The Psychology of Bullies

Bullies respond to one thing, and one thing only...

A May 2024 article in Psychology Today (PT) reported by F. Diane Barth, a psychotherapist and psychoanalyst in private practice in New York City cites six suggestions for dealing with bullies as suggested by persons she calls “leading authorities on the subject”:

(Spoiler alert: I’m no expert on psychology, but I really disagree with some of this…)

1. Be Confident. PT blogger Amy Cooper Hakim tells us, “Bullies lose their power if you don’t cower. Deep down, they doubt they deserve your respect. They admire you for speaking with self-assurance and confidence. So when they bombard, don’t counterpunch. Rather, win them over with your strong, firm, courteous demeanor.”

Well, OK with the first part. But in my experience, I’m calling bullshit on the demeanor thing. “Bombard” a bully with everything you have and they will run because deep down they are cowards. Krasnov likes to talk big and revels in his minions creating ridiculous memes of him all buffed out as some superhero.

Also, for knowledgeable fans of the genre, the red light saber is not a good look…

But in reality he is a fat and fatuous coward whose daddy paid a doctor to say he had bone spurs in his heels so he would not have to serve in the military.

Now, in an ultimate irony of cowardice he wants an elaborate military parade to feed his toxic narcissism and compensate for his small body parts. For the record and as a medical fact, if he had bone spurs he has bone spurs still. So, show us the x-rays Krasnov… He won’t cause he can’t cause he’s a liar.

As I said before, however, I’m totally down with the confidence part. Growing up on the streets of Joplin, MO, my father learned some essential street smarts that he passed on to me. One gem was that the person who gets in the first punch wins a fight almost every time. More on that later…

2. Stay Connected. PT blogger Signe Whitson writes, “Bullies operate by making their victims feel alone and powerless.”

Consider what’s going on in LA and other cities as the fascists are planning to deploy the military across the country. Stick together. Stand by and protect each other. People in San Diego came out and ran the cowards off when they invaded a restaurant to arrest the dishwasher and service people just trying to feed their families. That’s what it takes to rid your neighborhood of bullies. Solidarity and courage.

3. Use Simple, Unemotional Language. Whitson also writes that an assertive, but unemotional response lets a bully “know that the victim does not intend to be victimized. It does not seek forgiveness but does not pose a challenge either.” (Because a challenge gives a bully the attention and sense of power she or he is seeking.)

This is one point where I am definitely no psychologist. While I agree that you need to be assertive when confronting a bully, I also think bullies need to know that you are seriously emotionally engaged and that the shit they are pulling will stop or there will be consequences the outcome of which will not be good for them. Bullies need to be challenged. And as unfortunate and undesirable as that may be, by whatever force is necessary to deter and defeat them. Simple but determinedly unforgiving deterrence.

4. Set Limits. Chrissy Scivicque writes, “The trick is to remain polite and professional while still setting your limits firmly. Don't let the bully get under your skin—that's what he wants. Practice your response so you're prepared the next time something happens and you can respond swiftly without getting emotional. Keep it simple and straightforward, for example: ‘I don't think your tone is appropriate.’"

Me… In myriad situations, I think an assertive ‘fuck you’ offered with emotional conviction often works really well. I’ve already reached my limit on granting these morons any quarter. If you still support Krasnov you are not a patriot and I’m gonna punch you in the proverbial face, stand my ground, protect and defend my country, my family, my friends, and anyone I see being abused by these fascists. Fuck you fascists!

5. Act quickly and consistently. Whitson further tells us, “The longer a bully has power over a victim, the stronger the hold becomes. After the bully has tested the waters and confirmed that a victim is not going to stand up for his rights, the aggression worsens.”

6. Strike while the iron is cold. “Never interfere with an enemy while he’s in the process of destroying himself.

There’s more to this section in the original narrative, but this is the essence, and I agree. But, owing to the Dunning/Kruger effect, I reserve the right to strike at any given moment. I mean as soon as I feel there is a real and credible threat. Strike…

“Every one of these suggestions might not work for you…”

Yeah, no shit. Also, most of those six PT points seem to be written by people who never actually were physically bullied. Being bullied on social media is not what I call bullying except for the emotionally immature. Social media “bullying” is the lashing out by people who don’t have the courage to confront their victims in person and hide behind the curtain of virtual anonymity and the shield of physical separation that online spaces provide. Social media screed demeaning or attacking someone is quite simply the act of a coward. Not all physical bullies in my experience are cowards, though most certainly are as they nearly always attack those they believe to be emotionally weaker than them, or physically vulnerable. And usually from behind.

The following sequence shows and Australian journalist simply reporting the news being shot with a rubber bullet by a coward in riot gear while her back is turned. Bullies by nature. Fascist cowards they are.

When I was a teenager I had a confrontation with a bully that proved something my father taught me, and provided me a lasting aura of invulnerability. Partially, that outcome was because I had an older brother who bullied me from the time he became a teenager until I got big enough to adequately defend myself. My brother is not quite 3 years older, and although he wasn’t a bully in the archetypical sense, and he grew to be a wonderful father and an all-around exemplary human being, we went through a phase where his emerging testosterone triggered a tendency to exert male dominance, and I was handy.

That phase ended one day when at about age 12 I fought him to a draw. Mom was home, dad was not. My brother and I shared a bedroom that was a converted garage. Large enough to sleep two growing boys, it was not large enough to compensate for exhibiting male dominance without conflict. In the resulting scuffle, ignoring our mother’s shouted attempts to separate us until Dad got home to exert actual male supremacy, we busted a couple of lamps, at least one table, the closet door, a large picture window, and a bunch of assorted items that I can’t recall other than the memory of broken shit being strewn everywhere. Dad got the altercation stopped, read us the riot act, and made us work off paying for the damages.

