The well-being of professionals: a shared responsibility

By Kasia Uzieblo, Ph.D.

Many professionals working with individuals who have committed sexual offenses often find it challenging to discuss their work with those around them due to fear of misunderstanding or trying to avoid any awkward silences. However, we should be extremely grateful to all these professionals for their daily dedication to preventing sexual violence and their willingness working with these clients. This type of work is far from easy and significantly affects the well-being of these professionals. They may experience emotional and psychological stress from repeated exposure to disturbing and traumatic accounts. Professionals may feel frustration, helplessness, or burnout when dealing with individuals who have committed sexual offences. Additionally, there may be ethical dilemmas and challenges in maintaining objectivity during treatment or supervision of offenders. The nature of the work can also impact personal relationships and social interactions, as professionals may encounter stigma or negative judgment from others. These challenges may partly explain why we face high staff turnover within our forensic services.

It is interesting but especially encouraging to see a growing focus in research on the forensic professional and how they experience their work. To illustrate, two recently published articles underline the impact of working with people who committed sexual offences.

Taylor and colleagues (2024) studied the effects of working with sexual offenders on Canadian probation officers. They interviewed 150 professionals and found that while some probation officers reported no significant impact, many struggled with the nature of their work. Repeated exposure to detailed stories of victimization and perpetration was linked to reduced mental well-being and the development of disorders such as PTSD among professionals. The gender of the professionals was identified as a vulnerability factor, as the field predominantly employs female professionals while working with mainly male offenders who may exhibit dominant behaviour and hostility towards women, which may lead to complex and even threatening interactions between the client and the professional. The personal circumstances of the professional, such as entering into new intimate relationships or the birth of a child, were also intertwined with the experienced negative impact.

Similarly, Maguire and Sondhi (2024) explored the extent and nature of work-related stress among police officers investigating rape cases and serious sexual offenses. They found that despite experiencing work-related stress, a substantial number of police officers continued to work. Many felt compelled to do so either by themselves or through pressure from colleagues or superiors. However, this coping mechanism often proved inadequate and led to negative consequences such as dissociation and compassion fatigue towards victims. While many officers knew where to seek support for psychosocial issues, most felt that their police department did not focus enough on promoting well-being and providing professional psychosocial support.

Whether working with individuals who have committed sexual offenses has a greater impact on well-being compared to working with other forensic populations remains debatable. Nevertheless, these and other studies emphasize that resilience and adequate self-care strategies are necessary when working in this field, which is also highlighted in a recent blog written by David Prescott, Janet DiGiorgio-Miller, and Sarah Snow Haskell. Self-care strategies are however not enough; support from colleagues and supervisors is also essential. It is not solely up to the individual professional to seek necessary support for psychosocial issues, work-related stress, moral dilemmas, etc., but colleagues and supervisors should also be attentive to possible signs of decreased well-being and pro-actively promote collegial or professional support. Caring for the professional is thus a shared responsibility.

The intersection of online and offline behaviours in sexual abuse: reframing approaches

 By Kieran McCartan, PhD & Sophie King-Hill, PhD

Over recent years there has been a rise in conversations about sexual abuse in the online environment. These conversations encompass a wide range of online behaviours such as catfishing and its impacts, sexual and relationship education in UK schools, the production of Child Sexual Exploitation material internationally, as well as the nature of pornography on legal sites (i.e., Pornhub). The main premise that all these conversations have in common is how the relationship between sexual abuse and exploitation is understood in the online and the offline world.

There are different components to consider when addressing the issue of online sexual abuse. These include education, safeguarding/child protection, law enforcement, and the responsibilities of online companies. These all need consideration when attempting to understand and change social norms in relation to the online world. Many of the solutions that are offered are rooted in established models and ways of thinking because they are familiar to us does, however due to the differing complexities of the online world they may not be fit for purpose. One of the first steps in this process is to recognise the differences between online and offline sexual abuse.

