Pluralistic

Using Research Evidence to Predict and Optimise Therapeutic Benefit: A Multilayered Approach

How can we use research data to inform and improve therapeutic practice? When I wrote my book Essential research findings in counselling and psychotherapy (Sage, 2008), I did what most writers in the field had done: I tried to organise and make sense the evidence by different ‘factors’. I used the usual suspects: client factors (e.g., the client’s motivation); therapist factors (e.g., the therapist’s gender); relationship factors (e.g., the amount of goal agreement); technique and practice factors (e.g., using two-chair work); and orientation factors (e.g., working in a person-centred way). That gave a fairly simple and clear taxonomy and meant that it was possible to describe the relative contribution of different factors to therapeutic outcomes. For instance, one might estimate, based on the most recent evidence, that approximately 40% of variance in outcomes is due to client factors; 30% due to the relationship; 15% to therapist factors; and 15% due to the particular techniques, practices, or orientation used. This can then be neatly depicted in a pie chart, like Figure 1.

Figure 1. Illustrating the Contribution of Different Factors to Therapeutic Change

Despite its clarity, organising research evidence in this way has its limitations. One very obvious one is that it implies that each of these factors is discrete when, of course, they are likely to inter-relate to others in complex, mutually reinforcing ways. Another problem, more directly related to the framework developed in this article, is that they tend to infer that each client is influenced by each of these factors in the same way and to the same extent: that relationship factors such as empathy, for instance, lead to 30% of outcomes for Client A, and also for Clients B, C, and D. The reality, however, is that Client A may do very well with empathy while Client B may not; and while relationship factors may be essential to Client C’s recovery, Client D may do very well without them. Indeed, much of the cutting edge research in the psychotherapy field—by leading figures such as Zachary Cohen and Jaime Delgadillo—is on the particular factors that lead particular clients to do particularly well in particular therapies; and the algorithms that can then be developed, based on such evidence, to optimise benefit. Organising the evidence by factors may also limit its utility for therapists. As practitioners, we do not tend to think about our work, systematically, in terms of these different factors (e.g., ‘What can I do to improve myself as a therapist?’ ‘What can I do to improve my relationship?’); and it is also important to note that different factors may have very different implications for practice. Knowing, for instance, that clients with secure attachments do better in therapy than those with insecure attachments (a client factor) does not really tell us anything about how to work; while knowing that clients tend do better when their therapists are warm and genuine can have important implications for practice. So although these factors, in Wittgenstein-ian terms, have a ‘family resemblance’, they are actually quite distinctive things.

The aim of this article, then, is to describe a way of organising and conceptualising therapy research evidence that addresses some of these problems: allowing for a more nuanced, comprehensive, and personalised conceptualisation of data; and potentially more useable by therapists. The essence of this framework is a pyramid (or funnel, see Figure 2), with different layers of evidence at increasing degrees of specificity and proximity to the client. Each layer builds on the previous ones: from research evidence that is relevant to all clients to research evidence that is specific to a particular client in a particular session. As this pyramidal form suggests, as we move upwards, evidence may become more sparse. However, because of its greater specificity, and because it is most proximal to clients’ actual experiences—such evidence may be of greatest value. For instance, research suggests that clients generally do better when therapists are empathic (Layer 2), but if evidence exists that the opposite is true for highly paranoid clients (Layer 3), then the latter finding would tend to take precedence to guide practice with a highly paranoid client. However, if it was then established that, for a particular highly paranoid client, they had a strong preference for an empathic therapist (Layer 4), then this higher-layer evidence would take precedence over the group-specific (Layer 3) finding.

Figure 2. A Pyramidal Framework for Organising Therapy Research Evidence

The foundation of the pyramid, Layer 1, is general evidence on client and extra-therapeutic factors that tend to determine good outcomes. For instance, clients who are psychologically-minded tend to do better in therapy, as do clients with more social support. These factors are separated off from other factors (depicted in Figure 2 by a dividing line), because they are less relevant to what therapists do. Rather, they are the grounding—to a great extent outside of the therapist’s control—as to how therapy is likely to proceed. In this respect, these general factors have an important role in predicting outcomes—and, indeed, may explain by far the largest proportion of variance—but do not have much role, per se, in informing or shaping how therapists work.

Note, the term ‘tend to’ indicates that, while these findings are drawn from generally representative samples (or samples assumed to be generally representative), this is not to suggest that these factors will be true for each and every client. Rather, this is evidence, across all clients, of averaged tendencies, around which there will always be considerable group-, individual-, and session-layer variance.

Building on these general client and extra-therapeutic factors are general factors that are related to the therapist and their therapy (Layer 2). This includes therapist factors (for instance, therapist gender), relationship factors (for instance, the alliance), and technique factors (for instance, use of cognitive restructuring). These are findings that reach across all clients and, although still averaged trends, can be very useful for therapists to know. In the absence of any other information, they provide a useful starting point for work: for instance, be empathic, listen, or self-disclose to a moderate extent.

At a greater layer of specificity (Layer 3) is evidence of particular factors that tend to be associated with helpfulness for particular groups of clients. By far the greatest amount of evidence here focuses on clients grouped by particular mental health diagnoses—for instance moderate depression or obsessive-compulsive disorder—as reviewed and operationalised, for instance, in National Institute of Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE) guidelines. Considerable research is also now available on clients with particular cultural identities (e.g., people of colour, lesbian clients), and what tends to be most effective for them. There is also a wide range of research on other ‘aptitude–treatment interactions’ which identifies the factors that tend to be most effective with particular groups of clients. For instance, clients who are more reactive tend to do better in less directive therapies, while the reverse is true for clients who are more compliant. Of course, clients may be members of multiple groups—‘intersectionality’—such that practices indicated may be complex or, potentially, contradictory. Tailoring therapies to particular client characteristics is what Barkham terms ‘precision therapy’, linked to the wider development of ‘precision medicine’: ‘predicting which treatment and prevention strategies will work best for a particular patient’ (NHS England).

Moving up in specificity, to Layers 4 and 5, entails a shift towards individual-level research and data gathering (Figure 3). This is, perhaps, the most important and novel part of the framework being suggested here, because a continuum is being proposed from (a) general- and group-level research to (b) contemporary, individual-level monitoring: one segues into the other. In other words, the framework suggests that what researchers do ‘in the field’ is not so different from what therapists do when they are working with individual clients using routine outcome monitoring (ROM): it is all part of one broad spectrum of using data to help inform practice. This may be helpful for practice because it de-mystifies ‘research’ and puts it on a equal footing with things that a practitioner would typically do. Now, research about populations or groups is not something that researchers do far away on some other planet, but is an extension (broader, but less specific and proximal) of what therapists are, actually, doing all the time. That does not mean it can be waived away, but it does mean that it can be considered a friend rather than enemy (‘the facts are friendly’, as Carl Rogers said).

Describing individual-level data gathering as ‘research’ is a somewhat unusual extension of the term. Almost by definition, ‘research’ is seen as involving generalising from specific individuals to the wider group or population. However, if research is defined as ‘a detailed study of a subject, especially in order to discover (new) information or reach a (new) understanding’ (Cambridge Dictionary), then generalisations can also be at the individual client layer: from, for instance, one session to another, or from assessment to across the course of therapy as a whole. Individual-layer research like this is not something you would see published in a journal, nor could it be summarised in a book like Essential research findings. Even with individual-focused research methods like autoethnography or heuristic research, the aim is to reach new understandings that are of relevance across clients or contexts. But with the individual client-layer research described here, the aim is solely to use data to reach new understandings about this individual client. It is a form of systematic enquiry which the therapist, themselves, does, to help optimise their therapeutic work with the client by drawing on data.  

Figure 3. Individual Level Research

Layer 4, like Layer 3, entails the use of data, prior to the commencement of therapy, to estimate what is most likely to be helpful for a client. While Layer 3, however, makes such assumptions on the basis of group characteristics, Layer 4 focuses exclusively on that client’s individual uniqueness. This is the complex, rich mixture of characteristics and experiences that make the person who they are: irreducible to any particular set, or combination, of group characteristics. In terms of system theory, this is their ‘emergent properties’; in terms of the philosopher Emmanuel Levinas, their ‘otherness’. Understanding how data at this layer may be captured and integrated into therapy is, perhaps, the least well-developed element of this framework. However, one notable and well-researched element here is the client’s preferences: recorded, for instance, on our Cooper–Norcross Inventory of Preferences (C-NIP) at assessment. The focus of such individual layer research, then, is on what this specific client needs and wants from therapy; and the incorporation of such findings into the therapeutic process.

Finally, at the highest layer of specificity (Layer 5), is the use of data to guide the ongoing process of therapy, as in the well-researched and -developed practice of routine outcome monitoring (ROM). In ROM, the therapists uses data from ‘outcome forms’ (like the CORE-10 or PHQ-9), and potentially also ‘process forms’ (like the Session Rating Scale), to track how the client is doing, and to try and adjust the therapy accordingly. For instance, if the client’s layers of symptoms are worsening, the therapist may draw on pre-specified ‘clinical support tools’, such as a protocol for reviewing the therapeutic alliance with the client. In this way, ROM can be considered research at the highest layer of specificity: generalising from data captured at particular points in therapy (for instance, at the start of each session), to the therapeutic work as a whole. Barkham terms this in-therapy, iterative uses of data as ‘personalisation’—distinct from the ‘precision’ tailoring of Layers 3 and 4.

Note, even at these highest layers of specificity, data still only ever gives indications of what might be of benefit to a client at a particular time, not what is. Client preferences, for instance, tell us what a particular client thinks will be helpful, but there are no guarantees that such practices are of benefit; ROM predicts when clients may most be ‘off track’, but there are still numerous sources of ‘error variance’ meaning that, in fact, some of these clients may be doing very well (what has been termed ‘paradoxical outcomes’). As we move up the layers, then, we may move from distal to proximal forms of evidence, less to more trustworthy, but even at the highest layer, we are only ever dealing with approximations. Hence, while higher layer data, where present, may deserve prioritisation, best practice may ultimately come through informing clinical work with data from across multiple layers.

In fact, Layer 5 is probably not the highest and most specific layer of data usage to optimise benefits in therapy. At every moment of the therapeutic work, therapists will be striving to attune therapeutic practices to what they perceive—consciously or unconsciously—as beneficial or hindering to clients. A client seems to become animated, for instance, by being asked about their brother, and the therapist enquires further; a client glances away when the therapist asks about the psychotherapy relationship and the therapist seeks another way of addressing the here-and-now relationship. Stiles refers to this as therapist ‘responsiveness’, and this is represented as a spinning circle right at the top of the pyramid (Figure 4). Bill Stiles, in a personal communication, has written:

Representing responsiveness research as a (spinning?) circle (wheel? ball?) at the top seems to me to convey both the recursive feedback idea (circle, spinning) and the potentially high specificity (possibly millisecond-scale, e.g., responsive adjustments in mid-sentence due to facial expressions).

These five layers of evidence, then, segue into the moment-by-moment, ‘evidence based’ adjustments that therapists are constantly making throughout their work. And, as the highest layer, such responsiveness may be most proximal and attuned to what clients will find most helpful. Nevertheless, in the absence of such proximal information, each of the preceding layers will give valuable information about where best to start with clients. Moreover, as suggested in the previous paragraph, given the vagaries and potential errors inherent in each layer of data (including responsiveness: for instance, the therapist may misread the client’s reaction, or the client may be hiding it through deference), it is probably a combination of evidence from across the layers that is likely to be most beneficial in successfully guiding therapy.

Figure 4. Layers of Evidence Segueing into In-Session Responsiveness

Although each of these layers of evidence have the potential to inform therapeutic practice, different individuals, training programmes, or services may place emphasis on very different layers. For instance, in the IAPT model (Improving Access to Psychological Therapies, now NHS talking therapies), based on NICE guidelines, practice is nearly-exclusively drawn from evidence at Layer 3 (in particular, diagnoses-specific evidence), with little consideration for other layers (see Figure 5). Even responsiveness to the needs and wants to the individual client, during IAPT practice, tends to be subsumed to manualised, ‘evidence-based’ guidance.

NHS/IAPT Emphasis on Diagnosis-Specific Evidence

On the other hand, in approaches like Scott Miller’s feedback-informed therapy, there is a particular reliance on the most proximal evidence: the client’s immediate feedback through ROM (Layer 5), as well as a responsiveness to the particular client in the particular moment (Figure 6).

Figure 6. Feedback-Informed Emphasis on Proximal Data

In contrast to Layer 1, Layers 2 to 5 provide opportunities for therapists to enhance their practice (Figure 7). This is in two respects. First, at a basic level, skills and competences can be developed in practices that have been shown to lead to beneficial outcomes. This is particularly Layer 2 general relationship factors (e.g., enhancing levels of empathy) and technique factors (e.g., developing skills in two-chair work). In addition, at a more meta-level, knowledge and competences can be developed in tailoring practices to group- (Layer 3), individual- (Layer 4), and therapy- (Layer 5) specific evidence. For instance, at Layer 5, trainees can be taught how to use ROM data to monitor and enhance therapeutic outcomes, particularly with ‘not on track’ clients. Such training may be based on informal guidance and feedback (e.g., through supervision) or, itself, may be evidence based: using data to feed back to trainees how they are doing on particular competences. A supervisor, for instance, might rate segments of their supervisee’s audio recordings, across multiple time points, on a practice adherence measure like the Person-Centred and Experiential Psychotherapy Rating Scale (PCEPS). This moves us into the realm of ‘deliberate practice’ and, indeed, a separate pyramid could be developed for the use of research in training: from the most general evidence about factors that improve practice to therapist-specific data on what an individual practitioner might do to improve their outcomes.

Figure 7. Opportunities to Develop Therapist Competences and Meta-Competences

In fact, Layer 1 probably does also offer opportunities for enhancing the beneficial effects of therapeutic work—perhaps to a great extent—though this is rarely the focus of study or training. Here, emphasis is on how clients might be empowered or enabled to develop skills in using therapy most effectively. A good example would be the ‘resource activation’ work of Christoph Flückiger and colleagues, which invites clients to draw on their own strengths and resources to ‘drive’ the therapeutic process. In addition, this is the layer at which therapists might be developing competences in social and political advocacy practices. Developing the ability, for instance, to challenge unjust organisational policies might help to address the psychological distress brought about by racial discrimination.

Of course, research evidence is not the only sources of guidance on how to practice. Therapists may also draw, for instance, from theory, their own experiences, and from their supervision work. These sources are likely to be interlinked in complex ways, but for simplicity sake we can present them as per Figure 8.

Figure 8. Multiple Sources of Guidance on Practice

And, as with the layers of evidence, different individuals, training programmes, or services may place emphasis on very different sources to guide practice. In NHS Talking Therapies, for instance, practice is primarily based on research evidence (Layer 3, diagnosis-specific) (see Figure 9). By contrast, in much of the counselling field, practice is primarily guided by theory, supervision, and the therapist’s own personal experiences—as well as responsiveness in the specific moment—with research evidence playing only a very minor role (Figure 10).

Figure 9. Sources of Practice in NHS Talking Therapies

Figure 10. Typical Sources of Practice in the Counselling Field

Again, one might argue that, in best practice, there is an openness to drawing fully from all potential sources.  

This pyramidal framework for drawing on research evidence is very different from the ‘hierarchy of evidence’ as used, for instance, in NICE clinical guidelines. While the latter ranks research according to its ‘objectivity’—placing randomised clinical trials and their meta-analyses at the top and expert opinion at the bottom—the present framework makes no assumptions about the relative worth of different methodologies. Qualitative research, for instance, may be a very powerful means of understanding what particular methods or practices are particularly helpful for particular groups of clients (Layer 3). Indeed, in this framework, the data that may be of most value to particular episodes of therapy—by being most proximal—is individualised ROM data: very different from the kind of generalised RCT data prioritised in the standard hierarchy of evidence.

Conclusions

When trying to make sense of the vast body of psychotherapy research evidence, there are many different ways of organising the research:

  • Different factors (therapist, client, etc)

  • Degree of ‘independence’/rigour of the research (the IAPT/NICE approach)

  • Effective treatments for different problems (again, the the IAPT/NICE approach)

  • Evidence for different therapeutic approaches overall

  • The proximity of the research evidence to the actual client and session (what is being proposed here)

Of course, there is no one right way, and these different organising principles can be combined in a wide variety of ways. For instance, the evidence at each layer of the present framework could then be organised by degree of independence of the research, or by different factors. However, each of these frameworks do prioritise and emphasise, even if implicitly, different elements of the research evidence. In the present one, there is as implicit privileging of data that is most proximal to the client—the ‘top’ of the pyramid. This can be seen as emerging from my own humanistic, existential, and phenomenological ‘ontology’ (theory of being) and ethics, which tends to reject the positivist assumption that the universe acts—and can be understood as acting—according to general, underlying mechanisms and laws. Rather, there is an emphasis here on ‘otherness’ and the irreducibility of human being. That is, that human beings’ lived-experiences can be unique, and that focusing on the unique and distinctive aspects of that experiencing is an important element—both ontologically and ethically—of understanding the whole.

Having said that, as Nicola Blunden points out in her comments below, the approach presented here is therapist-centred, in that it is a framework by which therapists can use the evidence. That is consistent with the target audience of my ‘facts are friendly’ book, but it raises the question of what a client-centred, or relationship-centred framework for making sense of the research findings would look like. Perhaps that would start with a greater focus on, and nuancing of, ‘Layer 1’ evidence: What can the client do with this to maximise their therapeutic outcomes? Nicola also raises the interesting point of whether a pyramid is still too hierarchical: would a target or spiral be a better representation of the potential use of data in therapy?

