Friday, August 12, 2011

THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF PSYCHIATRISTS - THE INFLUENCE OF THE CRITICAL PSYCHIATRY MOVEMENT ON MODERN PRACTICE




'Critical psychiatry in practice.'

1. Philip Thomas and

2. Patrick Bracken


+ Author Affiliations

1. Philip Thomas is a consultant psychiatrist with the Bradford Assertive Outreach Team and a senior research fellow at the Centre for Citizenship and Community Mental Health, School of Health Studies, University of Bradford (25 Trinity Road, Bradford BD7 0BH, UK. E-mail: p.thomas@bradford.ac.uk). His main area of clinical interest is critical social and cultural psychiatry. His academic interests include hermeneutics, phenomenology and narrative. Patrick Bracken is Clinical Director of the West Cork Mental Health Services, Ireland. His clinical and research interests include service innovation and a community development approach to mental health services, asylum seekers and refugees, and conceptual aspects of psychiatry.



Abstract


The ideas of critical psychiatry are influencing a growing number of psychiatrists in Britain and elsewhere. In this article we examine the origins and development of critical psychiatry over the past 25 years, through the work of philosophers such as Foucault and of critical social theorists such as Ingleby, Miller and Rose. We outline the important differences between critical psychiatry and anti-psychiatry. Finally, we examine the current status of critical psychiatry, and what is called postpsychiatry. We regard both as an attempt by practising psychiatrists to engage with service users’ concerns about psychiatry, with government policies that stress democracy, citizenship and the importance of social and cultural contexts in health care, and with what might broadly be described as postmodernism.


Across the world, the landscape of mental health care is changing rapidly. There are several reasons for, and dimensions to, these changes. At one end of the spectrum are shifts in government health policy. At the other is the emergence of the user movement. Over the past 5 years the British government has initiated a series of major health reforms to improve service quality through the investment of additional resources. These reforms, described in the National Health Service (NHS) Plan (Department of Health, 2000), represent a fundamental challenge to the old order of beneficent paternalism that has characterised professional work since the birth of the NHS. If implemented, these changes have profound implications for our work. First, there is an expression of democratic ideals: a serious concern with professional accountability and the right of patients as citizens (who fund the NHS through taxation) to be fully involved in all aspects of their care. It is worth noting that the word ‘citizen’ and its derivatives appears 19 times in the NHS Plan. Second, the NHS Plan attaches particular significance to the social, cultural and economic contexts of health care. Overcoming poverty, exclusion and discrimination, and working for the provision of decent housing and opportunities for employment, are presented as important aspects of health policy.


These policy changes resonate with the views of service users. The emergence of a wide variety of service user groups has been one of the most significant developments in mental health care in the past 15 years. Service user groups are heterogeneous. Some are happy to accept the idea that they suffer from illnesses such as schizophrenia or affective disorders; they accept the language of psychiatry. Others reject the notion of mental illness completely, and are incensed that they might be forced to take medication and have their liberty taken away because their distress is interpreted in terms of illness; these people reject the language of psychiatry. Other groups lie somewhere between these extremes. Despite their differences, they share a common belief in their right to interpret their experiences in their own way, and to receive help accordingly. This can be seen in the outcome of recent user-led research (Faulkner & Layzell, 2000; Rose, 2001), much of which demonstrates that service users want to understand their experiences in terms of social and cultural contexts, and that many of them find biomedical interpretations limited – at best unhelpful, and at worst harmful.


Changing government policies and the rise of the user movement are not distinct events, however. They both reflect other developments: economic, cultural and political. The rise of consumerism, the increasing importance of the media and the advent of globalisation have had profound effects on our assumptions about the nature of knowledge, expertise and the role of professionals. These trends are part of that wider cultural phenomenon referred to as the postmodern condition (Box 1⇓).



Modernism and postmodernism


Most of us find this confusing. How are we to make sense of it? How are we to negotiate our way around the febrile, changing landscape in which we practise? In this article we try to provide a way of thinking about these issues that helps us to orient ourselves and points a way forward. This rests on the premise that the change and turmoil we face today reflect a basic feature of our work: the contested nature of madness.


Ultimately, critical psychiatry proposes that there should be limits to psychiatry. Setting such limits opens up a space for the voices of those who historically have been excluded from debates about mental health – the service users. This article is not a comprehensive review of critical psychiatry, but by examining two key texts, those by Ingleby (1981) and Miller & Rose (1986), we hope to introduce the interested reader to a number of central issues. Our focus here is limited to some of the philosophical ideas behind critical psychiatry. We also recommend the article by our colleague Duncan Double, published in the BMJ (Double, 2002). Although there is insufficient space for us to consider the ‘anti-psychiatry’ movement in detail, we highlight key differences between anti-psychiatry and critical psychiatry. This is important because many people confuse the two.



The origins of critical psychiatry


David Ingleby and his fellow contributors to Critical Psychiatry: The Politics of Mental Health (Ingleby, 1981) were united in the belief that, although the locus of care had shifted from institution to community, the fundamental problems of psychiatry remained. The underlying premise of Ingleby’s ideas is that mental illness is a political issue. Although he refers to Foucault, his book was written before Foucault’s ideas had made their full impact. Ingleby accepts the existence of states of profound suffering and alienation seen in psychosis, but questions the interpretations psychiatry makes of such states. He argues that we can best understand conflicting viewpoints about the nature of madness in terms of underlying philosophical systems, and that these systems of thought are ultimately driven by moral and political considerations. Thus, his analysis is conceptual rather than empirical. He argues that the understanding of madness has always been contested and that this reflects two fundamentally different approaches to human experience. Positivism applies the scientific methods of the natural sciences to human experience. Hermeneutics, on the other hand, regards the subject matter and methodology of the human sciences as one and the same thing. This debate about the human sciences dates back at least to the 19th century and the Methodenstreit (methodological controversy) within the humanities in Germany. For Ingleby, the problem of psychiatry is the problem of the application of positivism to human experience. How does he see these problems?


Positivism and psychiatry


First, Ingleby questions the idea that positivist psychiatry is objective, neutral and value-free. Here, Ingleby is influenced by the ideas of Thomas Kuhn (1962) and the Frankfurt school of philosophy, especially Jurgen Habermas (1972) – see Box 3⇓. He asks whose interests psychiatry serves and whether we want the type of society towards which it leads us. Positivism in psychiatry makes two assumptions: that observations can be made objectively (that they can be defined, that they are valid and can be applied reliably) and that theories in psychiatry can be constructed using causal determinism (Box 2⇓), as in the natural sciences. He argues that the notion of objectivity in psychiatry is a myth. This is because it is not possible for us to talk about our inner psychological worlds in the same way that we talk about the natural world. In this belief Ingleby owes something to the later philosophy of Wittgenstein (1967) and the hermeneutic phenomenology of Heidegger (1962) and Merleau-Ponty (1962). Consider anger. Most of us have no difficulty in identifying anger; it is the very nature of human experience, grounded in our common sense of what it is to be human, to be able to identify the emotion and the human contexts in which it occurs. In other words, we rely on a taken-for-granted, interpretive competence to recognise anger. The difficulty is that such a common-sense approach does not meet positivism’s need for explicit criteria, so science relies on ad hoc definitions that obscure the tacit assumptions necessary for applying them in a given situation. Descriptions of most psychiatric phenomena, such as hearing voices or blunted affect, are of this nature. An alternative approach, adopted by ultra-positivists such as Eysenck, substitutes these problematic phenomena with test scores or physiological measures such as skin conductance. This is circular, because these measures can only be validated against psychiatrists’ subjective judgements. Ingleby argues that decisions as to whether someone is depressed, psychotic or hearing voices are rooted in our common-sense understandings of madness. To claim, as positivism does, that such decisions could be grounded in something that transcends common sense – that is to say, in neutral, value-free science – simply does not make sense.



