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Sometimes well-intended mental health treatment hurts
We love psychiatry. We love the idea that someone can come to receive care from a physician to alleviate psychological suffering.
Some people experience such severe anguish that they are unable to relate to others. Some are so despondent that they are unable to make decisions. Some are so distressed that their thoughts become inconsistent with reality. We want all those people, and many more, to have access to effective psychiatric care. However, there are reasonable expectations that one should be able to have that a treatment will help, and that appropriate informed consent is given.
One recent article reminded us of this in a particularly poignant way.
The study in question is a recent publication looking at the universal use of psychotherapy for teenagers.1 At face value, we would have certainly considered this to be a benevolent and well-meaning intervention. Anyone who has been a teenager or has talked to one, is aware of the emotional instability punctuated by episodes of intense anxiety or irritability. It is age appropriate for a teenager to question and explore their identity. Teenagers are notoriously impulsive with a deep desire for validating interpersonal relationships. One could continue to list the symptoms of borderline personality disorder (BPD) and find a lot of similarity with the condition of transitioning from a child to an adult.
It is thus common sense to consider applying the most established therapy for BPD, dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), to teenagers. The basics of DBT would seem to be helpful to anyone but appear particularly appropriate to this population. Mindfulness, the practice of paying attention to your present experience, allows one to realize that they are trapped in past or hypothetical future moments. Emotional regulation provides the tools that offer a frame for our feelings and involves recognizing feelings and understanding what they mean. Interpersonal work allows one to recognize and adapt to the feelings of others, while learning how to have a healthy voice with others. Distress tolerance is the exercise of learning to experience and contain our feelings.
The study looked at about 1,000 young adolescents, around 13 years old across high schools in Sydney, Australia: 598 adolescents were allocated to the intervention, and 566 to the control. The intervention consisted of eight weekly sessions of DBT lasting about 50 minutes. The results were “contrary to predictions.” Participants who received DBT “reported significantly increased total difficulties,” and “significant increases in depression and anxiety.” The effects were worse in males yet significant in both genders. The study concludes with “a reminder that present enthusiasm for universal dissemination of short-term DBT-based group skills training within schools, specifically in early adolescence, is ahead of the research evidence.”
We can’t help but wonder why the outcomes of the study were this way; here are some ideas:
• Society has natural ways of developing interpersonal skills, emotional regulation, and the ability to appreciate the present. Interpersonal skills are consistently fostered and tested in schools. Navigating high school parties, the process of organizing them, and getting invited to them requires significant social dexterity. Rejection from romantic interest, alienation from peers, rewards for accomplishment, and acceptance by other peers are some of the daily emotional obstacles that teenagers face. Being constantly taught by older individuals and scolded by parents is its own course in mindfulness. Those are few of the many natural processes of interpersonal growth that formalized therapy may impede.
• The universal discussion of psychological terms and psychiatric symptoms may not only destigmatize mental illness, but also normalize and possibly even promote it. While punishing or stigmatizing a child for having mental illness is obviously unacceptable and cruel, we do wonder if the compulsory psychotherapy may provide negative effects. Psychotherapies, especially manualized ones, were developed to alleviate mental suffering. It seems possible that this format normalizes pathology.
In 1961, Erving Goffman described the concept of sane people appearing insane in an asylum as “mortification.” In 2023, we have much improved, but have we done something to internalize patterns of suffering and alienation rather than dispel them? They are given forms that explain what the feeling of depression is when they may have never considered it. They are given tools to handle distress, when distress may not be present.
• Many human beings live on a fairly tight rope of suppression and the less adaptive repression. Suppression is the defense mechanism by which individuals make an effort to put distressing thoughts out of conscious awareness. After a difficult breakup a teenager may ask some friends to go out and watch a movie, making efforts to put negative feelings out of conscious awareness until there is an opportunity to cope adaptively with those stressors.
Repression is the defense mechanism by which individuals make an effort to prevent distressing thoughts from entering conscious awareness in the first place. After a difficult breakup a teenager acts like nothing happened. While not particularly adaptive, many people live with significant repression and without particular anguish. It is possible that uncovering all of those repressed and suppressed feelings through the exploratory work of therapy may destabilize individuals from their tight rope.
• A less problematic explanation could also be what was previously referred to as therapeutic regression. In psychoanalytic theory, patients are generally thought to have a compromise formation, a psychological strategy used to reconcile conflicting drives. The compromise formation is the way a patient balances their desires against moral expectations and the realities of the external world. In therapy, that compromise formation can be challenged, leading to therapeutic regression.
By uncovering and confronting deeply rooted feelings, a patient may find that their symptoms temporarily intensify. This may not be a problem, but a necessary step to growth in some patients. It is possible that a program longer than 8 weeks would have overcome a temporary worsening in outcome measures.
