Tag Archives: CAMFT

AB1775 goes to the Supreme Court

 

I thought it was done. You might have thought I was done writing about it, at least. I thought the battle of AB1775, a droplet in the public consciousness, was over, and that our side had lost.

Our side is comprised of therapists, mostly, and a few of our clients. Everyone else—police, politicians, parents’ groups, the public at large, I guess—thought it a piece of legislation that was long overdue. Ever since 1980, when the original Child Abuse and Neglect Act (CANRA) was passed, everyone seemed to think it common sense and only too right that creators and distributors of child pornography ought to be prosecuted, and not only prosecuted, but outed by psychotherapists who hear of these pornographers’ behaviors in their offices.

Then something interesting happened. Thirty plus years later someone noticed that users, or viewers of child pornography were not being reported. Or, therapists weren’t sure if they ought to report these people, because the Civil Code didn’t stipulate as such. So, here’s what happened: A lawyer or two for the California Association of Marriage and Family Therapists (CAMFT) decided to write a law (AB1775) with the help of law enforcement, and send it to the California legislature for a rubber stamp. The law inserted the words “streaming”, “download”, and “viewing” into a section outlining criteria for reporting child exploitation. The law was indeed rubbed stamped—a 72 to zero vote. Most of CAMFT’s thirty thousand-deep membership learned of the bill’s existence a month prior to its passing, in a newsletter release pertaining to legislation CAMFT was supporting.

The law went into effect Jan 1st, 2015, but before long it was being challenged in court by, among others, my friend and colleague, Don Matthews, in a law suit aimed at Kamala Harris, then the attorney general of California. The plaintiffs asserted that child porn users in general do not perpetrate ‘hands on’ or direct contact offenses; that those who voluntarily (a crucial point here) seek therapy do so because they want to stop the behavior and are thus seeking help. The plaintiffs’ case in Matthews v. Harris (there are two other therapists on the suit) was struck down in Superior court, and again in appeal, leading many to think that AB1775 was here to stay. But this week we have news that the California Supreme Court has decided to review the case once again. I hope they will consider the case differently than previous judges have.

Here’s a review of opinion: Superior Court judge Michael Stern upheld the law, finding that no constitutional right to use child porn existed, and that viewers of child porn can have no reasonable expectation of privacy, given their (likely) awareness that such behavior is socially unacceptable and criminal. Court of appeals judge Roger Bern echoed that possession is not a right and added that requiring therapists to report possession is not significantly different from requiring therapists to report those who create child porn. Judges further contend that reports to authorities may block the proliferation of child porn, and finally, that just because child porn users haven’t directly harmed children in the past doesn’t mean they won’t in the future.

Well, where to start. Firstly, it’s frustrating that judges would predicate their assessment of therapists’ obligations on whether a client or patient’s disclosures are of criminal behavior, the criminality of which is presumably understood. How is it possible that no one has explained that there are numerous crimes, including heinous ones like murder, that therapists are NOT legally obliged to report to authorities if the disclosures pertain to past events? Therefore, the criminality itself, known or otherwise, of a disclosure, is clearly NOT sufficient grounds for a confidentiality violation, and never has been.

Well, what about children? Isn’t the salient factor in the disclosures targeted by AB1775 the harm aimed at this protected class of citizen?

Yes. However, there are two problems with this “shouldn’t protecting children be our top priority” argument. The first is my own idiosyncratic (perhaps) bias: if we were to persecute everyone whose consumption of products enabled the exploitation of children, then we’d be exposing large sections of our internationally-reaching consumer society. To isolate one industry is not judicious discrimination; it is scapegoating, and (especially with respect to teen pornography) staggeringly hypocritical. The second problem concerns something else that is little considered: that lawyers and clerics, two occupational classes that hear their fair share of child porn disclosures, are exempt from the requirement to report child abuse, including child porn use. Lawyers simply do not appear on the Civil Code’s list of mandated reporters. Priests and other clerics do appear on this list, but are exempted from reporting through the loophole of code 11166 (c) if disclosures are made within a “penitential communication” (i.e.: a confessional)

So much for “shouldn’t protecting children be our top priority”

Next, if we think reports to authorities will block the proliferation of child porn, can we check that supposition given that the law has now been in effect for two and a half years? I’ve made some effort personally in this area, calling child protective services offices, plus an internet crimes task force based within the San Jose Police Department. My efforts have not yielded results. Officials have either not returned my calls, or not known the answer to my questions, or they have passed my questions on to other officials, who also do not answer my calls. No one seems able to even estimate how many reports have been made of child porn use in the last two years, whether in response to the new legislation or not. Also, with respect to blocking proliferation, how does that work if, like most of the electronica we purchase, the child porn is being produced and disseminated from overseas? Has California’s law dented the child porn industries of Thailand or Russia in any way that is discernible?