Causal determinism


The philosophical notion that everything that happens is determined by preceding events. It implies that if we have a full description of a physical system at one point in time, we can predict with certainty what its state will be at subsequent points in time, as can be seen in Newton’s model of the universe.




Key figures in critical thought


Michel Foucault (1926–1984)


One of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century, Michel Foucault in his early work Madness and Civilization examined the origins (‘archaeology’) of psychiatry, seeing it as an act of social exclusion that resulted in the incarceration of the insane. His later work on the nature of power (e.g. The History of Sexuality) considers the central role of power in the creation of human subjectivity, i.e. in setting out what it is possible, or not possible, to think.


Jurgen Habermas (1929–)


A member of the Frankfurt school of philosophy, his early work Knowledge and Human Interests was much influenced by Kantian and Marxist philosophy, in trying to understand the origins of social science in terms of their historical and cultural contingencies. The increasing specialisation of knowledge has led to a situation in which there is little critical dialogue between academic disciplines, resulting in a naïve positivism. It is this that Ingleby attacks.


Martin Heidegger (1889–1976)


Heidegger’s work was very much an attempt to go beyond the thinking of Descartes and other philosophers of the Enlightenment, and he stands as one of the most important inspirations for European philosophy in the second half of the 20th century. His work is the central reference point for existentialism, hermeneutics and postmodern thought. Yet he remains a controversial figure owing to his membership of the Nazi party in the 1930s. In his magnum opus Being and Time, he raises the question of ‘being’. In Heidegger’s work this is the question of how the world makes sense for us, of how it is meaningful.


Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1907–1961)


A French phenomenologist greatly influenced by Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty was a founder (with Sartre) of existentialism. His great work is the Phenomenology of Perception, in which he develops the idea of the body as an ambiguous mode of existence, situated between psychology and biology. Having a body is to exist in a particular culture for a particular time and to identify and commit oneself to particular projects. Our bodies define our spatiality and draw us into the physical world. Our bodies also define our temporality, especially our finitude. The body is the locus of past, present and future. Thus, embodiment becomes an attempt to surmount the limitations of Cartesian (body/mind) dualism.


Lev Vygotsky (1896–1934)


Lev Vygotsky was a Russian developmental and educational psychologist, whose project was a ‘Marxist’ psychology. His empirical studies of child language acquisition stressed the primacy of social and cultural processes through interactions with caregivers. His work may be seen in some ways as an empirical validation of Wittgenstein’s later philosophy. Vygotsky’s work, alongside that of Wittgenstein, has become enormously influential in the past 25 years, particularly in ‘discursive’ psychology. It, too, poses a challenge to cognitivist conceptions of mind, and stresses the interrelatedness of mind, society and culture.


Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889–1951)


Ludwig Wittgenstein was one of the major influences on 20th century philosophy. His early classic, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, was written while he was serving as a medical orderly in the First World War. The Tractatus sets out a representational view of language in which the structure of propositions may be seen as representing states of affairs as they exist in the world. In his later Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein reverses this view of language, and he rejects the view that the meaning of a word is the thing it stands for. Instead, he proposes that the meaning of a word is to be found in the use to which we put it. This has profound implications for our understanding of mind and language (stressing the social and cultural rather than the cognitive), and the limitations of language in talking about our inner worlds.

The censorship of theories


Ingleby’s second set of arguments concerns what he calls the censorship of theories, and particularly the claim made by science that the only legitimate forms of explanation are causal. This exists in a ‘strong’ form (the disease model), which maintains that psychosis is caused by disturbances in neurophysiological or neurochemical function. A weaker variant is found in ‘eclectic’ psychiatric practice, which maintains that, although social and psychological factors might be important, to be taken seriously they have to be stripped from background context and regarded as ‘independent variables’. Positivism is simply unable to deal with the complexity of social and cultural environments. In reality, these worlds are rich in meaning and resist linear causal models. The essential point is that contexts provide grounds or reasons for human action, not causes of it. This means that understanding and interpretation should be central to our approach to psychosis.


Again, the influence of Wittgenstein emerges. In Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein (1967) argues that the ‘laws’ underlying human agency are simply not of the same logical type as those that govern the physical or natural world. Unlike the laws of nature, they are made by humans and relate only to human agency. For this reason, Ingleby argues that positivism writes human agency out of the frame. In psychiatry, which deals with such issues as individual struggles with meaning, emotion and social position, this neglect of agency imposes severe constraints.


Interpretive psychiatry


Ingleby proposes an interpretive (hermeneutic) psychiatry as an alternative to positivism. Hermeneutics takes for granted that human beings engage in meaningful behaviour that transcends causal explanation and objectivity. If we relinquish positivism, the distinctions between observer and subject, or between describing and explaining, become blurred, and combine in the act of interpretation.


Interpretation has an extensive heritage in philosophy, and its influence can be found particularly in the phenomenology of Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty, all of which is rooted in common-sense ideas of what we believe being human is all about. Csordas (1994) provides an excellent example of such a hermeneutic–phenomenological account, which resists the temptation to move from biological to cultural determinism. A non-philosophical alternative can be found in the work of Oliver Sacks (1986), who describes beautifully the inadequacy of biological or psychological accounts of neurological disorders alone in accounting for the complex experiences that occur in these conditions. Sacks points out that we have to place the biological and psychological within the context of a person’s narrative or life history.


Ingleby moves away from Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty and looks to a revised form of psychoanalysis to ground a more adequate (in his view) understanding of distress. Superficially, some aspects of Ingleby’s ideas resonate with anti-psychiatry. Laing also attached a great deal of importance to understanding psychosis through a revised psychoanalysis. Like Szasz, Ingleby argues that positivism is well suited to psychiatry’s role of social control, because it presents matters that are essentially cultural judgements about the nature of health or illness, as empirical facts, but he differs from Szasz over questions of the welfare of the individual. For Szasz, whose moral ideal is that of personal freedom, the problem of psychiatry is that it places the common good, or the values of social institutions (the family, the state, work), above those of the individual. Ingleby argues that social institutions do not necessarily represent the common good. Rather, they represent a group of interests hiding under the banner of economic progress. Here he is influenced by the early writings of Foucault (1967), who described the exclusion of the insane as an act of incarceration achieved through the use of high walls, barred doors, chains and padlocks. Ingleby argues that the medical ideology of psychiatry achieves the same objective of social control without physical restraint.


Who defines abnormality?


Although psychiatry became influential in setting the experiences of psychiatric patients outside the boundaries of ordinary meaningful human experience, Ingleby fails to account for the extraordinary influence of psychiatry and psychology in defining what is ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal’, or – to put it another way – in specifying which ways of experiencing the world (or subjectivities) are acceptable and which are not. In addition, one is left feeling that Ingleby maintains a strong belief in the ability of the Enlightenment ideals of rationality and progress (through the philosophy of Marx and the influence of psychoanalysis) to solve the riddle of madness. This is where he differs from Miller and Rose.

