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If you are a psychiatrist who has done a public lecture in the past year, you likely encountered the question, “What about Britney’s conservatorship?” Many psychiatrists are far removed from conservatorship evaluations, doing the different yet still important work of alleviating mental suffering without paddling in the controversial waters of involuntary treatment. Others judiciously hide behind the veil of the prudent Goldwater Rule in avoiding such discussions altogether. Regardless of whether psychiatry attempts to stay out of such affairs publicly, our field remains intimately involved in the process itself. This can lead to negative views of psychiatry among the public – that of a medical specialty with ulterior motives operating at the behest of the state.
Some psychiatrists simplistically advocate against any form of involuntary treatment.1 In many ways, this may appear noble. However, the reality of mental illness, with its potential harm to self and others, introduces the potential for dire consequences of such a position. If society is unwilling to accept behavior that may lead to harm, but psychiatry is unwilling to intervene, then other avenues of restricting such behavior will emerge. Those avenues traditionally have included conscription of law enforcement and the incarceration of patients with mental illness.
Yet, therein lies the conundrum of Ms. Spears and other celebrities on conservatorship. At face value, they do not appear to require conservatorship. We do not think it violates the Goldwater Rule to render this observation. In fact, it may reassure the public if the American Psychiatric Association, as well as individual psychiatrists, were more open about the goal, intent, and limitations of conservatorships.
The process of establishing conservatorships is not driven solely by mental health professionals. Rather, conservatorship laws permit society to enact, through psychiatrists, its desire to alleviate behaviors considered unacceptable in the context of mental illness.
In California, it has resulted in our famous or infamous “5150,” which asks psychiatrists to comment on the danger to self, danger to others, and grave disability of our patients. It can be helpful to frame these criteria regarding the relationship between society and our patients. The criteria of danger to self represents society’s wish to intervene in cases of patients with imminent intent of self-harm, operating under the presumption that a suicide can be prevented. Danger to others represents the societal angst, at times exaggerated,2 about people with mental illness perpetuating homicides, especially when off their medication. Grave disability represents public shame at the thought of persons so lost to mental illness they are unable to provide for themselves or even accept food, clothing, and shelter.
While an involuntary hold is necessary at times, working against our patients engenders revolting feelings. We often rationalize involuntary holds as illustrative of sincere compassion for our patients’ suffering and an attempt to lift them out of such tragic conditions. Our patients regularly do not feel our compassion when we are making an argument in a hearing for the restriction of their rights. They see our efforts as an attempt to lock them away “for their own good” because of society’s discomfort with homelessness. As such, we wonder whether our role becomes one of doctors for society, prescribing a treatment for the emotional distress of the community, and at times for ourselves, rather than that of the patient.
One may be perplexed as to how a celebrity could be considered gravely disabled. Celebrities generally have enough income to afford food, clothing, and shelter. One could justifiably ask why an individual with no history of violence would be considered a danger to others. Similarly, one may wonder how, in the absence of any reported attempts to engage in self-harm, with no visible marks of self-harm, someone is determined to be a danger to himself or herself. The bafflement on the part of one on the outside of these determinations can be sharply contrasted by the desperation felt by family members whose loved ones with mental illness appear to meet those criteria yet are consistently turned away by mental health programs and hospitals.
Not uncommonly, it is families advocating for involuntary hospitalization – while lamenting our strict criteria – that prevent doctors from intervening until some tragic fate befalls their loved ones. They criticize what they consider to be too-stringent mental health laws and are infuriated by seemingly obtuse insurance policies limiting care to patients. Most of our colleagues working with those who have severe mental illness share the frustration of these families over the scarcity of psychiatry beds. Therefore, it is particularly shocking when the most mediatized story about conservatorship is not about how hard it is to obtain. The story is about a singer who was seemingly safe, caring for herself, and yet still ended up on a conservatorship.
