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The
Rise of the DSM
In
today's therapeutic settings the terms "diagnosis"
and "treatment" are virtually inseparable. In
clinical settings it has become quite popular to
speak of the diagnosis as "driving the treatment
plan," or of the caregiver "providing a proven
treatment pathway" for the patient who suffers from
a mental illness. But the link between diagnosis
and clinical treatment has not always enjoyed such
a prominent position. Our own classification
system, or nosology, emerged separately from the
work of clinicians within the therapeutic
framework, and it even predated Freud's
publications which first outlined the methods of
psychoanalysis by over a half a century.
In
the United States the need to collect statistical
information for the census was the impetus behind
gathering information on the prevalence of mental
disorders. Obviously a facile task in its
beginning, for the 1840 census consisted of exactly
one category of mental illness: insanity. The
number of mental illness categories leaped to seven
by the 1880 census. In 1917 the Bureau of the
Census began employing the efforts of the American
Medico-Psychological Association (whose name
changed to the American Psychiatric Association
shortly thereafter) and charged the Association
with the task of developing a nationally acceptable
psychiatric nomenclature which would be included in
the American Medical Association system of
classification (DSM-IV, p. xvii).
But
it wasn't until World War II that the nomenclature
business began to boom. Shortly after the war the
U.S. Army began developing a broad classification
system to facilitate outpatient treatment of its
servicemen and veterans. Concurrently, the World
Health Organization (WHO) published the
6th edition of the ICD (International
Classification of Diseases), which included for the
first time a section dedicated to mental
illnesses-- a section heavily influenced by the
Veterans Administration nomenclature (DSM-IV, p.
xxii). The ICD-6 included 10 categories for
psychoses, 9 for psychoneuroses, and 7 for
personality disorders. It was this version of the
ICD that most heavily influenced the development of
the DSM-I (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of
Mental Disorders ), which was first published
in 1952 by the American Psychiatric Association.
What was unique about the DSM-I was that it was the
first classification system of mental disorders to
focus on clinical utility (DSM-IV, p. xvii).
Historically speaking, the developers of the
forerunners of today's major classification systems
(the DSM and ICD) did not attempt to relate the
classification of mental disorders (nosology) with
the actual treatment of mental disorders (clinical
application). Perhaps such a consideration at that
time might have been viewed as malapropos for the
doctor/patient relationship.
This
distinction between classification and treatment
can also be seen in the different approaches of
Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, and Emil
Kraepelin, the father of the psychiatric
laboratory. Whereas Freud's theories focused on the
etiological dynamics of mental illness, Kraepelin
attempted throughout his career to classify,
categorize, and describe mental disorders as
discrete entities (Kirk & Kutchins, 1992, p.
5). These two approaches-- the former etiological,
the latter nosological-- were united, or at least
placed side by side, for the first time with the
publication of the DSM-I.
The
publication in 1968 of the DSM-II witnessed the
addition of 76 new diagnostic categories (DSM-I
contained 106 categories). Consistent with its
predecessor, and despite the new additions, the
DSM-II did not vary much in terms of its clinical
usefulness-- practitioners appreciated its modest
administrative practicality. But for researchers,
the DSM-II was a nuisance. For this group, the
DSM-II was vague, inconsistent, and theoretically
clumsy (Kirk & Kutchins, p. 202). It was also
during this time that American psychiatry underwent
a number of scathing attacks from groups such as
the humanists (including the "anti-psychiatry"
movement) and behaviorists, as well as clinicians
who were more inclined to view mental illness as
entirely organic (a physiological perspective). As
Kirk and Kutchins note:
American
psychiatry and the field of mental health were
more fragmented and diverse than they had been
in 1960. The developers knew that it was
impossible to organize a classification system
that would satisfy multiple constituencies with
different views about etiology, prognosis,
structure, severity, or relevant dimensions
(axes). (Kirk and Kutchins, p. 203)
Faced
with such pressing legitimation problems, the
American Psychiatric Association set up the DSM-III
Task Force in 1974 to oversee the development of a
new manual. And in 1980 the DSM-III was published.