While it’s easy to highlight the darker moments in psychiatric history, psychiatry has grown into a field which offers well-accepted and uncontroversially promoted forms of treatment. This is evolution, exemplified by the mere consideration of the universal use of psychotherapy for teenagers. But this raises important questions about the potential unintended consequences of normalizing and formalizing therapy. It prompted us to reflect on whether psychiatric treatment is always the best solution and if it might, at times, impede natural processes of growth and coping.
In this context, the study on universal DBT-based group skills training for teenagers challenged our assumptions. The unexpected outcomes suggest that societal and educational systems may naturally foster many of the skills that formalized therapy seeks to provide, and may do so with greater efficacy than that which prescriptive psychiatric treatments have to offer. Moreover, the universal discussion of psychiatric symptoms may not only destigmatize mental illness but also normalize it, potentially leading to unnecessary pathology.
Finally, the study prompted us to consider the fine balance that people find themselves in, questioning whether we should be so certain that our interventions can always provide a better outcome than an individual’s current coping mechanisms. These findings serve as a valuable reminder that our enthusiasm for widespread psychiatric interventions should be tempered by rigorous research and a nuanced understanding of human psychology and development.
This study could be an example of the grandiose stance psychiatry has at times taken of late, suggesting the field has an intervention for all that ails you and can serve as a corrective to society’s maladaptive deviations. Rising rates of mental illness in the community are not interpreted as a failing of the field of psychiatry, but as evidence that we need more psychiatrists. Acts of gun violence, ever increasing rates suicides, and even political disagreements are met with the idea that if only we had more mental health capacity, this could be avoided.
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. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. ZoBell is a fourth-year senior resident at UCSD Psychiatry Residency Program. She is currently serving as the program’s Chief Resident at the VA San Diego on the inpatient psychiatric unit. Dr. ZoBell is interested in outpatient and emergency psychiatry as well as psychotherapy. Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Harvey, LJ, et al. Investigating the efficacy of a Dialectical behaviour therapy-based universal intervention on adolescent social and emotional well-being outcomes. Behav Res Ther. 2023 Oct. doi: 10.1016/j.brat.2023.104408.
We love psychiatry. We love the idea that someone can come to receive care from a physician to alleviate psychological suffering.
Some people experience such severe anguish that they are unable to relate to others. Some are so despondent that they are unable to make decisions. Some are so distressed that their thoughts become inconsistent with reality. We want all those people, and many more, to have access to effective psychiatric care. However, there are reasonable expectations that one should be able to have that a treatment will help, and that appropriate informed consent is given.
One recent article reminded us of this in a particularly poignant way.
The study in question is a recent publication looking at the universal use of psychotherapy for teenagers.1 At face value, we would have certainly considered this to be a benevolent and well-meaning intervention. Anyone who has been a teenager or has talked to one, is aware of the emotional instability punctuated by episodes of intense anxiety or irritability. It is age appropriate for a teenager to question and explore their identity. Teenagers are notoriously impulsive with a deep desire for validating interpersonal relationships. One could continue to list the symptoms of borderline personality disorder (BPD) and find a lot of similarity with the condition of transitioning from a child to an adult.
It is thus common sense to consider applying the most established therapy for BPD, dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), to teenagers. The basics of DBT would seem to be helpful to anyone but appear particularly appropriate to this population. Mindfulness, the practice of paying attention to your present experience, allows one to realize that they are trapped in past or hypothetical future moments. Emotional regulation provides the tools that offer a frame for our feelings and involves recognizing feelings and understanding what they mean. Interpersonal work allows one to recognize and adapt to the feelings of others, while learning how to have a healthy voice with others. Distress tolerance is the exercise of learning to experience and contain our feelings.
The study looked at about 1,000 young adolescents, around 13 years old across high schools in Sydney, Australia: 598 adolescents were allocated to the intervention, and 566 to the control. The intervention consisted of eight weekly sessions of DBT lasting about 50 minutes. The results were “contrary to predictions.” Participants who received DBT “reported significantly increased total difficulties,” and “significant increases in depression and anxiety.” The effects were worse in males yet significant in both genders. The study concludes with “a reminder that present enthusiasm for universal dissemination of short-term DBT-based group skills training within schools, specifically in early adolescence, is ahead of the research evidence.”
We can’t help but wonder why the outcomes of the study were this way; here are some ideas:
• Society has natural ways of developing interpersonal skills, emotional regulation, and the ability to appreciate the present. Interpersonal skills are consistently fostered and tested in schools. Navigating high school parties, the process of organizing them, and getting invited to them requires significant social dexterity. Rejection from romantic interest, alienation from peers, rewards for accomplishment, and acceptance by other peers are some of the daily emotional obstacles that teenagers face. Being constantly taught by older individuals and scolded by parents is its own course in mindfulness. Those are few of the many natural processes of interpersonal growth that formalized therapy may impede.
