Behavior Modification and Brainwashing

For-Profit Therapy Damaging America’s Youth

If you were to poll the average American about the use of behavior modification and brainwashing in today’s society, they would likely respond by naming cults, POW camps, secret government agencies, and foreign propaganda films. Should you attempt to explain that these tactics are currently being used today in America against unwilling children and teenagers, they would likely respond in disbelief.

For those of us who have endured the troubled teen industry, we understand firsthand that these practices are alive, well and thriving in this underground industry.  While a comprehensive total of the number of privately run “behavior modification” facilities for teens and children is unknown, it is estimated that tens of thousands of children move through this system every year, virtually unknown to the general public.  Due to lack of Federal (and in many cases State) oversight, these programs are able to operate independently without licensure, inspections, or any comprehensive definition of the type of treatment, length of stay, or admission requirements that they must adhere to.

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, behavior modification and brainwashing are defined as the following:

Behavior Modification: psychotherapy that is concerned with the treatment (as by desensitization or aversion therapy) of observable behaviors rather than underlying psychological processes and that applies principles of learning to substitute desirable responses for undesirable ones (as phobias or obsessions) —called also behavioral therapy, behavior therapy

Brainwashing:  a forcible indoctrination to induce someone to give up basic political, social, or religious beliefs and attitudes and to accept contrasting regimented ideas, 2: persuasion by propaganda or salesmanship

While these definitions seem vague by nature, a brief search on facilities currently operating the United States notes the following within their literature – all quite similar to the definitions described above:

Island View – a high-impact residential treatment facility operated by Aspen Education Group with ties to Republican candidate Mitt Romney‘s former company, Bain Capital – offers the following advice to parents as to how not to sabotage their child’s treatment opportunities.

What do you mean by “shutting the door?”

Imagine that your child is standing in a corridor with both sides lined with doors. There is a door at the other end of the corridor. That’s the door you want your child to go through. It is the door that leads to success, well-being and personal happiness – in your opinion. Unfortunately, your child thinks that walking through that door is stupid, impractical, lame, not cool and utterly ridiculous. Perhaps at some conscious or unconscious level, he may have a desire to walk through the door but fear of the unknown, effort to get to the door, or any other underlying issues may make it impossible for him to walk through this door without some sort of a assistance.

The problem is that he is being distracted by all the other doors that are lining the corridor. To you, the signs on the doors read: Party, Drugs, Negative Friends, Hanging Out, School Failure, Depression, Psycho-Neurological Problem, Learning Difference, Manipulation, Excuses, You Don’t Understand, Loss of a Close Friend, Divorce, Low Self-Esteem, etc.

Your child, distracted or mitigated by these doors will opt to slip through one or more of these doors. If we let him do so, will he ever get through the door at the end of the hall? Maybe, but when? This year, next year, when he is 20? The reason you place the child in a treatment facility is that you thought that the time is NOW to make the change.

The best way to make it happen NOW, is to shut all other doors so that the only door that can be opened is the one you want him to walk through – the one at the end of the hall.

Shepherd’s Hill Academy, a private Christian behavior modification center in rural Georgia describes its multi-step programs as the following:

New Creations Wilderness Therapy:

The challenge of living in the woods without electricity or flowing water takes the teens out of their comfort zone. It requires they learn new and more effective coping and teamwork skills.  They participate in experiencing life without the negative cultural influences that so often draw attention away from the responsibilities and obligations of the real world.  Rights and privileges are taught to be exercised only to the degree that responsibilities and obligations are fulfilled.

Without a healthy concept of authority, teens have no reference point for moral right and wrong. As the teens see staff and leadership submit to God, an Authority greater than themselves, the reference point becomes clear. This, in turn, fosters a sense of security which frees the teens to better submit to their authority figures and to God.

Our ability to think and reason is rooted in the spiritual nature of our being. As the confusion of the culture is removed, they are challenged to choose and think for themselves about the reality of the inevitable issues of life such as origin, meaning, morality, and destiny.

Next-Step Program:

Upon transitioning to the Next Step Program, the resident moves out of the wilderness program and into a home on campus. They are allowed more individual freedom and chances to make “right choices.” They also have the opportunity to gain back certain privileges they did not enjoy in the wilderness program, such as TV and video games. The Next Step Program offers the teen a chance to exercise their new healthy behavior patterns while living in a safe and structured environment. Although they are still in a controlled environment, they have many more opportunities where they must choose the way they will act and/or react to any number of societal situations. They are assisted in practicing healthy social interactions and relationships with their peers in a supervised environment. In other words, they get to practice behaving appropriately in the real world.