The DSM-III heralded a number of important
methodological changes over its predecessors,
including "explicit diagnostic criteria, a
multiaxial system, and a descriptive approach that
attempted to be neutral with respect to theories of
etiology" (DSM-IV, p. xviii). This new manual
boasted of "extensive empirical work" which
attempted to resolve issues of reliability and
validity, and provide consistent medical
nomenclature for both clinicians and researchers
(DSM-IV, p. xviii).
The
diagnostic manual was revised in 1987 (DSM-III-R),
and pitched once again in 1994 as the DSM-IV, the
most current manual available as of this writing.
In the last two decades, the DSM has become an
indispensable tool for psychiatrists,
psychologists, social workers, educators, and many
others. Its reputation as the only authorized
diagnostic manual of the APA is virtually sealed
and guaranteed for years to come.
As
the authoritative guidebook for psychiatrists and
other mental health care practitioners, the DSM
represents our current scientific understanding of
mental illness. Arriving at such an understanding
is no easy task. For even the developers of the DSM
recognize the difficulties of delineating between
the mental and physical spheres of illness:
...the
term mental disorder unfortunately
implies a distinction between "mental" disorders
and "physical" disorders that is a
reductionistic anachronism of mind/body dualism.
A compelling literature documents that there is
much "physical" in "mental" disorders and much
"mental" in "physical" disorders. The problem
raised by the term "mental" disorders has been
much clearer than its solution, and,
unfortunately, the term persists in the title of
DSM-IV because we have not found an appropriate
substitute. (DSM-IV, p. xxi)
Of
course, to do away with the term "mental" in its
definition would in essence eliminate the entire
domain of modern psychiatry and psychology, and,
besides, would further muddy an already murky pond.
The resolution of the problem for the developers of
the DSM is to continue the work of clarifying what
is meant by the term "mental disorder." It is to
this end that they offer the following
definition:
In
the DSM-IV, each of the mental disorders is
conceptualized as a clinically significant
behavioral or psychological syndrome or pattern
that occurs in an individual and that is
associated with present distress ...or
disability...or with a significantly increased
risk of suffering death, pain, disability, or an
important loss of freedom. In addition, this
syndrome or pattern must not be merely an
expectable and culturally sanctioned response to
a particular event, for example, the death of a
loved one. Whatever its original cause, it must
currently be considered a manifestation of a
behavioral, psychological, or biological
dysfunction in the individual. Neither deviant
behavior...nor conflicts that are primarily
between the individual and society are mental
disorders unless the deviance or conflict is a
symptom of a dysfunction in the individual, as
described above. (DSM-IV, p. xxi-xxii)
Quite
comprehensive! According to this definition, a
mental disorder involves a basic dysfunction in
an individual regardless of etiology .
The diagnosis of a mental disorder for an
individual relies upon the presentation of a marked
level of impairment (distress, disability,
increased risk of death, pain, etc.) or dysfunction
for that individual and cannot be based upon
culturally accepted or permissible patterns of
behavior and/or expression. A mental disorder is a
conflict in the individual person. In reference to
its uses in forensic settings, the developers of
DSM-IV explicitly state that "inclusion of a
disorder in the Classification does not require
that there be knowledge about its etiology"
(DSM-IV, p. xxiii). The correspondence between
diagnostic category and the individual's presenting
problems (symptomatology) alone provide the ground
for a diagnosis. These two fundamental premises of
the definition of "mental disorder"-- that it is an
individual event, and etiology is not a necessary
component of the diagnosis-- is the sine qua
non of our modern understanding of whole
enterprise of the mental health profession. It is
on this basis that both research and practice are
carried out, directly affecting what is
being researched and who is being
treated.