There was only one other significant incident between us a couple years later when just before leaving for college my brother sucker punched me in the stomach knocking the air out of me followed by holding a pillow over my face while pinning me against the wall in our still shared bedroom and punching me a few times in the face. Through the pillow. Neither of us can remember what led to that episode, but to his misfortune at the time the commotion was heard by the ole man from the adjacent parental bedroom resulting in his ‘grounding’ and not being able to socialize for a couple weeks. Not the revenge punishment I would have then preferred, but that which I had to accept if I didn’t want to suffer a similar consequence.

As I said, my brother grew out of his angst. He became a world renowned surgeon who is revered by those who worked with and for him, and the numerous students, interns and fellows he mentored throughout his celebrated career. He outgrew his errant ways, but still, he is the guy who used to beat me up for little or no reason. However, I did learn from those shared experiences.

What I learned from my street kid father and the scrapes with my brother was how to defend myself from physical bullies. We grew up on farms in southern Missouri. We had chores and learned to work with our hands. In the first and second grades my brother went to a literal one room schoolhouse that operated as a church on Sundays. I attended a three room school until the 7^th grade. In junior high I was the butt of jokes and jeers because of my farmer boots and clothes that weren’t stylish. As a freshman in high school I had worked my way onto the basketball team and garnered the social visibility that goes along with playing sports in those settings. But along with that social prominence came some jealousy.

One day as I was in my locker gathering my things on the way to practice, the school bully came up and slammed my arm in the locker door issuing a taunt about me being “a pussy” and that he was going to kick my ass. As I started to square off with him in the hallway, the basketball coach who was also a civics teacher emerged from his classroom across the hall and got between us sending the aggressor on his way and ushering me into his classroom where he proceeded to tell me that fighting was not tolerated in school and, more importantly for that matter, certainly not on his teams. Coach Roy told me if I wanted to stay on the basketball squad I was not to get into any fights. Fighting was unsportsmanlike, a common mōs of that the era.

So much for that, the next day in the lunchroom the school bully called me out again. I proceeded to tell him what the coach told me. He taunted me again, but I told him that I would fight him, after basketball season was over which was about a month out. He agreed and the time and place were set.

About four blocks south of the school there was a vacant lot at the end of an alleyway that led into the back of a graveyard behind the local Catholic church. It’s where all the off campus fights were held. The day after basketball season was over, as agreed, we were to meet there and have it out. After school, I and my best friend headed to the appointed spot. We were the first to arrive. After a few minutes we heard some voices only to see my antagonist walking down the alley in our direction with what appeared to me to be half the student body behind him. The guy had the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen on his face and was being actively encouraged by several members of the gaggle. He was the school bully with the reputation of having beaten up a lot of guys. He was intending to kick my ass, like he said he wanted, and apparently nearly everyone thought he would. Including, probably my friend if truth were told.

The crowd got in a big circle around us. My adversary took off his jacket deliberately and commenced to circle me with his fisted hands held apart in this weird position I had never seen before. I instantly flashed on what my dad had told me about the winner of every fight is nearly always the one who gets in the first lick, so I hit him straight in the face as hard as I could. Staggering back he was visited by several rapidly successive blows that sent him to the turf. Being a fair person by nature and nurture, I let him get up. Although yet dazed he put up his dukes again and so I battered him multiply again and again he fell. Again, I let him get up. He then charged at me and we wrestled onto the ground whereupon I got on top and began pounding him with pent up ferocity as he attempted to cover himself as best he could.

When I paused the assault momentarily he muttered, “I think I’m gonna quit.” I stood up. Looking up at me standing over him, fists clenched and ready to recommence, he simply said, “I quit.”

The crowd was silent. I surveyed them to see if anyone wanted to follow on. They did not and slowly began to disperse, not in the tightly knit assembly in which they came, but in groups of two or three talking in muffled voices if at all.

When I got home, my mother noticed a drop of blood on my shirt. I told her I got a bloody nose scrimmaging basketball on the playground at lunch. Asking if I was OK and finding that I was she told me to take the garment off so she could soak it before the blood set. I didn’t share the story of that day with my parents for decades. It would not have changed the outcome or their opinions of me in any way, and there was really no reason to do so.

Well into adulthood, when I did finally tell my father the story it was in the context of relating some of the lessons he taught me very early in my youth, and how grateful I was for the close relationship that had developed with my brother. If wasn’t for my brother toughening me up over the years when we shared living quarters, I would not have been the scrapper that I turned out to be.

The life lesson: when confronted by a bully, and you know violence is unavoidable, hit first, as hard as you can and don’t let up until he gives. I do not advocate violence. But, I swore an oath to protect and defend this country from all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that oath remains a guiding priciple for me and others ot this day.

“The response to authoritarianism isn't acquiescence. Bullies respond to one thing and one thing only: a punch in the face.” JB Pritzker at 2025 HRC Los Angeles Dinner.

Krasnov is a coward bully. That’s why he has others do his dirty work, and why he doesn’t stand up to Putin or other authoritarians. He doesn’t have the stones.

Hegseth is a drunken bully.

Bondi is a corrupt bully.

Noem is an ignorant cosplay bully.

Miller is Nazi bully.

Vance is a Peter Thiel bully.

They’re all bullies unworthy of the offices of responsibility they occupy.

They lie. They all lie. They all lie all the time. As long as this group of performative clowns can hide behind ICE or the military or SCOTUS they’ll continue to preen and threaten. They direct others to do their bidding while cowering and slinking around in the safety of press conferences and faux news interviews.

Until someone hits them in the face…