The pyramidal framework presented here is a way of organising research data to inform therapeutic practice. The pyramid builds, in layers, from the most general to the most specific evidence of what works—and is working—for an individual client. This framework does not negate a more factors-based taxonomy—indeed, it can incorporate it—but emphasises, instead, the relative proximity of different data sources to the actuality of each episode of clinical practice. Perhaps what is most useful about this framework is it provides a means of segueing from general and group-level research to individual-level research—and then, even, on to responsivity in moment-by-moment practice. This may allow a greater integration of research data into practice: research, here, is not something separate from what therapists generally do, but something spread on a continuum from the most general to the most specific. This framework is also a means of representing the way different sources of evidence may be weighted in different approaches, as well as the weighting of research evidence against other sources of clinical guidance. And while this framework does not indicate which sources (research or otherwise) should be prioritised, by mapping out possibilities in this way, it hints at the potential value of all. While this framework is a work in progress, it may be a way of organising and making sense of the research evidence that encourage a broader, more encompassing, and more pluralistic conceptualisation of all its uses.

Person-Centred Therapy: Four Currents

It’s generally accepted now that the person-centred approach isn’t just one ‘thing’: it’s made up of lots of different ‘tribes’ or ‘branches’, like the ‘classical approach’ and ‘emotion-focused therapy’ (see blog here).

But how do all these different strands come together? It seems to me that we can think about the person-centred approach—from where it started to where it is now—in terms of four ‘currents’. Like the different movements of water running through an ocean, these current flows into each other and intermingle; but at the same time they have some distinctive elements and can, at times, pull in different directions.

1. The Client-as-Expert

This is pretty much where Rogers started from, and is still seen by many—particularly of a ‘classical’ persuasion—as the defining (or even sole) stream of person-centred theory and practice. It’s the belief, as Carl Rogers puts it in 1961, that:

‘It is the client who knows what hurts, what directions to go, what problems are crucial, what experiences have been deeply buried…

Rogers work was a reaction to the more didactic, expert-led styles of counselling that were prevalent in his early years. He wanted to develop a ‘new’ form of psychotherapy and counselling that, instead of being directive, was non-directive: that trusted the client to be able to take the lead and find the answers that were right for them.

Central to this current, as it developed, was the concept of the actualising tendency. This is the idea that all of us have an inherent tendency—and ability—to maintain and enhance ourselves, and can do so given the right conditions (of empathy, acceptance, and congruence).

In recent years, however, there’s been some challenges to the concept of the client-as-expert. It is based, for instance, on an assumption that all wisdom and knowledge is ‘within’ the client, but contemporary philosophy and psychology have questioned the idea that the client—like any of us—is a self-enclosed, separate and distinct entity. Aren’t we all fundamentally relational beings (see Current #2, below)? Also, most developmental theorists and researchers, like the infamous Swiss psychologists Jean Piaget, would say that learning can happen from the ‘outside-in’ as well as the ‘inside-out’. If you go to a CPD workshop, for instance, it’s great to have space to brainstorm, discuss, and develop your own ideas; but isn’t there also a place for being directly taught things through, for instance, Powerpoint. We don’t want death-by-Powerpoint, but at the same time some degree of it can be really useful; so does learning—therapeutic or otherwise—always need to be just self-generated? Isn’t that a bit black-and-white?

2. Relational

So another current running through the person-centred approach is an emphasis on the importance of relationship. This is evident in Rogers’ ‘necessary and sufficient’ conditions which include empathy, unconditional acceptance, congruence, and contact—and it’s very clear in much of his later work, when he focuses on the healing power of relationships and of encounter in groups. For Rogers, and for most practitioners across the person-centred approach, it is not techniques or ‘interventions’ that really help someone, but the cultivation of an in-depth personal relationship. That’s been central to the work that Dave Mearns and I have done on relational depth: where the relational encounter is really brought to the fore.

From this relational perspective, the client—like all human beings—is seen, not so much a separate and distinct individual, but as part of a relational and communal network: we’re all in it together. And it’s when we find our togetherness with others that we thrive most fully. This links person-centred therapy to other approaches like interpersonal therapy and Bowlby’s attachment theory, that also put relating at the heart of healthy development.

Rogers’ focus on the client-as-expert draws from humanistic philosophy (for instance, the French eighteenth century thinker Jean-Jacques Rousseau), whereas the relational elements are more associated with contemporary dialogical and ‘intersubjective’ philosophy—as, for instance, in the work of the twentieth century Austrian-Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. Are we separate or are we inter-related? Peter Schmid, the late great person-centred writer, brought these two currents together brilliantly by showing how we could be both.

3. Experiential/Emotion-Focused

Rogers, as we’ve seen with Current #1, starts with the client, and from here he goes on to adopt a phenomenological perspective on both the person and on therapeutic work. Phenomenology, which Rogers takes in the 1940s from two psychologists, Snyggs and Combs, is a philosophical and psychological approach which emphasises experiencing as the starting point for understanding human beings and their psychological processes. Experiencing is our subjective, ever-changing, moment-by-moment ‘all that is going on’ that is potentially available to awareness. It’s our perceptions and our senses, our desires and meanings. Experiencing is my sense, right now, of a slight chill on my shoulders as winter creeps in, the darkening light in the room, and my feeling of excitement and engagement as I write this.

Rogers model of psychological distress is all about how we get estranged from our experiencing. We come to see ourselves as fixed ‘selves’, with particular qualities and characteristics (based on what we have been told are ‘good’ characteristics) and so we get alienated from that natural flow. That’s a problem, because that flow of experiencing has, as we saw in Current #1, an actualising direction: it is towards maintaining and enhancing ourselves. So, for instance, if we deny the feelings of vulnerability or hurt that are part of that organismic experiencing, we don’t allow ourselves to strive for what we need: which, for instance, might be care or protection from others.

Eugene Gendlin, who was probably the most important of Rogers’ progeny, was particularly central to this experiential current. For Gendlin, it was this process of connecting with our bodily-felt experiencing, and allowing it to ‘carry forward’ (and carry us forward with it), that was the healing process. But, critically, Gendlin did not believe that clients would always know how to connect with, and unfurl, that experiencing in the most helpful way possible. So, in the development of ‘focusing’, Gendlin proposed methods that could help clients—or people more generally—create the environment in which their bodily felt senses, their embodied wisdom, could be carried forward.

Along with felt-senses, a core part of our experiencing is our emotions: our hurt, our fears… and also an enormous spectrum of affects like anger, shame, and joy. These emotions are often a particularly hidden part of our experiencing, because we have been taught that showing emotions is not ‘good’: to be people who others like (and to like ourselves), we shouldn’t have many of the feelings we have. But the problem is, we do have them, and they’re an important part of us; and the more we suppress them the more they can tend to resurface—and often in less controlled and more destructive ways. This emphasis on emotions have been particularly developed by the ‘emotion-focused therapy’ (EFT) branch of the person-centred approach.

We can see here that a focusing on experiencing and emotions (Current #3) emerges from a belief in clients’ (Current #1) self-righting and self-healing capacities: if we help clients to connect with their true, primary emotions, then they can find ways of sorting out their own problems. But here’s the question: how able are clients, actually, to connect with their own experiences and emotions and draw on them to improve things in their lives? This is where these current can start to part ways. From a Client-as-Expert position, clients know best: we don’t need to do anything to help them connect with their experiences and emotions other than what we always do, which is to empathise, accept, and be real. But those from an experiential and emotion-focused approach tend to believe that, actually, clients can sometimes do with a bit of help in getting in touch with their underlying emotions and that therefore there can be a place for therapists’ techniques and expertise. This isn’t about directing the content of what client’s say; but it is about adopting a more ‘process-directive’ stance: helping clients develop skills and techniques that can support them to connect with their deeper felt-senses and emotions.

4. Ethical/Political

Finally, there’s a way of ‘reading’ the person-centred approach which really brings to the fore it’s commitment to social justice, equality, and engaging with others in caring and community-spirited ways. This egalitarian spirit was, perhaps, what drove Rogers in the first place—he wanted clients to be treated as equals to their counsellors, rather than as lesser beings—and it is certainly there in his later work with groups and communities. Rogers, in this later life, was amazing in travelling to places like Northern Ireland and South Africa to try and help overcome political conflict (see, for instance, The Steel Shutter, which documents his work in Northern Ireland). It is clear here that Rogers saw the person-centred approach in much broader terms than just as a clinical practice: for him it was about transformation at a social and global level to a better, fairer world.

Our own pluralistic approach to person-centred therapy is one attempt to really follow through on this current in the person-centred approach (see blog here). For instance, in terms of therapeutic practice, we really prioritise engaging with clients in caring and respectful ways. This is likely to mean seeing the client as an expert in their own life (Current #1), and also focusing on relationships (Current #2) and experiences and emotions (Current #3); but these are all in service of a respectful, caring relationship—not ends in themselves. So, for instance, if a client really feels that they would benefit from therapist expertise, and we have expertise that might help, why not? Who are we to decide for the client what it is that they really need or want in therapy.

But the pluralistic approach also goes broader than that, and understands the therapeutic process as just one forum within which positive change can happen. There’s also change, for instance, at the social and economic level; and pluralism argues that tackling issues like racism, economic inequalities, and looming climate catastrophe can all be really important ways of helping clients. Here, there’s a focus on prizing of difference and diversity—within the client, across people, across communities and nations—which is much broader than therapeutic work alone. It is about creating a better world for us all.

Conclusion

From the dawning of Rogers’ work to the person-centred field today, we can watch these four currents mingling, merging, separating, pulling apart, and mingling again. No doubt, there are other currents that flow through the person-centred approach: for example, an existential current; or a current of creativity—as articulated, for instance, in the work of Natalie Rogers and the person-centred creative arts field today. None of these currents are the one, ‘true’ Rogerian perspective: Rogers, like all of us, said different things at different times and in subtly different ways. And, even if he did not, there’s new perspectives and directions coming into—and out of—the person-centred field all the time, that can only add to our richness, complexity, and depth.

***

A Chinese translation of this blog is available here.

The Branches of the Person-Centred Tree: Some Pointers

Person-centred therapy is a wonderfully rich set of therapeutic approaches, based on the work of the US psychologist Carl Rogers. The aim of these pointers is to give a brief and systematic description of each of the principle ‘branches’, or ‘tribes’, of the person-centred approach.

The selection, and description of, these approaches is inevitably subjective, and other authors have articulated the principal branches in somewhat different ways (e.g., Sanders, 2012). Of course, there are no ‘right’ answers and the field of person-centred counselling and psychotherapy—as a complex, multifaceted entity—could be ‘organised’ in a multiplicity of ways. Indeed, one could say that there are as many different person-centred therapies as there are person-centred therapists.

This means, too, that the branches are not clearly separable entities, but overlapping sets of concepts and practices with numerous commonalities between them. The following pointers tend to emphasise the differences, to try and highlight the distinctive contributions of each branch; but please bear in mind these are, in the main, tendencies and emphases rather than ‘hard-and-fast’ polarities.

Note, also, that due to my language (in)abilities the selection of branches, and literature, here is relatively Anglo-centric. There may be many very exciting developments across Europe, South America, Africa, and Asia in non-English languages that have not been captured in this taxonomy. If colleagues are aware of these or, indeed, any other major branches, please do add some information in the comments below.

As with Sanders (2012), I have described these branches as members of the ‘person-centred’ nation, but it may be more accurate to describe the field, as a whole, as ‘person-centred and experiential’ (as, for instance, the journal Person-Centered & Experiential Psychotherapies). Again, there are no right answers: it depends how the term ‘person-centred’ is defined.  

An earlier version of this blog is available as a pdf post that can be downloaded from here.

What is a ‘branch’?

I have defined a person-centred ‘branch’ as a form of therapeutic practice, that:

  • Has evolved, wholly or primarily, from Rogers’s work.

  • Is a comprehensive form of therapy in itself, rather than solely a ‘bolt-on’ to another practice.

  • Has a ‘community’ of currently active practitioners (> 100 or so practitioners).

  • Has key texts, trainings, and websites currently available.

General Resources

Classical Client-Centred Therapy

Non-directive practice, as originally developed by Rogers, in which the therapist provides the client with an empathic, accepting, and genuine therapeutic relationship, thereby supporting the client’s own actualising process.

Founding Figure(s)

  • Carl Rogers (1902–1987, US). Other figures associated with classical CCT include Barbara Brodley, John Shlein, Jerold Bozarth, Tony Merry, Pete Sanders, Elizabeth Freire.

Timeline

  • 1928: Rogers begins career as psychologist, working with children and families.

  • 1942: Publication of Counselling and Psychotherapy: Newer Concepts in Practice, where Rogers introduces principles of non-directive practice.

  • 1951: Publication of Client-Centred Therapy, detailing theory of development and behaviour.

  • 1957: Classic paper on ‘necessary and sufficient conditions’ (Rogers, 1957).

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Non-directivity.

  • ‘Core conditions’: empathy, acceptance, congruence.

Other Influences

  • Philosophical humanism (e.g., Rousseau).

Key Concepts

  • Actualising tendency is core motivating drive: towards maintaining and enhancing organism. Clients can find own answers to problems, if allowed to re-connect with inner experiencing and not swayed by externally-imposed conditions of worth.

Key Practice(s)

  • ‘Empathic understanding response process’ (Brodley): tentative following of client and reflecting back/summarising meanings and understandings, in non-judgmental and genuine way.

  • Principled (rather than instrumental) non-directivity: attitude of recognising client’s autonomy and following their lead—not technique or mechanistic practice.

Client Populations

  • Diverse.

Evidence base

  • Large number of controlled studies, for diverse populations, showing relatively good effects, though possibly marginally less than for more directive approaches (Elliott et al., 2013).

  • Core conditions (as rated by clients) associated with positive outcomes (Norcross & Lambert, 2019), though not evidenced as necessary or sufficient.

Current Dissemination

  • Large, classical-ish PCT practitioner communities in UK and several other countries (e.g., Germany, Austria, Argentina). Only small community remaining in US.

Examples of Practice

  • Numerous Rogers videos available online, most famously Gloria (09:27–40:38). Brief: Richie.

  • For contemporary CCT work with young people (including outcome tools), see here.

Further Resources

  • Introductory chapter: Merry, T. (2012). Classical client-centred therapy. In P. Sanders (Ed.), The Tribes of the Person-Centred Nation (2nd ed., pp. 21-46). Ross-on-Wye: PCCS.

  • Core text: Rogers, C. R. (1957). The necessary and sufficient conditions of therapeutic personality change. Journal of Consulting Psychology, 21(2), 95-103.

  • Website/Training: www.the-pca.org.uk/ (UK), www.adpca.org (US)

Child-Centred Play Therapy

Application of non-directive principle to therapy with children, based around play, as children’s natural mode of expression.

AKA

  • Non-Directive Play Therapy

Founding Figure(s)

  • Virginia Axline (1911–1988), Clark Moustakas, Garry Landreth, Sue Bratton, Dee Ray (US)

Timeline

  • 1940s: Axline develops nondirective play therapy, based on Rogers’s newly emerging PCA.

  • 1987: Centre for Play Therapy established at University of North Texas.

  • 1992: British Association of Play Therapy established.

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Actualising tendency.

  • Non-directivity.

Other Influences

  • Early child psychotherapists (e.g., Anna Freud). Attachment principles.

Key Concepts

  • Belief in child’s inner capacity towards growth and healing, through natural media of play and creativity.

Key Practice(s)

  • Accepting, warm, respectful, permissive relationship in which child can take lead.

  • Empathy: looking at the world through the child’s eyes and reflecting back feelings, perceptions, and behaviours.

Client Populations

  • Children. Some application also with adolescents.

Evidence base

  • Well-established evidence of effectiveness across multiple, rigorously-conducted trials (e.g., Lin & Bratton, 2015).

Current Dissemination

  • Moderate-sized community of professional play therapists, and training programmes, in UK, US, and other regions of the world.

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

    

Focusing-Oriented Therapy

‘Process directive’ practice, based on the method of focusing, in which clients are encouraged to bring awareness to—and articulate—their bodily ‘felt senses’, such that there is a ‘carrying forward’ of experiencing.

Founding Figure(s)

  • Eugene Gendlin (1926–2017, American).

Timeline

  • 1953: Gendlin joined Rogers’s group at University of Chicago.

  • 1960s: Gendlin increasingly articulated own ideas and practices, following ‘Wisconsin project’ (client-centred therapy with schizophrenics).

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • ‘Experiencing’ as basis to human being and growth.

Other Influences

Phenomenological and existential philosophy, especially Merleau-Ponty.

Key Concepts

  • Clients with low levels of ‘experiencing’ less likely to make good progress may be helpful for therapists to encourage/facilitate clients’ experiential awareness.

  • Felt sense: a bodily, implicit, not-yet-fully-articulated sense of what is ‘right’ (i.e., fits) or ‘not right’: a ‘gut feeling’, at the edges of awareness.

  • ‘Carrying forward’ of felt senses can be blocked/stuck/interrupted.

Key Practice(s)

  • Focusing procedure (client-led, but with varying degrees of therapist encouragement/guidance/instruction): bringing awareness into the body, noticing concerns, articulating ‘felt sense’ in words/images, noticing when it brings relief, ‘receiving what has come from that experiential shift’ (Purton, 2012, p. 50).

Client Populations

  • Focusing method widely used in self-help and by lay people in ‘focusing partnerships,’ as well as in professionally-delivered therapy.

Evidence base

  • Limited trials of effectiveness; but good evidence that deeper experiencing is associated with better outcomes (Hendricks, 2002; Krycka & Ikemi, 2016).

Current Dissemination

  • Large international focusing community, inclusive of focusing-oriented therapists.

  • Focusing method incorporated into wide range of person-centred, humanistic, and integrative practices.

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

  • Introductory chapter: Purton, C. (2012). Focusing-oriented therapy. In P. Sanders (Ed.), The Tribes of the Person-Centred Nation (2nd ed., pp. 47-70). Ross-on-Wye: PCCS Books.

  • Introductory book: Cornell, A. W. (1996). The Power of Focusing: Finding Your Inner Voice. Oakland, CA: New Harbinger Publications.

