentally anti-democratic notion, they learn to kiss up to those in power. Either way, the child is left to react, rather than think for themselves, which should be, in the end, one of the primary objectives of child-rearing.

The alternative is to accept rebellion as a demonstration that our child is healthy and normal, that it is not a sign that they are on their way to a life of crime and ruin, but rather evidence that they think for themself, trust their own instincts, and will not be pushed around. When we accept this, we see that our job is to guide rather than command our children, to help them come to the understanding that behavior has its own rewards and consequences. I've written before about "natural consequences" and they apply here. 

A parent taking away a boy's dessert because he hits his sister isn't the natural consequence of hitting. The consequence is that his sister is hurt and the evidence of that is the crying. That's where our attention ought to be. "You've hurt your sister," keeps the focus on the boy's behavior, allowing everyone to explore the consequence and potential remedies. "No dessert for you," turns the boy's attention on the "unfairness" of the parent who is pulling on that damn leash.

Rebelliousness is not a synonym for "anti-social" or "uncivil," it's merely a reaction to the leash. We all want to do the right thing and none of us wants to be told what to do. In The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think, we will learn how to set aside the leash in favor of children who are free to think for themselves the way nature intends. When we do that, rebellion tends to be replaced with agreement, cooperation, and eagerness, not because they were compelled to it, but because they choose it, which are, at the end of the day, what most of us want from our fellow citizens no matter their age.

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If you're interested in learning more about alternatives to commands, punishments, and rewards, please consider registering for my 6-week course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think. Please join the 2024 cohort as we examine how the language we use with children creates reality . . . for better or worse! We will explore how the way we speak with children creates an environment in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. Group discounts are available, but hurry because registration closes at midnight tomorrow (Wednesday, May 15). Click here for more information and to register.

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