Conquering
Reliability
One
striking and incontrovertable feature of the
evolution of modern psychiatry through the revision
of the DSM-IV is the exuberance and fanfare that
accompanied it. After the publication of the
DSM-III in 1980, Gerald Klerman, who was the
highest ranking psychiatrist in the federal
government, declared:
In
my opinion, the development of DSM-III
represents a fateful point in the history of the
American psychiatric profession...the judgment
is in: DSM-III has already been declared a
victory. There is not a textbook of psychology
or psychiatry that does not use DSM-III as the
organizing principle for its table of contents
and for classification of psychopathology. (Kirk
& Kutchins, p. 6)
Klerman
was not alone in his views. In the pages of The
New Psychiatrists, Gerald Maxmen
proclaimed:
On
July 1, 1980, the ascendance of scientific
psychiatry became official. For on this day, the
APA published a radically different system for
psychiatric diagnosis called...DSM-III. By
adopting the scientifically based DSM-III as its
official system for diagnosis, American
psychiatrists broke with a fifty year tradition
of using psychoanalytically based diagnoses.
Perhaps more than any other single event, the
publication of DSM-III demonstrated that
American Psychiatry had indeed undergone a
revolution. (1985, p. 35; as quoted in Kirk
& Kutchins, p. 7)
With
biopsychiatry making leaps and bounds in scientific
journals, the publication of a diagnostic manual
grounded in empirical research was surely a fresh
source of enthusiasm and solidarity for psychiatry.
Many psychiatrists welcomed this new nosology, for
it provided an avenue for moving psychiatry closer
to mainstream medicine; hence, closer to
legitimacy.
Furthermore,
predicated as it was on empirical research, the new
psychiatry was now apparently immune to the
excoriating work of critics such as Thomas Szasz
and R. D. Laing. Szasz's claims in the late 50s and
early 60s struck the very foundation of psychiatry
as a profession. Szasz argued that what constituted
"mental illnesses" were in actuality merely
socially devalued behaviors (Kirk & Kutchins,
p. 20). These "problems in living" were no more
akin to medical conditions than were issues of
spirituality, thus undercutting an already weak
link between psychiatry and modern medicine (no
doubt the Achilles heel for modern psychiatry). R.
D. Laing's bitter criticisms in the 60s and 70s
attempted as well to turn modern psychiatry on its
head by suggesting that "schizophrenia was an
adaptive response to a chaotic and disordered
society" (Kirk & Kutchins, p. 22). By attacking
the claims of diagnostic validity and medical
authority, both Szasz and Laing, among many others,
almost succeeded in capsizing an already splintered
and sinking vessel. Modern psychiatry, by the
mid-1970s, was in a severe identity crisis.
For
psychiatry, as well as its relatives in the mental
health sphere (psychology, sociology, social
services, etc.), the issues of validity and
reliability were of major concern when it came to
measurement and diagnosis. Simply put,
Classification
is, in the crudest way, a form of measurement, a
method of determining whether phenomena have the
particular characteristics for membership in a
class. Questions about the meaningfulness of the
concept of mental illness, just like questions
about the substantive meaning of many relatively
abstract concepts such as intelligence or
anxiety, involve issues about the validity of
scientific constructs. (Kirk & Kutchins, p.
29)
Construct
validity is concerned with questions about the
nature of the phenomena under investigation. In
other words, the question is: are we in fact
describing what we say we are describing? For
example, intelligence testing is widely regarded as
a useful tool, yet scholars and researchers have
yet to agree upon what is being tested-- namely,
what is intelligence? There are still several camps
who disagree on fundamental criteria for what is
and what is not intelligence. Critics such as Szasz
and Laing were addressing these fundamental issues
of validity, and doing so with a force and acumen
not easily dismissed by those within mainstream
psychiatry. The inability of researchers and
practitioners to agree upon the nature of the
object of study was a very real and stultifying
problem.
