I am a "suck it up" type also.
ONE NATION UNDER THERAPY
David Frum's Diary
Deep Throat has plunged us all back into the 1970s; my AEI colleagues Sally Satel and Christina Sommers are working hard to lead us all back out again. Their new book, One Nation Under Therapy: How the Helping Culture is Eroding Self-Reliance wreaks wholesale execution on the illusions of modern therapy, from post-traumatic stress to the alleged evils of competitive games. Boosted by enthusiastic responses from conservatives and level-headed people nationwide, the book has gone into a second printing and is now one of Amazon's top 1000 bestsellers.
Satel is a psychiatrist, Sommers an academic philosopher, and the two together bring not only deep knowledge and intelligence but also keen wit to their illusoin-busting work. They bring a terrible humor to the story of the grief counselors who flocked by the thousands to New York City after 9/11 - only to discover that there was not much for them to do: In a crisis, it turns out, Americans remain a tough people - and a good thing too.
Over the past few days, I've been conducting an email interview with Satel & Sommers. Here are the results to date:
Frum: Sally, Christina, welcome to NRO and congratulations on the success of One Nation Under Therapy. In your book, you investigate a culture of therapy that you claim is both intellectually fraudulent and destructive to those it promises to help. Why do you think so many Americans choose to embrace this harmful culture? Why are they so eager to impose it on others, and especially children?
Satel & Sommers: Americans embrace the culture of therapy because they regard its practices and commandments as kind, gentle and enlightened. Most do not realize that “therapism” (as we call it) is a destructive philosophy that harms those it believes it is helping.
The temptation to treat children as psychically fragile seems to be irresistible to many parents and educators. Schools throughout the country have banned games like tag and dodge ball in an effort to protect tender egos from frustration. Red pens have been blacklisted. Why? Because children allegedly find it demeaning or even “frightening” to see red corrections on their papers.
It is now the practice for “sensitivity and bias committees” inside publishing houses to expunge from standardized tests all mention of potentially distressing topics. Two major companies specifically interdict references to rats, mice, roaches, snakes, lice, typhoons, blizzards and birthday parties. (The latter could create bad feelings in children whose families don’t celebrate them.)
We don't question the sincerity of these hyper-protective adults. But we do question their basic common sense and we point to the harm that they do. Young people are not helped by being wrapped in cotton wool and deprived of the vigorous pastimes and intellectual challenges they need for healthy development. Nor are they improved by educators, obsessed with the mission of boosting children’s self-esteem, telling them how “wonderful” they are. Children are weakened, not strengthened when misguided adults treat them like fragile hot house flowers.
Consider also the supposedly forward-thinking and compassionate view that drug and alcohol addiction are “brain diseases.” It is essentially a medicalized, no-fault view of problem behavior, and as such attractive to those who want to evade responsibility.
In the book, we challenge the brain disease model. Someone with a true brain disease such as Parkinson’s or multiple sclerosis cannot will himself out of it. He cannot take charge and decide he will not longer be afflicted. By contrast, many addicts can and do overcome their conditions, even when drug use has significantly altered their brain chemistry. We believe in treating addicts as morally responsible, self-determining human beings capable of changing their behavior. An ethic of responsibility is, in the end, more effective, more respectful, and more compassionate.
In sum: therapism represents itself as a hopeful and humane philosophy. It is neither. But too many Americans have been seduced by its pretensions.
Frum: Let me push you a little harder on this. As you do in this first answer, you provide much evidence in the book that therapism fails as science and psychology. And yet at the same time you show that therapism has been broadly accepted by American culture. I think a psychiatrist like Sally would say that when people believe something that is manifestly untrue, it is because that belief serves some important function for them. What function in your opinion does therapism serve?
Satel and Sommers: At the heart of therapism is the view that human beings are essentially weak, dependent, and never truly responsible for what they do. No matter what anyone does, no matter how venal, feckless, or cruel he may be—therapism offers the tantalizing possibility of being able to say, “Don't blame me, blame my syndrome.” For many, this no-fault ethic is immensely appealing.
Shakespeare, in a celebrated passage in King Lear, chides those who blame astrology for their personal failings. “This is the excellent foppery of the world, that . . . we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion… and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on.”