The Power of Psychiatry


The Power of Psychiatry (Miller & Rose, 1986) was published only 5 years after Ingleby’s work, yet the influence of Foucault’s later writings is clear. Marx and Freud are no longer the inspirations for a critical approach to psychiatry; they have become part of the problem. The book offers an examination of the origins and social functions of British psychiatry over the previous 100 years. Like Ingleby, Miller and Rose take issue with the epistemological (Box 3⇓) premise of anti-psychiatry – that psychiatric illness does not exist – because it denies the suffering of those who experience emotional distress. In addition, they believe that anti-psychiatry is incapable of illuminating the social and political functions of psychiatry. For this reason, they argue that it is more helpful to accept the reality of psychiatry (as a social practice) rather than engage in empty arguments about the existence or not of mental illness.



Epistemology


Epistemology pertains to knowledge and belief. It is concerned with asking questions about the nature of knowledge, and how it is possible to believe what we believe.


Miller (1986) points out that anti-psychiatry evolved in a culture preoccupied with personal autonomy and subjectivity, that of the 1960s. The analysis of the power of psychiatry mounted by the anti-psychiatrists is simplistic, because it crudely equates power with the suppression of subjectivity. It says nothing of power and the creation of subjectivity. This idea, taken from Foucault, lies at the heart of Miller & Rose’s critique of psychiatry. The power of psychiatry is to be found in the possibilities it creates for us, especially in terms of regulating our behaviour. Such an analysis is necessary because psychiatry operates far beyond the walls of the institution. Today, psychiatry serves as a technology that helps to constitute a radically different set of power relationships in advanced liberal democracies. Mental health confers economic advantage, is seen as a social necessity, and has become an object of personal desire. Psychiatry is found in every corner of our cultural lives. Psychiatrists and psychologist pontificate upon the great events and tragedies of our time. They are called in to interpret and prognosticate in our newspapers, television, radio and magazines. More so than any other branch of medicine, psychiatry has become constitutive of cultural life itself. How are we to understand this?


Miller and Rose see psychiatry as a form of government of the self, in that it makes it possible for us to talk about ourselves, our feelings and our lives, in particular ways. This is what is meant when we speak of psychiatry creating subjectivities. The power of psychiatry is not simply to be found in coercion; it is also to be found in the possibilities it creates for us. For example, in Western societies our experiences of sadness and unhappiness can be talked about within the broad classification of ‘depression’. The experience of hearing voices, on the other hand, is attributed to the ‘narrow’ diagnosis of schizophrenia, which effectively closes down other ways of accounting for the phenomenon (see Leudar & Thomas (2000), particularly Chapters 6 and 7, for a detailed account of this). Thus, there are negative and positive aspects of power in psychiatry. It is not simply a tool for the repression of individual subjectivity; it also generates subjectivities. In other words, it both opens up and closes down possibilities for all of us to understand ourselves.


Technologies of the self


In The History of Sexuality, Foucault (1981) developed the concept of ‘technologies of the self’, arguing that discipline operates most effectively through processes of self-regulation of the person. This implies that we all possess the ability for self-reflection and introspection, and that psychiatry and psychology define this ability. Thus, psychiatry patrols the boundaries between reason and unreason, between sanity and madness. Foucault argued that unreason, or madness, have become constituted as Other, knowable only through the language of reason. Thus we have a monologue of reason about unreason, which excludes the voices of the insane. This, Foucauldian analysis is vitally important in understanding why many service users are disaffected with psychiatry. It also points the way forward.


The influence of government


Rose (1986) examines in detail the social and political circumstances in which British psychiatry became so influential (i.e. the genealogy of psychiatry: see Box 4⇓). Although his argument is developed in relation to a British context, it is arguable that it is internationally relevant, at least to most Western nations.



Key ideas in critical thought


Critical theory


Critical theory refers specifically to the approach to the study of society developed in the mid-20th century, associated with the Frankfurt school of philosophy (Max Horkheimer, Theodor Adorno, Herbert Marcuse and latterly Jurgen Habermas). It started as a reaction against totalitarianism in Europe, and the threat to individual autonomy. In recent years critical theory has addressed the social role of science, and especially the nature of theory in human sciences. This has resulted in the growth of critical psychology since the late 1980s, and more recently of critical psychiatry.


Genealogy


Genealogy is a term that has risen to prominence following the work of Foucault, although it was first used by Nietzsche. Genealogy is a method of historical critique, the purpose of which is to challenge established norms and ways of seeing the world. Foucault achieved this through historico-sociological analyses, and this can be clearly seen in the work of Miller and Rose.


Hermeneutics


Hermeneutics (from Hermes, the Greek messenger of the gods) refers to the art of interpretation. Originally used to describe theologians’ attempts to understand the meaning of biblical texts, it was extended by the 19th-century philosopher Dilthey to apply to all human behaviour and experience. In Being and Time, Heidegger (who studied with Dilthey) developed a hermeneutic phenomenology concerned with the interpretation and meaning of being itself.


Positivism
1. Positivism:


a. deals with the role of meaning and values in understanding human experience


b. provides a framework for the objective study of human behaviour


c. is the main focus of Ingleby’s critique of psychiatry


d. originated in the work of Ludwig Wittgenstein


e. is one of the philosophical ideas espoused by the Frankfurt school of philosophy.


This concept is associated with the work of the French sociologist Auguste Comte, who in the mid-19th century proposed that human thought has evolved through a series of stages: religious, metaphysical and scientific. Positivism stressed the unity of natural and human sciences, with the implication that human beings are suitable subjects for the formal methods of scientific inquiry. This position is rejected by critical theorists of the Frankfurt school.


Reification


Originally, reification was a concept used by Marx to refer to the way in which social relationships are seen to be no different from the relationships between things. For Marx, reification was an outcome of alienation, the division between workers and the product of their work. Ingleby applies the term in a way more in keeping with the New Left and the Frankfurt school, to the treatment of human beings as things, as objects for manipulation through (for example) the processes of causal determinism.


Subjectivity


Since the European Enlightenment and the work of Descartes, the idea of subjectivity has been principally defined (even privileged) with reference to the perspective of the first-person (masculine) standpoint. The ontological essence of being human is thus the individual’s consciousness. Twentieth-century continental philosophy rejects this viewpoint. Foucault, for example, maintains that subjectivity is constructed through language, politics and culture.

Technologies of the self

2. The work of Michel Foucault:


a. proposes that psychiatry originated through the social exclusion of the insane


b. uses psychoanalysis as a hermeneutic framework


c. was one of the main influences on the anti-psychiatry movement


d. proposes that technologies of the self have a central role in social order and discipline


e. has been used to argue that the power of psychiatry also involves the creation of subjectivity.



This an idea that emerged in Foucault’s writing from the late 1970s onwards, technologies of self include a wide variety of practices (such as psychiatry) or ‘techniques’ (such as therapy) that may be used to change the self. They are historically situated within power relationships. For Foucault, this concept can be traced back to classical Greece, but writers influenced by Foucault, such as Rose (1979), use the idea in connection with psychiatry and psychology – the so-called ‘psy’ complex.


At the start of the 20th century, when it was at the height of its success in establishing the causes of diseases, medicine became involved in a new social concern: environmental health. The First World War drew attention to the poor state of health of working-class soldiers, many of whom were rejected for military service. There was a growing awareness that disease and health were not simply matters affecting individuals, but were closely related to the living conditions of the population as a whole. As a result, government power extended to the political regulation of the habits of the population through the management of domestic life, in the interests of health and well-being. This had implications for psychiatry. In the UK, the Royal Commission on Lunacy and Mental Disorder of 1926 declared that:


‘The problem of insanity is essentially a public health problem to be dealt with on modern public health lines’ (quoted by Rose, 1986: p. 50).