• The universal discussion of psychological terms and psychiatric symptoms may not only destigmatize mental illness, but also normalize and possibly even promote it. While punishing or stigmatizing a child for having mental illness is obviously unacceptable and cruel, we do wonder if the compulsory psychotherapy may provide negative effects. Psychotherapies, especially manualized ones, were developed to alleviate mental suffering. It seems possible that this format normalizes pathology.
In 1961, Erving Goffman described the concept of sane people appearing insane in an asylum as “mortification.” In 2023, we have much improved, but have we done something to internalize patterns of suffering and alienation rather than dispel them? They are given forms that explain what the feeling of depression is when they may have never considered it. They are given tools to handle distress, when distress may not be present.
• Many human beings live on a fairly tight rope of suppression and the less adaptive repression. Suppression is the defense mechanism by which individuals make an effort to put distressing thoughts out of conscious awareness. After a difficult breakup a teenager may ask some friends to go out and watch a movie, making efforts to put negative feelings out of conscious awareness until there is an opportunity to cope adaptively with those stressors.
Repression is the defense mechanism by which individuals make an effort to prevent distressing thoughts from entering conscious awareness in the first place. After a difficult breakup a teenager acts like nothing happened. While not particularly adaptive, many people live with significant repression and without particular anguish. It is possible that uncovering all of those repressed and suppressed feelings through the exploratory work of therapy may destabilize individuals from their tight rope.
• A less problematic explanation could also be what was previously referred to as therapeutic regression. In psychoanalytic theory, patients are generally thought to have a compromise formation, a psychological strategy used to reconcile conflicting drives. The compromise formation is the way a patient balances their desires against moral expectations and the realities of the external world. In therapy, that compromise formation can be challenged, leading to therapeutic regression.
By uncovering and confronting deeply rooted feelings, a patient may find that their symptoms temporarily intensify. This may not be a problem, but a necessary step to growth in some patients. It is possible that a program longer than 8 weeks would have overcome a temporary worsening in outcome measures.
While it’s easy to highlight the darker moments in psychiatric history, psychiatry has grown into a field which offers well-accepted and uncontroversially promoted forms of treatment. This is evolution, exemplified by the mere consideration of the universal use of psychotherapy for teenagers. But this raises important questions about the potential unintended consequences of normalizing and formalizing therapy. It prompted us to reflect on whether psychiatric treatment is always the best solution and if it might, at times, impede natural processes of growth and coping.
In this context, the study on universal DBT-based group skills training for teenagers challenged our assumptions. The unexpected outcomes suggest that societal and educational systems may naturally foster many of the skills that formalized therapy seeks to provide, and may do so with greater efficacy than that which prescriptive psychiatric treatments have to offer. Moreover, the universal discussion of psychiatric symptoms may not only destigmatize mental illness but also normalize it, potentially leading to unnecessary pathology.
Finally, the study prompted us to consider the fine balance that people find themselves in, questioning whether we should be so certain that our interventions can always provide a better outcome than an individual’s current coping mechanisms. These findings serve as a valuable reminder that our enthusiasm for widespread psychiatric interventions should be tempered by rigorous research and a nuanced understanding of human psychology and development.
This study could be an example of the grandiose stance psychiatry has at times taken of late, suggesting the field has an intervention for all that ails you and can serve as a corrective to society’s maladaptive deviations. Rising rates of mental illness in the community are not interpreted as a failing of the field of psychiatry, but as evidence that we need more psychiatrists. Acts of gun violence, ever increasing rates suicides, and even political disagreements are met with the idea that if only we had more mental health capacity, this could be avoided.
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. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. ZoBell is a fourth-year senior resident at UCSD Psychiatry Residency Program. She is currently serving as the program’s Chief Resident at the VA San Diego on the inpatient psychiatric unit. Dr. ZoBell is interested in outpatient and emergency psychiatry as well as psychotherapy. Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Harvey, LJ, et al. Investigating the efficacy of a Dialectical behaviour therapy-based universal intervention on adolescent social and emotional well-being outcomes. Behav Res Ther. 2023 Oct. doi: 10.1016/j.brat.2023.104408.
We love psychiatry. We love the idea that someone can come to receive care from a physician to alleviate psychological suffering.
Some people experience such severe anguish that they are unable to relate to others. Some are so despondent that they are unable to make decisions. Some are so distressed that their thoughts become inconsistent with reality. We want all those people, and many more, to have access to effective psychiatric care. However, there are reasonable expectations that one should be able to have that a treatment will help, and that appropriate informed consent is given.
One recent article reminded us of this in a particularly poignant way.
The study in question is a recent publication looking at the universal use of psychotherapy for teenagers.1 At face value, we would have certainly considered this to be a benevolent and well-meaning intervention. Anyone who has been a teenager or has talked to one, is aware of the emotional instability punctuated by episodes of intense anxiety or irritability. It is age appropriate for a teenager to question and explore their identity. Teenagers are notoriously impulsive with a deep desire for validating interpersonal relationships. One could continue to list the symptoms of borderline personality disorder (BPD) and find a lot of similarity with the condition of transitioning from a child to an adult.