All in all, Shepherd’s Hill Academy embodies the qualities necessary to transform trouble teens into productive, caring, and spiritually mature young men and women.  With God’s help, we strive to bring about the necessary behavioral changes in struggling teens to become responsible and fruitful citizens who know how to think!

The Judge Rottenberg Center, a special needs program located in Canton, Massachusetts that accepts students as young as eight years old struggling with Autism, Aspergers, and other “severe, case-hardened problem behaviors” offers a few highlights of it’s “holistic” medication-free program.

Use of highly consistent application of behavior modification procedures both in the education/treatment of its students and in the management of its staff.  JRC offers intensive behavioral treatment based on peer-reviewed and accepted methods of behavioral psychology, which has been extremely effective for students who could not be effectively treated with psychotropic medication, psychotherapy, or positive only behavioral programming.

Positive reinforcement and non-intrusive procedures are tried first to determine if they can be sufficiently effective. If not, JRC considers supplementing them with professional approved “aversive” behavior modification techniques such as brief shock to the surface of the skin.

The most commonly used restrictive procedure at JRC is an electrical stimulation device that JRC manufactures called the Graduated Electronic Decelerator (“GED”).  The GED unit consists of a transmitter operated by a JRC staff member and a receiver worn by the student.  The receiver delivers a low-level surface application of electrical current to the student’s skin upon command from the transmitter, as part of a designed behavioral treatment.  Minor side effects may consist of a redding of the skin and, on rare occasions, a small blister may appear if the device is not making full contact with the skin.

The implementation of the GED device leads to the immediate deceleration of a student’s aggressive and self-injurious behaviors, allowing that student to progress both academically as well as socially.  For the approximately 50% of the current JRC population that have the GED as part of their treatment program, the average (median) student received only one two-second application during that week.  46% received no applications at all and 78% received fewer than ten applications during the entire week.

For most of us, it is unthinkable to consider the very idea that these types of facilities exist and are exercising these practices.  The following links offer unique, brutal glimpses into the types of torture, abuse, and brainwashing being forced upon teenagers in the name of “behavior modification.”

GRAPHIC:  VIDEO FOOTAGE OF ACTUAL PASADENA BOOT CAMP                                                                                

FORMER STAFF MEMBERS DISCUSSES THE CEDU SCHOOL’S & THEIR PHILOSOPHY OF “EMOTIONAL GROWTH” TRAINING

ACTUAL PROMOTIONAL VIDEO FROM PROVO CANYON SCHOOL EXPLAINING THAT EDUCATION IS “PART OF THE MIX”

DOCU-SHORT ON THE JUDGE ROTENBERG CENTER’S USE OF ELECTRIC SHOCK THERAPY

CLIP ON CEDU’S LIFESPRING STYLE LARGE GROUP AWARENESS THERAPY CALLED “PROPHEETS”

PROMOTIONAL VIDEO FOR WWASP’S FORMER SEMINAR PARTNER RESOURCE REALIZATIONS “DISCOVERY” SEMINAR (MANDATORY FOR ALL STUDENTS)

LATEST GRADUATES OF THE PARENT”S DISCOVERY SEMINAR BY RESOURCE REALIZATIONS

PARENTS RECEIVED DISCOUNTED TUITION FOR ALL REFERRALS SENT TO WWASP FACILITIES.  HERE IS A VIDEO CREATED BY PARENTS OF WWASP STUDENTS

Memoir Excerpt – Part Two

Memoir Excerpt – C. Kapela ©

Ms. B unlocked a white wooden shed filled with tennis shoes. Most were deteriorated and rotten from weathering too many humid summers.  I saw my own and all I could think about was home.  I rarely wore sneakers but had purchased these a month before. They were still pristine, having touched nothing but the department store floor.  It seemed so absurd, the idea of new shoes juxtaposed with the half-deflated basketball that wilted beside them and the overwhelming stench of sweat and decay that wafted from the cabinet.

I wondered how many of the other shoes had once been new like mine and how long it took them to end up in such a state.  As the girls scrambled around me excitedly to quickly change, I realized it wouldn’t take long.  The deadness of their eyes was a reminder that every moment spent here was a minute too long.  Soon I would share their faded look of compliance and defeat, overly excited by the smallest reminder of a life once lived, no matter how ugly.