We wonder whether there is a question of magnitude. Are homeless patients more difficult to place on conservatorship because society sees a lesser stake? One could argue that Ms. Spears and other celebrities would have so much to lose in a single episode of mental illness. A week with mania or psychosis could cause irreparable damage to their persona, opportunity for employment, and their fortune. On the contrary, many of our patients on conservatorship have little to their names, and no one keeping up on their reputation. Triers of facts should ask themselves about the nature of their motivations. Envy, a desire to live vicariously through celebrities, or even less ethical motivations – such as a desire to control and exert authority over those individuals – can influence our decisions.
Throughout the past year, when asked about Ms. Spears, we have pointed out the obvious – she seemingly has a life incompatible with meeting criteria for a psychiatric conservatorship. We have outlined the role, history, and limitations of psychiatric conservatorship. We have shared how such cases are often approached, when required for our own patients or when asked by the court to do so. We have discussed the significant oversight of the system, including the public conservator’s office, which frequently refuses petitions outright. There are hearing officers, who, in the early stages of this process, weigh our case against that of the patients, aided by passionately driven patient advocates. There is the public defender’s office, which, at least in San Diego, vigorously defends the rights of those with mental illness. Most importantly, there are judges who adjudicate those cases with diligence and humility.
As the story has continued to be in the news, we have had numerous conversations about Ms. Spears’ conservatorship with colleagues sharing strong opinions on her case. Many of these colleagues do not have forensic practices and we inevitably find ourselves responding along the lines of, “It is easy to say this, but quite a different thing to prove it in court.” It is hard not to imagine testifying in such a high-profile conservatorship case; testifying, in front of jurors, about a celebrity who may have engaged in what some considered to be unusual behavior.
Conservatorship laws are not about the minutia or criteria of a specific mental health disorder. Patients do not meet criteria for conservatorship by having a certain number of delusional thoughts or a specific type of hallucination. Patients meet criteria for conservatorship because of state-enacted laws based on social factors – such as danger and self-care – the population wishes to treat, even if against the will of those treated. Under this light, one must recognize that a conservatorship trial is not just about mental illness but about how society wants to care for human beings. Psychiatric illness itself is not grounds for conservatorship. Oftentimes, severely ill patients win a hearing for grave disability by simply accepting a referral for housing, showing up to court clothed, and eating the meals provided at the hospital.
With understanding that these laws pertain specifically to behaviors resulting from mental illness that society finds unacceptable, the narrative of a celebrity conservatorship can be considered differently. The stories of celebrities being used and abused by deleterious beings and deleterious conditions have become a genre. Paul Prenter’s treatment of Freddie Mercury documented in the 2018 movie “Bohemian Rhapsody” and John Reid’s alleged betrayal of Elton John, who was suffering from a substance use disorder, documented in the 2019 movie “Rocketman,” are recent examples, among many.
Imagine yourself, as a juror, deciding on the fate of a celebrity. Would you require them to have lost all property, including the clothing on their backs, before intervening? Consider the next time you hear of a celebrity swindled from his or her fortune in a time of crisis and whether it would have been righteous to prevent it. We personally have, at times, argued for restraint in psychiatry’s desire to have more power. This concern extends not only to our ability to control people, but also our ability to force them into being subjected to psychotropic medications with well-known side effects.
At the same time, we remain cognizant of the magnified impact of adverse outcomes on public figures. John Hinckley Jr. did not attempt to murder a bystander; he attempted to kill the president of the United States when he shot at President Ronald Reagan in 1981. That incident led to considerable changes in our laws about insanity. More recently, society was particularly affected by Tom Hanks’ COVID-19 diagnosis. Mr. Hanks’ illness led to scientifically measurable changes in the public’s beliefs regarding the pandemic.3
On the other hand, and of equal importance to the desire to protect public figures from adverse events, is the risk that those same laws intended to protect will harm. From unsanitary asylums to disproportionate placements of minorities on psychiatric holds, we are concerned with unbridled control in the hands of those meant to cure and care. Sadly, there is also a cinematic genre of unprincipled and detrimental mental health treatment, from Brian Wilson’s treatment by his psychologist documented in “Love & Mercy,” to the upcoming “The Shrink Next Door,” featuring a psychiatrist swindling his patient.