It is thus common sense to consider applying the most established therapy for BPD, dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), to teenagers. The basics of DBT would seem to be helpful to anyone but appear particularly appropriate to this population. Mindfulness, the practice of paying attention to your present experience, allows one to realize that they are trapped in past or hypothetical future moments. Emotional regulation provides the tools that offer a frame for our feelings and involves recognizing feelings and understanding what they mean. Interpersonal work allows one to recognize and adapt to the feelings of others, while learning how to have a healthy voice with others. Distress tolerance is the exercise of learning to experience and contain our feelings.
The study looked at about 1,000 young adolescents, around 13 years old across high schools in Sydney, Australia: 598 adolescents were allocated to the intervention, and 566 to the control. The intervention consisted of eight weekly sessions of DBT lasting about 50 minutes. The results were “contrary to predictions.” Participants who received DBT “reported significantly increased total difficulties,” and “significant increases in depression and anxiety.” The effects were worse in males yet significant in both genders. The study concludes with “a reminder that present enthusiasm for universal dissemination of short-term DBT-based group skills training within schools, specifically in early adolescence, is ahead of the research evidence.”
We can’t help but wonder why the outcomes of the study were this way; here are some ideas:
• Society has natural ways of developing interpersonal skills, emotional regulation, and the ability to appreciate the present. Interpersonal skills are consistently fostered and tested in schools. Navigating high school parties, the process of organizing them, and getting invited to them requires significant social dexterity. Rejection from romantic interest, alienation from peers, rewards for accomplishment, and acceptance by other peers are some of the daily emotional obstacles that teenagers face. Being constantly taught by older individuals and scolded by parents is its own course in mindfulness. Those are few of the many natural processes of interpersonal growth that formalized therapy may impede.
• The universal discussion of psychological terms and psychiatric symptoms may not only destigmatize mental illness, but also normalize and possibly even promote it. While punishing or stigmatizing a child for having mental illness is obviously unacceptable and cruel, we do wonder if the compulsory psychotherapy may provide negative effects. Psychotherapies, especially manualized ones, were developed to alleviate mental suffering. It seems possible that this format normalizes pathology.
In 1961, Erving Goffman described the concept of sane people appearing insane in an asylum as “mortification.” In 2023, we have much improved, but have we done something to internalize patterns of suffering and alienation rather than dispel them? They are given forms that explain what the feeling of depression is when they may have never considered it. They are given tools to handle distress, when distress may not be present.
• Many human beings live on a fairly tight rope of suppression and the less adaptive repression. Suppression is the defense mechanism by which individuals make an effort to put distressing thoughts out of conscious awareness. After a difficult breakup a teenager may ask some friends to go out and watch a movie, making efforts to put negative feelings out of conscious awareness until there is an opportunity to cope adaptively with those stressors.
Repression is the defense mechanism by which individuals make an effort to prevent distressing thoughts from entering conscious awareness in the first place. After a difficult breakup a teenager acts like nothing happened. While not particularly adaptive, many people live with significant repression and without particular anguish. It is possible that uncovering all of those repressed and suppressed feelings through the exploratory work of therapy may destabilize individuals from their tight rope.
• A less problematic explanation could also be what was previously referred to as therapeutic regression. In psychoanalytic theory, patients are generally thought to have a compromise formation, a psychological strategy used to reconcile conflicting drives. The compromise formation is the way a patient balances their desires against moral expectations and the realities of the external world. In therapy, that compromise formation can be challenged, leading to therapeutic regression.
By uncovering and confronting deeply rooted feelings, a patient may find that their symptoms temporarily intensify. This may not be a problem, but a necessary step to growth in some patients. It is possible that a program longer than 8 weeks would have overcome a temporary worsening in outcome measures.
While it’s easy to highlight the darker moments in psychiatric history, psychiatry has grown into a field which offers well-accepted and uncontroversially promoted forms of treatment. This is evolution, exemplified by the mere consideration of the universal use of psychotherapy for teenagers. But this raises important questions about the potential unintended consequences of normalizing and formalizing therapy. It prompted us to reflect on whether psychiatric treatment is always the best solution and if it might, at times, impede natural processes of growth and coping.
In this context, the study on universal DBT-based group skills training for teenagers challenged our assumptions. The unexpected outcomes suggest that societal and educational systems may naturally foster many of the skills that formalized therapy seeks to provide, and may do so with greater efficacy than that which prescriptive psychiatric treatments have to offer. Moreover, the universal discussion of psychiatric symptoms may not only destigmatize mental illness but also normalize it, potentially leading to unnecessary pathology.
