I asked Bing AI to help me explore this dilemma.
Your small child throws all of their toys out of their pram. You may be tempted to ask as the one who has to pick them up.
“Why did you do that?”
Your school-age child hides in a cupboard for three hours and reappears just as you are going to ring the police.
“Why did you do that? Didn’t you realise how worried we would be?”
Your teenager doesn’t eat anything for three days?
“Why are you doing this? What do you hope to achieve?”
Your Spouse walks off one morning, switches off their phone and doesn’t return for 24 hours.
“Why?”
What AI has to say
NB. No other part of this article is generated by AI unless specifically stated
The question “why?” is loaded.
The question in itself brings a whole load of baggage with it. The person to whom the question is directed can feel it as a poison arrow. Let’s look at some of the possible imagined subtexts.
- criticism
- judgement
- intimidation
- social inadequacy
- inappropriate expression of feelings
- — — — — add your own in the comments below
Why do you ask why?
In my examples above, I was mainly looking at unconsciously driven acts that dissipate emotions. They are emotional outbursts. Feelings have built up over time; they have not been expressed and inevitably burst out.
Asking ‘why?’ is problematic because it sits at the overlap of three inconvenient truths. Firstly, we are blind to our motivations. Secondly, our conscious mind creates plausible reasons for our often-unconscious choices. Thirdly, when we provide those reasons, we are deeply influenced by social conventions and use our answers to get along in the world. By Andrew Grenville, Chief Research Officer | April 23, 2019
The effect of asking why
This is the most crucial point to get. Someone is acting from an emotionally or unconsciously driven motivation, and the question “why” pierces that space and immediately forces them to access their thinking mind to give an explanation.
As a counsellor, most clients I meet are plagued by their rational minds being too active. Being too emotional is not a thing in the counselling room. Accessing emotions and being able to express them in some way is a vital part of the therapeutic process.
In modern Humanistic or Integrative practice, the rationalising mind often gets in the way of accessing emotions and exploring a pathway to the root cause of upset or discomfort.
Some critics of behavioural approaches to therapy, such as CBT and DBT, which focus on working with the rationalising mind, argue:
CBT is too focused on the thinking or rationalising mind, and that it neglects other aspects of human experience, such as emotions, intuition, creativity, spirituality, and social relationships. Some people may find CBT too rigid, superficial, or mechanistic, and may prefer other forms of therapy that explore deeper issues or offer more flexibility and spontaneity.
[The above is another AI response which makes reference to these 4 websites 1. psychologytoday.com 2. mind.org.uk 3. nhs.uk 4. medicalnewstoday.com]
In my counselling room if I were to ask a client at any point
“Why did you do that?”
I would break the spell of the session. The part of them that was comfortable talking about emotions would immediately disappear back inside, leaving their rationalising mind in control.
This is most people’s default.
The “why?” question is like pressing the reset button. The default programme regains control. They may be coming to counselling because they are repeating patterns learnt in childhood, and these are no longer working. Asking “Why?” can trigger these habitual responses.
The Shopping trolley incident.
A young client gave me permission to share this anecdote about something that happened to him. Let’s call him Nathan.
He began by telling me he had been in detention and was put in a second detention because he couldn’t control his laugh when a peer let off an amazingly musical fart.
“It started low and went high!”
He explained with sound effects and hand gestures.
He then described how he got the first detention.
“I don’t know how it happened, really. It just happened.”
Nathan and his friends went into the playground at break and discovered an abandoned shopping trolley. This caused some excitement, and they started pushing it towards the school building. Once inside, they entered the corridor, a gentle slope all the way through the school.
Nathan then found himself sitting in the trolley, and his peers were launching him down the corridor. Quickly, it picked up speed. Coming towards the double doors, he was terrified of the impact as he was going at such speed. He passed a staircase just before the doors and grabbed onto the handrail, lifting himself out of the trolley seconds before it smashed into the locked entrance doors.
“A teacher asked me why I did it, and I had no idea. I felt I had to make something up, so I said I had accidentally fallen into the trolley as it passed.”
“He knew I was making it up. I knew I was making it up, but what else could I say?”
Any of those boys involved in the shopping trolley incident could make up something when asked, “Why?”. They could blame someone and say they were trying to stop the others.
One might try: “We were taking it to reception for safety, and the other boys got hold of it.”
Now they have blamed others on top of lying, all because the young people feel threatened. There is a threat of judgment and punishment, all contained in the question “Why?”
By asking “why”, you have permanently moved yourself away from understanding what has occurred.
Because of the strong therapeutic relationship between Nathan and myself, he knew I was not interested in “why” he had done it.
He didn’t need my prompting to explore his feelings around the incident. He didn’t attempt to justify his actions or blame others. He doesn’t regret his actions but recognises it was foolhardy.
His main concern was that he felt a little out of control and almost like he was observing himself getting whipped up in the excitement.
“it just happened.”
Together, we both gained some understanding of what had occurred. From my experience, I am confident that in a future session, he will be relating something, and I will be able to say
“Does this feel similar to the Shopping Trolley incident?”
By not asking “why?” we may gain some understanding of the root causes or motivations behind some of his behaviours
Can you stop asking yourself the “Why?” question?
My most potent example of the uselessness of this form of personal enquiry centres around my daughter taking her own life. I will never know why, and my only way of continuing with a life of my own is to accept that I will never know why.
Like some before me, I could make it a life’s mission to find out why. But I know that will simply tear me apart mentally and emotionally. I could blame myself, her workplace culture, her boss, her husband, the NHS, the makers and distributors of pharmaceuticals, society, the academic education system… Once I started writing that list, I realised I had to interrupt it before the end because otherwise, the end would never come.
Why did I train to be a teacher? Why did I leave teaching? Why did I drink too much? Why did I stop? The questions are endless.
These things and questions like them used to occupy my thoughts constantly. When I first entered therapy, I thought the purpose of it was to answer some of these questions.
I realise now that the purpose of therapy has been to get me to a point where I no longer need to ask these “why?” questions. I accept that these things happened. That is enough for me now. I don’t need to make up a big story about why it happened to appease myself or others, to apportion blame or point fingers.
I can still explore those events in my life, but I am not asking why. Instead, I might be asking:
“What did it feel like when I finally left teaching or heard of my daughter’s death? How long did I have that feeling? If I experience that feeling again, might I be able to react more quickly or differently?”
Exploring the answers to all those questions has contributed to my training as a Counsellor. I now have very clear access to my intuition. I can follow that intuition from moment to moment without the interference of my rational mental process. (often, sometimes, most of the time.)
Explore asking what or how questions.
Whether you are having a conversation with yourself, your child, spouse, parent or anyone else, you can explore watching out for those “why?” questions:
- Why did you throw your toys out of the pram? What would you like me to do? Leave them there? Pick them up for you? Give you a hug? How are you feeling right now?
- Why did I just say that? How can I apologise for any upset caused? What was I feeling to have said that? How can I express my feelings more appropriately?
- Why am I still in this job that I hate? How can I find a job I would enjoy more? What is the fear that is keeping me here? How can I accept that this job is a means to an end and not my whole life?
To stop asking “Why?” questions, there must be some acceptance that random shit happens. You could spend vast amounts of energy asking, “Why?” or you could spend that energy more productively asking:
“How can I adapt to this situation? What do I need to nurture myself in these circumstances? How can I rebuild my life from this point?”
Thanks for reading to the end. I appreciate claps and will always respond to comments. You can follow me for future articles or to read previous ones.
First Published in Age of Empathy a Medium publication.