  • Core book: Gendlin, E. T. (1996). Focusing-Oriented Psychotherapy: A Manual of the Experiential Method. New York: The Guilford Press.

  • Website/Training: www.focusing.org/

       

Emotion-Focused Therapy

‘Process-directive’ practice in which clients are invited to deepen emotional processing through a range of tasks (e.g., two-chair work), grounded in a collaborative and empathic therapeutic alliance.

AKA

Founding Figure(s)

  • Laura Rice (1920–2004, Canada), Les Greenberg (Canada), Robert Elliott (US/Scotland).

Timeline

  • Mid 1970s: Rice and Greenberg identify particularly helpful change events in therapy (e.g., two chair technique to resolve intrapersonal splits, Greenberg, 1979).

  • ·   1993: Publication of key text, Facilitating Emotional Change.

  • 2011: Foundation of International Society for Emotion Focused Therapy.

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Centrality of emotions to experiencing.

Other Influences

  • Focusing, Gestalt therapy, contemporary psychological theory and research (e.g., cognitive neuroscience, attachment theory, emotion theory).

Key Concepts

  • Emotion schemes: synthesising structures that process cognitive, affective, and sensory information—at a pre-conscious level—to create meaning (cf. CBT’s cognitive schema). Schemes can be dysfunctional, such that we respond in maladaptive ways >> poor ‘emotion regulation’. Emotion schemes can be restructured if evoked, symbolised, and ‘worked through’.

  • Primary and secondary emotions: latter are feelings about feelings (e.g., shame about feeling angry), and may be problematic: blocking natural, organismic emotional response. 

Key Practice(s)

  • Range of therapeutic ‘tasks’ proposed where ‘task markers’ present—though practice always grounded in empathic attuned, accepting, and collaborative alliance. Tasks include: focusing for unclear felt sense, two-chair dialogue for self-criticism/conflict splits, empty chair work for unfinished business (Elliott et al., 2004) >> re-establish adaptive emotions/emotion regulation.

Client Populations

  • Diverse. Evidence based for depression (in US). Tailored treatment models/tasks being researched and developed for range of other difficulties (e.g., generalised anxiety, trauma).

  • UK: Person-Centred Experiential Counselling for Depression (prev. ‘Counselling for Depression’) is NICE-approved, combines elements of EFT with Classical CCT (Murphy, 2019).

Evidence base

  • Substantial, and growing, body of rigorous research demonstrating effectiveness of EFT, and EFT tasks, for depression and other problems (Elliott et al., 2013).

Current Dissemination

  • Active, and growing, international community of practitioners and trainers.

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

  • Introductory book: Elliott, R. & Greenberg, L. S. (2001). Emotion-Focused Counselling in Action, London: Sage.

  • Key book: Greenberg, L. S., Rice, L. N., & Elliott, R. (1993). Facilitating Emotional Change: The Moment-by-Moment Process. New York: Guilford Press.

  • Website: International Society for Emotion Focused Therapy.  

Dialogical/Relational Approaches

Variant of classical client centred therapy that puts stronger emphasis on interactional, two-way encounter between therapist and client, as contrasted with wholly non-directive stance.

Founding Figure(s)

  • Peter Schmid (1950–2020, Austria), Dave Mearns (Scotland).

Timeline

  • 1990s/2000s: Peter Schmid publishes range of papers describing the essence of person-centred therapy in ‘dialogical’, ‘encounter-based’ terms: ‘the unfolding of interpersonality.’

  • 2005: Publication of Working at Relational Depth (1st ed.).

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Relationship, encounter.

Other Influences

  • Existential/relational philosophy: Martin Buber’s I and Thou, Emmanuel Levinas.

  • Relational perspectives in wider therapy and psychology field: e.g., attachment, relational Gestalt therapy, interpersonal neuroscience.

Key Concepts

  • Intersubjective ontology: human beings dialogically intertwined with others, not isolated entitles.

  • We are always, unavoidably influencing others: ‘non’-directivity is never wholly possible.

  • The client as Other: ‘infinitely foreign,’ ‘infinitely distant,’ ‘irreducibly strange’ (Levinas, 1969). Dialogue as welcoming/openness to encounter with Other.

  • Relational depth: ‘a state of profound contact and engagement between people’ (Mearns & Cooper, 2005, p. xvii).

Key Practice(s)

  • Flexibility and range of therapist responses, above and beyond empathic understanding response process: bringing therapist’s own responses, questions, reflections, perceptions in (without taking focus off client). Directivity (to a limited degree) is not taboo.

  • Focus of work is on establishing connection, being together, co-presence—allowing the emergence of relational depth.

Client Populations

  • General.

Evidence base

  • No trials of effectiveness, or comparison against classical approach

  • Good evidence that range of relational factors are associated with positive outcomes (Norcross & Lambert, 2019), with preliminary evidence relational depth is too (Wiggins, 2012).

  • Current body of research looking at experience of relational depth, its measurement, impact, and facilitating/inhibiting factors (see Cooper, 2013; Mearns & Cooper, 2018).

Current Dissemination

  • Loosely disseminated across person-centred practice and training in UK—and, to some extent, internationally—to varying degrees.

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

  • Core paper: Schmid, P. F. (2006). The challenge of the other: Towards dialogical person-centered psychotherapy and counseling. Person-Centered and Experiential Psychotherapies, 5(4), 240-254.

  • Core book: Mearns, D., & Cooper, M. (2018). Working at Relational Depth in Counselling and Psychotherapy (2nd ed.). London: Sage.

  • Websites: http://pfs-online.at/ , www.mick-cooper.squarespace.com/relational-depth

Creative Person-Centred Practices

A range of practices that use creative media—such as movement, dance, painting, sculpting, music, and creative writing—in a non-directive and non-interpretative way to facilitate self-discovery, spontaneity, healing, and growth.

Founding Figure(s)

  • Natalie Rogers (1928­–2015, US); Liesl Silverstone (1927–2013, UK).

Timeline

  • 1970s/1980s: Natalie Rogers (Carl Rogers’s daughter) develops person-centred expressive arts therapy and establishes training and community.

  • 1985: Liesl Silverstone establishes the Person-centred Art Therapy Centre in London.

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Creativity, as pathway towards healing and growth.

Other Influences

  • Arts, performance, and creative practices.

Key Concepts

  • Creativity is an expression of our organismic actualising tendency: our movement towards healing and growth.

  • Creative methods can be a powerful means of helping clients express feelings and discover hidden aspects of ‘self’.

Key Practice(s)

  • Creative media (e.g., paints, clay, musical instruments) made available to client, and client invited to express emotions and experiences through them.

  • Client provided with a permissive, supportive, non-judgmental environment in which they can express themselves spontaneously and freely.

  • Reflection back to client of emotions, perceptions, actions, words, and artwork. Focus is on creative process, creative work, and meaning (rather than outputs).

  • Clients’ creative processes and work not interpreted, directed, or judged. Trust in client’s own path.

Client Populations

  • Adults, young people, and children. Individual and groups.

Evidence base

  • None.

Current Dissemination

  • Small community with handful of training courses in the US and UK.

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

  • Introductory chapter: Rogers, N. (2013). Person-centred expressive arts therapy: connecting body, mind and spirit. In M. Cooper, P. F. Schmid, M. O'Hara & G. Wyatt (Eds.), The Handbook of Person-Centred Psychotherapy and Counselling (2nd ed., pp. 237-247). Basingstoke: Palgrave.

  • Core text: Rogers, N. (1993) The Creative Connection: Expressive Arts as Healing, Ross: PCCS.

  • Core text: Silverstone, L. (1997) Art Therapy—The Person-Centred Way: Art and the Development of the Person, 2nd ed., London: Jessica Kingsley.

  • Website (UK): Association for Person Centred Creative Arts

  • Website (US): Person-Centered Expressive Arts

Pre-Therapy

A form of non-directive practice specifically developed for people with psychosis and other ‘contact impairments’, aiming to facilitate re-connection through very close, ‘mirroring’ reflections.

Founding Figure(s)

Garry Prouty (1936–2009, US), Dion Van Werde (Belgium).

Timeline

1966: Garry Prouty gives ‘birth’ to Pre-Therapy, working with mentally ill clients in Illinois.

1970s: Prouty starts to publish work.

1985: Pre-Therapy International Network established.

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Psychological contact, as the first condition for therapeutic work.

Other Influences

  • Gendlin (who mentored Prouty), phenomenology.

Key Concepts

  • ‘Contact’ = contact with the world (reality contact), contact with emotions (affective contact), or contact with others (communicative contact).

  • Contact needs to be established before therapeutic work can progress. But helping clients re-establish contact functioning (as expressed in ‘contact behaviours’) can be valuable in itself.

Key Practice(s)

  • Contact reflections: very concrete, literal, ‘duplicative’ reflections that closely mirror the client’s actions and aim to re-establish a ‘web of contact’ with the client:

  • Situational reflections of client’s behaviour in context, e.g., ‘Rana is touching the table’.

  • Facial reflections: reflective expressions and affect, e.g., ‘You are looking sad.’

  • Body reflections: e.g., ‘You are rocking,’  ‘You are holding your arm out.’

  • Word-for-word reflections, even if not fully clear or coherent, e.g., client says, ‘Fast… very fast… very fast’; therapist repeats ‘Fast… very fast... very fast’.

  • Reiterative reflections: repeat of reflections that have previously established contact.

Client Populations

  • People with ‘contact impairment’ and ‘grey-zone’ (i.e., partially impaired) functioning; for instance schizophrenia, learning disabilities, organic impairments, autism, dementia.

  • Practiced both as formal one-to-one therapy, and in more informal/everyday care interactions (e.g., as part of nursing practice). Also group/ward practices to establish ‘contact milieu’.

Evidence base

  • Very limited body of controlled, pre-/post-, and case studies; but showing some evidence of positive effects (Dekeyser et al., 2008).

Current Dissemination

  • Small international network. Training at post-qualification level. 

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

  • Introductory chapter: Van Werde, D., & Prouty, G. (2013). Clients with contact-impaired functioning: Pre-therapy. In M. Cooper et al. (Eds.) The Handbook of Person-Centred Psychotherapy and Counselling (2nd ed., pp. 327-342). Basingstoke: Palgrave.

  • Introductory book: Sanders, P. (2007) The Contact Work Primer. Ross: PCCS.

  • Core book: Prouty, G., Pörtner, M., & Van Werde, D. (2002). Pre-Therapy: Reaching Contact Impaired Clients. Ross: PCCS.

  • Website: Pre-Therapy International Network

     

Motivational Interviewing

Person-centred style of guiding, developed for people with substance use problems, which specifically aims to elicit and strengthen motivation for change.

Founding Figure(s)

  • William Miller, Stephen Rollnick.

Timeline

  • 1983: Motivational Interviewing (MI) first described by Miller.

  • 1991: Publication of comprehensive guide.

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Empathic, accepting, collaborative relationship (cf. authoritarian, pathologising approach to people with substance use problems).

  • Aimed at eliciting client’s own desire for change and growth (cf. persuasion, confrontation).

  • (MI/Miller explicitly claims Rogerian heritage, see Miller & Moyers, 2017).

Other Influences

  • ‘Stages of change’: precontemplation, contemplation, preparation, action, maintenance, termination (Prochaska & DiClemente, 1986). Empirical research. Behaviour change principles.

Key Concepts

  • Change talk: person’s own statements that favour positive change (e.g., ‘I want to stop drinking’); cf. sustain talk, statements favouring status quo. Ambivalence (existence of both change and sustain talk) is the norm. MI specifically sides with change talk (cf. classical CCT).

Key Practice(s)

  • Guiding principles: express empathy, develop discrepancy (i.e., elicit client’s desire for things to be different/change talk), avoid arguments, ‘roll with the resistance’, support self-efficacy.

  • Four processes/steps:

    • Engaging: establishing relational foundations—listening, understanding, open questions.

    • Focusing: establishing orientation, direction, goals towards positive change.

    • Evoking: inviting and supporting client’s change talk (desires, abilities, reasons, needs, importance); using open questions, affirmation, reflection, and summaries.

    • Planning: establishing specific, concrete strategies; supporting confidence, persistence.

Client Populations

  • Primarily used as brief intervention for people with alcohol and other substance use problems, across a broad range of settings (e.g., addition treatment, healthcare, social work); but can be used with other client populations or incorporated into more general therapy.  

Evidence base

  • Vast body of rigorous trials show effectiveness of MI for substance use problems, at level equivalent to CBT and AA (DiClemente et al., 2017; Project MATCH Research Group, 1997).

  • Process evidence supports MI claim that more change talk >> more change.

Current Dissemination

  • Extensively used, across globe, in range of addiction and treatment settings. Less common as one-to-one counselling/psychotherapy. Somewhat outside of global PCA community.

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

Integrative Person-Centred Approaches

Range of both general integrative frameworks (e.g., ‘pluralistic therapy’) and specific integrative combinations (e.g., ‘person-centred CBT’) which encourage the combination of person-centred principles and practices with other therapeutic ideas and methods.

Founding Figure(s)

Numerous, including Reinhard Tausch (German), Les Greenberg (see EFT, above), David Cain (American), Richard Worsley (British), John McLeod & Mick Cooper (Scottish/British).

Timeline

  • Late 1970s: Greenberg researches effectiveness of Gestalt method two chair technique.

  • Late 1980s: Tausch proposes ‘supplements’ to PCT.

  • 2000s: McLeod & Cooper articulate ‘pluralistic’ variant of person-centred practice.

Develops Rogerian Principles of…

  • Full functioning (in therapist) = flexibility, responsiveness, and openness to multiplicity of understandings and practices.

  • Uniqueness of each individual client, their strengths, and their therapeutic needs.

  • Uniqueness of each individual therapist and their strengths and abilities (Keys, 2003). 

Other Influences

  • Specific integrative practices have combined PCT with numerous other approaches, e.g., CBT (e.g., Josefowitz & Myran, 2005), systemic (e.g., O'Leary, 1999), existential (e.g., Cooper, 2012).

  • General integrative frameworks draw on postmodern rejection of singular ‘truths’: no one size fits all (including classical PCT concepts of ‘actualising tendency’ and ‘non-directivity’).

Key Concepts

  • Core conditions can be useful supplemented (for some clients, some of the time) by understandings and practices from other approaches. Challenges PCT ‘purism’.

Key Practice(s)

  • Diverse practices (alongside core conditions), depending on particular type of integration.

  • Pluralistic framework emphasises shared decision-making/preference work.

Client Populations

  • Diverse.

Evidence base

  • No trials of effectiveness outside of EFT (see above).

  • Good evidence for working with preferences/shared decision making (e.g., Swift et al., 2019).

Current Dissemination

  • Numerous counsellors and psychotherapists, worldwide, integrate core person-centred practices with ideas and methods from other approaches (Thoma & Cecero, 2009).

  • Integrative practices less clearly/confidently articulated in person-centred field, per se.

  • Small but lively pluralistic community in UK, distinct from PCT community.

Examples of Practice

Further Resources

  • Introductory chapter: Cain, D. (2013). Integration in person-centred psychotherapies. In M. Cooper, P. F. Schmid, M. O'Hara & G. Wyatt (Eds.), The Handbook of Person-Centred Psychotherapy and Counselling (2nd ed., pp. 248-260). Basingstoke: Palgrave.

  • Introductory chapter: Worsley, R. (2012). Integrating with integrity. In P. Sanders (Ed.), The Tribes of the Person-Centred Nation (2nd ed., pp. 125-147). Ross-on-Wye: PCCS Books.

  • Core debate: See Cooper & McLeod, ‘Person-centered therapy: A pluralistic perspective’ with critique by Ong et al., ‘Unnecessary and incompatible’.

  • Website/Training: www.pluralisticpractice.com  

References

  • Cooper, M. (2012). Existentially informed person-centred therapy. In P. Sanders (Ed.), The tribes of the person-centred nation: An introduction to the schools of therapy related to the person-centred approach (2nd ed., pp. 131-160). Ross-on-Wye: PCCS Books.

  • Cooper, M. (2013). Experiencing relational depth in therapy: What we know so far. In R. Knox, D. Murphy, S. Wiggins & M. Cooper (Eds.), Relational depth: New perspectives and developments (pp. 62-76). Basingstoke: Palgrave.

  • Dekeyser, M., Prouty, G., & Elliott, R. (2008). Pre-Therapy Process and Outcome: A review of research instruments and findings. Person-Centered & Experiential Psychotherapies, 7(1), 37-55.

  • DiClemente, C. C., Corno, C. M., Graydon, M. M., Wiprovnick, A. E., & Knoblach, D. J. (2017). Motivational interviewing, enhancement, and brief interventions over the last decade: A review of reviews of efficacy and effectiveness. Psychology of Addictive Behaviors, 31(8), 862-887. https://doi.org/10.1037/adb0000318

  • Elliott, R., Greenberg, L. S., Watson, J. C., Timulak, L., & Freire, E. (2013). Research on Humanistic-Experiential Psychotherapies. In M. J. Lambert (Ed.), Bergin and Garfield's handbook of psychotherapy and behavior change (pp. 495-538). New Jersey: John Wiley.

  • Elliott, R., Watson, J. C., Goldman, R., & Greenberg, L. S. (2004). Learning Emotion-Focused Therapy: The Process-Experiential Approach to Change. Washington DC: American Psychological Association.

  • Greenberg, L. S. (1979). Resolving splits: Use of the two chair technique. Psychotherapy: Theory, Research, Practice, Training, 16(3), 316-324.

  • Hendricks, M. N. (2002). Focusing-oriented/experiential psychotherapy. In D. J. Cain & J. Seeman (Eds.), Humanistic Psychotherapies: Handbook of Research and Practice (pp. 221-252). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.

