I am a psychologist working in clinical and private practice. In my work, people sometimes speak about experiences of power abuse in professional contexts. Often, these experiences include a sexualized element: an unwanted invitation or a boundary crossed, followed — after refusal — by subtle pressure, exclusion or discrediting. The person involved is typically in a hierarchically superior position.

People who come to our clinic from far away feel safe enough to tell me — a perfect stranger — about experiences they have kept hidden for more than 10, 20 or even 30 years. They are not ready to speak openly about such experiences elsewhere. Some are psychologists themselves. I understand why they prefer to remain silent. Speaking up in contexts of power asymmetry is risky and is frequently accompanied by a second injury: being blamed, questioned or quietly devalued for what has happened.

I know this not only from listening, but from experience. When I once found myself in an uncomfortable situation with someone in a position of authority, choosing to speak up did not bring resolution. Not only did I perceive a violation of professional boundaries by the proposition made to me, but after speaking up, I experienced subsequent negative repercussions. I was ostracized, my work was subjected to criticism that I believe lacked professional basis, and my professional reputation came under strain. On occasion, I was even cut off and denied the chance to respond in Zoom meetings by people who had never met me offline but held a strong negative opinion of me. Friends contacted me to check on my well-being after noticing the antagonism directed at me. They noted that I was frequently interrupted, silenced and subjected to hostile comments from members of the group, which they experienced as both unreasonable and intimidating.

This prompted me to attempt to solve the problem in an "OK-OK" manner, via a mediation session. My intention was to avoid the role of persecutor, tell him how I felt and ask him to apologize. I would have accepted a sincere apology immediately. Unfortunately, things did not turn out that way. I left the mediation feeling worse than when I arrived, finding that my effort to resolve the situation had prompted him to take an even harder line. I was blamed for my responses to his overtures, while he minimized his own actions as if they were insignificant. As we know, such invitations are often experienced without witnesses, which allows the person who crossed professional boundaries to deny the allegations or accuse the victim of lying. It is this reality that has compelled me to write this article. I strongly believe we need fair and effective mechanisms to protect every member of our community.

Power and value

As a psychologist and couples therapist, I rely on "OK-ness" as a tool for positive change: Conflict resolution begins where devaluation ends. When we feel validated and valued, we feel safe and open to cooperation. The Transactional Analysis "I’m OK – You’re OK" formula is all about valuing each other; the underlying message is, "I believe you deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, just as I deserve to be treated the same way." In my experience, the power of love is much more effective than the abuse of power.

But what about situations involving hierarchical power? What if you are just a regular community member and the person whose behavior is experienced as an abuse of power is much older and is seen as an authority, so everyone automatically believes everything they say? How can we deal with that force effectively and in a non-devaluing way?

In the post-Me Too era, we recognize the courage it takes for a victim to speak up. Being seen as a victim hurts, not only because of victim-blaming, which is often an inherent part of the narrative, but also because being a victim is an extremely devaluing experience. The hidden message of any devaluation: You are not worthy of better treatment.

Power and value are two sides of the same coin. This is the currency used in all human interactions: Power increases the value of those in possession of it, and being devalued has a disempowering effect. That is why many try to avoid any identification with those who seem powerless and why power is so irresistibly attractive and trustworthy. Disempowerment and powerlessness are the ultimate devaluation: The less valued and valuable we feel, the less "power of love" we can feel inside to protect ourselves in a non-devaluing way. It is a vicious circle of negative effects.

Speaking about the unspeakable

I would like to invite you to consider and discuss the power issue. If we want to thrive, we should be able to talk more openly about power abuse in our field. This would help us to understand its hidden and long-lasting negative effects. It would raise awareness and help to reduce the subjective feeling of powerlessness, which only fuels further devaluing tendencies in our interactions. It would also teach us to treat one another as equals — equally responsible for our own actions and of equal value.

Any of us can become an object of subtle power abuse, regardless of gender or any other identity factor. A senior position should not automatically protect someone from being held accountable for a devaluing action. After all, being human means having cognitive biases, so it should be OK to give and receive feedback on them in a non-devaluing manner. We should all be open to questions at any level of the hierarchy. Unquestionability creates conditions in which power can be misused.

Recognizing the devaluing attitude and its harm enables a good repair — this is the only genuine "OK" attitude. If you experience abuse, find the non-devaluing words to talk about it. Write to me or consider addressing your ethics council if appropriate. Listen to those who want to be heard. We need non-violent, non-devaluing mechanisms that would make everyone in our community feel safe and valued.