Finally, with respect to Judge Bern’s last point, since when do we persecute people on the basis of what they might do? If you get picked up by police for committing a relatively minor crime, are subsequent punishments justified because they seek to prevent a presumed escalation of criminal behavior?

Wait. The voices of immigrants, people of color–two classes of people that are slightly more popular than users of child porn–are suddenly in my head. Of course we persecute people on the basis of what they might do.

 

Graeme Daniels, MFT

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Another three minutes with the CAMFT board

Graeme Daniels, MFT

These CAMFT board meetings: they happen three or four times a year, in hotel conference rooms up and down the state, always on a Saturday. The board of the California Association of Marriage and Family Therapists consists of a dozen members, men and women who don’t talk like therapists, but rather business people or lawyers. They don’t even seem to think like therapists, but for three minutes at a time at the outset of these all day gatherings, they promise to listen to therapists.

Being listened to is not something I expect, necessarily. Recently, it’s been hard going, getting others to take things in. There are clients as well as certain others who don’t return calls. Publishers and agents who won’t respond to e-mails. Even Pete Townshend, who asked to meet me after my Tommy paper got published, didn’t have much to say and walked off before I could start a conversation. Why? I wonder. Why am I so drawn to unavailable men? Anyway, at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, my friend Ben and I showed up at a San Francisco hotel ready to be listened to, about AB1775, that stupid child porn law I’ve been blogging about, and—from Ben, mostly—the problem of insurance companies not paying claims. That’s actually far more serious, I later thought after hearing him speak.

At eight thirty we were ready to take part in one of these ‘members forum’ segments of a board meeting. They are supposed to last thirty minutes and proceed on a first come first serve basis. Wading through a vestibule, entering the room allocated for the proceeding, Ben and I found ourselves alone, gazing at an array of chairs circling a large table. Moments later, board members sauntered in, chatting, carrying cups of coffee, schmoozing. They looked at us and acted surprised, as they’d not been told there would be ‘observers’ this time around. A woman I recognized named Cathy Atkins, who also recognized me, took a quick look my way but then glanced off, choosing to admonish Ben: “in future, perhaps you could write us an e-mail, let us know you’re coming.” Weird, I thought. Last time I came to this thing there were about a dozen ‘observers’, all ready to speak—no RSVP seemed necessary. I once saw a video of one of these meetings in which the room was filled with over fifty members, also lining up to speak. And by speak I really mean protest. Something’s changed, I realized. The spirit of dissent in this organization has, shall we say, diminished?

After a call-to-order and reading of agendas, a woman in charge announced it was time for our members’ forum to begin. Slightly disorganized, she asked who had the timer for the three minute segments. Then, looking down at the forum sign-in sheet, which contained only two names (Ben and I), she looked over and beckoned me to speak, pronouncing my name correctly, which rarely happens on a first reading. I’d have been impressed but for the sight of the woman next to her, whispering her knowledge of who I was, which was both gratifying and not. The three women at the head of the table were the new president of the board, plus two lawyers. The femicratic air was balanced by four or five men, most of whom sat at the other end of the table, looking detached, if thinly adversarial.

I began speaking through the anticipated personal blocks: the dry parch in my throat, which can drain the life from my hard syllables; the halting pass at stretched vowel sounds—a more common nemesis of mine. Then there were the externals to contend with: the expressions of a dozen people, most of whom gave effortful looks of interest; some bothered to twist their necks around to face me. There were one or two earnest faces, and even a faint nod from a former president—warmly supportive, if relieved to no longer be in charge. So, here’s what I said.

CAMFT MTG. ON 9/24

1.)      A year ago I was at this meeting in Santa Clara protesting 3 things: the passage of bill AB1775, which now mandates therapists to report ‘downloading’, ‘streaming’, or ‘viewing’ material depicting sexual conduct of minors;

2nd: CAMFT or CAMFT attorneys’ role in not only endorsing the bill, but writing it.

3rd: CAMFT’s misrepresentation of several aspects of AB1775 to the CAMFT membership

2.)      Yet it was clear to me after listening to a later ¾ hour discussion by this board that several members were like many therapists I’ve spoken to: they had not fully understood the implications of this bill at the time of its writing. They regretted their support.