Another
focal point were the attacks on the credibility of
the nosology of DSM-I and II, both by critics such
as Szasz and Laing, and by the new critics
within psychiatry. These new critics, including
Robert Spitzer, who was a key consultant on DSM-II
and senior architect of the DSM-III, succeeded in
shifting the focus of attention from the question
of validity to questions of reliability. This was
no accident, for
there
is...one ironic advantage of problems of
reliability: they make it possible to forget
about the messy problems of validity.
Preoccupation with the consistency of
clinician's judgments about the presence of
mental illness or about the types of mental
illness in a particular group of patients has
the attraction of avoiding the issue of the
general conceptual definition and meaning of
disorder. (Kirk & Kutchins, p. 31)
In
their book, The Selling of the DSM, Kirk and
Kutchins suggest that the first task of the new
critics was to transform the problems of diagnostic
reliability into a technical difficulty
requiring technical solutions (Kirk &
Kutchins, p. 35). According to Kirk and Kutchins,
shifting the focus from the quagmire of validity to
the technical and statistical difficulties of
reliability had two major advantages. First, the
issue of reliability appeared to be more solvable
than the problems of validity. Second, the abrupt
removal of the pertinent issues into a purely
technical arena made matters more complex, and thus
beyond competence of clinicians and the public
alike (Kirk & Kutchins, p. 35). By focusing on
a problem perceived as having a greater chance of
success, and by confining this work to the realm of
the expert (statisticians), this new group of
critics succeeded in mystifying the psychiatric
profession as well as the public at large.
The
movement of the debate into the realm of the expert
and the attempts at solving the problems of
reliability successfully pushed the earlier
critiques of validity entirely out of the picture.
Variations on the "expert" theme are also evident.
In the late 60s and early 70s mainframe computers
came on the scene, forever altering the methods of
statistical analyses. But unlike today's personal
computing environment, computers then were the
domain of large institutions, and controlled by
experts trained in the use of statistical
programming software. With the introduction in 1967
of kappa, a statistical formula used to calculate
diagnostic agreement rates, new avenues were
developed in the hopes of conquering the
reliability dilemma. What the new critics wanted
was a classification system built on empirical
data, analyzed by modern statistical methods, and
for this system to be proven to be more successful
at inter-rater diagnostic agreement than either
DSM-I or II. The DSM-III would be the vehicle in
which to accomplish these goals. The first Task
Force for the development of the new manual was
created in 1974: a massive army of more than one
hundred members working in fourteen specially
designed task force subcommittees, its 265 separate
diagnoses based on field trials involving over 450
clinicians evaluating over 800 patients --
adults, adolescents, and children. Six years later
came the publication of the manual itself: the
DSM-III.
But
the so-called proof is in the pudding. Was the
reliability of the new DSM-III, published in 1980,
greater than either of its predecessors?
Kirk
and Kutchins answer with a resounding "No!" Their
analysis of the entire literature of research
involved in assessment of the reliability for the
new diagnostic system found no significant
improvement in reliability-- in some categories it
was worse! Kirk and Kutchins use as their standard
of evaluation the .70 standard used in Spitzer and
Fleiss's earlier work. a standard by which Spitzer
and others discredited the earlier versions of the
DSM (Kirk and Kutchins, p. 142). Using this
standard, the results of the field trials that
formed the basis of the new manual are appallingly
low. For example, on Axis I not a single major
diagnostic category achieved the .70 standard (Kirk
& Kutchins, p. 143). On Axis II, only one of
the seven individual kappas reached the .70 level;
none of the overall kappas in Axis II did (Kirk
& Kutchins, p. 143). In almost each and every
diagnostic category Kirk and Kutchins discovered
similar scores, leading them to claim:
Given
that even the combined overall reliability for
axes I and II did not reach the self-imposed .70
standard and that there were other reliability
problems in various categories, one would expect
serious concerns to have been raised about the
reliability, and therefore the validity, of the
classification system. But they were not.
Instead, the data were interpreted liberally and
inconsistently. (Kirk & Kutchins, p.