Today’s excellent foppery is of a different order. Our admirable evasion no longer locates the causes of “all that we are evil in” in external, planetary influence, but in low self-esteem, neurological impairments and malfunctions, and arrested development—all equally deemed outside our control. What the older moralists spoke of as irresponsible behavior due to bad character, the new champions of therapism - an array of helping professionals, journalists, and educators - speak of as ailment, dysfunction, and brain disease. In the end, it is easy to see the appeal. No one is responsible. No one is to blame. There is a quick fix for every problem. And everyone gets to be “nice.” But, as we try to show in the book, niceness is inadequate as a cardinal virtue and easily leads to consequences that are the very opposite of nice.
Frum: What are some of those consequences?
Satel and Sommers: A common example of misplaced niceness is grade inflation. It is just one example, but it is instructive. In many of today’s high schools and colleges, the majority of A and B's are undeserved. But by giving a student an undeservedly high grade, a great deal of "unpleasantness" is avoided. The teacher gets to be a good guy and avoids the hard feelings that can come with grading students in accordance with merits. The student gets to feel good about themselves and avoid the unpleasantness of being graded harshly (often with a red pen!). Parents are spared the worry and alarm that comes with the discovery that their child is languishing in school. The price, of course is the steady degradation of academic standards and the possible loss of American competitiveness in the global economy. That is happening and it is a consequence of the sensitivity ethic that has engulfed the nation.
Another manifestation of niceness is what could be called the "therapy-reflex." A dramatic example was the deployment of battalions of counselors and trauma therapists after September 11. Hospital and clinic directors in New York City braced themselves for epic caseloads of patients with post-traumatic stress disorder. The flood of patients did not come because, not surprising, most people prefer to cope--they can cope--on their own and in the embrace of their families, their communities, and their religion. Yet soothing and strengthening oneself, without expert help, is increasingly regarded as an anachronism, like setting one's own broken bone.
The notion that a potent stress could pose an ennobling challenge to the human spirit, rather than a destructive threat to its integrity, is more and more foreign to the way Americans now live. And there are downsides beyond the unintended insult posed to our capacities by assuming we cannot cope independently. For one thing, there is the trivialization of true mental illness. By confusing pathos with pathology, we dilute the attention and resources that should be targeted to the small minority who do develop clinical syndromes in the wake of catastrophe. Moreover, numerous studies have shown that "debriefing" sessions in which people focus on their emotional response to a disaster can actually impede emotional recovery, though for the majority it has no impact.
Frum: That last point of yours leads me to what may be one of the deepest themes in your book. The two of you seem not just to be debunking some modern myths, but advocating an alternative philosophy of life: a modernized stoicism that celebrates self-discipline, endurance, and fortitude in the face of personal pain, loss, and grief. Is that an accurate perception of your point of view?
Satel and Sommers: Yes, it is. A modernized stoicism turns out to be a very effective life philosophy. It is well-known that the way human beings respond to adversity and calamity is strongly influenced by their basic life assumptions. Do they tend to view setbacks as a loss, a threat, or a challenge? Do they view themselves as competent, resourceful and emotionally strong; or do they think of themselves as needy, helpless and dependent? These perceptions are a product of temperament, intelligence and past experiences --of course, but they are also determined by society. Our culture of therapy encourages people to think of adversity as loss and threat and for individuals to view themselves as fragile.
And everyone --especially those going through an emotionally trying time--can be susceptible to these perceptions. If, for example, someone is told that he can expect to experience symptoms (sleep problems, agitation and so on), he will pay special attention to them. If he is not told that those symptoms are normal and will fade – as they typically do – but instead is warned that they are a foreboding of PTSD (a message often given by trauma counselors), this practically invites people to interpret the normal emotional and physical sensations one experiences after an ordeal in a pathological way. The “power of suggestion,” is, indeed, very powerful. This is a problem, because people who think of themselves as sick, passive and helpless often behave that way. In recognition of the basic mental dynamic of suggestion, the British Army in WWI went so far as to ban the very term “shell shock” during the war in an effort to make the condition seem less medical and keep soldiers from viewing themselves as psychiatric causalities.
There is a general lesson to be drawn here: If you raise children to see themselves as strong, effective, and resilient --you do them (and those around them) a great favor. If, on the other hand, you teach them to be self-absorbed and to think of themselves as fragile, needy, and vulnerable to mental infirmities in face of disappointment, adversity or crisis -- you weaken them psychologically. A more stoical approach simply works better.
11:29 PM
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