With this additional understanding and analysis, we now ask our colleagues what it would take for them to intervene. Would a celebrity losing $100,000,000 because of mental illness constitute a form of grave disability despite remaining dressed? Would a celebrity engaging in significant drug use constitute a form of self-harm despite still recording albums? Would a celebrity failing to fulfill a social commitment to others, including children, constitute a form of harm to others? Those are not trivial questions to answer, and we are glad the Goldwater Rule reminds us of the limitations of speculating on people we do not know.
Nonetheless, the question of conservatorship is more complex than simply saying: “They make money; they have clothes on; this is absurd.” While this may be a catchy, compelling, and relevant argument, when confronted with a more complete narrative, triers of facts may feel compelled to intervene because, in the end, conservatorship laws are about what society is willing to accept rather than an enumeration of psychiatric symptoms.
Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research.
References
1. Badre N et al. “Coercion and the critical psychiatrist.” In Critical Psychiatry. Springer, Cham, 2019. doi: 10.1007/97-3-030-02732-2_7.
2. Barnes SS and Badre N. Psychiatr Serv. 2016 Jul 1;67(7)784-6.
3. Myrick JG and Willoughby JF. Health Commun. 2021 Jan 14;1-9.
If you are a psychiatrist who has done a public lecture in the past year, you likely encountered the question, “What about Britney’s conservatorship?” Many psychiatrists are far removed from conservatorship evaluations, doing the different yet still important work of alleviating mental suffering without paddling in the controversial waters of involuntary treatment. Others judiciously hide behind the veil of the prudent Goldwater Rule in avoiding such discussions altogether. Regardless of whether psychiatry attempts to stay out of such affairs publicly, our field remains intimately involved in the process itself. This can lead to negative views of psychiatry among the public – that of a medical specialty with ulterior motives operating at the behest of the state.
Some psychiatrists simplistically advocate against any form of involuntary treatment.1 In many ways, this may appear noble. However, the reality of mental illness, with its potential harm to self and others, introduces the potential for dire consequences of such a position. If society is unwilling to accept behavior that may lead to harm, but psychiatry is unwilling to intervene, then other avenues of restricting such behavior will emerge. Those avenues traditionally have included conscription of law enforcement and the incarceration of patients with mental illness.
Yet, therein lies the conundrum of Ms. Spears and other celebrities on conservatorship. At face value, they do not appear to require conservatorship. We do not think it violates the Goldwater Rule to render this observation. In fact, it may reassure the public if the American Psychiatric Association, as well as individual psychiatrists, were more open about the goal, intent, and limitations of conservatorships.
The process of establishing conservatorships is not driven solely by mental health professionals. Rather, conservatorship laws permit society to enact, through psychiatrists, its desire to alleviate behaviors considered unacceptable in the context of mental illness.
In California, it has resulted in our famous or infamous “5150,” which asks psychiatrists to comment on the danger to self, danger to others, and grave disability of our patients. It can be helpful to frame these criteria regarding the relationship between society and our patients. The criteria of danger to self represents society’s wish to intervene in cases of patients with imminent intent of self-harm, operating under the presumption that a suicide can be prevented. Danger to others represents the societal angst, at times exaggerated,2 about people with mental illness perpetuating homicides, especially when off their medication. Grave disability represents public shame at the thought of persons so lost to mental illness they are unable to provide for themselves or even accept food, clothing, and shelter.
While an involuntary hold is necessary at times, working against our patients engenders revolting feelings. We often rationalize involuntary holds as illustrative of sincere compassion for our patients’ suffering and an attempt to lift them out of such tragic conditions. Our patients regularly do not feel our compassion when we are making an argument in a hearing for the restriction of their rights. They see our efforts as an attempt to lock them away “for their own good” because of society’s discomfort with homelessness. As such, we wonder whether our role becomes one of doctors for society, prescribing a treatment for the emotional distress of the community, and at times for ourselves, rather than that of the patient.
