Batterer-intervention programs aim to curb further abuse
BRET ANNE SERBIN | Hagadone News Network | UPDATED 3 years, 5 months AGO
Over the past year, Northwest Montana has begun making inroads to address domestic violence through a legislative proposal aimed at protecting victims and the addition of three victim advocates in Flathead County.
But resources targeting the perpetrators of domestic abuse are lagging behind, and recidivism and limited effectiveness plague most batterer-intervention programs.
That’s according to the University of Kentucky’s Center for Research on Violence against Women, which estimates that “treatment prevents future violence only about 5% more than arrest alone.”
Lundy Bancroft, a pioneer in the field, writes in his book,"Why Does He Do That": "Even the very best counselors give the same report: it is more common for abusers to stay the same or get worse than it is for them to make the kind of changes that bring qualitative improvements in the lives of their partners and children.”
BATTERER-INTERVENTION programming for the region has remained stagnant since it was first introduced in the 1980s.
Kalispell counselor John Buttram brought the first such course to Kalispell more than three decades ago. He received training in Duluth, Minnesota, which along with Boston was the incubator site for the country’s first batterers intervention programs.
Modeled similarly to Alcoholics Anonymous sessions, batterer-intervention programs have become the mode de rigueur for treating perpetrators of domestic abuse nationwide. Programs typically involve small groups of offenders — mostly men — attending weekly group sessions run by a specialized facilitator. Sessions often center specifically on violent and controlling behavior that might not be addressed in therapy settings where domestic abuse isn’t the focus—settings such as anger management, couples’ therapy or addiction counseling.
In Montana, those convicted of partner or family member assault misdemeanors (PFMA) are required to undergo 40 hours of counseling. But Montana law currently doesn’t require perpetrators to attend a designated batterer-intervention program if such an option isn’t available locally.
In 2018, the Montana Board of Crime Control set out to standardize the state’s domestic violence response with a list of statewide standards for batterer- intervention programs.
“I thought it was great,” said Buttram, who was asked to review the standards after the state board drew them up. Two years later, however, those standards haven’t traveled very far beyond the confines of the papers that enshrined them, and, according to Buttram, he hasn’t heard a word about them since.
THERE SEEMS to be little oversight of the standards’ implementation, which leaves a patchwork of responses to domestic abuse across Montana communities.
State-funded programs that would fall under the purview of the Montana Board of Crime Control guidelines generally are underserved, or in some counties nonexistent.
Flathead County comes the closest of most Northwest Montana counties to meeting the board’s guidelines. In Kalispell, there are two distinct intervention programs, each with its own mandate.
One is run by Buttram, mostly for people convicted of PFMA assault. He conducts two courses on a rolling basis with approximately 12 men in each class.
Someone can be convicted of a PFMA crime under Montana law when they purposely, knowingly or negligently “cause bodily injury to a partner or family member.” Convicted assailants — and the occasional voluntary participant — go through what Buttram calls a “slow process of trying to encourage accountability.”
Even after decades of refinement, programs like Buttram’s don’t see overwhelmingly positive results.
“It’s such a hard thing to change even when somebody wants to, and most of them don’t,” Buttram said.
TIME IS another significant impediment to success in these programs.
PFMA charges require 40 hours of counseling, which usually take about a year’s worth of weekly one-hour classes. Less-than-stellar attendees take longer to complete their 40 hours, but the maximum sentence for a PFMA misdemeanor is one year, so many offenders time out of their sentences before they finish their course.
There’s also no guarantee that those who do complete the requisite 40 hours are any better off than their classmates. Many domestic abuse advocates believe it takes well over a year to make substantial progress on abusive behavior; Bancroft advises around two years.
That timeline is still fraught, however, because even long-suffering experts like Buttram say there is no effective way to predict whether an abuser will reoffend after undergoing treatment.
“There’s no assessment that’s going to predict if someone’s going to be violent,” he stated. “No pen-and-paper test is going to say. It’s not something you can see.”
The best he can do, Buttram said, is “give them the 40 [hours] and hope for the best. And if they get arrested again, you know they need more.”
THE OTHER option in Kalispell is Turning Point, a batterer-intervention program run by Faith Covenant Presbyterian Church.
The Christian ministry takes a Bible-based approach to the traditional model of abuser treatment.
It’s part of a multi-pronged effort by Faith Covenant to take on domestic violence in the community; the church also offers The Refuge, a support group for women, and Refuge Kids for children of domestic abuse.
Turning Point launched in 2013. Since then, more than 100 men have participated in the group, though fewer have seen it to completion.
Unlike Buttram’s classes, attendance at Turning Point is not court-mandated, and the program receives no certification or funding from the state. In this way, Turning Point serves a somewhat distinct population from the typical clients in Buttram’s court-ordered classes.
“Anyone is welcome to come,” noted the Rev. Lloyd Pierson of Faith Covenant, but the religious element is central to the Turning Point approach.
At Turning Point, most of the participants have not been arrested. Turning Point serves as a kind of net to catch domestic abusers who have not yet, or may never, cross the line into illegal abuse in the eyes of the Montana judicial system.
“The problem with abuse is so much of it takes place below the legal line,” Pierson said. “It’s still abuse.”
Another benefit of Turning Point is the program is free, whereas offenders in court-ordered classes are mandated by the state to pay the costs of attendance.
Nonetheless, Pierson and his team still face many of the same limitations that hamper secular programs.
“Nobody has great results,” Pierson pointed out. “It can be very discouraging.”
There’s a particular danger of drop-outs at Turning Point, since participants don’t have a legal requirement keeping them in the program. Pierson estimated about 20% of the men who start the program make it through 40 weeks.
And that, in essence, is the reason Pierson keeps the program alive, because there’s barely anyone else in the area doing work specific to batterer interventions.
PRACTITIONERS WORKING to rehabilitate domestic violence offenders say Northwest Montana falls short in meeting the state’s standards for treating domestic abusers. One way to start to remedy the issue, per the providers, would be better training.
In particular, Buttram and Pierson accentuated the need for more training specifically related to domestic violence, though Buttram said he wouldn’t know where to direct someone who might be interested in following in his footsteps.
Pierson said most church leaders are educated in other forms of therapy, such as family counseling. In his view, taking this misguided approach to a domestic abuse situation “actually makes it worse.” In an effort to address this training shortfall, Refuge Ministries plans to offer a public training session this fall.
Beyond formal changes, providers indicated community efforts could make a big impact on their work. As their champions readily acknowledged, even the best-funded, highest-quality intervention programs have serious limitations. A better intervention might instead be prevention, through increased community awareness of domestic abuse.
There’s work to be done, Pierson said, in recognizing domestic abuse can occur in any household.
“It’s found in every echelon of society…abuse knows no bounds,” Pierson said.
Buttram agreed. “People think of one image” of a domestic violence offender, he said, but his clients reach far beyond one specific stereotype. “Most of these guys are just 10 or 12 men pulled off the street at random.”
Bystanders could play a larger role in interventions, too, Buttram pointed out.
“It’s an old thing, we don’t want to get involved in somebody’s marriage or relationship,” he said.
The victim of domestic abuse is rarely the one who succeeds in getting a partner into a program like Buttram’s. He said a large number of his clients are convicted because a friend, family member or neighbor reported their behavior to law enforcement.
“Anywhere we can help is good,” he said.
Get help: If you are facing domestic abuse or know someone who is, call the Abbie Shelter's 24-hour helpline at 406-752-7273, or reach the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE.
Reporter Bret Anne Serbin may be reached at 758-4459 or bserbin@dailyinterlake.com