Finally, the study prompted us to consider the fine balance that people find themselves in, questioning whether we should be so certain that our interventions can always provide a better outcome than an individual’s current coping mechanisms. These findings serve as a valuable reminder that our enthusiasm for widespread psychiatric interventions should be tempered by rigorous research and a nuanced understanding of human psychology and development.
This study could be an example of the grandiose stance psychiatry has at times taken of late, suggesting the field has an intervention for all that ails you and can serve as a corrective to society’s maladaptive deviations. Rising rates of mental illness in the community are not interpreted as a failing of the field of psychiatry, but as evidence that we need more psychiatrists. Acts of gun violence, ever increasing rates suicides, and even political disagreements are met with the idea that if only we had more mental health capacity, this could be avoided.
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. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. ZoBell is a fourth-year senior resident at UCSD Psychiatry Residency Program. She is currently serving as the program’s Chief Resident at the VA San Diego on the inpatient psychiatric unit. Dr. ZoBell is interested in outpatient and emergency psychiatry as well as psychotherapy. Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Harvey, LJ, et al. Investigating the efficacy of a Dialectical behaviour therapy-based universal intervention on adolescent social and emotional well-being outcomes. Behav Res Ther. 2023 Oct. doi: 10.1016/j.brat.2023.104408.
The cult of the suicide risk assessment
Suicide is not a trivial matter – it upends families, robs partners of a loved one, prevents children from having a parent, and can destroy a parent’s most cherished being. It is not surprising that societies have repeatedly made it a goal to study and reduce suicide within their populations.
The suicide rate in the United States is trending upward, from about 10 per 100,000 in 2000 to about 15 per 100,000 in more recent reports. The increasing suicide rates have been accompanied by increasing distress among many strata of society. From a public health level, analysts are not just witnessing increasing suicide rates, but a shocking rise in all “deaths of despair,”1 among which suicide can be considered the ultimate example.
On an individual level, many know someone who has died of suicide or suffered from a serious suicide attempt. From the public health level to the individual level, advocacy has called for various interventions in the field of psychiatry to remedy this tragic problem.
Psychiatrists have been firsthand witnesses to this increasing demand for suicide interventions. When in residency, the norm was to perform a suicide risk assessment at the time of admission to the hospital and again at the time of discharge. As the years passed, the new normal within psychiatric hospitals has shifted to asking about suicidality on a daily basis.
In what seems to us like an escalating arms race, the emerging standard of care at many facilities is now not only for daily suicide risk assessments by each psychiatrist, but also to require nurses to ask about suicidality during every 8-hour shift – in addition to documented inquiries about suicidality by other allied staff on the psychiatric unit. As a result, it is not uncommon for a patient hospitalized at an academic center to receive more than half a dozen suicide risk assessments in a day (first by the medical student, at least once – often more than once – by the resident, again by the attending psychiatrist, then the social worker and three nurses in 24 hours).
One of the concerns about such an approach is the lack of logic inherent to many risk assessment tools and symptom scales. Many of us are familiar with the Patient Health Questionnaire (PHQ-9) to assess depression.2 The PHQ-9 asks to consider “over the last 2 weeks, how often have you ...” in relation to nine symptoms associated with depression. It has always defied reason to perform a PHQ-9 every day and expect the answers to change from “nearly every day” to “not at all,” considering only 1 day has passed since the last time the patient has answered the questions. Yet daily, or near daily, PHQ-9 scores are a frequently used tool of tracking symptom improvement in response to treatments, such as electroconvulsive therapy, performed multiple times a week.
One can argue that the patient’s perspective on how symptomatic he or she has been over the past 2 weeks may change rapidly with alleviation of a depressed mood. However, the PHQ-9 is both reported to be, and often regarded as, an objective score. If one wishes to utilize it as such, the defense of its use should not be that it is a subjective report with just as much utility as “Rate your depression on a scale of 0-27.”
Similarly, many suicide scales were intended to assess thoughts of suicide in the past month3 or have been re-tooled to address this particular concern by asking “since the last contact.”4 It is baffling to see a chart with many dozens of suicide risk assessments with at times widely differing answers, yet all measuring thoughts of suicide in the past month. Is one to expect the answer to “How many times have you had these thoughts [of suicide ideation]? (1) Less than once a week (2) Once a week ...” to change between 8 a.m. and noon? Furthermore, for the purpose of assessing acute risk of suicidality in the immediate future, to only consider symptoms since the last contact – or past 2 weeks, past month, etc. – is of unclear significance.
Provider liability
Another concern is the liability placed on providers. A common problem encountered in the inpatient setting is insurance companies refusing to reimburse a hospital stay for depressed patients denying suicidality.
