Why should we use motivational interviewing approaches to engage with users of DFSV?

Over the next few months, I want to start a conversation with you around a number of practice challenges that we face in our sector as we take a position of resistance to harmful behaviour from users of domestic, family and sexualised violence (DFSV). These will include a range of issues such as the crucial role of touch points in supporting long-term behaviour change, how we understand and manage collusion in the work, creating deep engagement in the work, and what readiness to change really means.

I start with the question of Why should we use motivational interviewing approaches to engage with users of DFSV?

When working with those who use domestic, family, and sexualised violence (DFSV), we’re often navigating contested terrain, balancing accountability with the need to build engagement, and challenging harmful behaviour while holding space for human potential. In this space, Motivational Interviewing (MI) offers more than a set of techniques. It offers a way of being that can shift the trajectory of change.

Some might argue that people who use violence don’t deserve a collaborative approach. That they need to be told, confronted, and held to account. And yes, accountability is essential. But when accountability is delivered without empathy, it often results in defensiveness, denial, and disengagement. MI doesn’t remove the need for accountability; it makes it possible to engage with it in a way that people can hear.

At its heart, MI recognises ambivalence as a normal part of change. It doesn’t excuse behaviour but acknowledges the complexity beneath it. Many users of DFSV services carry deep shame, trauma histories, and long-held beliefs about control, power, and identity. Simply telling them to “stop” doesn’t work. If it did, we wouldn’t need specialist programs. MI gives us a way to work with the part of the person that wants to change, even if that part is small, quiet, or unsure. Change happens when we don’t render this part silent any longer.

MI is particularly well-suited to the early stages of engagement, where resistance is often mistaken for lack of motivation, rather than a lack of safety or trust. It asks us to slow down, to listen deeply, and to evoke values and hopes rather than impose solutions. This isn’t softness. It’s smart practice.

What makes MI powerful in the DFSV work is its ability to evoke personal responsibility without escalating shame. It invites reflection: “What kind of partner or parent do you want to be?” “What impact has this had on those you care about?” “Who modelled for you that this is the way to be?” Through these conversations, people begin to shift from justifying their behaviour to understanding and confronting its consequences. They are afforded the opportunity to join others in taking a position of resistance against violent ways of being.

MI also aligns with trauma-informed, culturally responsive practice. It respects autonomy, creates space for dignity, and adapts to the person in front of us. In systems that are often rigid, directive, or compliance-driven, MI becomes a humanising antidote.

Of course, MI is not a silver bullet. It must be applied skilfully, ethically, and in conjunction with other evidence-based approaches. But in a field where engagement can make or break outcomes, MI offers a way to build the relational foundation upon which real change is built. It models for users of violence a way to be in relationships by demonstrating empathy. Our hope is that this is likely to rub off onto users of violence and appeal to a more thoughtful and caring self.

At its best, MI helps practitioners do what matters most: to walk alongside those who have caused harm, while holding a steady vision for who they could become as well as those who are impacted. That is the work. And that is why MI deserves a central place in our response to DFSV.

Love to hear your thoughts.

Comments are closed.