For 30 minutes we walked silently around the dusty field, forbidden to speak. All I could think about was home and escape.  I wanted to break free and run at top speed across the sand toward the thick mass of trees that stood just across the barbed wire fence.  Instead, I kept my mouth closed and watched my feet as they made scuff marks in the sand.  I remembered the girl who had been dragged away during head count.  I would be eighteen in three months.  Though it seemed so far away, I was determined to make it out without ever knowing what happened down that short flight of stairs.

It seemed like hours before we made it to the dining hall for breakfast.  Again, we were forbidden to speak.  Before we entered Martha explained to me that we had to eat at least 50% of our plate or we would get a major consequence.  In addition, we had to take notes during our meal as they would be playing an educational audio tape that we would need to remember for a later assignment.

As we entered the room, we were quickly shuffled through a line to grab our meals.  I headed to the end of the table where the vegetarian meals were lined up.  I hadn’t eaten meat in nearly a year and my parents had vowed to let me remain a vegetarian during my stay.  We had boiled cabbage and a strange looking mush that I had never seen before.  Toward the front of the room, there were three large beverage dispensers.  I grabbed my plate and bowl and poured a glass of something warm and slightly orange before taking a seat next to Martha.

The dining hall was sweltering.  Within a few seconds of sitting down, the audio tape started playing.  “The secret to financial success is understanding how to sell your product,” an excited voice shouted through the speakers.  “If you understand this simple concept the possibilities are endless!  You can be a millionaire too!”  Everyone was writing feverishly and I joined them, struggling to keep up with what was being said or how it was relevant to a seventeen year old girl locked away in Jamaica.  What product did I have to sell?  Is this why I was here?  I tried to focus on the tape and ignore the overwhelming panic that was rising up inside of me.

The food was luke-warm and bland.  I shoveled down the boiled cabbage, gagging as I tried to swallow.  It felt like seaweed, slimy and cold.  I was starving but I could hardly bring myself to eat.  The mush was “cornmeal porridge.”   It tasted slightly sweet and a little salty.  It had been sitting out too long and had started to turn into thick chunks that I struggled to consume.  The orange liquid was a warm, watered down fruit punch that tasted slightly pungent and sour.  Each sip reminded me of drinking from an old cup that had been left in the car for too long.

The upper levels and staff members were circling around the tables ensuring we were eating enough food.  There was hardly enough food to satiate even a small child’s hunger, let alone a growing teenager, but I could still barely bring myself to eat half of it.  I watched as a girl raised her hand to ask if she could have another plate since there were some left over.  The main staff just snarled at her, telling her it was because of eating seconds that she was getting so fat.  She sat down, her face defeated.  An upper level laughed and grabbed the plate the other girl had been eyeing. I carefully divided half of each portion of food and forced myself to eat.  A staff stood behind me, watching each bite.

The tape kept blaring. Occasionally it would crackle and skip and I could tell it had been played so many times it had little life left.  I struggled to take notes, not knowing what I was supposed to be recording.  I wrote as much as I could, nearly every line, fighting to see some sort of purpose in what I was hearing.  It cut off suddenly in mid-sentence.  Breakfast was over.

Like a well-oiled machine, we rushed to dispose of our trash and line-up single file by the main door.  We passed our pens to the staff as they were not allowed outside of dining hall because they could be made into weapons.  I felt lightheaded and dazed.  Outside the doorway, there was a beautiful resort-style swimming pool.  It seemed so out of place, a piece of normalcy and luxury in the midst of so much suffering.  I couldn’t look at it without tears welling into my eyes so I focused on my feet instead.  My mind was blank as we started walking to our next task.  I didn’t even ask where we were going.  It took every ounce of will-power to stay in line and follow.

We walked upstairs to the very top of the building.  We entered a small classroom, each asking permission permission to cross as we passed through the door, quickly taking our seats in lawn chairs at long wooden tables.  Martha sat beside me.  One by one, the girls raised their hands for permission to stand and retrieve textbooks.  A few pulled papers from a series of crates along the right side of the room.  M raised her hand for permission to speak to me.  The teacher nodded approval.

“This is school.” Martha explained.  “You will get an ED plan soon.  It will tell you what you will need to study so that you don’t get too far behind back home.  It is a lot different than regular school. You will read a chapter at a time and then take a test.”  She gestured towards the crates where the girls had pulled papers.  “The teacher will grade them.  Sometimes you can get help, but usually the teachers and staff haven’t studied the subjects either.”  As though on cue, a girl raised her hand for help with her algebra.  Despite her stern face, I could see sadness in the eyes of the teacher as she struggled to grasp the concepts laid out in the faded textbook.  The books were all years old.  I wondered if any of it would even transfer.