Any provider in the position of caring for such a patient must ask: What is the likelihood of someone providing a false negative – a false denial of suicidality? Is the likelihood of a suicidal person denying suicidality different if asked 5 or 10 or more times in a day? There are innumerable instances where a patient at a very high risk of self-harm has denied suicidality, been discharged from the hospital, and suffered terrible consequences. Ethically, the psychiatrist aware of this risk is no more at ease discharging these patients, whether it is one suicide risk scale or a dozen that suggests a patient is at low risk.
Alternatively, it may feel untenable from a medicolegal perspective for a psychiatrist to discharge a patient denying suicidality when the chart includes over a dozen previously documented elevated suicide risk assessments in the past 72 hours. By placing the job of suicide risk assessment in the hands of providers of varying levels of training and responsibility, a situation is created in which the seasoned psychiatrist who would otherwise be comfortable discharging a patient feels unable to do so because every other note-writer in the record – from the triage nurse to the medical assistant to the sitter in the emergency department – has recorded the patient as high risk for suicide. When put in such a position, the thought often occurs that systems of care, rather than individual providers, are protected most by ever escalating requirements for suicide risk documentation. To make a clinical decision contrary to the body of suicide risk documentation puts the provider at risk of being scapegoated by the system of care, which can point to its illogical and ineffective, though profusely documented, suicide prevention protocols.
Limitations of risk assessments
Considering the ongoing rise in the use of suicide risk assessments, one would expect that the evidence for their efficacy was robust and well established. Yet a thorough review of suicide risk assessments funded by the MacArthur Foundation, which examined decades of research, came to disheartening conclusions: “predictive ability has not improved over the past 50 years”; “no risk factor category or subcategory is substantially stronger than any other”; and “predicting solely according to base rates may be comparable to prediction with current risk factors.”5
Those findings were consistent with the conclusions of many other studies, which have summarized the utility of suicide risk assessments as follows: “occurrence of suicide is too low to identify those individuals who are likely to die by suicide”;6 “suicide prediction models produce accurate overall classification models, but their accuracy of predicting a future event is near zero”;7 “risk stratification is too inaccurate to be clinically useful and might even be harmful”;8 “suicide risk prediction [lacks] any items or information that to a useful degree permit the identification of persons who will complete suicide”;9 “existing suicide prediction tools have little current clinical value”;10 “our current preoccupation with risk assessment has ... created a mythology with no evidence to support it.”11 And that’s to cite just a few.
Sadly, we have known about the limitations of suicide risk assessments for many decades. In 1983 a large VA prospective study, which aimed to identify veterans who will die by suicide, examined 4,800 patients with a wide range of instruments and measures.12 This study concluded that “discriminant analysis was clearly inadequate in correctly classifying the subjects. For an event as rare as suicide, our predictive tools and guides are simply not equal to the task.” The authors described the feelings of many in stating “courts and public opinion expect physicians to be able to pick out the particular persons who will later commit suicide. Although we may reconstruct causal chains and motives, we do not possess the tools to predict suicides.”
Yet, even several decades prior, in 1954, Dr. Albert Rosen performed an elegant statistical analysis and predicted that, considering the low base rate of suicide, suicide risk assessments are “of no practical value, for it would be impossible to treat the prodigious number of false positives.”13 It seems that we continue to be unable to accept Dr. Rosen’s premonition despite decades of confirmatory evidence.
“Quantity over quality”
Regardless of those sobering reports,
One can reasonably argue that the periodic performance of a suicide risk assessment may have clinical utility in reminding us of modifiable risk factors such as intoxication, social isolation, and access to lethal means. One can also reasonably argue that these risk assessments may provide useful education to patients and their families on epidemiological risk factors such as gender, age, and marital status. But our pursuit of serial suicide risk assessments throughout the day is encouraging providers to focus on a particular risk factor that changes from moment to moment and has particularly low validity, that being self-reported suicidality.
Reported suicidality is one of the few risk factors that can change from shift to shift. But 80% of people who die by suicide had not previously expressed suicidality, and 98.3% of people who have endorsed suicidality do not die by suicide.14 While the former statistic may improve with increased assessment, the later will likely worsen.
Suicide is not a trivial matter. We admire those that study it and advocate for better interventions. We have compassion for those who have suffered the loss of a loved one to suicide. Our patients have died as a result of the human limitations surrounding suicide prevention. Recognizing the weight of suicide and making an effort to avoid minimizing its immense consequences drive our desire to be honest with ourselves, our patients and their families, and society. That includes the unfortunate truth regarding the current state of the evidence and our ability to enact change.
It is our concern that the rising fascination with repeated suicide risk assessment is misguided in its current form and serves the purpose of appeasing administrators more than reflecting a scientific understanding of the literature. More sadly, we are concerned that this “quantity-over-quality” approach is yet another barrier to practicing what may be one of the few interventions with any hope of meaningfully impacting a patient’s risk of suicide in the clinical setting – spending time connecting with our patients.
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 member of the psychiatry faculty at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research. Dr. Badre and Dr. Compton have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Joint Economic Committee. (2019). Long Term Trends in Deaths of Despair. SCP Report 4-19.