One may be perplexed as to how a celebrity could be considered gravely disabled. Celebrities generally have enough income to afford food, clothing, and shelter. One could justifiably ask why an individual with no history of violence would be considered a danger to others. Similarly, one may wonder how, in the absence of any reported attempts to engage in self-harm, with no visible marks of self-harm, someone is determined to be a danger to himself or herself. The bafflement on the part of one on the outside of these determinations can be sharply contrasted by the desperation felt by family members whose loved ones with mental illness appear to meet those criteria yet are consistently turned away by mental health programs and hospitals.
Not uncommonly, it is families advocating for involuntary hospitalization – while lamenting our strict criteria – that prevent doctors from intervening until some tragic fate befalls their loved ones. They criticize what they consider to be too-stringent mental health laws and are infuriated by seemingly obtuse insurance policies limiting care to patients. Most of our colleagues working with those who have severe mental illness share the frustration of these families over the scarcity of psychiatry beds. Therefore, it is particularly shocking when the most mediatized story about conservatorship is not about how hard it is to obtain. The story is about a singer who was seemingly safe, caring for herself, and yet still ended up on a conservatorship.
We wonder whether there is a question of magnitude. Are homeless patients more difficult to place on conservatorship because society sees a lesser stake? One could argue that Ms. Spears and other celebrities would have so much to lose in a single episode of mental illness. A week with mania or psychosis could cause irreparable damage to their persona, opportunity for employment, and their fortune. On the contrary, many of our patients on conservatorship have little to their names, and no one keeping up on their reputation. Triers of facts should ask themselves about the nature of their motivations. Envy, a desire to live vicariously through celebrities, or even less ethical motivations – such as a desire to control and exert authority over those individuals – can influence our decisions.
Throughout the past year, when asked about Ms. Spears, we have pointed out the obvious – she seemingly has a life incompatible with meeting criteria for a psychiatric conservatorship. We have outlined the role, history, and limitations of psychiatric conservatorship. We have shared how such cases are often approached, when required for our own patients or when asked by the court to do so. We have discussed the significant oversight of the system, including the public conservator’s office, which frequently refuses petitions outright. There are hearing officers, who, in the early stages of this process, weigh our case against that of the patients, aided by passionately driven patient advocates. There is the public defender’s office, which, at least in San Diego, vigorously defends the rights of those with mental illness. Most importantly, there are judges who adjudicate those cases with diligence and humility.
As the story has continued to be in the news, we have had numerous conversations about Ms. Spears’ conservatorship with colleagues sharing strong opinions on her case. Many of these colleagues do not have forensic practices and we inevitably find ourselves responding along the lines of, “It is easy to say this, but quite a different thing to prove it in court.” It is hard not to imagine testifying in such a high-profile conservatorship case; testifying, in front of jurors, about a celebrity who may have engaged in what some considered to be unusual behavior.
Conservatorship laws are not about the minutia or criteria of a specific mental health disorder. Patients do not meet criteria for conservatorship by having a certain number of delusional thoughts or a specific type of hallucination. Patients meet criteria for conservatorship because of state-enacted laws based on social factors – such as danger and self-care – the population wishes to treat, even if against the will of those treated. Under this light, one must recognize that a conservatorship trial is not just about mental illness but about how society wants to care for human beings. Psychiatric illness itself is not grounds for conservatorship. Oftentimes, severely ill patients win a hearing for grave disability by simply accepting a referral for housing, showing up to court clothed, and eating the meals provided at the hospital.
With understanding that these laws pertain specifically to behaviors resulting from mental illness that society finds unacceptable, the narrative of a celebrity conservatorship can be considered differently. The stories of celebrities being used and abused by deleterious beings and deleterious conditions have become a genre. Paul Prenter’s treatment of Freddie Mercury documented in the 2018 movie “Bohemian Rhapsody” and John Reid’s alleged betrayal of Elton John, who was suffering from a substance use disorder, documented in the 2019 movie “Rocketman,” are recent examples, among many.
