The Pandora’s Box paradox




      It's so easy to target someone who is a bit       
  different. If only the bullies realised what 
tremendous cowards that makes them.

 
15 year old Jeffrey Scott Johnston killed himself after a three year Internet campaign orchestrated and carried out by a classmate called Robert Roemmick who to this day shows no remorse for what he drove a young boy to do.


Jeff’s mother has posed the question, which I paraphrase  here, “Knowing that he was only going to find pain and injury, why did Jeff keep logging on to the Internet?”

You could ask the same question of any person who is bullied via a dozen Internet technologies. You could even ask “Why do you keep looking at texts or answering the phone to people who you know will hurt you?”

Anyone who’s ever been bullied will be able to answer that question in an instant. There are several reasons:

Many kids woul rather take serious injury rather than
surrender in this situation. Defiance may be the last piece
of self-respect left to the victim

As soon as you allow the bullies to chase you out of your own world, then you’re truly defeated. If you’ve ever seen a bully hold down a kid, and torment them in some way to make the victim say what the bully wants, you’ll know that most victims will endure an inordinate amount of pain before finally surrendering. In fact, in that situation, many will take genuine injury, rather than surrender. Stubborn resistance is often the only dignity left to the chronically bullied. The last vestige of control over their own desitiny.



As a kid, I was beaten up at school and around my neighbourhood, and chased many, many times, but it when I was kept from my own backyard that I felt the most defeated and upset, because the confines of my world had contracted right up to my front door.

Now with internet bullying, even the home is no longer a refuge.

Up until the age of about 12, I had a terrifying fear of the dark. Many nights I literally lay in the dark hour upon hour, with my heart pounding, too scared to go get help; too scared to move in case I attracted the attention of the imaginary monsters that scared me. When I was young, I would hide under the covers, as the air I breathed got hotter and hotter, and staler and staler, feeling safer because I couldn’t be seen. But as I got older, I forced myself to stay above the covers – to stare into the darkness – to face my fears head on. I still felt the fear, but I somehow felt as though I had some small measure of control if a situation developed. I wasn’t passively buried, hoping not to feel a hand on my ankle – I was facing my demons.

So sometimes, although it’s painful to see and hear the hateful lies people might be saying about you, at least if you know what people are saying, you can try to fight it. A whispering campaign behind your back can destroy your life just as surely, with a million knives in the back. I respect Jeff Johnston for his approach. He had the courage to face his tormentors – to know his enemies. What he lacked, was the aggressive nature that would have allowed him to take the fight to them. It’s a characteristic of many sensitive kids.


It may seem to parents that kids who are Cyberbullied
hold the control over whether or not they
                return to the tormenting grounds, but it's not that simple...               

Gentleness, sensitivity, creativity and warmth are traits that most parents would cherish in their kids, and they’re characteristics that make for terrific adults. The only trouble is, they do leave the kids so much more emotionally vulnerable as they grow up.

When Deborah asks, “Why did Jeff keep going where he was bullied?” I ask her, in the kindest and least accusational possible way, “Why did you allow him to have a computer and free phone access, knowing that they were being used against him?”

And the answer to that brings me to my third reason why a victim would keep returning to the places where he will be victimised, and maybe it’s the hardest one to deal with. It’s because for some children, hope springs eternal. Even knowing that knowledge is like opening Pandora's box to all the evils and pain of bullying, that tiny flickering flame of optimism keeps drawing you back, in the hope that this time things will be different. And I suspect, for Jeffrey, it was when that tiny flame finally sputtered and died, that he felt the hopelessness engulfing him.

I remember the sad story of Ryan Halligan, who was bullied, but having finally stood up for himself against his tormentor, was instantly willing to forgive and forget when the other boy started to act in a friendly way. Ryan opened his heart and his innermost secrets to the boy, and the boy took those confidences and used them to destroy Ryan’s world and his very existence.



Perhaps it would be better to work prosaicly towards bullying resolution with your kids, rather
than leaving them to hope that the situation can be resolved with optimism and reason



I think that for some kids, the belief that the situation may be resolvable is what helps them to endure. So they continue to go where they are tormented, to listen to the words of those that hurt them, because they cling to the hope that if they could just find allies; if they could explain their point of view; if they could just detect a softening in the hate, then they could turn things around and finally end their torment. It’s a wonderful characteristic – the childlike innocence and belief that every situation is saveable. It’s also not true.