147)
In
addition, not only were these statistics based on
field trials with very small numbers of
participants, what constituted diagnostic agreement
was sometimes frighteningly lenient:
if
one clinician judged a series of patients to be
suffering from Agoraphobia with Panic Attacks
and another clinician thought all the same
patients suffered from Obsessive Compulsive
Disorder, their diagnoses would be considered in
perfect agreement on the diagnostic class of
Anxiety Disorders and the kappa coefficient
would be 1.0 (Kirk & Kutchins, 148)
And
this was considered far greater improvement in
diagnostic reliability by the developers of the
DSM-III! At each and every turn in their analysis,
Kirk and Kutchins fail to discover the "scientific
evidence" proving that the DSM-III is more reliable
or valid than its antecedents I and II.
Having
studied the entire enterprise of the manufacturing
and selling of APA's diagnostic manual, Kirk and
Kutchins offer four points to consider. First, none
of the revisions of the manual have ever been
stimulated by clinicians demanding a new
classification system. New systems have been
initiated by the census, by the army, by medical
groups, and by researchers in the field of
psychiatry-- never by those who practice
psychiatry. Secondly, the whole arena of
diagnostics is now more complex than ever, with
ever increasing layers of political involvement.
Third, new diagnostic categories are added or
changed with the belief that it is "better
science"-- and no evidence is actually produced to
support these claims. Fourth, a visible cycle
of "denigration, enthusiasm, denigration" is at
work, where the old system is seen as antiquated
and a new system necessary (with new gadgets, case
books, and other supplies) (Kirk and Kutchins, pp.
214-215). What we are left with is a monolith of
mental health practices, theoretically based on a
scientific "grounding" lacking in real evidence,
but rich in rhetorical justification. And this
supposedly constitutes progress.
The
current DSM-IV contains over 300 diagnostic
categories. In its first 10 months on the market,
the DSM-IV reportedly brought in $18 million in
revenue for the American Psychiatric Association
(Kirk & Kutchins, 1997, p. 247). What do its
developers say about it?
It
is our belief that the major innovation of
DSM-IV lies not in any of its specific content
changes but rather in the systematic and
explicit process by which it was constructed and
documented. More than any other nomenclature of
mental disorders, DSM-IV is grounded in
empirical evidence. (DSM-IV, p. xvi)
Classification
and the Treatment of the Patient
What
Kirk and Kutchins revealed in their analysis of the
statistical results of the DSM field trials can be
summarized as follows: clinicians are today no more
likely to agree upon a particular diagnosis than
they were a half century ago. And not only are
clinicians unable to agree upon general diagnostic
categories, clinicians cannot agree upon the
criteria for basing a diagnosis, putting into
question once again the issue of validity in the
current nosology as a whole.
The
foregoing warrants further discussion in at least
three related areas: first, the definition of
"mental disorder" used by the developers of the
DSM; second, the significance of this understanding
of "mental disorder" for clinical practice; and
lastly, the question of alternative approaches in
today's current mental health climate. It is with
these thoughts in mind that I now turn to a
discussion concerning the theoretical approach of
R. D. Laing.
In
1959 Ronald D. Laing published his first book
titled The Divided Self. In 1961 he produced
Self and Others, and in 1967 he published
the widely read and critically acclaimed The
Politics of Experience. All three books (as
well as his research with families of
schizophrenics) helped to establish Laing as a
respected critic of modern psychiatry alongside
such notable thinkers as Harry Stack Sullivan,
Thomas Szasz, Michel Foucault, and Ivan Illich.
Laing. s polemical style has yielded comparisons to
such leftist thinkers as Herbert Marcuse and social
critic Paul Goodman. His later books, which include
The Facts of Life (1976), The Voice of
Experience (1982), and Wisdom, Madness and
Folly: The Making of a Psychiatrist (1985) did
not sell as well as his work from the 1960s; this
turn in Laing's popularity was partly because of a
radical shift in his subject matter. During the 70s
and 80s, Laing was preoccupied with the influences
of intra-uterine experience on development. This
interest and the deepening theoretical
contradictions within his own work were unappealing
to most of Laing's more critically minded
readers.