2. Kroenke K and Spitzer RL. The PHQ-9: A new depression diagnostic and severity measure. Psychiatr Ann. 2013;32(9):509-15. doi: 10.3928/0048-5713-20020901-06.
3. Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS) Full Lifetime/Recent.
4. Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS) Full Since Last Contact.
5. Franklin JC et al. Risk factors for suicidal thoughts and behaviors: A meta-analysis of 50 years of research. Psychol Bull. 2017 Feb;143(2):187-232. doi: 10.1037/bul0000084.
6. Beautrais AL. Further suicidal behavior among medically serious suicide attempters. Suicide Life Threat Behav. 2004 Spring;34(1):1-11. doi: 10.1521/suli.34.1.1.27772.
7. Belsher BE. Prediction models for suicide attempts and deaths: A systematic review and simulation. JAMA Psychiatry. 2019 Jun 1;76(6):642-651. doi: 10.1001/jamapsychiatry.2019.0174.
8. Carter G et al. Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists clinical practice guideline for the management of deliberate self-harm. Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2016 Oct;50(10):939-1000. doi: 10.1177/0004867416661039.
9. Fosse R et al. Predictors of suicide in the patient population admitted to a locked-door psychiatric acute ward. PLoS One. 2017 Mar 16;12(3):e0173958. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0173958.
10. Kessler RC et al. Suicide prediction models: A critical review of recent research with recommendations for the way forward. Mol Psychiatry. 2020 Jan;25(1):168-79. doi: 10.1038/s41380-019-0531-0.
11. Mulder R. Problems with suicide risk assessment. Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2011 Aug;45(8):605-7. doi: 10.3109/00048674.2011.594786.
12. Pokorny AD. Prediction of suicide in psychiatric patients: Report of a prospective study. Arch Gen Psychiatry. 1983 Mar;40(3):249-57. doi: 10.1001/archpsyc.1983.01790030019002.
13. Rosen A. Detection of suicidal patients: An example of some limitations in the prediction of infrequent events. J Consult Psychol. 1954 Dec;18(6):397-403. doi: 10.1037/h0058579.
14. McHugh CM et al. (2019). Association between suicidal ideation and suicide: Meta-analyses of odds ratios, sensitivity, specificity and positive predictive value. BJPsych Open. 2019 Mar;5(2):e18. doi: 10.1192/bjo.2018.88.
Suicide is not a trivial matter – it upends families, robs partners of a loved one, prevents children from having a parent, and can destroy a parent’s most cherished being. It is not surprising that societies have repeatedly made it a goal to study and reduce suicide within their populations.
The suicide rate in the United States is trending upward, from about 10 per 100,000 in 2000 to about 15 per 100,000 in more recent reports. The increasing suicide rates have been accompanied by increasing distress among many strata of society. From a public health level, analysts are not just witnessing increasing suicide rates, but a shocking rise in all “deaths of despair,”1 among which suicide can be considered the ultimate example.
On an individual level, many know someone who has died of suicide or suffered from a serious suicide attempt. From the public health level to the individual level, advocacy has called for various interventions in the field of psychiatry to remedy this tragic problem.
Psychiatrists have been firsthand witnesses to this increasing demand for suicide interventions. When in residency, the norm was to perform a suicide risk assessment at the time of admission to the hospital and again at the time of discharge. As the years passed, the new normal within psychiatric hospitals has shifted to asking about suicidality on a daily basis.
In what seems to us like an escalating arms race, the emerging standard of care at many facilities is now not only for daily suicide risk assessments by each psychiatrist, but also to require nurses to ask about suicidality during every 8-hour shift – in addition to documented inquiries about suicidality by other allied staff on the psychiatric unit. As a result, it is not uncommon for a patient hospitalized at an academic center to receive more than half a dozen suicide risk assessments in a day (first by the medical student, at least once – often more than once – by the resident, again by the attending psychiatrist, then the social worker and three nurses in 24 hours).
One of the concerns about such an approach is the lack of logic inherent to many risk assessment tools and symptom scales. Many of us are familiar with the Patient Health Questionnaire (PHQ-9) to assess depression.2 The PHQ-9 asks to consider “over the last 2 weeks, how often have you ...” in relation to nine symptoms associated with depression. It has always defied reason to perform a PHQ-9 every day and expect the answers to change from “nearly every day” to “not at all,” considering only 1 day has passed since the last time the patient has answered the questions. Yet daily, or near daily, PHQ-9 scores are a frequently used tool of tracking symptom improvement in response to treatments, such as electroconvulsive therapy, performed multiple times a week.
One can argue that the patient’s perspective on how symptomatic he or she has been over the past 2 weeks may change rapidly with alleviation of a depressed mood. However, the PHQ-9 is both reported to be, and often regarded as, an objective score. If one wishes to utilize it as such, the defense of its use should not be that it is a subjective report with just as much utility as “Rate your depression on a scale of 0-27.”