In a future article, I will be talking about “target hardening”; teaching our kids how to comport themselves so that they reduce the likelihood of becoming victims. But perhaps we also need to talk about “heart hardening” – toughening our kids’ hearts so that they have a more realistic belief in the ways of the world. Optimism is a powerful emotional state, and it can accomplish a lot, but it needs to be based in reality. So if you see your child clinging desperately to the hope that human decency will prevail, or that the bullies will move on to other victims, or that they can win them over with reason, perhaps you need to take control of the situation with action that targets the bullies’ present behaviour, rather than depending on a positive turn of events that your child could die hoping for. Because even hope has its sell-by date, and after that, sometimes all that is left is pain and despair…

Postscript

It’s particularly ironic that Jeffrey’s tormentor, Robert Roemmick now complains about verbal harassment from strangers on his Myspace and Facebook accounts. He declares, “I am done with this section of my life...

I wonder if he put it behind him before or after allegedly sending instant messages entitled “Boo hoo your son’s dead”? Or after allegedly starting websites to attack Jeffrey’s mother following the boy’s suicide? He further complains, “People who DIDN'T EVEN KNOW ME were harassing me through MySpace and Facebook”.  Welcome to Jeffrey’s world. Maybe your comments and your actions before and after Jeffrey’s death say all that anyone needs to know about you Robert. Looks like your birds have come home to roost.

I did invite Robert to put his side of the story, because it seemedthat there might be more to this than met the eye, but he has politely declined.

It’s also especially telling that having allegedly attacked Jeffrey’s sexuality, Robert now acknowledges that he himself is gay.  Was Robert trying to redirect attention, or was it, as he asserts, preposterous that he would attack Jeffrey for a trait he himself shared (if he was out at that time). Of course, the epithet "faggot", is often used without literal reference to a person's sexuality, so who knows? Jeffrey may have felt his masculinity being attacked, whilst Robert was simply being generically offensive.

To be honest, I had planned to write an extremely offensive concluding comment aimed at Robert here, but having briefly spoken to him, I didn't find him to be the beast he has been portrayed to be. He is polite, patient and respectful. He complains that every interview he and his friends have ever granted, has been cut and edited to fit the picture of them as tormentors.



 Robert Roemmick - merciless, cackling, gloating, in denial cyberbully
who hounded a young boy to his death, or something else?
Only he knows for sure, and he's not talking

I have sympathy for him on that. I know what a manipulative bunch of ammoral scum some journalists can be. On the other hand, again, I wonder if that was how Jeffrey felt, as his actions were portrayed by Robert and his friends, to fit this negative image they'd built of him. To hack away at someone for almost three years seems to me to betray a particularly vindictive and unpleasant personality. But what do I know? I wasn't there. Robert probably had a perfectly good reason to drive Jeffrey to his death. Like the fact that Jeff looked a bit different, wore black, or had long hair...

I very much wish that for the sake of balance, Robert would explain his side of the story, because no matter how pleasant he is now, I can't get it out of my head that he appears to feel absolutely no sadness or remorse that his words and actions, no matter how justified he may have felt them to be at the time, drove a boy to suicide. And if Robert really cares nothing about that, then he truly is psychopathic scum, and really shouldn't be free to walk around with decent people.

How does it feel to be regularly bullied?

My last year of elementary/junior school. At the time, I lived in fear of the
bullies, but now all of my classmates (most of whom were nice kids) just look
so small and young

Bullying can be a one-off, or it can continue over days, months or even years. Some kids have been so traumatized by a single incident that it destroyed them, whilst others have endured years of bullying with stoicism. I guess it’s different for each person, so I can only speak for me, but hearing from other people, I think that my feelings were not that dissimilar.

Serious bullying started for me around age nine or ten. I was bullied by individuals and a “gang”. The word “gang” makes it sound a lot more urban than it was. I lived in a suburban town called Basildon, and I went to really quaint redbrick school called Janet Duke (which I’ll be mentioning in a positive light in a later blog). But wherever you are, when a bunch of kids orchestrates harassment and violence in such a way that the various members scout for you throughout the school, it feels like a gang to a young child. Looking back, the word “pack” would perhaps be a better term.