3.)      Others appeared to support the bill, but with dubious arguments: that offenders should be reported to authorities, and by implication persecuted, not treated because “sex offender treatment is not effective”. This is an unfair and reductionist view. Another member, unwittingly paraphrasing the US attorney general, suggested that viewers of underage porn enable its production and are AWARE of the exploitation entailed in child porn. Interesting–not to mention one of our society’s staggering hypocrisies. So if we were aware of the child poverty, the exploitative labor conditions around the world ‘enabled’ by our innumerable consumer choices, would we be culpable…reportable? This insipid bill was written for facile people who concern themselves with exploitation, but only as it pertains to sex.

4.) But finally, for the future: member Mark Perlmutter argued that CAMFT should take a second look, as in scrutinize AB1775 in 2017, with a task force that CAMFT members might be invited to join. Well, 2017 is three months away. My requests to be a part of a task force have been ignored or deflected. I cannot get straight answers from CFS officials as to whether abuse reports have increased because of the new law. Well, they’ve gotten none from me, I’m proud to say. And the director of the SJPD internet crimes against children task force does not return my calls. Perhaps he doesn’t talk to therapists. Perhaps, like some lawyers and legislators, he’s got better things to do.

Graeme Daniels, MFT

 

 

 

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Three minutes with the CAMFT board

The board of directors of CAMFT (The California Association of Marriage and Family Therapists) meets once every…I don’t know how often they meet. Anyway, their all-day meeting is open to members to observe. We can also speak for three minutes on issues pertaining to our profession. Here’s a rough transcript of my well-memorized three minute speech regarding AB 1775. * Context note: the previously speaker had taken her three minutes to express appreciation for the recently increased transparency of board procedure.

“…Good morning, my name’s Graeme Daniels and I appreciate transparency, though I’m here to speak of the lack of it. I’m here to speak of AB 1775–a controversial new law–and to speak of CAMFT’s role in writing and supporting it. (Pause) I’ve heard a lot of demagoguery over the last year, from people who claim that AB 1775 will crack down on child porn, that it will protect children, when there’s no evidence it will do either. Bill supporters like to quote child abuse statistics, as if that counts as an argument. To my mind, that’s like reading out the Pearl Harbor casualty list to justify the internment of Japanese-Americans. So, to the salient matter: what happened with this law?

AB 1775 inserted three important words–downloading, streaming, accessing–into the penal code, conflating this language into an existing definition of sexual exploitation for the purposes of child abuse reporting. This was presented as a mere modernization, a technical updating, reflecting changes in technology. That’s incorrect, because these words are not synonyms for pre-existing language. The words downloading and streaming indicate data transfer, a receiving of information, not a reciprocal act. They’re not synonyms for ‘exchange’, ‘depict’, ‘distribute’, ‘duplicate’, or any of the words previously in the code. So the change was not ‘technical’. It was ideological. For the first time, the viewing of porn for personal use is reportable to police. For the first time in history, the consuming of a product that is exploitative is reportable to police. (* BTW: this comment is an allusion to broader comment that got nixed due to time constraints), and contrary to what Cathy has written in the spring edition of The Therapist, this bill is indeed a change to spirit of existing CANRA (Child abuse and neglect reporting act) law.

And if this exploitation is so heinous, then why does Cathy inform us that police will generally not investigate cases of merely ‘downloading’ or ‘streaming’. Why then are we to violate our clients’ confidentiality? Why does she write that the existing CANRA law was unclear in its language, because it was clear. It simply didn’t say what some people wanted it to say. And finally, why does she begin one paragraph with the words “it seems that the legislative intent (of the new law) is…”. It seems as if the intent was…? (pause) AS IF YA’LL DIDN’T WRITE THIS THING (yes, I did say ya’ll, with a British accent), present it to a political puppet to thrust before a legislature that, frankly, knows nothing about child abuse reporting. There’s a lot wrong with AB 1775–too much for me to say in three minutes. But above all, I want this board to look at how it gets manipulated.”

There. Just under three minutes.

