In 1983 Kip Williams, a social psychologist at the University of Purdue, Indiana, was sitting in the park when he was hit in the back by a frisbee. He returned it to the two men standing behind him. He was about to sit down again when they threw it back to him.
The three of them played together for a couple of minutes at which point the two friends started throwing the frisbee only to each other once again.
Williams was astonished by the force of his feelings. “At first I thought it was a bit amusing, but then it became clear to me that I was never going to get that frisbee again. I couldn’t believe how strongly I felt, given that these men were complete strangers. We hadn’t even talked.”
The experience gave him an idea. He went back to the lab and created a computerized version of what had happened to him in the park.
A student sits alone in a cubicle facing a computer. On the screen are three people – one is the person in the cubicle and the other two are supposedly at computers nearby. They are asked to throw a ball to each other on screen in an exercise, they are told, designed to test their visualisation skills.
Half the participants receive the ball an equal number of times. The other half, after they get it once or twice, never get it again.
The imaginary game only lasted two minutes but, just like Williams in the park, the students felt hurt, excluded and angry.
Even when told the truth – that it was all made up – they still felt the same way.
In 2011 I heard Professor Williams interviewed on the BBC for a programme titled ‘The Silent Treatment’. I was preparing a three-day workshop on ‘Bullying, Belonging and Inclusion’ and I had the idea to develop an exercise based on Williams’ original experience in the park.
I had been invited to Brazil to teach a group of 30 psychotherapists and educators who were part of a training programme in systemic pedagogy. Each module was hosted by a different facilitator. By the time I arrived, towards the end of the two-year training, the group knew each other well.
On Day 2, I invited everyone to form groups of four. I gave each person a folded piece of paper with the letters A, B, C or D written on it. They were asked to open and read what was written inside but not to share this information with the other people in their group. Each group was then given a ball.
The exercise began with all four people throwing the ball to each other. After 90 seconds I rang a bell. A, B + C, as per instructions, began throwing the ball only to each other, excluding D from the game.
At first, the Ds appeared a bit confused but remained light-hearted. Once it became clear, however, that they were no longer part of the group, I noticed a creeping discomfort and sense of disorientation.
I stopped the exercise after two minutes and asked people to sit down in their groups and share their experiences. I then invited everyone to stand together in a circle in order to speak about their feelings to the entire group.
At this point something occurred for which I was completely unprepared.
A participant returned from what I assumed was a restroom break. He started to walk, hesitantly, around the closed circle. A space was made but rather than taking the hand of the person on either side of him, he moved slowly to the centre of the circle and stood there. He appeared uncomfortable, an awkward smile on his face. Then, with no warning, he started sobbing.
The group, in a single, slow, wave-like movement began to take small steps forward. As they drew closer to the man, some reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, on his back. One placed a hand gently on his heart.
Eventually the man collapsed into the arms of the group.
The energy in the room was intense. As his weeping grew softer and eventually subsided, I asked the man to stand up and look at all the faces looking at him. I invited him to stand in front of each person and repeat the words “My name is Joao. I belong to this group and so do you.”
Inviting comment about this experience would have been inappropriate. I was a visiting facilitator, not a member of the group. Words of explanation would have served merely to satisfy my curiosity about something which, intuitively, I already understood.
At the end of the day, a woman came to me and explained that Joao had been a challenging and provocative presence throughout the training. He was not a popular member of the group. He had been allocated the role of the excluded player, albeit randomly, and had left the room during the second part of the exercise.
Human beings are highly sensitive to this idea of belonging. In Maslow’s ‘Hierarchy of Needs’ it comes before self-esteem, morals and values. In the days when sabre-toothed tigers roamed the earth, being part of a group was vital for survival. Over time, migration and inter-marriage became more common and so this conscience of belonging gradually went unconscious. But, it’s still there and it is connected to a sense of love and well-being.
A question we all ask ourselves, perhaps even on a daily basis is: Do I belong? Am I in or am I out? What must I do/say/believe in order to feel safe and included?
We have an evolutionary warning system for social rejection. It is painful because it threatens important human needs. People who antagonise and bully others do so because it provides them with a level of protection, both physical and emotional. It comes, however, at a price.
As this simple exercise highlighted, inclusion can break down barriers of rage and fear.
I learned that Joao’s subsequent behaviour towards his colleagues was gentler and kinder. By the end of the two-year training, he was a well-liked member of the group.
“Will the Circle be Unbroken” by Ada R. Habershon and Charles H Garbriel, 1907
“All in the Mind” BBC Radio 4, May 2011