Even
so, prior to the publication of the DSM-III in
1980, Laing and critics of psychiatry enjoyed some
success in challenging popular assumptions
concerning the role of the psychiatrist and of
classification systems. Remember at this time the
question of validity was paramount (Kirk and
Kutchins, 1992, p. 28), and psychiatry's Achilles
heel provided an opportunity for public debate and
criticism. Laing was one of the first critics to
attack modern psychiatry for its failure to show
universal validity for its diagnostic
categories.
The
issue of whether or not there actually is
such a thing as a "mental disorder" was a basic
theoretical conundrum for Laing, and one that he
did not take lightly. With his dislike for
conventional psychiatric approaches to treatment
and his deeply philosophical background, R. D.
Laing expended much of his energy trying to
understand what we mean by "mental
disorder."
As
noted earlier, there are two main assumptions in
the DSM's definition of "mental disorder." The
first premise states that a mental disorder is a
strictly individual event. The second premise
asserts that the etiology of the disorder should
not be a factor when a clinician forms a diagnostic
impression. What we have then is an individual
with a disorder that can be identified on
the basis of a particular set of criteria. The
individual is said to have the "disorder" if that
person meets the descriptive criteria as set forth
by the diagnostic manual.
To
give a brief example: if you were to present to
your clinician symptoms such as insomnia and low
energy, each of which lasted most of the day for at
least two years, without any relief, you would
qualify for a diagnosis of 300.4 Dysthymic Disorder
(note: several other minor features must also be
accounted for, but these are primarily negative,
i.e. symptoms you do not exhibit at the time of the
diagnosis.) (DSM, p. 349). The diagnosis is based
only upon what you, the patient, present to the
clinician during your interview together. The DSM
even offers to clinicians "structured interview"
forms to aid in this information gathering
process.
The
first aspect of this definition of "mental
disorder" assumes that "mental illness" is a
strictly individual event. Laing, as well as many
other theorists, would simply object to such a
gross oversimplification. Laing, coming out of an
existential-phenomenological framework, suggested
that there is no such thing as an
individual. We are all
being-in-the-world-with-others, as Martin Heidegger
would say. We cannot, for scientific or theoretical
purposes, simply excise the individual from his or
her enveloping social context. Laing makes this
point quite clear in his discussion of
schizophrenia in The Politics of
Experience:
In
using the term schizophrenia, I am not referring
to any condition that I suppose to be mental
rather than physical, or to an illness, like
pneumonia, but to a label that some people pin
on other people under certain social
circumstances. The "cause" of "schizophrenia" is
to be found by the examination, not of the
prospective diagnosee alone, but of the whole
social context in which the psychiatric
ceremonial is being conducted. (Laing, 1967, p.
103)
It is
the "whole social context" that forms the horizon
within which interpersonal relations are enacted
and experienced. To take the "individual" out of
his or her context is, ontologically, a mistake.
"Whether we exist in a close, distant,
complementary, or adversarial relationship, self
and other are always reciprocally constituted"
(Burston, 1996, p. 178). Any attempts to isolate
the individual from his/her surroundings, their
context, is to neglect an entire field of meaning.
There is no self without the other; the other is
always implied. In Self and Others Laing
writes:
we
cannot give an undistorted account of "a person"
without giving an account of his relation with
others. Even an account of one person cannot
afford to forget that each person is always
acting upon others and acted upon
by others. The others are there also. No one
acts or experiences in a vacuum. (Laing, 1961,
pp. 81-82)
The
second problem with the current definition of
"mental disorder" is its avoidance of clinical
concern over etiology, or the course of the
illness. This approach naturally assuages the
ofttimes temperamental disputes between different
theoretical factions within psychiatry (e.g.