Imagine yourself, as a juror, deciding on the fate of a celebrity. Would you require them to have lost all property, including the clothing on their backs, before intervening? Consider the next time you hear of a celebrity swindled from his or her fortune in a time of crisis and whether it would have been righteous to prevent it. We personally have, at times, argued for restraint in psychiatry’s desire to have more power. This concern extends not only to our ability to control people, but also our ability to force them into being subjected to psychotropic medications with well-known side effects.
At the same time, we remain cognizant of the magnified impact of adverse outcomes on public figures. John Hinckley Jr. did not attempt to murder a bystander; he attempted to kill the president of the United States when he shot at President Ronald Reagan in 1981. That incident led to considerable changes in our laws about insanity. More recently, society was particularly affected by Tom Hanks’ COVID-19 diagnosis. Mr. Hanks’ illness led to scientifically measurable changes in the public’s beliefs regarding the pandemic.3
On the other hand, and of equal importance to the desire to protect public figures from adverse events, is the risk that those same laws intended to protect will harm. From unsanitary asylums to disproportionate placements of minorities on psychiatric holds, we are concerned with unbridled control in the hands of those meant to cure and care. Sadly, there is also a cinematic genre of unprincipled and detrimental mental health treatment, from Brian Wilson’s treatment by his psychologist documented in “Love & Mercy,” to the upcoming “The Shrink Next Door,” featuring a psychiatrist swindling his patient.
With this additional understanding and analysis, we now ask our colleagues what it would take for them to intervene. Would a celebrity losing $100,000,000 because of mental illness constitute a form of grave disability despite remaining dressed? Would a celebrity engaging in significant drug use constitute a form of self-harm despite still recording albums? Would a celebrity failing to fulfill a social commitment to others, including children, constitute a form of harm to others? Those are not trivial questions to answer, and we are glad the Goldwater Rule reminds us of the limitations of speculating on people we do not know.
Nonetheless, the question of conservatorship is more complex than simply saying: “They make money; they have clothes on; this is absurd.” While this may be a catchy, compelling, and relevant argument, when confronted with a more complete narrative, triers of facts may feel compelled to intervene because, in the end, conservatorship laws are about what society is willing to accept rather than an enumeration of psychiatric symptoms.
Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research.
References
1. Badre N et al. “Coercion and the critical psychiatrist.” In Critical Psychiatry. Springer, Cham, 2019. doi: 10.1007/97-3-030-02732-2_7.
2. Barnes SS and Badre N. Psychiatr Serv. 2016 Jul 1;67(7)784-6.
3. Myrick JG and Willoughby JF. Health Commun. 2021 Jan 14;1-9.
If you are a psychiatrist who has done a public lecture in the past year, you likely encountered the question, “What about Britney’s conservatorship?” Many psychiatrists are far removed from conservatorship evaluations, doing the different yet still important work of alleviating mental suffering without paddling in the controversial waters of involuntary treatment. Others judiciously hide behind the veil of the prudent Goldwater Rule in avoiding such discussions altogether. Regardless of whether psychiatry attempts to stay out of such affairs publicly, our field remains intimately involved in the process itself. This can lead to negative views of psychiatry among the public – that of a medical specialty with ulterior motives operating at the behest of the state.
Some psychiatrists simplistically advocate against any form of involuntary treatment.1 In many ways, this may appear noble. However, the reality of mental illness, with its potential harm to self and others, introduces the potential for dire consequences of such a position. If society is unwilling to accept behavior that may lead to harm, but psychiatry is unwilling to intervene, then other avenues of restricting such behavior will emerge. Those avenues traditionally have included conscription of law enforcement and the incarceration of patients with mental illness.
Yet, therein lies the conundrum of Ms. Spears and other celebrities on conservatorship. At face value, they do not appear to require conservatorship. We do not think it violates the Goldwater Rule to render this observation. In fact, it may reassure the public if the American Psychiatric Association, as well as individual psychiatrists, were more open about the goal, intent, and limitations of conservatorships.