Research has been ongoing into the online world for the past 30 years, with knowledge and practice moving on significantly. Due to this there is a relatively good understanding of the practices that occur online, who partakes in them, the reasons why they engage in these activities, and how we can prevent reoffending. The understanding of the relationship with technology and the online world has evolved and it is not simple.

The online and offline worlds are becoming increasingly intertwined in our daily lives and identities. In relation to young people, the boundaries between these two worlds are not present and are seamless. Therefore, it is important that professionals recognise how identities are evolving on and offline. There needs to be a shift in the understanding of behaviour and action and how we think about this issue needs to shift.

Online sexual behaviours need reframing to recognize that our current ideas about the online world and how to approach the issues that it presents are not fit for purpose. The relationship between the online and offline worlds needs to be redefined in respect to sexual abuse. Consideration needs to be given to how conversations are framed in society and how change policy and practice can influence this. Realistic education and awareness programmes are needed that put this debate at their heart, that don’t see talking about the online environment as a bolt on or afterthought and that actively involve the users.

It is therefore important to recognise that our perspectives of this are rooted in our experiences and knowledge of the offline world and these need to adapt and evolve to fully tackle the issue of online sexual abuse and harmful sexual behaviours.

Finding joy in our work and our lives

By David S. Prescott, LICSW

Reviewing the blog posts and ATSA communications for the membership (The Wire, the Catalyst newsletter) of the past few weeks provides a wonderful snapshot of the work we all do. From risk assessment to protective factors, and empirically sound treatment, it’s all in there. As we’ve said before, the people in this field can be real superheroes.

Of course, there are topics that can be difficult to talk about. A recent survey found many of us experiencing the signs and symptoms of burnout despite having good overall self-care practices. Likewise, last week’s blog, about imposter syndrome  generated lots of agreement (ironically, almost all through private channels).

None of these topics address the joy that can be found in doing this work. It is easy to overlook and often fleeting.

If I may share an example: In the mid-1990s I worked in a residential treatment program for adolescents. I had provided treatment to a young man who had caused significant harm to his siblings.  They had all been horribly abused by their stepfather. He had been placed in another program that was shut down by the state because of rampant sexual abuse by the staff against him and others. Working with him was a challenge. Privately, some staff had even given him the lighthearted nickname of “the Hurricane.” We worked to put his life back together, address his own victimization, his actions towards his brother, and everything one might expect. After much work, we were able to step him down to a program much closer to his home.

In the hours after he left the program and I was preparing for more cases to come my way, my supervisor said, “Nice work, David. You never violated the relationship.” She was right, but it would take many hours for the full impact to set in. I had focused for so long on the tasks of treatment and the various case-management and documentation needs, that I had forgotten the sheer joy of the work itself. I had never considered the joy that comes with providing a relationship centered on helping the other to reach their full potential. And I had never considered the joy of taking one step closer in the direction of being a better therapist, citizen, and man. It’s fundamental to the reason any of us do this work: we want to help, and it feels good to get it right.

Why is it that we don’t discuss joy in our work more often? Is it because it’s not always so well defined? I went to the Merriam-Webster dictionary online, and its first definition was “the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.” Personally, I wonder about some of this. What kind of success, fortune, or possessions? Is this a materialistic sort of joy? Is there more? Maybe our difficulty defining it contributes to our difficulty talking about it? Maybe we don’t talk about joy because so much of it is beyond words? Maybe it’s because we often bond with one another talking about our pains, fears, and misfortunes? Maybe it’s because the joy we experience is often so fleeting? (After all, the joy in the case above was time-limited by my need to open another case the same day!)

There could be many reasons why we don’t always focus on joy as much as we could. After all, too many of us work in joyless environments with clients who have never experienced joy. Is it too easy for us to become numb and jobless as a part of working in close proximity to abuse? Do we lack the skills not just to self-regulate, but to co-regulate with others as a partial result of bearing witness to suffering? Is returning to a place of joy a skill that we can develop? I believe it is.