psychoanalytic vs. physiologically oriented
professionals), but in so doing effaces the entire
cultural, historical, and familial context from
which the person emerges. It is not unlike the
proverbial throwing the baby out with the
bathwater. Because we cannot understand individuals
outside of their context (and one's history is a
very important part of one's context), ignoring the
history of a particular illness is a dangerous
affair. Such temerity on the part of the clinician
not only promotes an alienating attitude toward the
patient, it prevents the clinician from actually
coming to know the patient. For Laing, this
ahistorical, atomizing attitude toward the patient
often resonates with the very attitudes that
produced the psychological distress that drove that
patient to therapy in the first place:
Psychotherapy
consists in the paring away of all that stands
between us, the props, masks, roles, lies,
defenses, anxieties, projections and
introjections, in short, all the carryovers from
the past, transference and countertransference,
that we use by habit and collusion, wittingly or
unwittingly, as our currency for relationships.
It is this currency, these very media, that
re-create and intensify the conditions of
alienation that originally occasioned them.
(Laing, 1967, pp. 46-47)
But
even concern for the etiology of the illness is not
enough for Laing, for our modern scientific and
medical model approach to mental illness is itself
ontologically skewed. Laing's thought on this
matter is as follows:
the
psychiatrist adopting his clinical stance in the
presence of the pre-diagnosed person, whom he is
already looking at and listening to as a
patient, has too often come to believe that he
is in the presence of the "fact" of
"schizophrenia." He acts "as if" its existence
were an established fact. He then has to
discover its "cause" or multiple "aetiological
factors," to assess its "prognosis," and to
treat its course. The heart of the "illness,"
all that is the outcome of process, then resides
outside the agency of the person. That is, the
illness, or process, is taken to be a "fact"
that the person is subject to, or undergoes,
whether it is supposed to be genetic,
constitutional, endogenous, exogenous, organic
or psychological, or some mixture of them all.
This, we submit, is a mistaken starting point.
(Laing, 1964, p. 18)
It is
not that the medical model approach itself is
mistaken, but our use of it in trying to understand
the psychological landscape of suffering persons
fails to bring us closer to an understanding of
their world. It is, quite simply, a narrow
approach. It is an approach that fails to view
persons qua persons, and degrades them to
the status of "objects." Such an understanding of a
"mentally disordered" person precludes a deeper
understanding and appreciation of a world in
conflict. "It is tempting and facile to
regard -- persons-- as only separate objects
in space, who can be studied as any other natural
objects can be studied" (Laing, 1967, p.
23).
According
to the developers of the DSM, the role of the
psychiatrist or clinician is to observe the
patient's symptoms and to correlate these symptoms
with a proper diagnosis. In fact, a good
psychiatrist is one who works diligently at
perfecting the art of diagnostics. However, in
The Divided Self, Laing points out that this
approach actually prevents the doctor from
understanding the patient, let alone promoting the
process of recovery. Laing viewed diagnostic
criteria as a form of reification. In his
own words:
Natural
scientific investigations are conducted on
objects, or things, or the patterns of relations
between things, or on systems of "events."
Persons are distinguished from things in that
persons experience the world, whereas things
behave in the world. Thing-events do not
experience. Personal events are experiential.
Natural scientism is the error of turning
persons into things by a process of reification
that is not itself part of true natural
scientific method. (Laing, 1959, p. 62)
The
psychiatrist who approaches his "subject" from an
"objective" perspective ("natural scientism") fails
to understand his/her own involvement or
relationship with the "who" under investigation.
This mode of depersonalization, or objectification,
Laing suggests, "although conducted in the name of
science, . . --yields false knowledge. " (Laing, p.
24). In neglecting to see the uniquely human
relationship between doctor and patient, between an
I and a Thou, the traditional models can only view
a person's behavior as "signs" of a "disease" and,
more important, forego the possibility of seeing
such "behaviour as expressive of his existence"
(Laing, p. 31).