  • Josefowitz, N., & Myran, D. (2005). Towards a person-centred cognitive behaviour therapy. Counselling Psychology Quarterly, 18(4), 329-336. https://doi.org/10.1080/09515070500473600

  • Keys, S. (Ed.). (2003). Idiosyncratic Person-Centred Therapy. Ross-on-Wye: PCCS Books.

  • Krycka, K. C., & Ikemi, A. (2016). Focusing-oriented-experiential psychotherapy. In D. Cain, K. Keenan & S. Rubin (Eds.), Humanistic psychotherapies (2nd ed., pp. 251-282). Washington: APA.

  • Levinas, E. (1969). Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority (A. Lingis, Trans.). Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press.

  • Lin, Y. W., & Bratton, S. C. (2015). A meta‐analytic review of child‐centered play therapy approaches. Journal of Counseling & Development, 93(1), 45-58. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.1556-6676.2015.00180.x

  • Mearns, D., & Cooper, M. (2005). Working at Relational Depth in Counselling and Psychotherapy. London: Sage.

  • Mearns, D., & Cooper, M. (2018). Working at Relational Depth in Counselling and Psychotherapy (2nd ed.). London: Sage.

  • Miller, W. R., & Moyers, T. B. (2017). Motivational interviewing and the clinical science of Carl Rogers. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 85(8), 757-766. https://doi.org/10.1037/ccp0000179

  • Murphy, D. (2019). Person-Centred Experiential Counselling for Depression. London: Sage.

  • Norcross, J. C., & Lambert, M. J. (Eds.). (2019). Psychotherapy relationships that work (3rd ed. Vol. 1: Evidence-based therapist contributions). NY: Oxford University.

  • O'Leary, C. (1999). Counselling Couples and Families: A Person-Centred Approach. London: Sage.

  • Prochaska, J. O., & DiClemente, C. C. (1986). Toward a comprehensive model of change. In W. R. Miller & N. Heather (Eds.), Treating addictive behaviors (pp. 3-27): Springer.

  • Project MATCH Research Group. (1997). Matching alcoholism treatments to client heterogeneity: Project MATCH posttreatment drinking outcomes. Journal of Studies on Alcohol, 58(1), 7-29.

  • Purton, C. (2012). Focusing-oriented therapy. In P. Sanders (Ed.), The Tribes of the Person-Centred Nation: An Introduction to the Schools of Therapy Related to the Person-Centred Approach (2nd ed., pp. 47-70). Ross-on-Wye: PCCS Books.

  • Rogers, C. R. (1957). The necessary and sufficient conditions of therapeutic personality change. Journal of Consulting Psychology, 21(2), 95-103.

  • Sanders, P. (Ed.). (2012). The Tribes of the Person-Centred Nation: An Introduction to the Schools of Therapy Related to the Person-Centred Approach (2nd ed.). Ross-on-Wye: PCCS Books.

  • Swift, J. K., Callahan, J. L., Cooper, M., & Parkin, S. R. (2019). Preferences. In J. C. Norcross (Ed.), Psychotherapy relationships that work (3rd ed., pp. 157-187). NY: Oxford University.

  • Thoma, N. C., & Cecero, J. J. (2009). Is integrative use of tehcniques in psychotherapy the exception or the rule? Results of a national survey of doctoral-level practitioners. Psychotherapy, 46(4), 405-417. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0017900

Wiggins, S. (2012). Development and validation of a measure of relational depth. (PhD dissertation), University of Strathclyde, Glasgow. Retrieved from http://ethos.bl.uk/OrderDetails.do?uin=uk.bl.ethos.576407

 

Citation

This blog post can be referenced as: Cooper, M. (2021, Sept. 30). The branches of the person-centred tree: Some pointers. https://mick-cooper.squarespace.com/new-blog/2021/9/29/the-branches-of-person-centred-therapy-some-pointers

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Non-Directivity: Therapeutic and Meta-Therapeutic Perspectives

What does it mean to be non-directive? Tony Merry, in his definitive introduction to classical client-centred therapy, describes it as respect for a person’s process of self-determination, and creating a relationship in which the sources for change reside in the person themselves.

In recent years, however, I think two different ways of understanding this non-directive stance have been articulated. The first is what we might call therapeutic non-directivity. Here, the therapist is not directive in the therapy session. They trust the client to talk about what is important to them, and to lead the way in finding answers to the question that they are posing. The therapist works mainly through empathic reflection and understanding.

The second is what we might call meta-therapeutic non-directivity. This is also a form of trusting the client’s own process of self-determination, but this time in terms of what they might want from therapy itself: that is, at a meta-therapeutic level. So, when the therapist is being non-directive at the meta-therapeutic level, one option might be to work in a therapeutically non-directive way. But there could be other options too—depending on what the client wants and what the therapist is skilled in and able to offer. For instance, if a client wanted to learn a particular mindfulness technique, or if they wanted advice on relationship problem, the therapist might input on these areas if they know how to. This wouldn’t, then, be therapeutic non-directivity, but it would still be non-directive at the meta-therapeutic level as it’s trusting that the client knows what is best for them.

It is often assumed, particularly in early stage person-centred trainings, that non-directivity means therapeutic non-directivity. So, for instance, if a client asks for guidance or suggestions, you reflect back to them that this is what they are looking for, and encourage them to find their own answers instead. But, in recent debates, many experienced person-centred practitioners have said that, in such instances, it may be quite appropriate for therapists to respond to the client’s wants: that is, to practice non-directivity at the meta-therapeutic level. Pluralistic therapy is a form of practice, emerging from the person-centred field, which particularly emphasises meta-therapeutic non-directivity. Some people have argued that pluralistic therapy is unnecessary because the person-centred approach, by its very nature, advocates this already. However, this criticism is very dependent on how the person-centred approach is defined. Given that, in many cases, person-centred non-directivity is understood at the therapeutic level alone, it may be useful to have a perspective that explicitly advocates a meta-therapeutic approach.

To a great extent, the stance that people take here may be dependent on how they understand the actualising tendency, and this is another person-centred concept that is open to a wide range of interpretations. In particular, do you understand the actualising tendency as something that lies deep within the person, outside of consciousness (what I have called an ‘essentialist understanding’ of the actualising tendency); or do you understand the actualising tendency in terms of the person knowing, consciously and here-and-now, what is best for themselves (an ‘existential understanding’)? If you take the latter perspective, you are more likely to trust that the person can, there-and-then in therapy, articulate something of what they want and need. But if you see the actualising tendency as something buried deeply away, you are more likely to feel that it needs time, space, and therapeutic non-directivity to be able to emerge.

At the meta-therapeutic level, we can also distinguish between active and reactive non-directivity. Reactive non-directivity is where we would respond to particular requests from the client if they made them (assuming, again, we were appropriately trained), but we wouldn’t specifically solicit meta-therapeutic suggestions or suggest options. Active non-directivity at the meta-therapeutic level, on the other hand, might mean that we would ask clients about the kinds of therapeutic inputs that they would want, or even make suggestions about what we believed might help them. Pluralistic therapy tends to advocate such an approach. The assumption here is that, because of the power differential between therapists and clients, clients may not feel able to say what they want unless they are asked. They might also not be aware of all the different options. But the danger, here, is clearly that clients may feel obliged to agree with therapists, and in so doing lose their own self-direction.

Of course, there are no rights or wrong here, and each of these forms of non-directivity may be very useful to clients. They are also not mutually exclusive. But what may be important is that therapists—and particularly trainees—are aware of what kind of non-directivity they are advocating and practising. The general definition of non-directivity is so broad, and so open to misunderstandings, that specifying what you, personally, mean by it is essential for anyone advocating such a stance (and particularly if you are trying to write about it in an assignment!). Non-directivity, as Tony Merry said, is about a deep respect for the client’s own process of self-determination, but how we manifest that respect in our client work is a complex and multifaceted issue that requires careful consideration and articulation.

This blog post can be referenced as: Cooper, M. (2021, Sept. 21). Non-directivity: Therapeutic and meta-therapeutic perspectives. https://mick-cooper.squarespace.com/new-blog/2021/9/21/non-directivity-therapeutic-and-metatherapeutic-perspectives

Working with Client Preferences in Counselling and Psychotherapy

Mick Cooper, University of Roehampton, London; John C. Norcross, University of Scranton, PA, USA

Client preferences can be defined as the specific conditions and activities that clients want in their therapy. The literature suggests three main types of client preferences [1]. First are treatment preferences: the desires that clients have for specific types of intervention, like person-centred or psychodynamic. Second are preferences about the therapist. This is the kind of counsellor or psychotherapist that the client would like to work with; for instance, lesbian, Asian, or an older adult. Third are activity preferences: the specific actions that clients desire to engage in throughout the therapy process. This can include the frequency and format of therapy (for instance, online therapy), the methods and techniques to be used (for instance, two-chair work), the preferred topics to focus on (for instance, early childhood), and the therapist’s particular style (for instance, focusing on emotions).

In preference work, we can also distinguish between preference assessment—the identification of clients’ strong likes and dislikes—and preference accommodation—the therapist adjustment of their way of working to the client’s expressed desires [2].

There are both ethical and empirical reasons why therapists should concern themselves with client preferences. Research shows that clients are as much as 50% less likely to drop out of therapy when the treatment matches their preferences, and also show somewhat better outcomes. So, for instance, a client who wants a warm, supportive, client-led therapy style may be particularly likely to drop out—or show relatively poor outcomes—if they are given a highly directive and therapist-led CBT [1]. Ethically, preference assessment and accommodation can convey a deep respect for our clients and their ways of seeing their worlds: a core requirement of any ethical framework [e.g., 3]. It also means respecting our clients’ rights to be autonomous, self-governing agents; and recognising that they are not uniform, ‘machine-made’ products, but individualized beings with distinctive wants. Such honouring of difference is also important across cultures. A White male counsellor, for instance, who does not ask his female Pakistani client about her particular preferences may end up imposing European, ‘male’ assumptions on her. When we ask, therefore, we share power; we move away from a comparatively authoritarian, expert-led stance towards a more egalitarian and democratic one.

Addressing Common Concerns

Therapists, quite rightly, have a number of concerns about working with client preferences, and these are worth addressing up front.

‘Most of my clients don’t know what they want’

It’s certainly true that some clients don’t have strong preferences, particularly if they have not been in counselling or psychotherapy before. But preference work is not an all-or-nothing thing: it’s about gently and sensitively offering clients an opportunity to share their preferences, if and when they have them and would like to do so.

‘What clients want isn’t necessarily what they need’

That can be true. A client, for instance, might want warmth and reassurance from their therapist when, actually, what would help them is to learn to tolerate anxieties and tensions in interpersonal relationships. But, as we have seen, research shows that, overall, clients succeed better in therapy when they get the approach they want. Moreover, when therapists think that what a client requests will not prove helpful, then can then raise that concern with them. It’s not about handing over responsibility to clients, but working collaboratively with them—‘shared decision making’, as they call it in the medical field—to work out, together, the best way forward.

‘Clients preferences can change over the course of therapy’

 Yes, some do and some don’t (though our research shows that most client preferences are pretty stable over time). That means that assessing client preferences is not a ‘set-and-forget’ process. It’s often more tentative and recursive: opening up the discussion, trying things, and being willing to change the way of working if clients are not finding it helpful or want something else.

‘Does that mean I have to offer every therapeutic methods to every client I meet?’

No, we can only learn so many approaches, and we have to practice within our competencies. Thus, sometimes, working with client preferences means recognising that what they want is not what we can competently offer (and referral to another may be indicated). But, generally, it is much better that clients and therapists have that discussion early on, rather than discovering incompatibilities months into treatment.

‘I already have an intuitive sense of what my clients want, so why bother asking?’

Intuition is a valuable skill; but research shows, again and again, that therapists’ and clients’ perceptions of what is going on in therapy are often mismatched. For instance, one study found that, in about two-thirds of cases, clients and therapists had somewhat different views about the goals for therapy [4]. Moreover, there is a risk that therapists’ intuitive sense of what clients want are biased by the therapists’ own therapy preferences. Our research shows that there are quite large and systematic differences between what therapists and laypeople want, as clients [5].

‘I already work with clients’ preferences. I don’t need to do more’

Interestingly, in the medical field, doctors tend to think there’s more shared decision making going on than patients [6]. The difference may come down to power. If a doctor says, ‘Why don’t we try treatment X’, and a patient nods their head, the doctor may feel it’s a shared decision; but, for the patient, it may be more a case of compliance for fear of appearing ignorant or rude. Given that a similar power dynamic can exist in therapy—with research showing that client deference frequently occurs, even in person-centred approaches [7]—it behoves all therapists to reflect on their practice and think about how frequently they provide clients with opportunities to express their preferences. It may be less than we think.  

Assessing Client Preferences

So how should you go about assessing client preferences?

Almost certainly, the first step is a reflexive one: asking yourself, What is my scope of practice? That is, what are you (a) competent and (b) willing to offer to your clients? For instance, are you able and willing to offer transference interpretations, anxiety-management skills, or methods to discover meaning in life? What about individual, couple, group, or family therapy? Recognising what you can offer clients is essential in responding effectively to clients’ stated preferences—you will need to know whether what they ask for is something you can adopt or not.

Assessment of client preferences most commonly takes place at initial, or intake, appointments. It is probably best if this assessment takes place towards the end of that session—clients often come to therapy anxious, or with their own accounts that they want to offload—and it may be a few sessions before clients are ready to say something of what they prefer. We recommend that the clients’ treatment goals (the ‘where’) be established before ascertaining their preferences (the ‘how’).

 There are many ways that clients can be invited to express their preferences, for instance:

  •  What do you think that we can do here that might be helpful to you? Do you have any sense of what wouldn’t be helpful?

  • What would you like in our work together? What kind of preferences do you have?

  • Try this brief exercise. Close your eyes, breathe deeply a few times, and imagine in your mind’s eye what you would strongly like to happen in here. What would I ideally do? What would I not do?

  • Let’s think together about how you might get what you want from therapy. Which treatment method? What type of therapy relationship? What type of out-of-office activities: self-help, exercise, apps, and so on?’

 Assessment of client preferences can also take place before that intake meeting. For instance, on an initial phone conversation, a prospective therapist may ask about particular treatment preferences or preferences about the therapist to ensure there is a basic compatibility before moving forward. Scheduled review sessions are another point at which clients may be asked about their preferences, and whether the therapist’s methods and style seems to be of help. And, of course, throughout the therapy sessions there may be occasions where it is appropriate and helpful to discuss client preference: for instance, at the start of sessions, when the therapy is not progressing well, when there is an alliance rupture, or when the ending approaches. In fact, recursive assessment of preferences often becomes part of routine outcome monitoring.

Based on the research and our clinical experience [2], we offer several principles of good practice in preference assessment:

  • Focus on strong preferences—what clients might really want and really dislike—rather than milder or more moderate preferences; it’s the former where accommodation or non-accommodation is most likely to count.

  • Ask clients what worked and did not work in previous therapies, if they have had them. It’s often the most simple and natural way in to helping identify what might be helpful now.

  • ‘It’s the relationship, stupid’: preference assessment needs to be framed within the context of a respectful, warm, collaborative therapeutic relationship; if not, it may be little more than a sterile data gathering process.

  • Make it clear that asking about preferences is a normal part of counselling and psychotherapy. Clients may be surprised to be asked, and assume that therapy is like other, practitioner-led ‘treatments’.

  • Actively invite clients to share their preferences: given client deference (see above), it’s not enough just to assume that, if they have preferences, they’ll verbalize them.

  • Be part of the dialogue yourself: shared decision making means shared—you need to work with the client to help decide, together, what might be best for them.

  • Be confident: at its worst, preference assessment can communicate to clients that we don’t know how to help them, and that it’s their responsibility to decide. So the message we want to communicate to clients is, ‘We’ve got lots of ideas about how to help you, but we’re really interested in your ideas too. I am the expert on therapy and you are the expert on you.’

  • Suggest alternatives through ‘scaffolding’: clients can easily feel overwhelmed if they’re presented with a ‘blank sheet of paper’ and asked, ‘What do you want?’ Rather, it is often helpful to suggest 2 or 3 specific possibilities, for instance, ‘We could talk about your grandmother this session, or perhaps you would like to focus on your boyfriend?’

  • Don’t ‘overcook’ it: if clients do not have ideas about will help them, or seem reluctant to talk about it, then move on. You can come back to their preferences later on in the therapeutic process, if it seems appropriate.

  • Tailor the tailoring: some clients, some of the time, want to have their preferences assessed and accommodated; others, do not. Hence adjust the amount of preference work to the individual client—there is no one size fits all, even when it comes to the client’s preferences.

Through our research, we have developed a tool to assess strong client preferences, the Cooper-Norcross Inventory of Preferences (C-NIP) [8]. This measure, now translated into over ten languages and freely available for use digitally or on paper (see c-nip.net), invites clients to express their preferences for therapy along four dimensions: (a) Therapist directiveness vs Client directiveness, (b) Emotional intensity vs Emotional reserve, (c) Past orientation vs Present orientation, and (d) Warm Support vs Focused challenge. The measure takes clients about five minutes to complete and can be immediately scored in session to indicate whether the client has strong preferences on any of these dimensions. This then serves as the basis for discussion about how the therapist and client can work together. Our research suggests that clients generally find the C-NIP helpful, supporting their ability to articulate how they want to proceed in treatment. And, they say, it feels good to be asked.

Working with Client Preferences in Therapy

Once clients’ preferences are assessed, there is the question of how they are accommodated—or not—into the therapeutic work. In our book, Personalizing Psychotherapy, we suggest four possibilities: adopt, adapt, alternative, or another.

Adopt means that we integrate the client’s strong preferences, pretty much as they are, into treatment—bearing in mind, of course, that these preferences (and our scope of practice) may change over time.