Psychiatry also cast its gaze on antisocial and immoral behaviours, providing medical explanations for them. It came to be seen as an authority on all aspects of the human situation, including family structure and child-rearing practices. It advocated eugenic campaigns to control the ‘morally insane’, criminals and the ‘mentally defective’, through compulsory sterilisation. Increasingly, the ideal of mental health became a personal responsibility and a national objective for government. According to Rose, these processes changed the nature of madness as a social phenomenon. Mental illness was no longer limited to psychosis as a fundamental otherness that challenged the moral order, but expanded to include personal unhappiness and social inefficiency. This happened partly through the role of psychiatry and psychology during the Second World War in the management of the human factor in social life.


Thus, the Second World War opened up a new domain of social reality for psychiatry, which assumed the task of dealing with those suffering from neuroses that impaired their productivity and employability. This, together with the foundation of the NHS and the welfare state, established a new context for psychiatry, which was legitimised by social policy such as the Mental Health Act 1959. Although this granted doctors specific powers in respect of involuntary admission and compulsory treatment, Rose argues that it would be wrong to interpret this as an extension of the medicalisation of social control. This is because the strategy sought to minimise the role of incarceration by improving the links between medical and social care agencies, making it easier for people to move between them.


Rose (1986) argues that by positing a simple dichotomy between the (bad) medical model and (good) psychotherapies, anti-psychiatry obscured the problematic features of both. After the Second World War there was a growth in physical and pharmacological treatments, social therapies, psychoanalysis and behaviour therapy. These ‘therapies of normality’ were aimed not at curing intellectual or emotional deficits, but at moulding subjectivity in desired directions. The point here is that these new ‘technologies of the self’ (Box 4⇑) transformed the difficulties of everyday living into psychological problems:


‘they become not intractable features of desire and frustration, but malfunctions of the psychological apparatuses that are remediable through the operation of particular techniques’ (Rose, 1986: p. 81).
3. Anti-psychiatry in the 1960s:


a. gave rise to the critical psychiatry movement


b. was largely influenced by psychoanalysis


c. argued that the coercive powers of psychiatry are used to suppress individual freedom


d. helped to clarify the problematic aspects of both psychiatry and psychoanalysis


e. rejected Foucault’s genealogical approach to understanding power.





Technologies of the self make it possible to transform a long-term personal relationship such as marriage from an ethical obligation to a matter of personal fulfilment, or allow us to free ourselves from the dread we experience at the thought of our mortality. Death itself becomes a manageable psychological problem.


Critical psychiatry today


So far we have limited ourselves to an analysis of two important works in the tradition, both of which were written by non-psychiatrists. What marks out critical psychiatry today is that many of its advocates are practising psychiatrists. A growing number of psychiatrists are now engaging openly with these ideas. Critical psychiatry may be understood as an alliance around the following themes.


Psychiatry is based on a set of assumptions about the nature of mind, meaning and knowledge and the relationships between psychology and sociocultural realities. These assumptions can be questioned. They do not represent a universal truth.


Service users and governments are asking psychiatry to move beyond the narrow and sometimes simplistic frameworks that guided the discipline in the 20th century. This should not be construed as a threat but rather as an opportunity to reconfigure the relationship between medicine and those who suffer.


There is a need for psychiatrists to develop more flexible ways of engaging with states of madness and distress. This means paying more attention to the different ways in which service users understand their experiences. The paper by Roberts & Wolfson (2004), which engages positively with the emerging user-led concept of recovery, is an excellent example of this.


Critical psychiatry is involved in campaigns to limit the control of psychiatry by corporations, most notably those of the pharmaceutical industry. It is also involved in campaigns to reduce the coercive side of psychiatric practice.


Postpsychiatry
3. Anti-psychiatry in the 1960s:

a. gave rise to the critical psychiatry movement

b. was largely influenced by psychoanalysis

c. argued that the coercive powers of psychiatry are used to suppress individual freedom

d. helped to clarify the problematic aspects of both psychiatry and psychoanalysis

e. rejected Foucault’s genealogical approach to understanding power.



Elsewhere, we have argued that the advent of the ‘postmodern condition’ and the emergence of postmodern philosophy have opened up new ways of thinking about mental health practice (Bracken & Thomas, 2001). Some service users have asked for a move to ‘postpsychiatry’ (Campbell, 1996), and we have used this term as an organising principle for our own work. Postpsychiatry is not yet another model to compete with the ‘medical’ and ‘social’ models of psychiatry; instead, it points to the possibility (and the growing reality) of a new direction for mental health work, which moves beyond the theories of the 20th century. This move originates in our conceptual critique of psychiatry (Bracken & Thomas, 2001), and in the work of service user groups such as Survivors Speak Out, the National Self-Harm Network, the Hearing Voices Network, Mad Pride and Mad Women, all of which reject medical accounts of their experiences and look elsewhere for their explanatory models. They also highlight the potential for harm caused by psychiatry.


Postpsychiatry seeks to understand why psychiatry is in this position, and to use this understanding to find theoretical and practical ways forward. While remaining part of the broad church of critical psychiatry, postpsychiatry makes the central claim that many of the problems of psychiatry arise from its identity as an enterprise of modernity. The Enlightenment focus on the individual self and the value of reason charted the course followed by psychiatry for 200 years, with the assumption that all its efforts were transparently for the good. Postpsychiatry holds that our discipline is blind to the limitations of its theoretical frameworks, and has overlooked the pain and suffering it can cause.


This has practical and theoretical dimensions if we are to move forward. On a practical level, we try to work with service users and carers to find new ways of doing mental health work. This happens at macro- and micro-levels. At the macro-level we are attempting to set up statutory services that genuinely involve collaboration between service user and carer groups, communities (especially Black and minority ethnic communities) and the professionals who serve them. We also support the emergence of self-defined support groups in the voluntary sector. At the micro-level our work on trauma (Bracken, 2002), and on hermeneutics and psychosis, especially hearing voices (Davies et al, 1999; Thomas et al, 2004), stresses the inherently meaningful nature of these experiences within the context of the person’s life history and circumstances. In a limited way, postpsychiatry is trying to chart a new relationship between medicine and the experiential world of madness, alienation and distress.


On a theoretical level, postpsychiatry has a number of key influences, but one of our most important goals is to take seriouslythe challenge posed by Foucault’s critique. In the past, psychiatrists (particularly in Britain) have dismissed his position as ‘anti-psychiatry’. We disagree. Few psychiatrists are aware of the true depths of Foucault’s critique. Most have chosen to listen to those historians who articulate a ‘progressivist’ reading of the history of psychiatry. They argue that, because Foucault made some historical errors, his work can be dismissed. It is worth noting that Gordon has mounted a powerful defence of Foucault’s history (Gordon, 1990). For postpsychiatry the most important feature of Foucault’s work concerns the question of ethics. He presents ethics as a sensibility to Otherness, not as a system of rules or codes to be followed slavishly. He shows us how the generation of knowledge is not ethically neutral but at every step involves implications for other people. This view resonates strongly with feminist writing about ethics, particularly the work of Carol Gilligan (1982), who contrasts the dominant paradigmatic approach to ethics with feminist, or situated, ethics. Nowhere is this more apparent than in our work as psychiatrists, where we like to believe that our interventions are technical and value-free. Foucault helps us to move beyond this position and thus opens up a space in which we can see some of the harm caused by our interventions. 
5. The philosophies of Heidegger and MerleauPonty:


a. stress the importance of understanding the meaning of human experience within social, historical and cultural contexts


b. stand firmly within the tradition of the Enlightenment philosophy of Descartes


c. demonstrate the limitations of body/mind dualism in understanding human experience


d. assume a representational view of language


e. emphasise the value of the hermeneutic tradition in philosophy.