Laing
situates his critique of traditional models of
"mental disorders" in the technical language used
to describe "mental states," and more specifically
in its overwhelming tendency to reify its "subject
matter." Within the technical vocabulary trapped in
the "anachronism" of a dualistic framework (terms
such as "mind/body," "psyche/soma," etc.), what is
uncovered, Laing suggests, is "an entity not
essentially 'in relation to' the other and in
a world" (Laing, p. 19). As such, the technical
language falls short of describing existentially a
unitary phenomenon that reflects the totality of
the "original experience of oneself in relationship
to others" (Laing, p. 19).
Laing
was quite aware of the radical shift in thinking
that his theory required of the clinician. Consider
the following statement:
We
believe that the shift of point of view that
these descriptions [of families of
schizophrenics] both embody and demand
has a historical significance no less radical
than the shift from a demonological to a
clinical viewpoint three hundred years ago.
(Laing, 1964, p. 27)
Laing
knew that his work with schizophrenic families,
which had an existential-phenomenological
orientation, required a radical shift in our
conceptualization of the human being. Ontologically
speaking, one's relation to oneself is an ambiguous
situation. There is a sense in which I can
recognize my identity, yet at the same time I am
not who/ what I say I am. Following Heidegger,
Laing would say that our being is always in
question, that it is always at issue. These
ontological themes were the focus of both Sartre's
Being and Nothingness and Martin Heidegger's
Being and Time , two classics of
existentialism, and both influenced Laing's own
theoretical orientation.
By
establishing his perspective as
existential-phenomenological, Laing is able to
offer a re-orientation to the problems and
incongruities encountered when trying to understand
"mental disorders." Laing's re-orientation is not a
classification system of the possible "signs" and
"symptoms" of a pathological "disease," but an
acknowledgement of our own limitations to
"totalize" the existence of other persons. Laing
here describes such a situation:
There
are therapists-- whether they're Freudian or
Jungians, or whether they call themselves one
thing or another, or simply psychotherapists--
who don't treat people as objects and as things,
and who don't feel it is their job to impose
their numbers and their scenarios and their
values on the patient, but rather see therapy as
a reciprocal undertaking and just don't have
that impulse to depersonalize and reify the
patient. (Charlesworth, 32)
But how
does Laing understand persons who are traditionally
labeled with a "mental disorder?"
We
have to decide whether to use old terms in a new
way, or abandon them to the dustbin of history.
There is no such "condition" as "schizophrenia,"
but the label is a social fact and the social
fact a political event. (Laing, 1967,
p.121)
Most of
Laing's published work dealt with so-called
"schizophrenics." This raises the question of
whether or not Laing's critique can be applied to
diagnostic categories as a whole (i.e. our current
nosology). Once again, at this point in our
consideration, history can be of some service.
Recall that for over one hundred years the
classification of mental illness as a discrete
entity and the clinical practice of psychiatry and
psychology were two separate enterprises.
Classification, properly understood, was viewed
primarily as an administrative duty, not an
edict of what does or does not constitute proper
treatment. This is a crucial distinction to bear in
mind, for it brings to light key differences
between the two approaches. In classification we
seek to concentrate or group data according to
similarities. In caring for another person, we seek
to open up a world that is already all too
constricted and indifferent to their
individuality. With one we sharpen our focus
and induce structures, with the other we look for
freedom where it appears there is little or none.
Classification systems such as the DSM are the
products of political and historical processes.
These processes valorize tacit prescriptions for
what is or is not considered "sane" or "normal."
Such global prescriptions and categories become
literally of no use for a clinician sitting
face-to-face with a person whose history, present
situation, and future are entirely unique and,
perforce, ambiguous. Again, recalling the
observations of Kirk and Kutchins, the work of
creating, maintaining, and perfecting a
classification system has at no time in our history
been initiated by working clinicians. Why? Because
good clinicians are aware that no matter how many
diagnostic categories one can hang around the neck
of a patient, healing takes place in a realm
without judgments, in a forum in which the
clinician comes to simply understand the patient.
It is in this forum that persons get better, and
lives are changed.
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