There was a lot of racial taunting at first, which mostly took place in the playground or in class when the teacher was not close. It used to make me feel pretty queasy and isolated, but the worst thing is, I knew if I showed unhappiness, it would only get worse. So I’d be working at my desk, and these little taunts would be lobbed across at me, digging into my heart, and making me wish I wasn’t who I was. And the really funny thing was, one at least one occasion, one of the milder bullies came up to me and said, “I like you; you’re a good sport.” Which means that I didn’t whine when I was bullied. That’s one of the first lessons the victim learns about survival – don’t give the bullies more to use against you, and don’t show weakness. It’s also one of the reasons why kids won’t report to the teacher nowadays.

The name-calling progressed to physical violence, with one group of perhaps 4-6 boys harassing me frequently during break times and lunch break. It would range from name calling to shoving, to punching and tripping and kicking, to actual beatings. The funny thing is, to the best of my memory, it never occurred to me to seek help.

Each recess/break, I had a choice to make; I could try to play within earshot and sight of a teacher or dinner lady, or I could try to find a quiet corner to hide, like the back playground, or near the school pond, or close to the huts, where nobody went. If I chose a quiet place, of course I had to be on constant alert in case a member of this gang happened upon me. If they did, I had to get out and make a break for a supervised place as quickly as possible. I won't say that my school life at this time was a wholly miserable one, but I was certainly nervous and on edge the whole time, and having to stay away from all the other kids meant that it was hard to form friendships.

Bullying at school and outside went in fits and starts for me. It would intensify for a few months, then die away.

The problem with bullying is it doesn’t even stop once you’re home and safe. For me, there were times when I had to consider if it was even safe for me to go visit people’s houses or go swimming at the local pool. Did my route take me within a risk area?

Both at school and outside, I had to be constantly vigilant about who was within a 100 yard radius of me so that I could never be cornered. Fortunately, I was an excellent sprinter and long distance runner, so with 10 yards start, there wasn’t a person in my town who could catch me.

But even if I stayed at home, the misery wasn’t over. It just sits in your mind like a spectre, looming over everything. So when the bullying was at its worst, (which fortunately was not for more than a few months I think) I might watch some TV, or play a game, or read a book, and I’d be distracted, then the second the distraction was over, I’d remember what I had to look forwards to, and the stress would fill my stomach in a sickly lurch.

If I thought about before bed, it would be hard to sleep, and the first thought in my head, even before I opened my eyes, would be this stomach wrenching lurch of apprehension about what the day would bring.

And I know compared to some kids nowadays, I had it easy. At least it was only a small group at school, and random people away from school. I was sporty, friendly, pleasant-looking, and most students were fairly neutral towards me.

It carried on for a couple of years once I moved up to senior school (junior high), although I think it became milder, and the taunts broadened to include sexual slurs, which I think is simply part of male teenage life. I certainly don’t remember needing the elaborate defensive strategies in senior school that I needed in junior school. It helped that the bullies separated and went to different schools at that time, and that I grew to well over six foot tall for by the age of 13!

Also, I was pushed so far that I finally snapped, and with nothing left to lose in my mind, I stood up to, and beat, a number of the bullies in one-on-one confrontations. It wasn’t heroic; it was desperate, and I was probably the lamest fighter ever, but there’s something very intimidating about the raw fury of someone fighting for their very survival, and the people I fought never participated against me again…

Anyone who knows me might be surprised to know that I’ve even been the victim of mild cyber-bullying. In fact, I think it’s a lot for common than people realise, even amongst adults.

I used to frequent various forums, and at one forum I liked, the forum admin kept orchestrating arguments against me. His lackeys would go on overnight, post abusive comments, then he would shut down the thread so that the comments remained but I couldn’t even defend myself verbally. I used to log on each morning, with a real sense of trepidation, not really wanting to, but unwilling to simply walk away from something important to me. My experience sounds very mild, and it is compared to what some poor kids go through. It irritates me that there are still insults against me on the internet out there now that I cannot get erased. My mom says, “Well why do people keep going back to get hurt?”, but when there’s a place where you love to go, to talk about things you like, you feel like you have a right to be there. And it’s even worse now with Facebook and the like. For many people that’s their primary social medium, and not returning is almost not even an option.