I watched ATSA Past President Dr. Tyffani Dent give a speech to some colleagues while accepting an award a few years ago. She talked about her experiences of “Black joy,” those moments somewhere between fulfillment and ecstasy that she and others experience simply by virtue of being Black. Despite the horrific legacy of racism, this Black joy has never gone away. I came away with the impression that it is indestructible, at least from the outside. If I’ve read correctly between the lines, Tyffani actively and intentionally maintains an awareness that joy is possible, and takes effective action to find it, with others, in her life. Can we all do something similar?

As the reader will notice, I do not profess to having the answers, only questions. If I may be permitted some lighthearted humor, no one knows better than me that I will never directly experience Black joy. But just being in its presence for those moment gave me deep hope for the future. How can we become aware of the possibilities for joy all around us? Probably more accurately, how can we return to our places of joy more frequently and deeply? Despite the challenges of our jobs, the work itself provides many opportunities for joy.

Imposter Syndrome

By David S. Prescott, LICSW, and Kasia Uzieblo, PhD 

At last year’s ATSA conference, David had the good fortune to facilitate two discussion groups for people who, due to their circumstances, don’t have many colleagues with whom they can speak openly. By far the two biggest topics that came up were working in isolation and imposter syndrome, also known more recently as “imposterism.”

During these sessions, newcomers to the field heard from us old-timers, who all agreed that we still feel it often. It all reminded me of the time — years ago — when a world-famous researcher openly discussed how even his submissions have occasionally not been accepted for the ATSA conference. While many simply acknowledged having had the same experience, many more thanked the researcher profusely, saying they were grateful to know that they were not alone; it can happen to anyone! 

Have you ever had that feeling that someday you will be outed as the fraud you fear you might be? I (David) am very lucky that I was far along in my career, with nothing to prove to anyone, when a disgusted colleague approached me.  My name had come up in conversation with a prominent researcher who said, “Don’t forget… He’s not Dr. Prescott, just Mr. Prescott.” My response was probably along the lines of “whatever,” but doubtless it would have hurt had I still been an early career professional. Not everyone has been so lucky. 

The reason I mention all this is not because of all the research showing just how common imposterism is across professions. Nor is it to illustrate that men are just as prone to it as women and nonbinary people. It’s to emphasize something about ATSA members learned across many decades now: we have your back! We support you and want you to succeed! What you do and who you are matters. As much as we may argue over research and practice within ATSA, the work you do on a day-to-day basis is likely to help our clients and communities. 

While there are legitimate questions about treating and over-treating the truly low risk, and similar questions about the structures of our laws (lifetime supervision, civil commitment, etc.) the fact remains that everyone doing this work has something to contribute to our broader goals of stopping offending, helping clients live better lives, and building community safety. 

If there is anything most ATSA members learn from membership and attendance at our conferences, it’s that we all support each other and especially our newer members and students. As a part of this, it’s worth mentioning that those of us who are further along in our work lives don’t always have to project a perfect image of ourselves. Allowing ourselves to be open about our doubts and failures can also be inspiring and reassuring precisely to those who look up to them or are making their way in the field. We all have an obligation to help the next generation along.

Psychologist Jill Stoddard recently wrote a book on this topic titled, Imposter No More. In it she advocates flexible thinking skills that can help individuals find their way through the often crippling effects of imposterism. In her TED Talk and interviews, she discusses her own experiences, including how her family teased her with weight-related nicknames. She is now a highly regarded practitioner of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, often referred to simply as ACT. Every time she shares her story, making herself vulnerable along the way, she touches hearts and inspires others. Her work is worth a look. 

In his recent interview with ATSA Executive Director Amber Schroeder, Karl Hanson also emphasized the importance of proceeding fearlessly with our careers while remaining open to the feedback that helps us become more effective. 