The process of establishing conservatorships is not driven solely by mental health professionals. Rather, conservatorship laws permit society to enact, through psychiatrists, its desire to alleviate behaviors considered unacceptable in the context of mental illness.
In California, it has resulted in our famous or infamous “5150,” which asks psychiatrists to comment on the danger to self, danger to others, and grave disability of our patients. It can be helpful to frame these criteria regarding the relationship between society and our patients. The criteria of danger to self represents society’s wish to intervene in cases of patients with imminent intent of self-harm, operating under the presumption that a suicide can be prevented. Danger to others represents the societal angst, at times exaggerated,2 about people with mental illness perpetuating homicides, especially when off their medication. Grave disability represents public shame at the thought of persons so lost to mental illness they are unable to provide for themselves or even accept food, clothing, and shelter.
While an involuntary hold is necessary at times, working against our patients engenders revolting feelings. We often rationalize involuntary holds as illustrative of sincere compassion for our patients’ suffering and an attempt to lift them out of such tragic conditions. Our patients regularly do not feel our compassion when we are making an argument in a hearing for the restriction of their rights. They see our efforts as an attempt to lock them away “for their own good” because of society’s discomfort with homelessness. As such, we wonder whether our role becomes one of doctors for society, prescribing a treatment for the emotional distress of the community, and at times for ourselves, rather than that of the patient.
One may be perplexed as to how a celebrity could be considered gravely disabled. Celebrities generally have enough income to afford food, clothing, and shelter. One could justifiably ask why an individual with no history of violence would be considered a danger to others. Similarly, one may wonder how, in the absence of any reported attempts to engage in self-harm, with no visible marks of self-harm, someone is determined to be a danger to himself or herself. The bafflement on the part of one on the outside of these determinations can be sharply contrasted by the desperation felt by family members whose loved ones with mental illness appear to meet those criteria yet are consistently turned away by mental health programs and hospitals.
Not uncommonly, it is families advocating for involuntary hospitalization – while lamenting our strict criteria – that prevent doctors from intervening until some tragic fate befalls their loved ones. They criticize what they consider to be too-stringent mental health laws and are infuriated by seemingly obtuse insurance policies limiting care to patients. Most of our colleagues working with those who have severe mental illness share the frustration of these families over the scarcity of psychiatry beds. Therefore, it is particularly shocking when the most mediatized story about conservatorship is not about how hard it is to obtain. The story is about a singer who was seemingly safe, caring for herself, and yet still ended up on a conservatorship.
We wonder whether there is a question of magnitude. Are homeless patients more difficult to place on conservatorship because society sees a lesser stake? One could argue that Ms. Spears and other celebrities would have so much to lose in a single episode of mental illness. A week with mania or psychosis could cause irreparable damage to their persona, opportunity for employment, and their fortune. On the contrary, many of our patients on conservatorship have little to their names, and no one keeping up on their reputation. Triers of facts should ask themselves about the nature of their motivations. Envy, a desire to live vicariously through celebrities, or even less ethical motivations – such as a desire to control and exert authority over those individuals – can influence our decisions.
Throughout the past year, when asked about Ms. Spears, we have pointed out the obvious – she seemingly has a life incompatible with meeting criteria for a psychiatric conservatorship. We have outlined the role, history, and limitations of psychiatric conservatorship. We have shared how such cases are often approached, when required for our own patients or when asked by the court to do so. We have discussed the significant oversight of the system, including the public conservator’s office, which frequently refuses petitions outright. There are hearing officers, who, in the early stages of this process, weigh our case against that of the patients, aided by passionately driven patient advocates. There is the public defender’s office, which, at least in San Diego, vigorously defends the rights of those with mental illness. Most importantly, there are judges who adjudicate those cases with diligence and humility.
As the story has continued to be in the news, we have had numerous conversations about Ms. Spears’ conservatorship with colleagues sharing strong opinions on her case. Many of these colleagues do not have forensic practices and we inevitably find ourselves responding along the lines of, “It is easy to say this, but quite a different thing to prove it in court.” It is hard not to imagine testifying in such a high-profile conservatorship case; testifying, in front of jurors, about a celebrity who may have engaged in what some considered to be unusual behavior.