Martha continued talking.  “Because it is your first day, we don’t have to do any school.  Instead, I will help you with the rules and explain what they mean.”  I pulled out my copy of the rule sheet and laid it on the desk.  “There are six levels here.  Right now, you’re a level one.  I’m a level three. You have to reach level six before you go home.  You get points for completing school work, from sharing in group, and for finishing the seminars.  When you have enough points you can request to advance to the next level and if staff and the family approve, you move up.  For each rule that you break, you lose points and your parents are fined the amount listed beside it.  If you lose enough points, you’ll lose your level or receive a consequence.”

I struggled to focus and follow what was expected of us.  It seemed so hard to gain points but so easy to lose them.  Every few seconds, someone was being reprimanded for an infraction, usually for speaking without permission or not focusing on school work.  Someone received a “rude facial gestures” for rolling her eyes when staff denied her request to stand.

Martha continued.  “The rules are broken into categories.  Category one is pretty simple.  You have to raise your hand and ask permission to speak, move, cross, stand, or sit.  As a level one, you’re only allowed to speak to levels three and above.  You can tell who is a level three because we’re allowed to wear jewelry.”  She gestured to her necklace.  “Level one rules don’t have a specific consequence unless you get too many in a day.  You just need to say “self-correct” and fill out a form explaining why you broke the rule.”  She pulled out her own self-correct from from speaking in the shower area to show me.  “If you self-correct, you lose less points and your parents are fined less money.”

“The higher level rules are different – you’ll either go to study hall or OP.”  She continued, pointing to some of the other infractions which had at first seemed straight forward.  “Don’t ever look at a boy, or you’ll receive a romantic encouragement.  Don’t bite your nails, or you’ll receive a suicide attempt.  Don’t look out the window, or you’ll receive run-away plans.  And don’t ever, ever argue back.  If you do, they’ll accuse you of being out of control and you’ll go straight to OP.”

I started to ask a question and Martha shot her hand up, shouting “Talking without permission!”

The teacher shot me a spiteful glance and jotted something in a notebook.  I was too confused to respond so the teacher called out staff correction.  I didn’t understand why Martha had gotten me into trouble or what was going to happen next.  Martha leaned over to me and told me to raise my hand and ask for permission to speak before I could ask her any questions.  I did as I was told, seething with anger, and was finally allowed to speak.

“Why did you do that?” I asked her bitterly.  “You know that I don’t even understand what is happening.”  She smiled, enraging me more.

“Chelsea,” she stated calmly, “If we don’t report each other for breaking rules, we go to Study Hall or worse.  I have to tell staff or I get in trouble and I’m not going to lose level three just because you’re new.  You don’t know how easy you’ve had it so far.  Most girls go to OP on their first day.  I fought staff during my cavity search and I had to go there.  I didn’t want to take out my tongue ring, so they stabbed my gums with a fork until I opened my mouth.  I spent three days laying on my face in OP.  I don’t ever want to go there again, and neither do you.  Just be glad all you’ve gotten so far is a TWOP and nothing worse.”

I looked at her angrily, tears welling up in my eyes.  “I don’t belong here.”  I exclaimed, “My parents are going to get me out of here.  They don’t know what’s going on here.  They’re going to help me.  I’m going to call them later and tell them everything and they’ll come and get me.  And if they don’t, I’ll never speak to them again.  I’m turning 18 in May and I’ll leave then.  I’m going to get out of here.”  I was shaking as I said it, desperation welling up inside of me.  Martha started to laugh.

“Chelsea, your parents know everything about this place and you definitely belong here.  No one is coming to rescue you.  It’s best that you realize this now.  Your parents put you here and you have to stay until you graduate.  It’s just the way it is.  You’re not allowed any phone calls until you reach level three and that took me almost six months.  You can send letters but the staff read them so be careful what you write.  If you lie about anything or make it sound bad, you’ll have to go to OP for manipulation.  And don’t think that turning 18 means you get to go home – they can make you stay here, or deny you a plane ticket home.  So don’t even talk about that. Just follow the rules and try not to get into trouble.  Everyone says they don’t belong here when they get here.  Everyone cries and feels sorry for themselves.  Just get over it.”

Girls in Line at Tranquility Bay