Adapt is offering something along the lines of what the client wanted, but adjusted to take into account our own views of what might prove most effective, the research evidence, ethical considerations, or the limits of our own scope of practice. In the case of Hamza, for example, there was a small but significant mismatch between what he wanted from treatment and the therapist’s (Mick’s) understanding of what might be most helpful for him:

Hamza presented with high levels of depression and anxiety and was becoming increasingly withdrawn from his college and social environment. The therapist view, based on an understanding of core behavioural principles, was that Hamza needed to be encouraged to get out and re-engage with his world. The more he withdrew, the more anxious and isolated he became. Hamza sensed this pattern as well. However, he also indicated that, based on a previous episode of CBT, it was unhelpful for him to be told by a therapist, ‘If you don’t do what I’m suggesting, you’re not going to get better.’ He related that it left him feeling guilty, ashamed, and even less confident to go out into the world. The adaptation challenge was to find methods of communicating to Hamza that he could change his behaviours, without implying that he was ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’ if he did not. A delicate balance needed to be struck between helping Hamza own some responsibility and, at the same time, avoiding his strong dislike of feeling blamed. [2]

 The third option is to respectfully propose alternatives to patients’ strong likes and dislikes. This would be when we believe their preferences will not be most suited to the particular context, or when we do not think it will produce the desired results. Just because clients want something does not mean that we should automatically provide it. Ethical, legal, and clinical constraints still bind us to responsible and effective practice. In some cases, for instance, clients may be unconsciously trying to recreate problematic relationship or to test the therapy’s frame. Three ‘E’s may be helpful when proposing alternatives to clients [2]:

  • Explain your reasoning for not accommodating or adapting.

  • Empathize with probable patient disappointment.

  • Educate the client about the proposed alternative, so that they understand why it is being proposed.

When a client’s strong preferences prove congruent with the research evidence and best practices, but not our own scope of practice, then referral to another becomes a strong possibility [2]. This is a practice that students often receive little training in, but it is an essential competence, given our inevitable limits and our desire for clients to have the best therapy possible. Some helpful pointers for therapists may be:

  • Accept your limits as a clinician: see onward referral as a sign of your commitment to your clients’ mental health rather than as an indication of your failings.

  • Be aware that some clients may experience onward referral as a sign of rejection or an indication that their mental health problems are incurable. Make clear that it is due to your competency boundaries as a therapist, rather than their failure as a patient.

  • Refer onwards in a collaborative way with clients so that it is experienced as a shared and empowering experience, rather than as something imposed on them.

  • Provide concrete suggestions and specific sources in mind, as opposed to vague referrals to other services. This may mean being aware of other resources in your community—for instance, low-cost CBT practitioners or substance misuse programmes—before having these discussions with clients.

  • Obtain proper permission or releases so that you can communicate with other clinicians or clinics; that will ensure continuity of care and help the treatment personalization forward. [2] 

Conclusion

Assessing and accommodating clients’ preferences constitutes a complex, nuanced set of practices and interactions that evolve over the course of therapy. It is, at heart, about creating a more egalitarian, empowering, and responsive relationship that enables clients to use counselling and psychotherapy most effectively. Both research and practice attest to the success of preference work.

But there is still much more to learn. Which clients in which situations, for instance, are most (and least) benefitted by preference work? How can we most effectively help clients articulate their preferences? Answering these kinds of questions is part of a wider movement towards personalised care, in which our clients are treated as more than just instances of a general class (for instance, ‘depressives’ or ‘borderline types’), but as unique human beings with specific and individual desires. When we ask clients about their preferences, as with Buber’s ‘I–Thou attitude’ [9], we affirm them as agentic participants or partners, who have the power—and right—to direct their own process of change. This is certainly not the only means of conveying such valuing and respect to our clients, but it becomes an integral part of a deeply affirming, empowering relationship. 

Further Reading

Our book, Personalizing Psychotherapy: Assessing and Accommodating Client Preferences, is now available from APA. For UK readers, a 40% discount is available for the book with free standard delivery. Please go to www.eurospanbookstore.com/personalizing-psychotherapy.html and use the ‘code Psychotherapy40’. This offer valid until at least 31/4/21 and open to customers based in the UK, Europe, Middle East, and Africa.

References

1. Swift, J.K., et al., Preferences, in Psychotherapy relationships that work, J.C. Norcross & B. E. Wampold, Editors 2019, Oxford University: NY. p. 157-187.

2. Norcross, J.C. and M. Cooper, Personalizing psychotherapy: Assessing and accommodating client preferences2021, Washington: APA.

3. British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy, Ethical framework for the counselling professions, 2018, BACP: Lutterworth.

4. Swift, J. and J. Callahan, Early psychotherapy processes: An examination of client and trainee clinician perspective convergence. Clinical psychology & psychotherapy, 2009. 16(3): p. 228-236.

5. Cooper, M., et al., Psychotherapy preferences of laypersons and mental health professionals: Whose therapy is it? Psychotherapy, 2019. 56: p. 205-216.

6. The Health Foundation, Helping people share decision making, 2012, The Health Foundation: London.

7.  Rennie, D.L., Clients' deference in psychotherapy. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 1994. 41(4): p. 427-437.

8. Cooper, M. and J.C. Norcross, A Brief, Multidimensional Measure of Clients' Therapy Preferences: The Cooper-Norcross Inventory of Preferences (C-NIP). International Journal of Clinical and Health Psychology, 2016. 16(1): p. 87-98.

9. Buber, M., I and Thou. 2nd ed1958, Edinburgh: T & T Clark Ltd.

[Spanish translation of this blog post]

'Advice' in Counselling and Psychotherapy: What is it Good For?

From a person-centred standpoint, advice is very much a no-no. Indeed, it’s virtually a taboo in the person-centred field: the first thing you learn when you learn about practising non-directively. That’s not surprising given where Carl Rogers, its founder, came from. He wanted to counteract the expert-led tendency of the therapies of his day (the 1930s and 1940s), which involved the therapist telling the client how to solve their problems. It assumed that the clinician knew: about the client’s life, about the best way forward for them, about how they should live their life. Rogers reacted, and many of us still baulk today for these same reasons: who gives the clinician the right to think they know better than the client about the client’s own life?

Given that advice-giving is so intrinsic to how many us learn to ‘help’ others, it seems essential to me that counselling trainings should start with learning how not to give advice: to bracket that need and to learn to just be with clients so that they can develop their own skills in problem solving. If we just ‘leap in’ all the time, we may really get in the way of that. It’s also important for trainees to recognise that, in many cases, giving advice can be more about the ‘kick’ we get from being smart and showing that we know things, rather than coming from a genuine desire to help the other. Amongst the many different forms of therapy responses, research shows that advice is rated as one of the least helpful.

I know that for myself, as a client. If a therapist tries to give me advice, I nearly always feel patronised, directed, belittled. It makes me feel like, ‘Why the hell do you think you can tell me what to do, after years of me trying to sort it out for myself.’

But sometimes, actually, I have found it helpful. One of the most helpful things a therapist ever said to me, and actually probably one of the least humanistic, was this: ‘Why don’t you think of what a “normal” person would do in those circumstances and try and do that.’ On pretty much every index that’s a ghastly intervention, but actually it was incredibly helpful for me and something that supported me through a lot. And I think the danger in dismissing all forms of advice is that we may actually then not see when it can be helpful—as us pluralists say—for different clients at different points in time. So there is another side to this.

For a start, we’ve found in our research with young people in school counselling that, again and again, they say that they value the advice that they get from the counsellor (and you can see a great review of the evidence here). And this is kids in person-centred counselling. Of course, I’m sure sometimes what they are calling advice is actually the therapist reflecting back to them what they, themselves, worked out; but the point is that they see it as advice, and they love it. Along similar lines, we’ve found in our surveys on therapy preferences that about two-thirds of individuals want a therapist to give them advice, against about a quarter who don’t (see chart below). You could say, ‘Well, that’s because they don’t really know what therapy is or what’s really going to help them’; but then, paradoxically, that’s the essence of a therapist-expertise stance: saying what clients really need even if clients are saying something different.

Participants preference for advice vs not advice from a therapist, using the C-NIP form

Participants preference for advice vs not advice from a therapist, using the C-NIP form

Part of the issue, I think, is that the word ‘advice’ tends to be used in a very generic and non-specific sense, when actually it can cover a whole spectrum of different responses to clients. It’s one thing to say to a client, ‘You really ought to be kinder to your mum and, if you aren’t, you should feel ashamed of yourself’ (which, of course, no therapist would ever say); and quite another to say something like, ‘I wonder if you have ever thought about telling your mum how you’re feeling.’ So while the first kind of pressuring, very rigid advice might be unhelpful for nearly all clients; something much softer and more tentative may be of greater therapeutic value, and not have the effect of pressuring the client in any one way. So we need to nuance what we mean by ‘advice’.

Closely related to that is the fact that we are always influencing our clients—just by being there in the room with them—so there isn’t really any such hard division between ‘influence’ vs. ‘non-influence’. Rather, there’s different degrees of influence and some of the most powerful ways may be the most implicit. For instance, if we smile when a client tells us about their feelings we are implicitly conveying to them that they are doing something of value. Or, if we encourage them to think about their genuine needs, we are conveying that it’s good to be authentic. That maybe isn’t explicit advice but it is a valuing of one particular way of being, and can have, effectively, pretty much the same impact. Indeed, you could argue that, by being implicit, it’s actually more coercive—perhaps giving direct advice is more congruent and transparent.

There’s also good reasons why clients might value advice. Sometimes, as I’ve argued in my latest book, we’re just don’t know the things we need to do to get to where we want to be. If my car breaks down, I need someone to tell me how to fix it. I don’t have some inner organismic sense of what I need to do. And, similarly, clients may need some guidance on how to make friends, or overcome anxieties, or give up alcohol. That’s not such a terrible thing to acknowledge, is it? The positive effects of psycho-educational approaches like social skills trainings show that clients can really gain a lot from such direct education.

Conclusion

I think there’s some very good reasons why therapists should be trained out of automatically giving advice; and it’s certainly not a response mode we should use more than sparingly—unless a client has specifically signed up for a psychoeducational approach. Helping people work things out for themselves is, I’m sure, generally a more sustainable form of learning. It’s also important that, if we’re giving advice, we’re skilled and knowledgeable about what we are saying: none of us want to be telling clients to do things that just aren’t helpful. So just to be really clear, I’m not saying in any way that we should just break with our training and start advising our clients, willy-nilly, on how to live their lives, what to do, what they should wear, etc. But I am saying that, in the person-centred and humanistic therapies, I think we have tended to get a bit ‘phobic’ about advice; and turned something that was a counteraction to some over-directive practices into a rigid ‘law’ about what we can and cannot do. From a pluralistic standpoint, and based on the evidence, advice can be helpful for some clients some of the time. And perhaps it would be better to be working out when it might be helpful, and what are the best ways of giving it at those times. For instance, I’m sure that tentative ways of advising, rather than impositional ones, are of greatest value to most clients. And asking clients whether they’d like advice or not is also, probably, a helpful practice so that clients don’t feel imposed upon. There’s also the question of what kind of advice is most beneficial? For instance, from our research with young people, we’re finding that it tends to be in two areas—social skills and coping behaviours—and developing knowledges in such areas may be very helpful in terms of optimising the value of advice-type responses.

Perhaps the question we always need to ask, as Teresa Cleary notes in her comments below, is whether our responses is in the best interests of the client, or whether it’s to meet some personal need or agenda. The problem with giving advice is that it is, indeed, often more the latter than the former; but not giving advice can also be so—if, for instance, it’s about conforming to some inner set of ‘shoulds’ about how counsellors behave. So there’s no easy answers. It’s complex. And while having some basic rule about ‘not giving advice’ is a great starting point in training, like all skills and competencies, it is something that can get nuanced and developed over time.

[Spanish translation of this blog post]

So you Want to be a 'Pluralistic Therapist'...

Say you’re applying for accreditation to a counselling or psychotherapy body (like the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy) or writing an essay on your model of therapy, and want to say that you’re ‘pluralistic’. What are the things that could help you put together a compelling and coherent case?

  1. Be clear about the methods and ideas that your pluralistic work is based on. Pluralism is like the bread in a sandwich. It’s the framework within which you practice is based. But what’s the filling? Do you, for instance, offer person-centred methods of listening and reflection, or Gestalt two-chair work? And, obviously, what you offer needs to be what you’re trained in—so be clear where that knowledge and expertise comes from.

  2. A ‘pluralistic perspective’ or a ‘pluralistic practice’? In the pluralistic field, we’ve distinguished between pluralism as a way of thinking about therapy as a whole (that lots of different approaches can be of value), and pluralism as a specific practice (where different therapeutic methods and ideas are drawn together to accommodate the preferences of the individual client). Both can be written about in any description of your therapy, but be clear about which one, and what you mean, when.

  3. Understand the philosophical underpinning. Pluralism, either as a perspective or as a practice, isn’t just about chucking together lots of things and hoping for the best. It’s rooted in a deep, ethically-founded philosophy of how to relate to others and the world. Some of this philosophy is tough going but it’s essential to really understanding, in depth, what pluralism is about. Try, for instance, Connolly’s Pluralism or, for a really tough read, try some of Levinas’s work, like Totality and Infinity. There’s also some great stuff on the web, and a good place to start is with Wikipedia’s description of value pluralism, or the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy’s entry on Isaiah Berlin.

  4. Difference and diversity. Don’t leave it to last. At the heart of a pluralistic approach is a welcoming and celebration of diversity, so how do you address that in your own work: for instance, being aware of your own cultural background or positions of privilege? Some other questions: How do you actively strive to help clients from marginalised groups feel welcomed in your work, and how do you address power as a therapist? Pluralism welcomes everyone’s voice, but it also understands that some voices get more silenced than others. So how can we work to make sure that everyone feels really, genuinely heard in our work.

  5. Why ‘pluralism’ rather than ‘integration’ or ‘eclecticism’? One of the first questions any assessor is likely to ask is why you’re describing your approach as ‘pluralistic’ rather than ‘integrative’ or ‘eclectic’, so you need to be clear about the differences (and the similarities). If you’re talking about pluralism as a practice, then you can describe it as a form of psychotherapy integration that orientates itself around clients’ particular needs and wants. Different integrative approaches do that, but it’s not inherent to integration, per se. ‘Integration’ can also refer to specific combinations of approaches, like cognitive analytic therapy, or mindfulness-based existential therapy, whereas pluralism as a practice isn’t aligned with any one model (combined or not). If you can get your head around the different forms of psychotherapy integration—like ‘theoretical integration’, ‘assimilative integration’, ‘common factors,’ and ‘eclecticism’—and where your pluralism sits with each one, that would really help (see the excellent Handbook of Psychotherapy Integration—pricey, but hopefully in your library). And remember that your approach doesn’t need to be one or the other: for instance, you might, ‘hold a common factors view of change, but practice pluralistically drawing on methods and ideas from specific theoretically integrative psychotherapies. If you’re writing about pluralism as a perspective, the differences are clearer as there’s isn’t really any integrative or eclectic equivalent. It wouldn’t really make sense to say, for instance, that you ‘practice as a person-centred therapist within an integrative worldview’, but saying that you do so within a pluralistic one makes total sense. And what, after all of this thinking, you decide that you’re maybe ‘assimiliative integrative’ or ‘common factors’ rather than ‘pluralistic’? Great, at the end of the day, what’s important is what you do with your clients, and being coherent in that, rather than what label you give to it all, per se.

  6. Describe how, why, and when you make decisions about what you do in therapy. So right into the heart of pluralistic practice: How do you come to adopt certain ideas and methods? Yes, of course, it’s in collaboration with the client, but when do you talk about what you are going to do (for instance, at assessment sessions, the start of each session, review points); and what kinds of things do you talk about (for instance, goals, methods, formulations)? Are there, perhaps, some specific methods that you use to help identify what might be useful for the client, like timelines (see McLeod and McLeod in the Handbook of Pluralistic Counselling and Psychotherapy) or the Inventory of Preferences? And how, for instance, do you handle situations when a client wants something that you don’t think is best for them? Personally, I’d suggest emphasising dialogue, dialogue, dialogue (and, again read some in-depth texts on dialogue, like the paper here, so that your position is rich and philosophically-informed). Then, critically, you need to say something about why you are using the methods you do and the theories underpinning them (see, for instance BACP’s criterion 8.1, ‘Describe a rationale for your client work with reference to the theory or theories that inform your practice’). So, for instance, if a lot of what you can offer clients is a space to talk through their problems, why might that be helpful? What’s the theoretical and psychological basis for doing so? Here, for instance, you might draw on person-centred theory to say that, with space to talk, clients can connect more with their ‘organismic valuing potential’ and work out for themselves what is best for them to do. Or, if you work with clients to challenge their patterns of thinking, you might talk about cognitive theories of maladaptive thoughts. But, really importantly, make sure it’s logically consistent. If you say, for instance, that you trust in a client’s organismic valuing, you can’t then just describe their thinking as maladaptive. How can they be both? My latest book on an underlying integrative theory of directionality might be helpful here; or you could talk about the way that, from a pluralistic standpoint, different theories are ‘working narratives’ that suit some clients some of the time, rather than immutable truths.

  7. Cite the evidence. There’s lots of empirical research related to pluralistic practices, and these can help to inform a critical exploration of your work. For instance, if you’re writing about accommodating clients’ preferences, you could cite the Swift et al. meta-analysis to show that preference accommodation is associated with reduced drop out and slightly improved outcomes. Or, if you’re writing about goals, have a look at the paper by Di Malta et al., which gives a rich, in-depth exploration of how clients experience goal-oriented practices: both the positives and the negatives. And, for evidence that a pluralistic approach to practice has decent enough outcomes, you can cite the paper here.

  8. What about the problems? Pluralism is all about holding a reflective, self-critical stance towards the way that we work, so it’s essential to talk about some of the limitations of this way of working and thinking too. How much, for instance, can we really trust clients’ own assessments of what they want and need? So make sure you read some critiques of pluralism, for instance the recent paper by Ong et al from the person-centred field, or on our pluralisticpractice blog from Erin Stevens and Jay Beichman. Of course, you may well find things here that you disagree with; but what’s important is to be able to see pluralism from, well, a plurality of perspectives, and to be able to appreciate its limitations as well as the strengths.