Conservatorship laws are not about the minutia or criteria of a specific mental health disorder. Patients do not meet criteria for conservatorship by having a certain number of delusional thoughts or a specific type of hallucination. Patients meet criteria for conservatorship because of state-enacted laws based on social factors – such as danger and self-care – the population wishes to treat, even if against the will of those treated. Under this light, one must recognize that a conservatorship trial is not just about mental illness but about how society wants to care for human beings. Psychiatric illness itself is not grounds for conservatorship. Oftentimes, severely ill patients win a hearing for grave disability by simply accepting a referral for housing, showing up to court clothed, and eating the meals provided at the hospital.
With understanding that these laws pertain specifically to behaviors resulting from mental illness that society finds unacceptable, the narrative of a celebrity conservatorship can be considered differently. The stories of celebrities being used and abused by deleterious beings and deleterious conditions have become a genre. Paul Prenter’s treatment of Freddie Mercury documented in the 2018 movie “Bohemian Rhapsody” and John Reid’s alleged betrayal of Elton John, who was suffering from a substance use disorder, documented in the 2019 movie “Rocketman,” are recent examples, among many.
Imagine yourself, as a juror, deciding on the fate of a celebrity. Would you require them to have lost all property, including the clothing on their backs, before intervening? Consider the next time you hear of a celebrity swindled from his or her fortune in a time of crisis and whether it would have been righteous to prevent it. We personally have, at times, argued for restraint in psychiatry’s desire to have more power. This concern extends not only to our ability to control people, but also our ability to force them into being subjected to psychotropic medications with well-known side effects.
At the same time, we remain cognizant of the magnified impact of adverse outcomes on public figures. John Hinckley Jr. did not attempt to murder a bystander; he attempted to kill the president of the United States when he shot at President Ronald Reagan in 1981. That incident led to considerable changes in our laws about insanity. More recently, society was particularly affected by Tom Hanks’ COVID-19 diagnosis. Mr. Hanks’ illness led to scientifically measurable changes in the public’s beliefs regarding the pandemic.3
On the other hand, and of equal importance to the desire to protect public figures from adverse events, is the risk that those same laws intended to protect will harm. From unsanitary asylums to disproportionate placements of minorities on psychiatric holds, we are concerned with unbridled control in the hands of those meant to cure and care. Sadly, there is also a cinematic genre of unprincipled and detrimental mental health treatment, from Brian Wilson’s treatment by his psychologist documented in “Love & Mercy,” to the upcoming “The Shrink Next Door,” featuring a psychiatrist swindling his patient.
With this additional understanding and analysis, we now ask our colleagues what it would take for them to intervene. Would a celebrity losing $100,000,000 because of mental illness constitute a form of grave disability despite remaining dressed? Would a celebrity engaging in significant drug use constitute a form of self-harm despite still recording albums? Would a celebrity failing to fulfill a social commitment to others, including children, constitute a form of harm to others? Those are not trivial questions to answer, and we are glad the Goldwater Rule reminds us of the limitations of speculating on people we do not know.
Nonetheless, the question of conservatorship is more complex than simply saying: “They make money; they have clothes on; this is absurd.” While this may be a catchy, compelling, and relevant argument, when confronted with a more complete narrative, triers of facts may feel compelled to intervene because, in the end, conservatorship laws are about what society is willing to accept rather than an enumeration of psychiatric symptoms.
Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Compton is a psychiatry resident at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research.
References
1. Badre N et al. “Coercion and the critical psychiatrist.” In Critical Psychiatry. Springer, Cham, 2019. doi: 10.1007/97-3-030-02732-2_7.
2. Barnes SS and Badre N. Psychiatr Serv. 2016 Jul 1;67(7)784-6.
3. Myrick JG and Willoughby JF. Health Commun. 2021 Jan 14;1-9.