In only one instance have I seen a casebook recovery
through therapy and medication, and even that, I suspect, was an inflation of
garden-variety resistance to growing up to depressive illness.
My prejudices aside, what can a fair-minded person
make of a 40-fold increase in the diagnosis (and misdiagnosis) of Bipolar Disorder in American children over the decade following the social trauma of
9/11/2001?
First is the self-interest of mental-health
professionals and the advertising power of their partners, the pharmaceutical
industry with interminable TV ads for concoctions that guarantee happiness,
followed by a speed-reading of terrible possible side effects.
Then broaden the lens to a view of the culture at
large. As a Netflix generation migrates to an in-the-know appreciation of the
worst in human nature (pace “Breaking Bad” and the overwrought portrayal of Carrie Mathison in “Homeland”), an
unearned cynicism replaces the dumb-but-happy dopiness of pre-World War II
Hollywood. (When today’s movies revert to that happy-endingism as in Tom Hanks’
“Captain Phillips,” web sites rush to debunk them.)
From the far end of life, all this seems such a
waste: a pill-propped antidote to facing and dealing with the anxieties, ambivalence
and ambiguities that always have and undoubtedly always will challenge sentient
human beings.
If I am sour about psychiatry as a profession, my
life has been enriched by its most gifted practitioners as writers.
In the 1960s, the psychoanalyst-philosopher Erich
Fromm was preoccupied with what he called "The Myth of Care." Amid
social upheaval and rage about Vietnam, the author of "The Art of Loving"
and "The Sane Society" kept searching newspapers and TV screens for
images of people reaching out, helping and comforting one another. His thesis
was that such impulses are deeply ingrained in all humans and waiting to come
to the surface when circumstances call them up, that they are their true
feelings below a surface of selfish discord.
In
next decade, Willard Gaylin wrote a book titled “Caring,” in which he made the
case that ”Civilization is, at least in part, a form of crystallized love.” Dr.
Gaylin’s persuasive argument was that “Man survives because it is his nature to
care. Man survives because he cares and is cared for.”
We
need such wisdom now in our lives rather than peace of mind that can be bought
at a pharmacy.
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