  9. Talk to us. And finally, do talk to us about how you’re getting on, and join in the debates. We have a website with regular blogs, and a Facebook page where some of these issues get discussed. Then, if you can make it, come along to our annual conferences which is the ideal place to talk to welcoming and like-minded people striving to develop new, open-minded ways of thinking about counselling and psychotherapy.

Just as a disclaimer, what’s here is obviously only suggestions and, if things do go ‘pear-shaped’, I’m sorry that I can’t take responsibility for that. On any application of assignment, the key thing is always to attend to the criteria set and, for instance, the BACP have some very valuable guidelines for their own accreditation process. Tutors, also, will have a much better idea of what you need to be saying; and any advice from them should over-ride what’s here.

Finally, we’d love to hear how you’re getting on: stories both of passing as pluralistic therapists, and any bumps along the way. Perhaps we can work together to iron them out. So do also share any advice you have from your own experiences of defining yourself as a ‘pluralistic therapist’. Good luck with it.

How Different are the Different Therapies? A Directional Perspective

Person-centred therapy, CBT, psychoanalysis… there’s over 450 different therapies out there, and often we focus on the differences between them. But how different are they really?

Of course, the specific methods that different therapies use can be very different (interpretation, for instance, vs two chair work vs behavioural experiments). But, in this blog, I want to suggest that where they are trying to help clients get to, and the underlying principles by which they are trying to do that, are actually pretty similar.

What I think all the therapies are trying to do, in a nutshell, is to help clients find better ways of getting from where they are towards where they want to be.

Yup, ‘better’. That’s something of a taboo word in the therapy field. But, of course, I don’t mean ‘better’ as defined by the therapist, or by society more widely; but in terms of what is most helpful for the client on their journey. So that might include more positive self-talk, or trying to see friends more, or mindfulness exercises. In every therapy, however implicit, there’s always some hope for change—even if the change is a move towards greater acceptance of where they are at.

Some therapies, like CBT, do that by providing a lot of structure and guidance. Others, like non-directive approaches, do it by providing clients with space to work out for themselves where they’re at and where they want to go. How different is that? Well, some teachers do a lot of standing up and delivering content. Others prefer to provide pupils with time and space for self-learning. There’s certainly variations in these methods, but that doesn’t mean that they’re trying to do different thing. All teachers want to help pupils learn (I’d hope) , and all therapists want to help clients find positive ways forward in their lives. At least, I’d hope that was the case.

But what about real theoretical differences in how well-being, distress, and change are conceptualised? In my latest book, Integrating counselling and psychotherapy (Sage, 2019), what I suggest is that, in fact, there’s a set of common principles that underlie all the different models, methods, and understandings. These can be summarised as follows:

  • Human beings are directional: that is, we act towards our worlds in meaningful, intelligible ways. We do things for reasons, not just randomly—striving towards the things that we most deeply want in our lives, like safety, love, or closeness with others.

  • A ‘good life’ is one in which we can get towards those things. This is not just about achieving them, but feeling like we are oriented towards them and progressing at sufficient pace.

  • Sometimes we experience problems because the way we try and get one of these thing can make it more difficult for us to get another. For instance, a client really wants intimacy in their life, but they’re also afraid of being un-safe by opening out to others. These conflicts (or what I call ‘dysergies’) might be a consequence of what we’ve learnt from our pasts about how to get the things we want, our environments, or because of ‘biases’ in the ways that we think.

  • And, sometimes, we can experience problems because we just haven’t learnt the best ways of getting the things that we really want. For instance, we haven’t learnt the communication skills that we need to get closer to others.

  • So what all therapies do is one of two things, and generally both:

    1. They help clients find more synergetic ways of getting what they want: e.g., getting both safety and love. So, for instance, a therapist works with a client to help them realise that they’re avoiding intimacy because they’re scared of getting hurt, and then helps them think about ways of maybe bearing some of that hurt so that they can, ultimately, experience love in relationships and feel safer at the same time.

    2. They help clients find more effective ways of getting what they want: for instance, learning that they can experience more intimacy by being more honest about themselves, or that the best way of overcoming a fear is to face it.

So what does this mean? One implication of seeing a common set of principles underlying all the different therapies is that it can then make us more open to the many different methods and understandings that are out there: less ‘schoolist’ and ‘tribalist’ in our approach. Supposing, for instance, that I am trying to help my client find answers to their relational problems by providing an empathic and accepting non-directional environment. Great. And maybe that’s what I’ll keep on doing. But perhaps I’ll also help them through some psychoeducation in effective communication, or perhaps also by interpreting some deep-seated fears they have of intimacy. Of course, I need appropriate training in any method or set of ideas that I am going to use, but a common framework helps me see other approaches as resources and possibilities, not as competition. There’s been far too much sabre-rattling for years between the different therapeutic schools. Articulating a common set of principles can help us break down some of the walls and meet each other as friends rather than enemies.

Yes, integrative and eclectic approaches have been doing that for years. But, even for these approaches, it can be difficult to articulate the principles on which an integration is based: why it’s a coherent—rather than mish-mashy—approach to therapy. So what’s described here can still be of value in working out the common underlying threads behind an integrative or eclectic form of practice. But, importantly, the inference here is not that we should all be practising in multi-method ways (and that’s something we also emphasised strongly in our pluralistic approach). The fact that there is a common thread underlying the different therapeutic approaches doesn’t make a purely psychoanalytic practice, or a purely person-centred one, any less valuable.

If you’re interested in these ideas, do have a look at my latest book. It starts by introducing this idea of directionality and how it relates to wellbeing and distress, and then goes on to talk about the way in which the main therapeutic approaches (psychodynamic, humanistic, existential, and CBT) can be aligned with it. The final part then talks about some common practices that come out of it, like helping clients to identify the things that they want most in life. The book covers a lot of ground (maybe too much), but it’s part of a pluralistic striving to bring lots of different therapies together and to find what is common amongst us. That’s not, in any way, to minimise the unique contribution that each of our different therapeutic approaches can make. But to help establish some common touchstones that can bring us further into dialogue with each other.

The Inventory of Preferences (C-NIP): A User's Guide

John Norcross and I developed the Cooper-Norcross Inventory of Preferences (C-NIP) back in 2015 as a means of helping clients to articulate their preferences in therapy. The aim was to develop a tool that could help shape the therapy as close as possible to the client’s individual wants and needs. Since we developed it, it’s been used in services in the UK and translated into over 10 different languages.

For the first time now, John, Gina Di Malta, and I have put together some instructions for use. These are downloadable in PDF format, along with the C-NIP form, and reprinted below. A free-to-use digital tool for completing the C-NIP with clients has now also been made available here. This is a great new site (if I say so myself) in which clients are asked about their therapy preferences, and then the site produces a report indicating where any strong preferences lay.

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Background

Research suggests that eliciting—and accommodating—clients’ psychotherapy preferences make valuable contribution to outcomes. It is associated with large reductions in drop- out rates and medium improvements in clinical change (1,2).

The Inventory of Psychotherapy Preferences (C-NIP) was developed by Drs. Mick Cooper (University of Roehampton) and John Norcross (University of Scranton) in 2015 (3). The 4 scales were based on factor analysis and normed on both United Kingdom and United States samples. The measure was designed for use in clinical practice as a means of facilitating discussion with clients about their desired style of therapeutic engagement. It can also be used in supervision, research, and training.

About the C-NIP

The C-NIP can be used in an initial assessment or early session of psychotherapy or counselling to facilitate an initial dialogue with clients about their therapy preferences. It can also be used in farther sessions at regular intervals (for instance, session 5 and session 10) and is particularly useful during a review session or routine outcome monitoring.

The C-NIP consists of two parts. The first part invites clients to indicate their preferences for how they would like a psychotherapist or counsellor to work with them on 18 items. The items are grouped into 4 bipolar scales: Therapist Directiveness vs. Client Directiveness, Emotional Intensity vs. Emotional Reserve, Past Orientation vs Present Orientation, and Warm Support vs. Focused Challenge. At the end of each scale is a scoring key, which calculates strong preferences in either direction.

The second part asks multiple open-ended questions about client preferences. For instance, clients are asked if they have strong preferences for the number of therapy sessions, therapy format/modality, or anything they would particularly dislike.

Completion and scoring of the C-NIP typically takes 5 minutes. The length of the subsequent discussion and treatment planning varies considerably.

The C-NIP is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0). This means that you can use the measure freely in your own practice, research, or supervision without further permission, provided that the measure is not adapted in any way. However, if you wish to use the measure as part of a commercial operation (e.g., a therapy referral service), in which the C-NIP forms an integral part of the service delivery, please contact the authors to discuss licensing arrangements. The C-NIP developers are pleased to hear about your experiences using it; both good and bad.

Several studies provide evidence of the instrument’s reliability and clinical validity (3,4). For more information, see (3).  

Completing the C-NIP

Administration formats.

The C-NIP can be completed online or as a paper copy. Clients can complete the measure on a desktop, laptop, handheld device, or on their own phone. The site will take the client through a series of questions, automatically scores their responses, and produce a brief report of the client’s scores. This report serves the basis for the subsequent dialogue with the therapist (see below).

The C-NIP can also be administered as a paper copy and scored by hand. Clients are handed the form and asked to circle one response for the 18 items. They are told to ignore, for now, the coloured scoring boxes.  Clients are asked to check or circle any of the open-ended additional preferences at the end of the measure. When completed, the clinician scores the 4 scales and reviews the checked or circled open-ended preferences.

The initial invitation.

Clients can be verbally invited to complete the C-NIP in a variety of ways. For 4 examples:

  • I have been conducting and researching psychotherapy for XX years, and we have learned the importance of tailoring or personalizing psychotherapy specifically to you. Here is a brief instrument that can help us do just that. 

  • We really want counselling to be as suited as possible to what you want. So we’d be grateful if you could spend a few minutes completing this questionnaire to tell us what that is.

  • Let’s determine your strong  preferences for this therapy. Would you kindly take a few minutes to complete this form?

  • Research attests that psychotherapy works best when it matches clients’ preferences. Here’s a brief, efficient way that we can begin that discussion.

Consistent with the C-NIP’s emphasis on honouring client preferences, we do not require clients to complete the C-NIP. If a client indicates that they are not willing, interested, or ready to complete the form, then we respect that decision. The form can either be completed later in the psychotherapy/ counselling or not at all.

Scoring.

Scoring the C-NIP is straightforward. Sum/total the 5 items constituting each scale (3 items for the past/present orientation scale). Then determine whether that scale score indicates a strong preference in either direction, or no strong preference. Scores which are marked with a minus should be subtracted from the total. For instance, if a client scores 3, 0, and -2, the total would be 1; if they score -2, -3 and 2, the total would be -3. For each scale, circle in the coloured scoring box whether they have indicated a strong preference (in either direction) or no strong preference.

The C-NIP was normed so that approximately a quarter of client scores will fall into a strong preference on one side, another quarter into a strong preference on the other side of the scale, and the remaining one-half of scores into the average or no strong preference range.

Discussing the Scores

The subsequent dialogue with clients about any identified strong preferences is generally the most important part of the C-NIP process. Remember that the C-NIP scores are the starting point for a genuine exchange about how clients can get the most out of their psychotherapy.

  • When strong preferences are identified, the clinician can reflect this back to the client and inquire further into its meaning. For instance: I can see here that you desire quite an emotionally intense therapy. Can you say more about that?

  • Your responses suggest that you want me to challenge you. Is that right? What sort of challenge do you think might be helpful?

  • You’re keen to meet every two weeks. Do you have a sense of how that would be helpful to you?

It may also prove helpful to inquire into the origins of clients’ preferences. This typically generates more context and meaning to their treatment desires. For instance:

 Clinician: You indicated here that you want quite a directive approach, with lots of guidance and structure. Do you have a sense of why that is?

Client:      Yes. The last counsellor I had was really nice but she didn’t say too much, and I found it all a bit… aimless and meandering. So I think this time I’d like someone who focused me more.

Clinician: So it’s about, maybe, having someone to focus you. Is that right? [Client: Mm]. For instance, would it be helpful if I asked you at the start of each session what you’d like to work on?

 Of course, there may be times when it is appropriate for clinicians to bring in their own knowledge and experience to the exchange. For example, if a client has been saying she frequently defers responsibility to others, and then on the C-NIP indicates that she has a strong preference for therapist directiveness, the therapist may inquire about potential parallels here. For instance:

 Clinican: I can see here that you are asking for a directive approach.

Client: Yes, I feel like I just don’t know my own mind.

Clinician: OK. I’m aware that you were saying earlier about being really deferential to others and that’s a real problem for you. I’m OK about being quite directive here; at the same time, I’m wondering if that’s necessarily the best thing for you. Do you know what I mean? I wonder if it’s going to end up being like the thing you say is really unhelpful.

Client: Uh… I– I get so lost. Particularly when I feel under pressure.

Clinician: I totally get that. Maybe there’ll be something here about feeling out your own authority. Making, taking more decisions by yourself. And that might include here in therapy too.

 On occasion, the clinician may also bring in research evidence. For instance, when clients indicate a strong preference for emotional intensity, then the psychotherapist may note that, indeed, emotional processing tends to be associated with improved outcomes (5, 6).

 This discussion presents a valuable opportunity, particularly during an assessment session, for clinicians to indicate if they believe, or do not believe, that they can accommodate the client’s strong preferences. When a client expresses a strong preference for therapist directiveness, for example, and the counsellor is committed to classical person-centred therapy, the clinician might say something like:  

I can see you strongly desire a psychotherapist who is going to structure and lead. That’s not what I offer in my practice. My approach tends to be much more about allowing the client to take the lead. Is this something you would like to try, or should we talk about other options that better suit you?

 It is essential that the therapist does not convey judgement to the client’s therapeutic preferences. The client should feel that their preferences are valued, whatever they indicate.

Using the C-NIP in Supervision

The client’s C-NIP scores can be brought in to supervision to inform a discussion about treatment planning and selection—the best way of working with that particular client. Although patients’ preferences represent a single consideration, an awareness of what the client wants can provide valuable insights into the best way forward. For instance:

Clinician: I think, with Jasmine, she’s finding it hard to connect with her emotions and a lot of what we do feels very ‘heady.’

Supervisor: Mm. Any sense of what might help her connect more emotionally?

Clinician: I did think about two chair work. Just– I’m not sure whether she’d go for that or not.

Supervisor: What did she put on her C-NIP about emotional intensity?

Clinician: [Checks C-NIP]. Yes, she did say she wanted something emotionally intense.

Supervisor: So she’s flagging up that that is something she might be up for.

 

Frequently Asked Questions

Do I have to do whatever a client asks on the C-NIP?

Definitely not. As indicated above, the C-NIP serves as the basis for a dialogue, not as a set of commands. So if a client asks for things you can’t do, don’t want to do, or don’t believe would be helpful, that all needs discussing.

 What if a client has no strong preferences?

That may often be the case, particularly if the client has not had counselling/psychotherapy before. It is something that can be fed back to the client and discussed (without conveying that they should or must have strong preferences). For instance, a psychotherapist might say, “I noticed that you didn’t have any strong preferences for therapy at this time, is that about right?”

The absence of strong initial preferences can denote many impressions, from clinical inexperience, to an unassertive interpersonal style, to cultural proscriptions, and the like. In many cases, it may reflect the fact that the client is intent on ‘getting on’ with psychotherapy and doesn’t feel too strongly about how that’s done (provided it works). In that case, prolonging a discussion about patient preferences may prove unhelpful and, paradoxically, against what the client wants!

What if a client doesn’t know what he or she prefers in psychotherapy?

That’s fine, particularly among those new to psychotherapy. Again, clients should not be pressured into stating preferences if they are not ready or real. After a few sessions, many clients will determine what works and what does not work for them. Thus, we recommend periodically returning to assessing preferences.  

My client says that they want both of the things at the different ends of the dimensions.

As the C-NIP instructions specify, when clients hold equal or both preferences, they should circle 0. That indicates that there is not a strong preference in one direction or the other.  

Why do I need to ask explicitly? Isn’t it better to trust my intuitive sense of what a client’s want?

Probably not. Clinicians no doubt pick up a lot from clients, but research consistently demonstrates that psychotherapists who intuit or assume their clients’ treatment preferences, experiences, and outcomes are frequently incorrect (7, 8). There may be a particular danger that we project or generalize onto our clients our own preferences for therapy; and research shows that what mental health professionals desire, as clients, can be very different from what lay clients prefer (4). 

But surely I can just talk about it with my clients? Why use a form?

Talking in session about preferences is fine; indeed, the overarching purpose of the C-NIP is to stimulate such discussions. Like many forms of clinical assessment, using a more comprehensive, standardized instrument with norms probably proves superior to talk alone. Clinical experience and research studies also attest that some clients also find it easier to write than to tell it directly. 

How do clients respond to taking the C-NIP?

In a study of clients’ experiences of using the C-NIP, 10 of 15 clients (67%) described helpful aspects of using the measure. They said that it helped to focus the therapy, facilitated communication with their clinician supported the personalising of treatment, and that allowed them to express themselves. Three of the 15 clients (20%) gave more mixed responses; for instance, ‘I found it OK.’ Five clients (33%) also highlighted unhelpful elements; in particular, that it was difficulty to record preferences because they didn’t know what their preferences were.  

On a 1 (very unhelpful) to 5 (very helpful) scale, the clients gave the C-NIP an average score of 3.8. This suggests that typically clients find the C-NIP helpful, but there are some clients who do not. As indicated above, therefore, clients should be invited to use the measure, rather than instructed to. Care is particularly needed with clients who are new to psychotherapy.  

And what about therapists?