I know when I was in the middle of it, the bullying was the most important thing in my life, because it cast a cloud over everything. Now, looking back, I really wish that I had asked for help from my mom and the teachers, because if they knew how bad it was, I’d like to think that they could have helped me resolve it.

The gang at junior school was primarily lead by two tough guys, and I used to breathe such a sign of relief when the main one wasn't at school, because it meant a day off for me too, as the gang lost its purpose without him. Funny enough by about 14 or 15, both of these guys had really lost their power. They still had reputations as hard men, but the gangs they had lead, and the status they once had, had faded to nothing. By the time I left school, both had been very friendly too me, and I remember their last years at school as rather isolated and pathetic.

If I had a message for anyone reading this, it would be not to suffer in silence. Bullying is a far better understood thing now than it used to be, and tolerance for it is getting lower and lower. You don’t have to dread going to school. You don’t have to dread leaving your house. You don't have to dread going onlne. Your life can get back to normal again.

Bullying or simply being playful - Trouble with "The Line"



Emoticons can help convey mood when communicating online
But it's all-too easy for armchair warriors to give out bad vibes
from the safety of their bedroom, that they would dream of giving face to face



Since discovering the horrific impact of bullying upon people’s lives, I have become determined never to bully anyone again. I didn’t even realise I was bullying people, but reading through the list of behaviours that others may consider bullying, I’ve come to realise that unwittingly, I have been contributing to the problem.

But now I’m just plain confused. I second-guess every single word; every action. I don’t know where the line is anymore. What’s playful and what’s hurtful? People laugh when they’re being hurt, as a defence mechanism. We all know that the easiest way to draw the taunts of name callers is to show unhappiness at their words – reacting is like the beep of a metal detector telling them when they are getting closer to our vulnerabilities.

On the other hand, my friends and I often putting out low-level, peurile teasing of each other. Playing cards, computer games, soccer, or doing karate we are constantly taunting and ripping on each other, and we all take it in the spirit in which it is meant – or do we? I don’t know. My compass is spinning wildly now, and I’m not sure where the line is now.

I think of one friend and training buddy: we were both digging at each other, but nothing with any side at all. And I came up with a totally ludicrous insult; deliberately chosen because it had no possibility of relating to anything about her. I told her that she smelled of cabbage. And she laughed, and over the next few weeks, we continued our relationship as normal, with her giving out the jibes as often as she took them. I continued the cabbage joke, and I thought it was like our little pet thing, then she suddenly says all serious, “Stop, you’re making me paranoid now.” Of course, I stopped immediately, but it got me worrying that none of our jibes were really safe.

I guess amongst friends, maybe we can risk things that we would never throw out to people not in our inner circle, simply because they know our intent, and because they are tolerant of our apologies if we go too far, whereas we may not have that opportunity to clarify or apologise with mere acquaintances.

And the Internet is only making it worse. Online, unless people specifically add emoticons for clarification, (and many don’t bother) communication is devoid of the normal cues that we have to each other’s mood, and intent. “You suck” and “You suck J” may look almost identical, but they may carry a world of different intent.

I’m coming to learn that in action and deed, I’m going to need to be a lot more careful about what I do. Sometimes, I have a dryish, intellectual sense of humour that verges on acerbic. I know that that is very easy to misinterpret negatively, even though in fact, I’m not a person holds much negative emotion towards anyone, and I try to be easy-going and tolerant of other lifestyle choices, be it in dress, speech, sexuality, or whatever. When it comes to religion and politics, perhaps I’m less easy going, but then those matters rarely arise.

I would say that I am a people person, and my gregarious nature often leads me to be more familiar with people than they may feel towards me. So again, now I feel the need to tread softly with people that don’t really know me.

One person's roughhousing is another's bullying. It's all

about the participants' relationship and the mood of the moment

In the training hall, I love to roughhouse sometimes, but I’ve realised that sometimes, even though full-grown men may initiate a bout of horseplay, that their threshold can be reached suddenly, without build up, and sometimes they can take away bad feelings if I am not sensitive to their changing moods.

I think that it comes down to two things: respect and sensitivity. By extending respect to everybody, I don’t place my gratification above their feelings, and by being sensitive, hopefully I can gauge their changing moods. I don’t think that means never being playful with my friends, but increasingly I do think that means I need to err on the side of caution.