Conclusions


Critical psychiatry is starting to have an impact on mainstream psychiatry. The fact that APT is prepared to publish our article confirms this. Nevertheless, there is a great deal still to be achieved. Critical reflection on the history and the social position of our discipline are a central concern for critical psychiatry, and this way of approaching our discipline must be brought into the mainstream. It is no longer a marginal activity, and an exposure to ‘critical thinking’ is an important training issue. The greatest challenge for the future is to enable critical psychiatry and postpsychiatry to influence the training of psychiatrists.











References

1. ↵

Bracken, P. (2002) Trauma: Culture, Meaning and Philosophy. London: Whurr.

2. ↵

Bracken, P. & Thomas, P. (2001) Postpsychiatry: a new direction for mental health. BMJ, 322, 724–727.

3. ↵

Campbell, P. (1996) Challenging loss of power. In Speaking Our Minds: An Anthology (eds J. Read & J. Reynolds), pp. 56–62. London: Macmillan/Open University.

4. ↵

Csordas, T. (1994) Words from the Holy People: a case study in cultural phenomenology. In Embodiment and Experience: The Existential Ground of Culture and Self (Ed. T. Csordas), pp. 269–290. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

5. ↵

Davies, P., Thomas, P. & Leudar, I. (1999) Dialogical engagement and verbal hallucinations: a single case study. British Journal of Medical Psychology, 72, 179–187.

. 6↵

Department of Health (2000) The NHS Plan: A Plan for Investment, A Plan for Reform. Cm 4818-I. London: HMSO.

7. ↵

Double, D. (2002) The limits of psychiatry. BMJ, 324, 900–904.


8. ↵

Faulkner, A. & Layzell, S. (2000) Strategies for Living: A Report of User-led Research into People’s Strategies for Living with Mental Distress. London: Mental Health Foundation.

9. ↵

Foucault, M. (1967) Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason (trans. R. Howard). London: Tavistock.

10. ↵

Foucault, M. (1981) The History of Sexuality (trans. R. Hurley). Hrmondsworth: Penguin.

11. ↵

Gilligan, C. (1982) In A Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women’s Development. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

12. ↵

Gordon, C. (1990) Histoire de la Folie: an unknown book by Michel Foucault. History of the Human Sciences, 3, 3–26.



13. ↵

Habermas, J. (1972) Knowledge and Human Interests (trans. J. Shapiro). London: Heinemann.

14. ↵

Heidegger, M. (1962) Being and Time (trans. J. Macquarrie & E. Robinson). Oxford: Blackwell.

15. ↵

Ingleby, D. (1981) Understanding ‘mental illness’. In The Politics of Mental Health (ed. D. Ingleby), pp. 23–71. Harmondsworth: Penguin.

16. ↵

Kuhn, T. (1962) The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

17. ↵

Leudar, I. & Thomas, P. (2000) Voices of Reason, Voices of Insanity: Studies of Verbal Hallucinations. London: Brunner-Routledge.

18. ↵

Lyotard, J.-F. (1984) The Postmodern Condition: A Report on K

19. ↵

Merleau-Ponty, M. (1962) Phenomenology of Perception (trans. C Smith). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

20. ↵

Miller, P. (1986) Critiques of psychiatry and critical sociologies of madness. In The Power of Psychiatry (eds P. Miller & N. Rose), pp. 12–42. Cambridge: Polity Press.

21. ↵

Miller, P. & Rose, N. (eds) (1986) The Power of Psychiatry. Cambridge: Polity Press.

22. ↵

Roberts, G. & Wolfson, P. (2004) The rediscovery of recovery: open to all. Advances in Psychiatric Treatment, 10, –48.



23. ↵

Rose, N. (1979) The psychological complex: mental measurement and social administration. Ideology and Consciousness, 4, 5–68.

24. ↵

Rose, N. (1986) Psychiatry: the discipline of mental health. In The Power of Psychiatry (eds P. Miller & N. Rose), pp. 43–84. Cambridge: Polity Press.

25. ↵

Rose, D. (2001) Users’ Voices: The Perspectives of Mental Health Service Users on Community and Hospital Care. London: Sainsbury Centre for Mental Health.

26. ↵

Sacks, O. (1986) The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. London: Picador.

27. ↵

Thomas, P., Bracken, P. & Leudar, I. (2004) Hearing voices: a phenomenological–hermeneutic approach. Cognitive europsychiatry, 9, 13–23.

28. ↵

Wittgenstein, L. (1967) Philosophical Investigations (3rd edn) (trans. G. E. M. Anscombe). Oxford: Blackwell.

Common sense, nonsense and the new culture wars within psychiatry. Invited commentary on... Beyond consultation The Psychiatrist July 1, 2009 33:243-244





Psychiatry and the pharmaceutical industry: who pays the piper?: A perspective from the Critical Psychiatry Network The Psychiatrist March 1, 2005 29:84-85



 The Royal College of Psychiatrists








MARCIA ANGELL M.D. 'DRUG COMPANIES AND DOCTORS - A STORY OF CORRUPTION' -She is Senior Lecturer in Social Medicine at Harvard University Medical School and regularly contributes articles to the New York Review of Books


WATCH A YOUTUBE VIDEO ABOUT HER CONCERNS ABOUT THE U.S. HEALTHCARE SYSTEM AND THE DRUGGING OF CHILDREN WITH BEHAVIOURAL PROBLEMS,CLICK ON TITLE OR LINK ABOVE.






Marcia Angell is a former Editor in Chief of the highly prestigious New England Journal of Medicine. Her latest book is The Truth About the Drug Companies: How They Deceive Us and What to Do About It. (January 2009)


Recently Senator Charles Grassley, ranking Republican on the Senate Finance Committee, has been looking into financial ties between the pharmaceutical industry and the academic physicians who largely determine the market value of prescription drugs. He hasn't had to look very hard.


Take the case of Dr. Joseph L. Biederman, professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and chief of pediatric psychopharmacology at Harvard's Massachusetts General Hospital. Thanks largely to him, children as young as two years old are now being diagnosed with bipolar disorder and treated with a cocktail of powerful drugs, many of which were not approved by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) for that purpose and none of which were approved for children below ten years of age.


Legally, physicians may use drugs that have already been approved for a particular purpose for any other purpose they choose, but such use should be based on good published scientific evidence. That seems not to be the case here. Biederman's own studies of the drugs he advocates to treat childhood bipolar disorder were, as The New York Times summarized the opinions of its expert sources, "so small and loosely designed that they were largely inconclusive."[1]


In June, Senator Grassley revealed that drug companies, including those that make drugs he advocates for childhood bipolar disorder, had paid Biederman $1.6 million in consulting and speaking fees between 2000 and 2007. Two of his colleagues received similar amounts. After the revelation, the president of the Massachusetts General Hospital and the chairman of its physician organization sent a letter to the hospital's physicians expressing not shock over the enormity of the conflicts of interest, but sympathy for the beneficiaries: "We know this is an incredibly painful time for these doctors and their families, and our hearts go out to them."


Or consider Dr. Alan F. Schatzberg, chair of Stanford's psychiatry department and president-elect of the American Psychiatric Association. Senator Grassley found that Schatzberg controlled more than $6 million worth of stock in Corcept Therapeutics, a company he cofounded that is testing mifepristone—the abortion drug otherwise known as RU-486—as a treatment for psychotic depression. At the same time, Schatzberg was the principal investigator on a National Institute of Mental Health grant that included research on mifepristone for this use and he was coauthor of three papers on the subject. In a statement released in late June, Stanford professed to see nothing amiss in this arrangement, although a month later, the university's counsel announced that it was temporarily replacing Schatzberg as principal investigator "to eliminate any misunderstanding."


