I could talk about the nearly 3 years of bullying I put up with during my latter teen years as an apprentice fitter and turner, or I could highlight what actually happened to change that dynamic completely in my fourth year.
I wrote “lessons in the abuse that I suffered as a younger person” to describe the environment I was trained in — that should never have been allowed to happen — which was very common for back then, and today I know is still practised in too many workplaces.
There is something very wrong when young people enter any scenario where they’re under the care of adults and are then abused. But this in many ways is the perpetuation of a cycle.
In today’s terms of the coronavirus, we can use that as a metaphor for human behaviour. Abusive behaviour leaks throughout any system when it’s allowed to spread.
Violent human behaviour is carried down through the generations, and one traumatised person infects another when their trauma spills over to traumatise another, and so on and so forth. And whilst this happens in families, those who are traumatised also take these things into their workplaces. And those who are traumatised, who have not healed, sometimes become narcissists who can and do great harm to unsuspecting individuals, because if they were violated, why shouldn’t they be allowed to violate?
They don’t understand the opportunity to break the cycle, because they either feel entitled or they cannot help their anger.
I was an apprentice in the care of older men who were supposed to be passing down their trade to me, yet a lot of the time I wasn’t cared for, and I was often the scapegoat.
It wasn’t until a healthier man stood in the breach in my fourth and final year that there came to be hope for me.
I was a 19-year-old low on confidence who was also dependent on alcohol and marijuana. It was so common back then to drink heavily on the weekends and to be stoned most nights. Apart from the culture, where every young person afflicted was usually introduced to these drugs through their workplaces, I am sure part of it was escapism.
It was easier to deny the toxic environment and the horrible things done on occasion by anaesthetising the mind and comforting the heart through mind-dulling substances.
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Suddenly things changed for me in my fourth and final year, and it is so good that I was clueless as to what was happening.
You see, a great kindness had been done for me, through the agency of a young man only a few years older than me (also named Steve), who had just travelled from our state’s capital city to our regional town to take up a job in the team I was in.
He was a really nice guy, but he was more than that — as I would later come to realise.
What happened was a miracle in hindsight. Somehow, without explanation, I went from being a fully supervised third-year apprentice — not trusted and not free to practice my skills without being lorded over — to being given a vehicle, a trade’s assistant (Rod), and jobs hundreds of kilometres away, including full engine and pump overhauls, and mechanical seal installations, in remote locations. I don’t think I realised at the time just what had happened, but it was as if I was being fully trusted as a tradesperson for the first time.
My fourth year was really successful, because I’d been paired up with a very supportive trade’s assistant and was given free rein over my work and I proved responsible.
So, what happened? Only much later in that fourth year did I find out what had actually happened.
As a workshop crew we would gather for drinks on a Friday afternoon, and consume two or three beers each, recalling that these were the days (1980s) before formal breathalyser testing.
One particular afternoon, Steve arranged for me not to be at the Friday drinks, and he took that opportunity to make a speech.
He was a kind person, but apparently he gave the group of 20 men quite a serve, and told them that I would amount to nothing if they didn’t get off my back; that I not only deserved their support because they’d agreed in the indentures to train me, but that I needed their support to succeed; and, that he was actually ashamed to see the effect of their treatment on me.
Apparently, he told them all to, “Have a good look at yourselves; you have this kid’s failure or success in your hands.”
Having said these things, he probably sat down to be quiet, and I can imagine another one or two voicing their support for what he had said.
This hearty call to the consciences of men was as necessary as it was salvific. There may have been no hope for me otherwise. This young man, not even 25 himself, stood up and stood in the gap for me, and it proved to be a crucial turning point in my life.
There are times in all our lives when we need people to stand in the gap for us, just as there are times in all our lives when we need to be standing in the gap for others.
I am reminded of the ancient text of Ezekiel 22:30-31...
“I looked for someone among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found no one. So I will pour out my wrath on them and consume them with my fiery anger, bringing down on their own heads all they have done, declares the Sovereign Lord.” (Bolded text for emphasis)
One thing I learned through the other Steve was the importance of standing in the gap, and gently though firmly standing against injustice and for righteousness’ sake. It’s what led me to a career in safety and health, and now ministry. Like you probably, I hate injustice.
I hope this is an encouragement to those who see themselves as advocates out there. It is a challenge to every single one of us, when it would be easier to hold our peace, to step out and speak, or at least to pray for the right opportunity and the wise way to do so.
Had I not had Steve stand up and stand in the gap for me, my life would have been different.
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