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The Submission

When I first submitted Working Through for review at the The Therapist, I waited. I waited patiently. Over the previous year, I’d been writing prolifically, completing two books, one a novel whose basic plot I strain to describe in less than a paragraph, but whose themes cover the bases of a therapist’s sphere of influence: addiction, depression, psychosis, and most crucially, the good news: empathy. My other book, my expose of drug treatment and adolescents, fully entitled Working Through Rehab: An Inside Look at Adolescent Drug Treatment, is an ambitious, sprawling memoir cum essay that has been variously thrust at agents, publishers, and indulgent peers, though getting people to read it feels a bit like peeling wet leaves off a driveway in the dead of winter. I take my readers one at a time.

A colleague, a good friend whom I do not shame into reading my material, suggested I take advantage of membership in the statewide association of Marriage and Family Therapists, and submit my non-fiction to its flagship journal, The Therapist. The magazine, which is published quarterly, or thereabouts, features a section in which members can volunteer to read submissions and then provide a review. It seemed like a good idea to take advantage of a service that is a privilege of membership. My friend is good at having ideas that obscure his lack of effort. Anyway, what could I lose? I thought, especially after I’d just waiting six months waiting fruitlessly upon a publisher to study WTR, express enthusiasm for its content, but ultimately reject its content. They don’t publish memoirs of non-famous people, said an executive editor, gratuitously pointing out that I wasn’t famous. Fair enough, I thought. However, he could have told me this earlier, rather than having me wait with bubbling hope that a fantasy writing contract was forthcoming. In the end it was a flat e-mail that delivered the publisher’s verdict—an afterthought, really—by a deputy editor who had forgotten to reply to my last message. A flattering response, “well-written and compelling”, was quickly followed by the word, “unfortunately…” rendering the compliment a consolation.

So I submitted WTR to The Therapist in January 2014, thinking it might be advertised in the next issue, and possibly reviewed in the issue following that (as suggested by the editor). March was the next issue, and my fresh-looking book was there in print, alongside several other titles, looking eager like playful children, but also like bags on an airport carousel waiting to be collected. I was pleasantly anticipating, thinking my book an important work. As far as I could tell, no one else was writing about what really happens in drug treatment, and I feel in my gut that there’s a readership for subject that’s slightly off-center: it’s comprised partly of parents concerned with the impact of drugs upon kids, which is what publishers might presume the book is about. There’s a faction of society that is more broadly concerned with mental health, and with the problems of poorly attached individuals, the famous and non-famous, who are collapsing around us, killing themselves with addictions, violently attacking others in schoolyards and movie theaters, or just plain killing themselves. And there’s a faction of workers in this field, who aren’t necessarily readers, who are slated to work with all these people and somehow help figure out all of their problems: they are therapists, social workers, drug and alcohol counselors, for the most part, and they—not the adolescents or their families, actually—are the heroes of my story.

At least some of them are, and that’s what’s potentially controversial about my book, because it’s not exactly a tribute. You see, I write about some of the things people expect to learn about drug treatment: like what leads kids and their families into drugs and addiction, and how treatment and therapy can help claw them out. But I’m not writing a how-to guide for parents, or any other consumer of the industry. I’m more of a critic of the process; the only kind of critic this business could really have: that of an insider, versus, say, a peripheral insider, such as a policy maker, or even most physicians. I’ve worked several positions within a hospital-based treatment setting, as a counselor and later as a supervisor of therapists. I was a manager of a six-bed group home for teens for three years; a leader of an intensive outpatient program for another three, and have seen patients across several divides in private practice for about twenty years. I’ve tracked the dialogues between the addicted and their families. I’ve been a part of and witnessed the back and forth arguments between patients and helpers, administrators and clinical professionals, and I understand the context of treatment’s limited resources, the conflicts many do not understand. I know the Gordian Knot that is drug addiction and the continuum of drug treatment, and the strained efforts to untie it.

As for the feedback process: I’d written the book, had it appear in black and white, and learned that it was selected by a volunteer to read. Again, I waited. When it didn’t appear in the next issue I sighed and reasoned that the book was long (350 pages) and dense, and was perhaps demanding more time and effort from a committed reader than I’d accounted for. But when a review didn’t appear in the issue after that (another two and half months on), I wondered what was happening. I e-mailed the magazine’s editor, a man who had cheerfully written that WTR had been selected six months earlier, and asked the question. Seeming like the deputy editor of that unnamed publisher, he wrote back that he hadn’t yet received a review from the volunteer, and didn’t know why. With curious incuriosity, he added that I might re-submit a copy such that the book could be advertised again as available for review, and that I might implicitly begin the cycle of waiting all over again. It was: oh yeah, I forgot, followed by an attempt to sweep the matter aside. Waiting and writing: years ago, when I started practicing this pleasing craft, I had no idea there would be this much waiting. What was I submitting myself to? Coolly, I replied to the editor, modeling the curiosity the situation compelled: Was there a problem? Is the volunteer no longer willing or able to provide a review? Did they get bored after reading a chapter and burn the copy? Or were they so engrossed that they couldn’t take their eyes off the material, even when driving, and thus died in a fiery crash. The sheepish editor, to whom I did not share these fantasies, wrote back that he’d pursue my inquiries. A week later, after I again solicited information, he replied that he still had none to give. He vaguely apologized on someone’s behalf, perhaps his own, for being inattentive. He excused the magazine by pointing out that this event—this phenomenon of neglect—seldom happens, and once again invited me to re-submit a copy.