Perhaps the most egregious case exposed so far by Senator Grassley is that of Dr. Charles B. Nemeroff, chair of Emory University's department of psychiatry and, along with Schatzberg, coeditor of the influential Textbook of Psychopharmacology.[2] Nemeroff was the principal investigator on a five-year $3.95 million National Institute of Mental Health grant—of which $1.35 million went to Emory for overhead—to study several drugs made by GlaxoSmithKline. To comply with university and government regulations, he was required to disclose to Emory income from GlaxoSmithKline, and Emory was required to report amounts over $10,000 per year to the National Institutes of Health, along with assurances that the conflict of interest would be managed or eliminated.


But according to Senator Grassley, who compared Emory's records with those from the company, Nemeroff failed to disclose approximately $500,000 he received from GlaxoSmithKline for giving dozens of talks promoting the company's drugs. In June 2004, a year into the grant, Emory conducted its own investigation of Nemeroff's activities, and found multiple violations of its policies. Nemeroff responded by assuring Emory in a memorandum, "In view of the NIMH/Emory/GSK grant, I shall limit my consulting to GSK to under $10,000/year and I have informed GSK of this policy." Yet that same year, he received $171,031 from the company, while he reported to Emory just $9,999—a dollar shy of the $10,000 threshold for reporting to the National Institutes of Health.


Emory benefited from Nemeroff's grants and other activities, and that raises the question of whether its lax oversight was influenced by its own conflicts of interest. As reported by Gardiner Harris in TheNew York Times,[3] Nemeroff himself had pointed out his value to Emory in a 2000 letter to the dean of the medical school, in which he justified his membership on a dozen corporate advisory boards by saying:


Surely you remember that Smith-Kline Beecham Pharmaceuticals donated an endowed chair to the department and there is some reasonable likelihood that Janssen Pharmaceuticals will do so as well. In addition, Wyeth-Ayerst Pharmaceuticals has funded a Research Career Development Award program in the department, and I have asked both AstraZeneca Pharmaceuticals and Bristol-Meyers [sic] Squibb to do the same. Part of the rationale for their funding our faculty in such a manner would be my service on these boards.


Because these psychiatrists were singled out by Senator Grassley, they received a great deal of attention in the press, but similar conflicts of interest pervade medicine. (The senator is now turning his attention to cardiologists.) Indeed, most doctors take money or gifts from drug companies in one way or another. Many are paid consultants, speakers at company-sponsored meetings, ghost-authors of papers written by drug companies or their agents[4] and ostensible "researchers" whose contribution often consists merely of putting their patients on a drug and transmitting some token information to the company. Still more doctors are recipients of free meals and other out-and-out gifts. In addition, drug companies subsidize most meetings of professional organizations and most of the continuing medical education needed by doctors to maintain their state licenses.


No one knows the total amount provided by drug companies to physicians, but I estimate from the annual reports of the top nine US drug companies that it comes to tens of billions of dollars a year. By such means, the pharmaceutical industry has gained enormous control over how doctors evaluate and use its own products. Its extensive ties to physicians, particularly senior faculty at prestigious medical schools, affect the results of research, the way medicine is practiced, and even the definition of what constitutes a disease.


Consider the clinical trials by which drugs are tested in human subjects.[5] Before a new drug can enter the market, its manufacturer must sponsor clinical trials to show the Food and Drug Administration that the drug is safe and effective, usually as compared with a placebo or dummy pill. The results of all the trials (there may be many) are submitted to the FDA, and if one or two trials are positive—that is, they show effectiveness without serious risk—the drug is usually approved, even if all the other trials are negative. Drugs are approved only for a specified use—for example, to treat lung cancer—and it is illegal for companies to promote them for any other use.


But physicians may prescribe approved drugs "off label"—i.e., without regard to the specified use—and perhaps as many as half of all prescriptions are written for off-label purposes. After drugs are on the market, companies continue to sponsor clinical trials, sometimes to get FDA approval for additional uses, sometimes to demonstrate an advantage over competitors, and often just as an excuse to get physicians to prescribe such drugs for patients. (Such trials are aptly called "seeding" studies.)


Since drug companies don't have direct access to human subjects, they need to outsource their clinical trials to medical schools, where researchers use patients from teaching hospitals and clinics, or to private research companies (CROs), which organize office-based physicians to enroll their patients. Although CROs are usually faster, sponsors often prefer using medical schools, in part because the research is taken more seriously, but mainly because it gives them access to highly influential faculty physicians—referred to by the industry as "thought-leaders" or "key opinion leaders" (KOLs). These are the people who write textbooks and medical journal papers, issue practice guidelines (treatment recommendations), sit on FDA and other governmental advisory panels, head professional societies, and speak at the innumerable meetings and dinners that take place every year to teach clinicians about prescription drugs. Having KOLs like Dr. Biederman on the payroll is worth every penny spent.


A few decades ago, medical schools did not have extensive financial dealings with industry, and faculty investigators who carried out industry-sponsored research generally did not have other ties to their sponsors. But schools now have their own manifold deals with industry and are hardly in a moral position to object to their faculty behaving in the same way. A recent survey found that about two thirds of academic medical centers hold equity interest in companies that sponsor research within the same institution.[6] A study of medical school department chairs found that two thirds received departmental income from drug companies and three fifths received personal income.[7] In the 1980s medical schools began to issue guidelines governing faculty conflicts of interest but they are highly variable, generally quite permissive, and loosely enforced.


Because drug companies insist as a condition of providing funding that they be intimately involved in all aspects of the research they sponsor, they can easily introduce bias in order to make their drugs look better and safer than they are. Before the 1980s, they generally gave faculty investigators total responsibility for the conduct of the work, but now company employees or their agents often design the studies, perform the analysis, write the papers, and decide whether and in what form to publish the results. Sometimes the medical faculty who serve as investigators are little more than hired hands, supplying patients and collecting data according to instructions from the company.


In view of this control and the conflicts of interest that permeate the enterprise, it is not surprising that industry-sponsored trials published in medical journals consistently favor sponsors' drugs—largely because negative results are not published, positive results are repeatedly published in slightly different forms, and a positive spin is put on even negative results. A review of seventy-four clinical trials of antidepressants, for example, found that thirty-seven of thirty-eight positive studies were published.[8] But of the thirty-six negative studies, thirty-three were either not published or published in a form that conveyed a positive outcome. It is not unusual for a published paper to shift the focus from the drug's intended effect to a secondary effect that seems more favorable.


The suppression of unfavorable research is the subject of Alison Bass's engrossing book, Side Effects: A Prosecutor, a Whistleblower, and a Bestselling Antidepressant on Trial. This is the story of how the British drug giant GlaxoSmithKline buried evidence that its top-selling antidepressant, Paxil, was ineffective and possibly harmful to children and adolescents. Bass, formerly a reporter for the Boston Globe, describes the involvement of three people—a skeptical academic psychiatrist, a morally outraged assistant administrator in Brown University's department of psychiatry (whose chairman received in 1998 over $500,000 in consulting fees from drug companies, including GlaxoSmithKline), and an indefatigable New York assistant attorney general. They took on GlaxoSmithKline and part of the psychiatry establishment and eventually prevailed against the odds.