In an interview study on an earlier version of this measure, the Therapy Personalisation Form (9), we found that clinicians were generally positive about its clinical utility. They thought that it was a helpful means of assessing what clients wanted from therapy such that it could be tailored accordingly, and could also serve as valuable sources of reflection and learning about their own practices. In addition, therapist believed that the measure was empowering for clients and helped to move the therapeutic relationship forward. In terms of limitations, they thought that the form could lead to increased therapist self-criticism and over-moulding to the clients’ wishes. 

Is the measure valid and reliable in psychometric terms?

In our original study, we showed adequate levels of internal reliability for the 4 C-NIP scales (3). Subsequent research has suggested that the internal reliability may be weaker than we originally found (4). We are currently examining means to enhance the reliability of the scales while preserving the small number of items.

 In future research, we will also assess the patient utility and predictive validity of the measure. At the same time, remember that the C-NIP has primarily been developed as a means of supporting dialogue on patient preferences, rather than as a definitive measure of wants. As such, we accord primary importance to the clinical utility of the inventory.  

Why doesn’t the C-NIP ask about things that a lot of my clients want, like empathy and acceptance?

Exactly. We know that nearly all clients want to be understood, valued, and not judged. Hence, we did not believe it would prove particularly informative to ask those questions.

 Instead, we developed the scales by reviewing the responsiveness research and by asking therapists about practices that they would be willing to vary (9, 10): that is, when knowing patient preferences could make a genuine difference in clinician practices and psychotherapy success.

References

1.     Swift JK, Callahan JL, Cooper M, Parkin SR. The impact of accommodation client preferences in psychotherapy: A meta-analysis. Journal of Clinical Psychology. 2018;74(11):1924-37.

2.     Lindhiem, O., Bennett, C. B., Trentacosta, C. J., & McLear, C. (2014). Client preferences affect treatment satisfaction, completion, and clinical outcome: A meta-analysis. Clinical Psychology Review, 34(6), 506-517. doi: 10.1016/j.cpr.2014.06.0023.

3.     Cooper M., Norcross J. C. A Brief, Multidimensional Measure of Clients' Therapy Preferences: The Cooper-Norcross Inventory of Preferences (C-NIP). International Journal of Clinical and Health Psychology. 2016;16(1):87-98.

4.     Cooper M., Norcross J. C., Raymond-Barker B., Hogan T. P. Psychotherapy preferences of laypersons and mental health professionals: Whose therapy is it? Psychotherapy. 2019.

5.     Pascual-Leone A., Paivio S., Harrington S. Emotion in psychotherapy: An experiential-humanistic perspective. In: Cain D, Keenan K, Rubin S, editors. Humanistic psychotherapies. 2nd ed. Washington: APA; 2016. p. 147-81.

6.     Peluso, P. R., & Freund, R. R. (2018). Therapist and client emotional expression and psychotherapy outcomes: A meta-analysis. Psychotherapy, 55(4), 461.

7.     Cooper M. Essential Research Findings in Counselling and Psychotherapy: The Facts are Friendly. London: Sage; 2008.

8.     Walfish, S., McAlister, B., O’Donnell, P., & Lambert, M. J. (2012). An investigation of self-assessment bias in mental health providers. Psychological Reports, 110, (2), 639-644..    

9.     Bowens M., & Cooper M. Development of a client feedback tool: a qualitative study of therapists’ experiences of using the Therapy Personalisation Forms. European Journal of Psychotherapy and Counselling. 2012;14:47-62.

10. Norcross, J. C., & Wampold, B. E. (2019). (Eds.). Psychotherapy relationships that work. Volume 2: Evidence-based responsiveness (3rd ed.). New York: Oxford University Press.

Person-centered therapy: A pluralistic perspective

Updated author final version of:

Cooper, M., & McLeod, J. (2011). Person-centered therapy: A pluralistic perspective. Person-Centered and Experiential Psychotherapies, 10(3), 210-223.

INTRODUCTION

Since the 1970s, the field of person-centered therapy has witnessed increasing differentiation (Lietaer, 1990), with the emergence of several distinctive “tribes” (Sanders, 2004; Warner, 2000). Some have questioned the legitimacy of certain members of this family (e.g., Brodley, 1990), but with an increasing emphasis on “inclusivity and the embracing of difference” within the PCE world (Sanders, 2007, p. 108), many now see this diversity as a positive quality to be prized (e.g., Cooper, O’Hara, Schmid, & Wyatt, 2007). From this standpoint, each of the members of the PCE family can be seen as drawing on, and developing, different elements of Rogers’ work. While those who identify with a “classical client-centered” standpoint, for instance, can be seen as orientating primarily around Rogers’ (1942) concept of nondirectivity (e.g., Bozarth, 1998; Brodley, 1990); emotion-focused/process-experiential therapists (e.g., Greenberg, Rice, & Elliott, 1993) can be understood as placing more stress on the affective experiences and processes that Rogers placed at the heart of the therapeutic enterprise (e.g., Rogers, 1959).

The aim of this paper is to introduce, and critically discuss, an alternative reading of what it means to be person-centered. This is one that is primarily rooted in the idiographic assumptions underlying the person-centered worldview: that each individual is distinct, and that the role of the therapist should be to facilitate the actualization of the client’s unique potential in the way that best suits the individual client.

PERSON-CENTERED VALUES: PRIZING THE UNIQUENESS OF HUMAN BEING AND BECOMING

Person-centered therapy, as with other humanistic and existential approaches, can be understood as a form of counseling and psychotherapy which puts particular emphasis on “conceptualizing, and engaging with people in a deeply valuing and respectful way” (Cooper, 2007, p. 11). As a consequence of this, a key element of person-centered thought is a rejection of psychological and psychotherapeutic systems which strive to reduce individual human experiences down to nomothetic, universal laws and mechanisms. Rather, there is an emphasis on viewing each human being “as a unique entity, unlike any other person who has existed or will exist” (Cain, 2002, p. 5). In other words, while person-centered theorists have argued that certain psychological features, such as the need for positive regard or conditions of worth (Rogers, 1959), are universal, there is a particular emphasis on the fact that each human being is distinctive, irreplaceable and inexchangeable. Levitt and Brodley (2005, p. 109), for instance, stated that client-centered therapy “is not centered on what a general client would or should be. It is not centered on a theory external to the client…. The focus of the therapist is entirely on understanding the client as an individual, in all his uniqueness, from moment to moment.”

In Rogers’s work, this idiographic emphasis is particularly evident in his assertion of the “fundamental predominance of the subjective” (Rogers, 1959, p. 191). Each individual, for Rogers (1951, p. 483), “exists in a continually changing world of experience of which he is the center”; and, given that this ever-changing phenomenological experiencing will be unique to the individual, the very essence of each human reality is distinct. Rogers’s (1942) idiographic emphasis is also evident in his critical stance toward diagnosis, preferring to view human beings as unique, individual organisms rather than as manifestations of trans-individual dysfunctional states.

This emphasis on the psychological irreducibility of each client, however, is not merely a theoretical assumption, but is rooted in a deep ethical commitment within the person-centered field to engaging with an Other in a profoundly honoring way. Here, the work of the French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas (1969, 2003) has been particularly influential (e.g., Cooper, 2009; Schmid, 2007; Worsley, 2006), with his emphasis on the “absolute difference” of the Other (Schmid, 2007, p. 39): that they are “infinitely transcendent,” “infinitely foreign,” “infinitely distant,” “irreducibly strange.” For Levinas, the Other always overflows and transcends a person’s idea of him or her, is impossible to reconcile to the Same, is always more than – and outstrips – the finite form that they may be afforded. From this standpoint, then, it is not just that each human being is unique, but that each human being is so unique that they can never be fully understood by an other: Their difference, at least to some extent, is transcendent. This is similar to Rogers’ (1951, p. 483) statement that the private world of the individual “can only be known, in any genuine or complete sense, to the individual himself.”

This idiographic emphasis within the person-centered approach is associated with a theory of psychotherapeutic change in which there is a particular emphasis on helping clients to actualize their distinctive potential and become their “own unique individual self” (Rogers, 1964, p. 130). Person-centered therapy (Rogers, 1957, 1959) aims to provide clients with a set of therapeutic conditions in which they can reconnect with their actual, individual experiences and valuing processes, moving away from a reliance on more external, “leveled down” (Heidegger, 1962) judgments and introjects.

An emphasis on the distinctiveness of each human being and their change processes also means that each individual’s needs and wants can be considered, at least to some extent, unique and unknowable. Bozarth (1998) wrote that the process of actualization – the motivational tendency underpinning all growth and development – “is always unique to the individual” (Bozarth, 1998, p. 29); and he described it as an “idiosyncratic” (Bozarth, 1998, p. 24) process that cannot be predicted (or determined) by another.

A commitment to supporting the actualization of the Other in their own, unique way also reflects a fundamental person-centered ethic of respect for the client’s autonomy (Keys & Proctor, 2007). Grant (2004) has argued that the basis for person-centered therapy lies in the ethic of “respecting the right of self determination of others” (Grant, 2004, pp. 158). Similarly, Cain (2002, p. 5) stated that “A fundamental value of humanistic therapists is their belief that people have the right, desire, and ability to determine what is best for them and how they will achieve it.” In Levinas’s (1969, p. 47) terms, this could be described as a fundamental ethical commitment to letting the Other be in all their Otherness: a “non-allergic reaction with alterity.”

TOWARD A PLURALISTIC PERSPECTIVE

At the heart of a person-centered approach, then, is an understanding that human beings may want and need different things, and that an individual’s distinctive wants and needs should be given precedence over any generalized theories that another holds about them. Extrapolated to the therapeutic process, this suggests that a basic person-centered assumption should be that clients are likely to want and need many different things from therapy – both things traditionally associated with PCE practice (such as empathic understanding responses) and things not (such as Socratic questioning) – and that any generic theories of change that we, as therapists, may hold, should be subordinate to the client’s specific needs and wants.

The hypothesis that different clients want different things from therapy is supported by empirical research (see Cooper & McLeod, 2011 for a review of the research). In a major trial (King, et al., 2000), for instance, primary care patients for whom a brief therapeutic intervention was indicated were given the option of choosing between nondirective counseling or cognitive-behavior therapy (CBT). Of those patients who specifically opted to choose one of these two therapies, around 40% chose the nondirective option, while 60% chose the CBT.

Of course, what clients believe they want is not, necessarily, what they need, nor what will necessarily be of greatest benefit to them. However, an emerging body of evidence indicates that different clients do, indeed, benefit from different types of therapeutic practices. While there is clear evidence, for instance, that most clients do best when levels of empathy are high (Bohart, Elliott, Greenberg, & Watson, 2002), there are some clients – individuals “who are highly sensitive, suspicious, poorly motivated” – who seem to do less well with highly empathic relationships (Bohart, et al., 2002, p. 100). There is also evidence that clients with high levels of resistance and with an internalizing coping style tend to do better in nondirective therapies, while those who are judged to be nondefensive and who have a predominantly externalizing coping style tend to benefit from more technique-orientated approaches (Beutler, Blatt, Alimohamed, Levy, & Angtuaco, 2006; Beutler, Engle, et al., 1991; Beutler, Machado, Engle, & Mohr, 1993; Beutler, Mohr, Grawe, Engle, & MacDonald, 1991).

Within the PCE field, this assumption – that different clients may benefit from different therapeutic practices (at different points in time) – has been articulated particularly well by Bohart and Tallman (1999). Process-experiential/emotion-focused therapists (e.g., Greenberg, et al., 1993) have also argued, and demonstrated, that particular therapeutic methods may be more or less helpful at particular moments in the therapy. In addition, from texts such as Keys’s (2003) Idiosyncratic Person-Centred Therapy and Worsley’s (2004) “Integrating with integrity,” it is evident that many person-centered therapists already incorporate a wide range of therapeutic methods into their work. Cain (2002, p. 44) wrote that one of the primary ways in which humanistic therapies have evolved is in their diversity and individualization in practice, and he went on to state that, ideally, humanistic therapists:

Constantly monitor whether what they are doing “fits,” especially whether their approach is compatible with their clients’ manner of framing their problems and their belief about how constructive change will occur. Although the focus of humanistic therapies is primarily on the relationship and processing of experience, they may use a variety of responses and methods to assist the client as long as they fit with the client’s needs and personal preferences.

In recent years, Cooper, McLeod, and colleagues have come to describe this standpoint, which prioritizes the therapist’s responsiveness to the client’s individual wants and needs, as a “pluralistic” one (Cooper & Dryden, 2016; Cooper & McLeod, 2007, 2011; McLeod, 2018). This is a stance which holds that “there is no, one best set of therapeutic methods,” and has been defined as the assumption that “different clients are likely to benefit from different therapeutic methods at different points in time, and that therapists should work collaboratively with clients to help them identify what they want from therapy and how they might achieve it” (2011, pp. 7–8). Cooper and McLeod’s pluralistic approach emerges from the person-centered values and practices discussed above, but it has been presented as a way of thinking about, and practicing, therapy which extends these values to the whole psychological therapies domain.

In terms of translating this general pluralistic stance into concrete therapeutic practice, Cooper and McLeod (2007, 2011) have emphasized two particular strategies. The first is to specifically orientate the therapeutic work around the client’s goals (or ‘directions’, Cooper, 2019), and the second is to develop the degree of negotiation, metacommunication, and collaboration in the therapeutic relationship.

CLIENTS’ GOALS AS AN ORIENTATING POINT FOR THERAPY

Cooper and McLeod (2007, 2011) have suggested that the goals that clients have for therapy can – and should – serve as an orientating point for thinking about, practicing, and evaluating therapeutic work. A client, for example, may want “to feel a sense of self-worth,” “to not experience anger and distrust toward my husband,” or “to be able to think about work without feeling stressed or panicky.” From a more classical person-centered standpoint, there is a risk that such a goal focus can lead to an overly mechanistic and ends-oriented approach to therapy, but there are several reasons why it is also highly consistent with a person-centered approach. First, it fits strongly with the concept of the client as active, meaning-orientated agent (Bohart & Tallman, 1999), who is engaged in constructing his or her life and relationships. Second, it privileges the client’s perspective – regarding what he or she want both in life and from therapy – over the therapist’s. Third, it moves away from a diagnostic, or even problem-centered, understanding of the client and the therapeutic process toward a potentiality-centered one – based around where the client wants to “go” in their lives. Finally, an orientation around the client’s goals may be the most explicit way of meeting, and responding to, the client as a self-determined, agentic subjectivity, who has the right to choose for him- or herself how he or she would like to pursue their own process of actualization. However, given that the term ‘goals’ can imply a more ends-oriented, cognitive emphasis, Cooper (2019) has suggested that the term ‘directions’ may be a more appropriate one: embracing embodied and unconscious, as well as cognitive and conscious, hopes, aspirations, and desires.

In order to help clients reach their goals, Cooper and McLeod (2007, 2011) have suggested that it may also be useful to think about the particular pathways by which these can be attained. Cooper and McLeod (2011, p. 12) refer to such possibilities as “tasks”: “The macro-level strategies by which clients can achieve their goals.” Examples of common tasks within therapy might include: “making sense of a specific problematic experience,” “changing behavior,” “negotiating a life transition or developmental crisis,” “dealing with difficult feelings and emotions,” and “undoing self-criticism and enhancing self-care.” Note, while process-experiential/emotion-focused therapists also refer to therapeutic “tasks” (e.g., Elliott, Watson, Goldman, & Greenberg, 2004), Cooper and McLeod use the term in a somewhat higher order sense: to refer to more general pathways or strategies. By contrast, the specific, micro-level concrete activities that clients and therapists undertake to complete these tasks are referred to as “methods,” such as “listening,” “participating in two-chair dialogue,” and “undertaking a guided visualization.” Cooper and McLeod also distinguish between the “therapist activities” that form one part of a therapeutic method and the “client activities.” Such a distinction may be useful when thinking about the kinds of therapeutic “methods” that clients may undertake outside of the immediate therapeutic relationship: for instance, reading self-help literature, exercising, or talking to friends and partners.

COLLABORATIVE ACTIVITY

This goal–task–method framework provides a means for therapists to think about what kind of therapeutic practices may be most helpful to a particular client. Of much more importance, however, is that it highlights three key domains in which collaborative activity can take place within the therapeutic relationship. For Cooper and McLeod (2007, 2011), such collaborative activity needs to be a key element of a pluralistically informed approach to therapy: maximizing the extent to which clients’ perspectives, wants and agencies can inform the therapeutic work. This activity has been described as metatherapeutic communication (Papayianni & Cooper, 2018), and it may be particularly appropriate in a first or early session of therapy: talking to clients about what they would like to get out of the therapeutic work, and how they feel that they might be able to get there. For example, a therapist might ask:

  • “Do you have a sense of what you want from our work together?”

  • “What do you hope to get out of therapy?”

  • “If you were to say just one word about what you wanted from this therapy, what would it be?”

  • “Do you have a sense of how I can help you get what you want?”

  • “What have you found helpful in previous episodes of therapy?”

  • “How would you like me to be in this therapeutic relationship: more challenging, more reflective?”

Although metatherapeutic communication is primarily orientated toward clarifying the client’s perspective, it by no means requires the therapist to ignore his or her own views and experience. Rather, the emphasis is on a dialogue between both members of the therapeutic dyad (Cooper & Spinelli, in press), in which therapist and client draw on their particular bodies of knowledge and expertise. Hence, the goals, tasks and methods of therapy emerge through a collaborative, negotiated dialogue; and may continue to be changed as the therapy unfolds.

An example of dialogue and metatherapeutic communication around a client’s goals for therapy comes from Mick’s work with a young man, Alex (details of clients have been changed to preserve anonymity). Alex was from a working class background, and had recently chosen to leave college feeling that he could no longer cope with his feelings of anxiety and depression. Alex began the session talking about his current difficulties, and the physical abuse he had experienced from his mother as a child.