Which I have done, and I am waiting. It is June of 2015: enough time for topical subjects to come and go; happily, or not, addiction isn’t one of them. And as I wait, I will continue to ruminate on my work, and perhaps inflate its importance, thinking that someone is out there waiting to snatch up another copy for review, but then blocking its exposure by abandoning the task. Or maybe I’ll be rewarded for my patience, and my raw message on this subject will be read, perhaps even in numbers, and a fair critique will come back at me finally. In the meantime, I will remind myself that while the culture continues to seek and develop tools for immediate gratification, the writer must endure the slowest, most excruciatingly elusive feedback system ever known.

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New Changes to Child Abuse Reporting Law

Graeme Daniels, MFT 

            In August of 2014, the California legislature passed bill AB1775, which stipulates important changes to the Child Abuse Reporting Act, and was apparently sanctioned by CAMFT(and conveyed to CAMFT membership the same month), despite objections by the National Association of Social Workers, which reasonably argues that AB1775 will stymie therapeutic disclosures and hamper child abuse prevention efforts. This law went into effect on January 1st of 2015. Ostensibly, AB1775 calls for all mandated reporters to report instances of child pornography to authorities, social services or police. Legislative author and state assembly woman Melissa Melendez, who authored the bill (it was actually written by lawyers for CAMFT–The California Association of Marriage and Family Therapists in concert with law enforcement and child advocacy groups), pledges to crack down on child pornography, though the impact of the law is likely more far reaching.

To explain: pre-existing law dating back to 1980 (the once Child Abuse and Neglect Reporting Act, or CANRA law) stipulates that mandated reporters alert authorities to sexual exploitation, material that depicts minors engaging in obscene sexual conduct, through the mediums of film, videotape, negative or slide. The language of AB1775 is updated as followed: “sexual exploitation includes downloading, streaming, or accessing through any electronic or digital media, material in which a child is engaged in an act of obscene sexual conduct.” Meanwhile, Penal code 11165, subsection 311.4 defines obscene sexual conduct as, among other things, “exhibition of the genitals for the purpose of sexual stimulation of the viewer”, as well as lewd and lascivious acts, which are further defined in subsection  288.2 as that which depicts touching intimate parts of the body, including “buttocks of a person and the breasts of a female” (subdivision d). The law further removes the need to observe an “identifiable victim”, as is typically required by social service investigators. Thus, the idea is not to protect victims per se, but rather to capture those who view obscene material, and engage therapists as informants. **But if you work with adolescents in particular, note the word minor (meaning under age 18), the reference to “electronic or digital media” (i.e.: cell phones and computers), and the language of the penal codes, and understand why sexting, for example, is now reportable under the law.

Of course, the issue is bigger than that. A person who discloses to you that he or she looks at teen or preteen pornography, who is perhaps seeking help, afraid they might hurt minors more directly, must be reported to Child and Family Services, who will likely defer to law enforcement investigation due to lack of identifiable victims. As an experienced sex addiction/offender therapist, let me describe the likely fallout: arrest, incarceration, loss of job, estrangement from peers, family, possibly lifelong registry on a public sex offender list. Next, because sex offender treatment is under the exclusive authority of The California Sex Offender Management Board (CASOMB), which certifies providers, YOU WILL LOSE CLIENTS that you report if you’re not certified. Finally, for those who recall the CAMFT Bylaws debacle of 2013, observe that once again CAMFT has co-signed an initiative that will bind its vast membership without actively engaging that membership in the process. Don’t be taken for granted! Discover research by Dr. Karl Hanson, whose work distinguishes child pornography users from child predators (versus conflating them), become educated as to the implications of this short-sighted legislation, and learn through the website, www.stopAB1775.org, how we can block it.

Graeme Daniels, MFT

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