Power exists regardless of whether we acknowledge it

Time for me to get some continuing education credits. I'm sitting in a hotel meeting room, one of 500 or so therapists and social workers, and the speaker/trainer is introduced. He has written a book about building healthy community -- neighborhoods, schools and workplaces. He's known nationally. In the first five minutes of his presentation, he says, emphatically and proudly, "I'm no expert! We're all experts!" And the people applaud.

Except for me. Me? I'm stunned. I turn to my colleague and friend, and, with no little irony, say: "If he's not an expert, why did he write a book? And, more importantly, why did I just give him $300 for the privilege of spending the day with him?"

My friend laughs: "Steven, I can't take you anywhere."

I'm sitting in a room full of priests and pastors, listening to an Episcopal bishop present a training program about church leadership. He is critical of hierarchical leadership. He's calling for an end to hierarchy. While he doesn't say so in words, you can tell that he thinks this position is enlightened, even morally superior. He draws an ellipse on the whiteboard, and says that healthy leadership is more like a circle where different people naturally assume different roles, each according to their gift and calling. This, he says, is more respectful and has less chance of abuses of power. The priests and pastors nod in affirmation.

Except for me. Me? I don't get it. When a community decides to pretend hierarchies of power don't exist, all that happens is the hierarchy is pushed beneath the surface, into the dark, where it operates covertly, even sometimes unconsciously, and certainly with less accountability. Seems to me abuses of power would become more likely. When I join a community, the first thing I want to know is who is in charge.

I'm sitting in a room of therapist interns and practicum students. The subject for discussion is the power and authority of the therapist in a therapeutic relationship. One intern says, "I'm really uncomfortable with the word 'power.' "

I could kiss him for his honesty. "Good," I say. "You should be. Always a little uneasy, and therefore alert to the power you wield in a session. But we can't let our discomfort allow us to pretend we don't have power. Because that's when we'll make mistakes. That's when we can do harm."

Power, authority, hierarchy, experts -- when did we decide those were bad things? When did we decide we'd be more enlightened and humble and respectful when we convinced ourselves such things could be abandoned?

The foundation of ethical relationships is the willingness to observe power and imbalances of power. If I'm blindfolded and you're not, if you have a gun and I don't, if you have knowledge and experience I don't have, if you are my boss and I your subordinate, if you know my name and I don't know your name -- all of these things place me at a disadvantage. And I'm counting on you to know that and respect that -- be humbled by it -- so that you don't hurt me.

Healthy families have healthy hierarchies. Parents are in charge. That's it. The end. Children are respected and heard, but they are not in charge. And they are happiest and thrive best when they know that.

Healthy marriages contain husbands and wives who are cognizant of their power; chiefly, their power to hurt each other. Healthy spouses mitigate this power by choosing words generous, compassionate and encouraging -- especially when the subject is painful -- rather than curt, abrupt and scornful.

Who is the most powerful person on an airplane cruising at 38,000 feet? Pretty sure it's the pilot. And I'm going to be disappointed if he/she walks out of the cabin, demurs in a perversion of humility and says, "I don't have any power!" Nope. Please be the expert. Fly the plane. Assume the authority. Don't ever forget that you're in charge.

When someone in a position of power tells you "I don't have any power," run away quickly. Because either that person is unaware of the power he/she wields, and is therefore likely to hurt you, or that person is lying, in which case you can count on them hurting you.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling Wellness Center in Las Vegas and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at skalas@reviewjournal.com.