The book follows the individual struggles of these three people over many years, culminating with GlaxoSmithKline finally agreeing in 2004 to settle charges of consumer fraud for $2.5 million (a tiny fraction of the more than $2.7 billion in yearly Paxil sales about that time). It also promised to release summaries of all clinical trials completed after December 27, 2000. Of much greater significance was the attention called to the deliberate, systematic practice of suppressing unfavorable research results, which would never have been revealed without the legal discovery process. Previously undisclosed, one of GlaxoSmithKline's internal documents said, "It would be commercially unacceptable to include a statement that efficacy had not been demonstrated, as this would undermine the profile of paroxetine [Paxil]."[9]


Many drugs that are assumed to be effective are probably little better than placebos, but there is no way to know because negative results are hidden. One clue was provided six years ago by four researchers who, using the Freedom of Information Act, obtained FDA reviews of every placebo-controlled clinical trial submitted for initial approval of the six most widely used antidepressant drugs approved between 1987 and 1999—Prozac, Paxil, Zoloft, Celexa, Serzone, and Effexor.[10] They found that on average, placebos were 80 percent as effective as the drugs. The difference between drug and placebo was so small that it was unlikely to be of any clinical significance. The results were much the same for all six drugs: all were equally ineffective. But because favorable results were published and unfavorable results buried (in this case, within the FDA), the public and the medical profession believed these drugs were potent antidepressants.


Clinical trials are also biased through designs for research that are chosen to yield favorable results for sponsors. For example, the sponsor's drug may be compared with another drug administered at a dose so low that the sponsor's drug looks more powerful. Or a drug that is likely to be used by older people will be tested in young people, so that side effects are less likely to emerge. A common form of bias stems from the standard practice of comparing a new drug with a placebo, when the relevant question is how it compares with an existing drug. In short, it is often possible to make clinical trials come out pretty much any way you want, which is why it's so important that investigators be truly disinterested in the outcome of their work.


Conflicts of interest affect more than research. They also directly shape the way medicine is practiced, through their influence on practice guidelines issued by professional and governmental bodies, and through their effects on FDA decisions. A few examples: in a survey of two hundred expert panels that issued practice guidelines, one third of the panel members acknowledged that they had some financial interest in the drugs they considered.[11] In 2004, after the National Cholesterol Education Program called for sharply lowering the desired levels of "bad" cholesterol, it was revealed that eight of nine members of the panel writing the recommendations had financial ties to the makers of cholesterol-lowering drugs.[12] Of the 170 contributors to the most recent edition of the American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), ninety-five had financial ties to drug companies, including all of the contributors to the sections on mood disorders and schizophrenia.[13] Perhaps most important, many members of the standing committees of experts that advise the FDA on drug approvals also have financial ties to the pharmaceutical industry.[14]


In recent years, drug companies have perfected a new and highly effective method to expand their markets. Instead of promoting drugs to treat diseases, they have begun to promote diseases to fit their drugs. The strategy is to convince as many people as possible (along with their doctors, of course) that they have medical conditions that require long-term drug treatment. Sometimes called "disease-mongering," this is a focus of two new books: Melody Petersen's Our Daily Meds: How the Pharmaceutical Companies Transformed Themselves into Slick Marketing Machines and Hooked the Nation on Prescription Drugs and Christopher Lane's Shyness: How Normal Behavior Became a Sickness.


To promote new or exaggerated conditions, companies give them serious-sounding names along with abbreviations. Thus, heartburn is now "gastro-esophageal reflux disease" or GERD; impotence is "erectile dysfunction" or ED; premenstrual tension is "premenstrual dysphoric disorder" or PMDD; and shyness is "social anxiety disorder" (no abbreviation yet). Note that these are ill-defined chronic conditions that affect essentially normal people, so the market is huge and easily expanded. For example, a senior marketing executive advised sales representatives on how to expand the use of Neurontin: "Neurontin for pain, Neurontin for monotherapy, Neurontin for bipolar, Neurontin for everything."[15] It seems that the strategy of the drug marketers—and it has been remarkably successful—is to convince Americans that there are only two kinds of people: those with medical conditions that require drug treatment and those who don't know it yet. While the strategy originated in the industry, it could not be implemented without the complicity of the medical profession.


Melody Petersen, who was a reporter for The New York Times, has written a broad, convincing indictment of the pharmaceutical industry.[16] She lays out in detail the many ways, both legal and illegal, that drug companies can create "blockbusters" (drugs with yearly sales of over a billion dollars) and the essential role that KOLs play. Her main example is Neurontin, which was initially approved only for a very narrow use—to treat epilepsy when other drugs failed to control seizures. By paying academic experts to put their names on articles extolling Neurontin for other uses—bipolar disease, post-traumatic stress disorder, insomnia, restless legs syndrome, hot flashes, migraines, tension headaches, and more—and by funding conferences at which these uses were promoted, the manufacturer was able to parlay the drug into a blockbuster, with sales of $2.7 billion in 2003. The following year, in a case covered extensively by Petersen for the Times, Pfizer pleaded guilty to illegal marketing and agreed to pay $430 million to resolve the criminal and civil charges against it. A lot of money, but for Pfizer, it was just the cost of doing business, and well worth it because Neurontin continued to be used like an all-purpose tonic, generating billions of dollars in annual sales.


Christopher Lane's book has a narrower focus—the rapid increase in the number of psychiatric diagnoses in the American population and in the use of psychoactive drugs (drugs that affect mental states) to treat them. Since there are no objective tests for mental illness and the boundaries between normal and abnormal are often uncertain, psychiatry is a particularly fertile field for creating new diagnoses or broadening old ones.[17] Diagnostic criteria are pretty much the exclusive province of the current edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which is the product of a panel of psychiatrists, most of whom, as I mentioned earlier, had financial ties to the pharmaceutical industry. Lane, a research professor of literature at Northwestern University, traces the evolution of the DSM from its modest beginnings in 1952 as a small, spiral-bound handbook (DSM-I) to its current 943-page incarnation (the revised version of DSM-IV) as the undisputed "bible" of psychiatry—the standard reference for courts, prisons, schools, insurance companies, emergency rooms, doctors' offices, and medical facilities of all kinds.


Given its importance, you might think that the DSM represents the authoritative distillation of a large body of scientific evidence. But Lane, using unpublished records from the archives of the American Psychiatric Association and interviews with the princi-pals, shows that it is instead the product of a complex of academic politics, personal ambition, ideology, and, perhaps most important, the influence of the pharmaceutical industry. What the DSM lacks is evidence. Lane quotes one contributor to the DSM-III task force:


There was very little systematic research, and much of the research that existed was really a hodgepodge—scattered, inconsistent, and ambiguous. I think the majority of us recognized that the amount of good, solid science upon which we were making our decisions was pretty modest.


Lane uses shyness as his case study of disease-mongering in psychiatry. Shyness as a psychiatric illness made its debut as "social phobia" in DSM-III in 1980, but was said to be rare. By 1994, when DSM-IV was published, it had become "social anxiety disorder," now said to be extremely common. According to Lane, GlaxoSmithKline, hoping to boost sales for its antidepressant, Paxil, decided to promote social anxiety disorder as "a severe medical condition." In 1999, the company received FDA approval to market the drug for social anxiety disorder. It launched an extensive media campaign to do it, including posters in bus shelters across the country showing forlorn individuals and the words "Imagine being allergic to people...," and sales soared. Barry Brand, Paxil's product director, was quoted as saying, "Every marketer's dream is to find an unidentified or unknown market and develop it. That's what we were able to do with social anxiety disorder."