Alex:    Obviously the fact that it was my mum that I got the abuse from makes it a lot harder. Because I kind of feel that people look at me a little bit – There’s always this sense of attack.

Mick:   There’s an underlying sense of attack from people.

Alex:    It’s kind of paranoid in a way. It kind of annoys me that I’m still doing it, but it doesn’t make any difference. It doesn’t stop. It’s not even getting gradually better now that I’ve realized – everything’s just exactly the same, but … more frustrating because I know that it’s going to take time, but I feel that I’m kind of at a standstill, and don’t know really where to go ….

At this point, Mick invited Alex to try and specify more clearly where he would like therapy to take him to with this difficulty.  

Mick:   So, if we were to, kind of, think about specific things that you’d want from the counseling, it sounds like one of the things would be around – what would it be? Would it be about not wanting to experience people as so critical or … How would you phrase some of the things that you’d want? So – where – like in 15 or 20 sessions, where would you like to be at the end of it, in contrast to now?

Alex:    I suppose I’d like to improve my personal relationships, in the sense that I have more self-worth. Because … mm … in arguments and upsets … I value myself a lot less than I should. I just let people get their own way, just because it makes things easier …. I take a lot of hits from other people.

Mick:   So there is something about wanting to feel more of a sense of self-worth?

Alex:    Yeah, in that I can make these objections and that my feelings are equal to the other persons.

Mick:   So something about being able to feel that my opinions and what I want is valid, and not put other people’s first.

Alex:    Yeah.

These goals, as identified by Alex, then served as an orientating point to the ongoing therapeutic work.

A second example of this dialogical process, with respect to collaboration around therapeutic methods, comes from McLeod’s work with a young male client, Haruki.

During one of the early sessions that focused on the task of dealing with his panic feelings, John and Haruki talked together about the various ways that Haruki thought that it might be possible for them to address this issue. John wrote down the ideas that emerged, on a flipchart. Haruki began by saying that the only thing that came to mind for him was that he believed that he needed to learn to relax. John then asked him if there were any other situations that were similar to performing in seminars, but which he was able to handle more easily. He could not immediately identify any scenario of this type, but later in the session he returned to this question, and told John that he remembered that he always took the penalties for his school soccer team, and dealt with his anxieties by running through in his mind some advice that he had received from his grandfather, about following a fixed routine. John then asked him if he would like to hear some of John’s suggestions about dealing with panic. John emphasized that these were only suggestions, and that it was fine for him to reject them if they did not seem useful. John mentioned three possibilities. One was to look at a model of panic, as a way of understanding the process of losing emotional control. The second was to use a two-chair method to explore what was going on in his mind, in terms of what he was internally saying to himself at panic moments. The third was to read a self-help booklet on overcoming panic. (Cooper & McLeod, 2011, p. 93)

From a person-centered standpoint, one counterargument to this call for greater metahtherapeutic communication (as mentioned above) might be that what clients want in therapy – or what they believe themselves to want – is not necessarily what they need. Clients may have introjected, for instance, certain beliefs about what will be most helpful to them (such as external advice or suppression of emotions), and this may run counter to their actual organismic valuing (Rogers, 1959). As indicated above, however, metatherapeutic communication does not simply involve doing whatever the client wants; if the therapist has a different view of what might be helpful, this is something that can be brought into the dialogue. Having said that, any therapeutic approach which claims to be client-centered needs to be very careful not to dismiss, minimize, or override a client’s own views of what it is they want. Moreover, research suggests that clients who get the therapeutic interventions that they want do tend to experience more benefit, and are much less likely to drop out, than those who do not (Swift, Callahan, Cooper, & Parkin, 2018).

A second counterargument to this call for greater metacommunication may be that it overemphasizes verbal and conscious communication processes in the therapeutic relationship, and overlooks the value of more subtle, nonconscious, and intuitive understandings: such as the therapist’s felt-sense of what the client needs, or their embodied empathic understanding (Cooper, 2001). However, research tends to suggest that therapists, in fact, are generally not that good at accurately intuiting what their clients really want or are experiencing (see Cooper, 2008, p. 2). Moreover, a substantial body of research on “client deference” indicates that clients are often very wary of communicating to their therapists what it is that they really want or need (Rennie, 1994) – including to person-centered therapists – and will often hide things from their counselors or psychotherapists (Hill, Thompson, Cogar, & Denman, 1993). Hence, although overt, explicit communication may not be the only channel through which therapists can develop a greater understanding of their clients’ actual wants and needs, empirical research suggests that this is one mode of communication that many therapists could utilize more fully.

Indeed, given the difficulties that clients may have directly expressing their goals, wants, and preferences to their therapists, pluralistic therapists have suggested a range of tools and measures that therapists may want to incorporate into the therapeutic process. For instance, the Cooper-Norcross Inventory of Preferences (Cooper & Norcross, 2016) invites clients to indicate on a range of dimension how they might like their therapist to be: such as, “Be more challenging – Be more gentle,” and “Focus more on my feelings – Focus more on my thoughts and cognitions,” (download from here). Another tool that has been developed is the Goals Form (download from here) where clients’ goals for therapy can be jotted down in an early session (and revised if necessary), and then rated every week on a 1 (Not at all achieved) to 7 (Completely achieved) scale. For Alex (discussed above), for instance, three of his identified goals were to “Feel a sense of self-worth,” “Feel that my opinions and wants are valid in relationships,” and “Not interpreting what others say and do in critical way.” At assessment, the average rating across these three items was 1.33 (i.e., very close to “Not at all achieved”) and, by session five, had increased to 3.

IMPLICATIONS FOR ESTABLISHED PERSON-CENTERED AND EXPERIENTIAL THERAPIES

A pluralistic reading of person-centered therapy does not, in any way, challenge the value or legitimacy of other perspectives and practices within the PCE field. Nor does it call on all PCE therapists to be more integrative in their work. Cooper and McLeod (2011) make a clear distinction between pluralism as a perspective on psychotherapy and counseling, and pluralism as a particular form of therapeutic practice. Hence, a therapist who offers classically orientated client-centered therapy could still subscribe to a pluralistic viewpoint: believing that there are many different ways of helping clients, even though they choose to specialize in just one. More specifically, it may be useful to think about a pluralistic approach as residing on a spectrum: from a simple acknowledgment of the value of different therapeutic methods; to an enhanced use of goal orientation, metacommunication and negotiation in the therapeutic work; to a therapeutic practice that draws on methods from a wide range of orientations.

Even at a most minimal level, however, what a pluralistic perspective does offer is a challenge to the assumption that any one person-centered perspective, method or set of hypotheses holds some kind of “metanarrative” status (Lyotard, 1984): that it is true, or superior, for all people at all times. More than that, it challenges “dogmatic person-centeredness” (Worsley, 2001, p. 25): the belief that person-centered and experiential theories or methods are in some, generic way superior to other therapeutic practices and understandings. Rather, it invites members of the person-centered community to hold our person-centered theories and practices “lightly,” and to be open to challenges and different viewpoints from both within, and outside of, the person-centered field. At this level, it invites us to be “person-centered” about person-centered therapy: nondefensive, open to a range of experiences, and willing to be “in process” rather than holding a fixed and rigid concept of self (Rogers, 1961).

A pluralistic perspective also invites PCE therapists to be more explicit about the particular ways in which our therapies may be able to help people; and the kinds of clients and contexts for which they may be most likely to be helpful. Person-centered and experiential therapists, for instance, might find it useful to undertake a “personal audit,” looking at the kinds of goals they feel most able to help clients to achieve, and the particular methods they would have for getting them there. This is something that might then be made clearer to clients prior to starting therapy, such that clients are more enabled to decide whether or not a PCE therapy is right for them. Further empirical research would be particularly helpful in this regard. For instance, we already know that clients with high levels of reactivity tend to be more likely to benefit from nondirective methods than clients with low levels of reactivity, but are there other groups of clients, or problems, or goals for which PCE methods or a PCE attitudinal stance may often be of greatest help?

Finally, for those interested in moving toward a more pluralistic practice, the pluralistic strategies outlined by Cooper and McLeod (2011) may help PCE practitioners to enhance their work through greater dialogue around the goals, tasks, and methods of therapy. And for PCE practitioners who are interested in incorporating other methods into their work, it provides a framework in which this can be achieved in a coherent and client-centered way.

DISCUSSION

Our hope is that the articulation of a pluralistic understanding of what it means to be person-centered will bring something fresh and vibrant to the person-centered field, even if it primarily involves the explication of something that has always been implicit. First, a pluralistic perspective offers PCE therapists a means of resolving the tension between commitment and antidogmatism (Hutterer, 1993). It provides a conceptual framework in which PCE therapists can feel proud of the work that they do and can develop and deepen this specialism, while at the same time avoiding a judgmental attitude toward other therapeutic orientations. More than this, it has the opportunity to give PCE therapists a unique identity in the therapeutic field: as champions of inclusivity and mutual respect across therapies. Second, closely related to this, it facilitates the building of bridges with other progressive, client-orientated approaches, such as the “client-directed” practices of Duncan, Hubble, Sparks and colleagues (2004) and the work of many postmodern-informed family therapists (see Sundet, 2011). Third, a pluralistic perspective on therapy provides a means of conceptualizing, not just processes within the counseling and psychotherapeutic domain, but the whole range of personal development activities. In this way, a pluralistic perspective can help the person-centered and humanistic field move away from an exclusive focus on how professional therapists “bring about” change in clients, and toward a more client-orientated and client-agentic stance (Bohart & Tallman, 1999). Fourth, a pluralistic viewpoint provides a means by which person-centered practices can be more fully opened up to new and emerging research – as well as new theories and ideas – such that it can remain a growing and actualizing field. Closely linked to that, it provides a framework for researching and thinking about the complex question of how therapists can most constructively engage with our clients’ individual wants and needs. Finally, for some person-centered practitioners, the development of a pluralistic practice may allow them to grown more fully as therapists. It provides a highly flexible model of practice in which therapists can incorporate, and advance, whatever potentialities, strengths and resources they have. If, as Rogers’ (1961, p. 158) suggested, the fully functioning person is not rigid in their constructs, but an “integrated process of changingness,” then a pluralistic form of practice may offer some PCE practitioners a means of moving to a more fluid and creative actualization of their full potentialities.

In summary, from a pluralistic perspective, to be person-centered means to be someone who acknowledges the vast diversity and unknowability of human being, and who prizes the unique needs and wants of each individual client. It means to be someone who puts their clients wants for therapy before their own assumptions about what those wants might be, and who strives to be responsive within the limits of their own training, expertise and interest. For some person-centered therapists, it may also mean drawing on a variety of therapeutic methods from both PCE and non-PCE sources. Whether or not a therapist practices pluralistically, however, a pluralistic person-centered standpoint means an acknowledgment and prizing of the many different ways in which non-PCE therapies can be of value to clients; while also a recognition of the power and depth of the established PCE approaches.

FAQs (2019)

Isn’t pluralism just what a lot of people do anyway? Yes, absolutely, and so we’re not suggesting a new model of practice. But putting words and terms to what we do may help us develop, research, and more deeply understand that way of working.

What’s the difference between ‘pluralism’ and ‘integration’? Two main things. First, from a pluralistic standpoint we put a particularly strong emphasis on the collaborative relationship between therapist and client—metatherapeutic communication—which is there in many integrative forms of therapy but is not implicit to integration per se. For instance, you could have an integrative approach that is very strongly therapist-led. Second, pluralism is proposed as a framework and set of values, as well as a particular form of practice, whereas integration does refer to a particular practice. So you could say, for instance, ‘I practice person-centred therapy from within a pluralistic standpoint,’ but it wouldn’t make sense to say ‘I practice person-centred therapy from within an integrative standpoint.’

But Rogers talks about being flexible with, and responsive to, clients. So how is pluralistic therapy any different? If person-centred therapy is practiced in a genuinely flexible way, where we’re responding to what clients want and need with all of our skills and expertise, then the differences may well be very limited. But pluralism means respecting the wide diversity of methods that may be very helpful to clients—above and beyond empathy, acceptance, and congruence—such as psychoeducation, skills training, and interpretations. Some person-centred therapists, no doubt, do incorporate such methods into their work (with appropriate training and experience) and if that’s in response to client need, then that’s absolutely pluralistic.

Surely a therapist can’t know every different method going. Absolutely, and pluralism is not about being able to give everything to everyone. It’s about recognising what we can and cannot do and being flexible within that.

Isn’t there a danger that the pluralistic therapist ends up just being a chameleon and inauthentic: a different person to each client? That’s certainly a risk, and one of the challenges of pluralism is to try and meet, as well as possible, the client’s wants and needs, while staying true to one’s own self, knowledge, and expertise. So the first step in pluralism is for the therapist to be really aware of what they can, and cannot, offer to a client—where their boundaries are—so they know what they’re able, and willing, to offer. Remember that shared decision-making is not simply a ‘patient choice’ model, whereby the therapist hands over all responsibility to the client. Rather, it’s a dialogical approach that sits midway between paternalistic and ‘patient choice’ approaches to healthcare.

How can you just combine therapies with fundamentally different theoretical assumptions about the person: like person-centred therapy and CBT? Research shows that the differences here are often much more ‘real’ to therapists than clients. If you look at the research on what clients find unhelpful, they rarely say things like, ‘The therapist combined too many approaches,’ or, ‘Their epistemological assumptions just didn’t match their ontologies.’ Clients, in general, are much more interested in real, practical solutions to their problems, and often appreciate a therapist who is willing to draw on whatever skills and knowledge they have to help that as much as possible.

So does pluralism actually have any consistent, underlying philosophy? Yes. Pluralism, itself, is an underlying philosophical framework, see for instance the work of Isaiah Berlin or Nicholas Rescher. Importantly, we can distinguish between a ‘foundational pluralism’, which is akin to relativism, and a more moderate ‘normative pluralism’, which is underpinned by a unified set of values. What are those? More than anything else, pluralism means an ethics of ‘welcoming otherness’: a commitment to being open, appreciative, and respectful of difference. In that sense, as with Levinas, it puts ethics as ‘first philosophy’: that how we treat others is the most fundamental issue, and a starting point for philosophical questioning that precedes ontology, epistemology, or other philosophical concerns.

What about clients who don’t know what they want from therapy, or what they’d prefer? Something that’s increasingly clear from our research is that clients do, indeed, differ very much in how much they know about therapy, and how clear they are about their own goals or preferences. So a pluralistic approach to therapy doesn’t just mean ‘handing the ball’ to the client and expecting them to do all the work. It’s a dialogical approach, where both therapist and client bring together their understanding and respective expertises to work out what is best for the client.

From a person-centred perspective, the person has the answers within them—their inner growth tendency—so why should they need more from the therapist than contact, empathy, UPR, and congruence? Theoretically, that’s where a pluralistic approach would differ from a purely person-centred approach. Pluralistically, the sources of potential healing are plural. So they definitely might come from ‘within’ the person, but also from ‘without’: books, learning, other people, pets… Rogers developed his ideas as a much needed counterbalance to the behaviourism of his time, which focused solely on external learning. But, taken in isolation, person-centred theory may veer too far the other way, and forget that external learning can be a crucial source of growth too.

Can’t pluralistic therapy end up being a ‘school’ of therapy in itself, with its own dogma, certainty, and closed-mindedness? Yes, that’s absolutely a risk, and one that we’ve tried to be mindful of from the start. So we’ve always advocated holding pluralism lightly, and in a self-critical and reflexive way. And if you look at our literature and research, you can, hopefully, see how the approach has grown and evolved as we’ve seen that some things work better than others. For instance, my latest work on directionality emerged in response to criticisms about ‘goals’ and the somewhat mechanistic, ends-oriented nature of that concept.

Where can I find out more information about pluralism in therapy? A good starting point is the Pluralistic Practice Network website. You can also find some resources and papers on the pluralistic therapy training page on this site.

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What is Pluralism?

Pluralism is a spirit of welcoming, warmth, and care to the other. It is a willingness to engage in dialogue. It is an openness to being wrong and to learning. Pluralism says, ‘How I see things is one way of seeing the world and I want to value—and learn from—others.’

Pluralism isn’t easy. It’s a constant willingness to self-challenge and to look at where we might be wrong, or limited; even with regard to pluralism itself. It requires a capacity to detach ourselves from our agendas, our beliefs, our commitments, and to recognise that there may be other ways. And it also requires us to recognise that we can never wholly achieve that: that we will always have things that we want and that there’s always the possibility of taking a step further back.

Pluralism isn’t just a stance of ‘anything goes’. Of course, there’s a plurality of pluralistic perspectives, but the kind of pluralism that appeals to me most is a ‘foundational pluralism’, in which pluralistic ideas and practices are embedded in a more singular set of values. What are those values? Most fundamentally, for me, it’s an ethic of ‘holding open a space for otherness’: supporting difference and diversity to thrive.

So pluralism is not just a passive, wishy-washy, relativistic acceptance of everything. At times it needs to be militant. A willingness to really fight to hold that space open if others are threatening to close it down. Pluralism challenges, vigorously, ideologies that claim to be single and superior truths—and even more so those that impose their ‘truths’ on others. It doesn’t challenge the possibility of their ideas; but, like postmodernism, it challenges any single claim to metanarrative status. In foundational pluralism, care for the other is not a relative value but a fundamental ethic: the grounds from which a pluralistic prizing of difference and diversity grows.

Pluralism is there in a wide diversity of domains. In therapy, in religion, in politics. It’s there in the writings of Isaiah Berlin, William James, Carl Rogers, and many others. And, most of the time, a pluralistic standpoint is implicit rather than explicit: in appeals for tolerance, or social justice, or dialogue. And it’s hallmark is that critical, non-dogmatic self-reflexivity which strives to hold open spaces for us all, while also recognising our tendencies to try and shut them down. It is characterised by humility, by a quest for a learning, and by a deep love for others and a prizing of the unique contribution that each of us can make.

(Image By ESA/Hubble, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8788068)