In the end, the message from ATSA’s leadership and blogging team is simple. We have your back! If you’re feeling like you have no one to talk with, feel free to reach out. No one should feel alone in this work.

The challenge of balancing human rights for all

By Kieran McCartan, PhD.,  & David S. Prescott, LICSW

Last week’s blog post focused on an unfortunate reality: We can’t always discuss things publicly lest we be labelled as political partisans. Although no one is without some degree of biases and leanings, it is simply too easy to attack and be attacked for statements taken out of context. We recall the sad fate of someone who commented in social media that balancing the human rights of the client and the community can be a challenge. His statement was sent to a local politician, who went to the media and scored significant political points saying that this doctoral level researcher and policy wonk had a “catch-and-release policy towards predators.” (It is worth noting that many human rights are enshrined in international law as well as state and agency policies; the Tokyo Rules are one example. In the US, the death penalty has been ruled unconstitutional for sex crimes, but that hasn’t stopped some states from trying.)

Working in the criminal-justice field often presents many paradoxes and contradictions that leave professionals conflicted about their roles, and/or their belief systems. In some cases, we have to and having to justify our roles to others. On the one hand, compassionate treatment approaches are the most effective. On the other hand, the practitioner may have to work hard to to look beyond their own biases and beliefs to do so. Important to remember is that having compassion for someone does not mean that you condone or endorse their behavior; it means that you can see into their situation, try to understand, and prioritize their highest needs (which means developing a lifestyle free of harming others).

Over the years, this blog’s authors have written about the early-life adversity that has influenced our clients and the need for trauma informed practice in order to ensure the most effective participation in treatment. What we often talk about less is human rights, although many have done so. It’s easy to respect the human rights of law-abiding people, but more difficult top do that for people who have hurt and harmed others.

In recent weeks there have been many cases across Europe that have called for us to have respect for others, to call in question our moral lens and to advocate for human rights in difficult cases. We have seen a call for care homes to be built for aging individuals convicted of sexual crimes, an individual being tried and convicted of manslaughter on the grounds for diminished responsibility for the murder of three people last year in the UK, and the change in incarceration conditions for Josef Fritz as a result of his dementia diagnosis. These cases beg the question of how we best treat those whose who have committed horrific crimes when their capacity to understand their punishment is gone. Where are our human rights thresholds?

Not surprisingly, many have found it difficult to tread a line between compassion and punishment, especially when the system is built on the grounds of punishment. Public, as well as political, sentiment often reflects that. However, its important to remember that many professionals are in the field of rehabilitation, even as we work in environments that stem from punishment.

Rehabilitation, treatment, and support cannot be seen as an afterthought or an add-on to punishment. We all want people to come out of the criminal justice system better able to manage themselves in society than when they went in, or at least no worse. We have seen the damaging legacy of doing nothing through the failed “nothing works” doctrine of the 70’s and 80’s started by Robert Martinson, and that became a hallmark of the Reagan-Bush and Thatcher eras. We know though research and practice that treatment works, but that it can take effort and that it works in different ways, at different times, for different people. This can make it complex and not easy to rationalize or fund when one can’t entirely predict the outcomes. Although it can seem like we are in a revised nothing-works era currently, that is not true with the influence of public health and prevention policies in criminal justice. We are still talking about treatment and rehabilitation; but it’s challenging for professionals at times to engage in these conversations and find support.

We need to be compassionate in our work and think about the human rights of often risky and at-times dangerous people. How can we hope for them to reduce their risk and to integrate back into society if they can’t learn about pro-social, empathic, and good behavior from us? How can we best accept our clients even as we don’t accept their behaviors? How do we process our work with others? How do we explain it? Where do we seek help? And, more importantly, do we get help when we ask? It is important to provide a rationale, critically discuss, and support each other in the challenging times we are experiencing. Supporting people who have seriously offended and are dangerous is as much a collective endeavour as an individual one.