Some of the biggest blockbusters are psychoactive drugs. The theory that psychiatric conditions stem from a biochemical imbalance is used as a justification for their widespread use, even though the theory has yet to be proved. Children are particularly vulnerable targets. What parents dare say "No" when a physician says their difficult child is sick and recommends drug treatment? We are now in the midst of an apparent epidemic of bipolar disease in children (which seems to be replacing attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder as the most publicized condition in childhood), with a forty-fold increase in the diagnosis between 1994 and 2003.[18] These children are often treated with multiple drugs off-label, many of which, whatever their other properties, are sedating, and nearly all of which have potentially serious side effects.


The problems I've discussed are not limited to psychiatry, although they reach their most florid form there. Similar conflicts of interest and biases exist in virtually every field of medicine, particularly those that rely heavily on drugs or devices. It is simply no longer possible to believe much of the clinical research that is published, or to rely on the judgment of trusted physicians or authoritative medical guidelines. I take no pleasure in this conclusion, which I reached slowly and reluctantly over my two decades as an editor of The New England Journal of Medicine.


One result of the pervasive bias is that physicians learn to practice a very drug-intensive style of medicine. Even when changes in lifestyle would be more effective, doctors and their patients often believe that for every ailment and discontent there is a drug. Physicians are also led to believe that the newest, most expensive brand-name drugs are superior to older drugs or generics, even though there is seldom any evidence to that effect because sponsors do not usually compare their drugs with older drugs at equivalent doses. In addition, physicians, swayed by prestigious medical school faculty, learn to prescribe drugs for off-label uses without good evidence of effectiveness.


It is easy to fault drug companies for this situation, and they certainly deserve a great deal of blame. Most of the big drug companies have settled charges of fraud, off-label marketing, and other offenses. TAP Pharmaceuticals, for example, in 2001 pleaded guilty and agreed to pay $875 million to settle criminal and civil charges brought under the federal False Claims Act over its fraudulent marketing of Lupron, a drug used for treatment of prostate cancer. In addition to GlaxoSmithKline, Pfizer, and TAP, other companies that have settled charges of fraud include Merck, Eli Lilly, and Abbott. The costs, while enormous in some cases, are still dwarfed by the profits generated by these illegal activities, and are therefore not much of a deterrent. Still, apologists might argue that the pharmaceutical industry is merely trying to do its primary job—further the interests of its investors—and sometimes it goes a little too far.


Physicians, medical schools, and professional organizations have no such excuse, since their only fiduciary responsibility is to patients. The mission of medical schools and teaching hospitals—and what justifies their tax-exempt status—is to educate the next generation of physicians, carry out scientifically important research, and care for the sickest members of society. It is not to enter into lucrative commercial alliances with the pharmaceutical industry. As reprehensible as many industry practices are, I believe the behavior of much of the medical profession is even more culpable.[19] Drug companies are not charities; they expect something in return for the money they spend, and they evidently get it or they wouldn't keep paying.


So many reforms would be necessary to restore integrity to clinical research and medical practice that they cannot be summarized briefly. Many would involve congressional legislation and changes in the FDA, including its drug approval process. But there is clearly also a need for the medical profession to wean itself from industry money almost entirely. Although industry–academic collaboration can make important scientific contributions, it is usually in carrying out basic research, not clinical trials, and even here, it is arguable whether it necessitates the personal enrichment of investigators. Members of medical school faculties who conduct clinical trials should not accept any payments from drug companies except research support, and that support should have no strings attached, including control by drug companies over the design, interpretation, and publication of research results.


Medical schools and teaching hospitals should rigorously enforce that rule, and should not enter into deals with companies whose products members of their faculty are studying. Finally, there is seldom a legitimate reason for physicians to accept gifts from drug companies, even small ones, and they should pay for their own meetings and continuing education.


After much unfavorable publicity, medical schools and professional organizations are beginning to talk about controlling conflicts of interest, but so far the response has been tepid. They consistently refer to "potential" conflicts of interest, as though that were different from the real thing, and about disclosing and "managing" them, not about prohibiting them. In short, there seems to be a desire to eliminate the smell of corruption, while keeping the money. Breaking the dependence of the medical profession on the pharmaceutical industry will take more than appointing committees and other gestures. It will take a sharp break from an extremely lucrative pattern of behavior. But if the medical profession does not put an end to this corruption voluntarily, it will lose the confidence of the public, and the government (not just Senator Grassley) will step in and impose regulation. No one in medicine wants that.


Notes


[1]Gardiner Harris and Benedict Carey, "Researchers Fail to Reveal Full Drug Pay," The New York Times, June 8, 2008.


[2]Most of the information in these paragraphs, including Nemeroff's quote in the summer of 2004, is drawn from a long letter written by Senator Grassley to James W. Wagner, President of Emory University, on October 2, 2008.


[3]See Gardiner Harris, "Leading Psychiatrist Didn't Report Drug Makers' Pay," The New York Times, October 4, 2008.


[4]Senator Grassley is current investigating Wyeth for paying a medical writing firm to ghost-write articles favorable to its hormone-replacement drug Prempro.


[5]Some of this material is drawn from my article "Industry-Sponsored Clinical Research: A Broken System," TheJournal of the American Medical Association, September 3, 2008.


[6]Justin E. Bekelman et al., "Scope and Impact of Financial Conflicts of Interest in Biomedical Research: A Systematic Review," The Journal of the American Medical Association, January 22, 2003.


[7]Eric G. Campbell et al., "Institutional Academic–Industry Relationships," The Journal of the American Medical Association, October 17, 2007.


[8]Erick H. Turner et al., "Selective Publication of Antidepressant Trials and Its Influence on Apparent Efficacy," The New England Journal of Medicine, January 17, 2008.


[9]See Wayne Kondro and Barb Sibbald, "Drug Company Experts Advised Staff to Withhold Data About SSRI Use in Children," Canadian Medical Association Journal, March 2, 2004.


[10]Irving Kirsch et al., "The Emperor's New Drugs: An Analysis of Antidepressant Medication Data Submitted to the US Food and Drug Administration," Prevention & Treatment, July 15, 2002.


[11]Rosie Taylor and Jim Giles, "Cash Interests Taint Drug Advice," Nature, October 20, 2005.


[12]David Tuller, "Seeking a Fuller Picture of Statins," The New York Times, July 20, 2004.


[13]Lisa Cosgrove et al., "Financial Ties Between DSM-IV Panel Members and the Pharmaceutical Industry," Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics, Vol. 75, No. 3 (2006).


[14]On August 4, 2008, the FDA announced that $50,000 is now the "maximum personal financial interest an advisor may have in all companies that may be affected by a particular meeting." Waivers may be granted for amounts less than that.


[15]See Petersen, Our Daily Meds, p. 224.


[16]Petersen's book is a part of a second wave of books exposing the deceptive practices of the pharmaceutical industry. The first included Katharine Greider's The Big Fix: How the Pharmaceutical Industry Rips Off American Consumers (PublicAffairs, 2003), Merrill Goozner's The $800 Million Pill: The Truth Behind the Cost of New Drugs (University of California Press, 2004), Jerome Avorn's Powerful Medicines: The Benefits, Risks, and Costs of Prescription Drugs (Knopf, 2004), John Abramson's Overdo$ed America: The Broken Promise of American Medicine (HarperCollins, 2004), and my own The Truth About the Drug Companies: How They Deceive Us and What to Do About It (Random House, 2004).


[17]See the review by Frederick Crews of Lane's book and two others, The New York Review, December 6, 2007.

[18]See Gardiner Harris and Benedict Carey, "Researchers Fail to Reveal Full Drug Pay," The New York Times, June 8, 2008.


[19]This point is made powerfully in Jerome P. Kassirer's disturbing book, On the Take: How Medicine's Complicity With Big Business Can Endanger Your Health (Oxford University Press, 2005)