Similarly, many suicide scales were intended to assess thoughts of suicide in the past month3 or have been re-tooled to address this particular concern by asking “since the last contact.”4 It is baffling to see a chart with many dozens of suicide risk assessments with at times widely differing answers, yet all measuring thoughts of suicide in the past month. Is one to expect the answer to “How many times have you had these thoughts [of suicide ideation]? (1) Less than once a week (2) Once a week ...” to change between 8 a.m. and noon? Furthermore, for the purpose of assessing acute risk of suicidality in the immediate future, to only consider symptoms since the last contact – or past 2 weeks, past month, etc. – is of unclear significance.
Provider liability
Another concern is the liability placed on providers. A common problem encountered in the inpatient setting is insurance companies refusing to reimburse a hospital stay for depressed patients denying suicidality.
Any provider in the position of caring for such a patient must ask: What is the likelihood of someone providing a false negative – a false denial of suicidality? Is the likelihood of a suicidal person denying suicidality different if asked 5 or 10 or more times in a day? There are innumerable instances where a patient at a very high risk of self-harm has denied suicidality, been discharged from the hospital, and suffered terrible consequences. Ethically, the psychiatrist aware of this risk is no more at ease discharging these patients, whether it is one suicide risk scale or a dozen that suggests a patient is at low risk.
Alternatively, it may feel untenable from a medicolegal perspective for a psychiatrist to discharge a patient denying suicidality when the chart includes over a dozen previously documented elevated suicide risk assessments in the past 72 hours. By placing the job of suicide risk assessment in the hands of providers of varying levels of training and responsibility, a situation is created in which the seasoned psychiatrist who would otherwise be comfortable discharging a patient feels unable to do so because every other note-writer in the record – from the triage nurse to the medical assistant to the sitter in the emergency department – has recorded the patient as high risk for suicide. When put in such a position, the thought often occurs that systems of care, rather than individual providers, are protected most by ever escalating requirements for suicide risk documentation. To make a clinical decision contrary to the body of suicide risk documentation puts the provider at risk of being scapegoated by the system of care, which can point to its illogical and ineffective, though profusely documented, suicide prevention protocols.
Limitations of risk assessments
Considering the ongoing rise in the use of suicide risk assessments, one would expect that the evidence for their efficacy was robust and well established. Yet a thorough review of suicide risk assessments funded by the MacArthur Foundation, which examined decades of research, came to disheartening conclusions: “predictive ability has not improved over the past 50 years”; “no risk factor category or subcategory is substantially stronger than any other”; and “predicting solely according to base rates may be comparable to prediction with current risk factors.”5
Those findings were consistent with the conclusions of many other studies, which have summarized the utility of suicide risk assessments as follows: “occurrence of suicide is too low to identify those individuals who are likely to die by suicide”;6 “suicide prediction models produce accurate overall classification models, but their accuracy of predicting a future event is near zero”;7 “risk stratification is too inaccurate to be clinically useful and might even be harmful”;8 “suicide risk prediction [lacks] any items or information that to a useful degree permit the identification of persons who will complete suicide”;9 “existing suicide prediction tools have little current clinical value”;10 “our current preoccupation with risk assessment has ... created a mythology with no evidence to support it.”11 And that’s to cite just a few.
Sadly, we have known about the limitations of suicide risk assessments for many decades. In 1983 a large VA prospective study, which aimed to identify veterans who will die by suicide, examined 4,800 patients with a wide range of instruments and measures.12 This study concluded that “discriminant analysis was clearly inadequate in correctly classifying the subjects. For an event as rare as suicide, our predictive tools and guides are simply not equal to the task.” The authors described the feelings of many in stating “courts and public opinion expect physicians to be able to pick out the particular persons who will later commit suicide. Although we may reconstruct causal chains and motives, we do not possess the tools to predict suicides.”
Yet, even several decades prior, in 1954, Dr. Albert Rosen performed an elegant statistical analysis and predicted that, considering the low base rate of suicide, suicide risk assessments are “of no practical value, for it would be impossible to treat the prodigious number of false positives.”13 It seems that we continue to be unable to accept Dr. Rosen’s premonition despite decades of confirmatory evidence.
“Quantity over quality”
Regardless of those sobering reports,
One can reasonably argue that the periodic performance of a suicide risk assessment may have clinical utility in reminding us of modifiable risk factors such as intoxication, social isolation, and access to lethal means. One can also reasonably argue that these risk assessments may provide useful education to patients and their families on epidemiological risk factors such as gender, age, and marital status. But our pursuit of serial suicide risk assessments throughout the day is encouraging providers to focus on a particular risk factor that changes from moment to moment and has particularly low validity, that being self-reported suicidality.
Reported suicidality is one of the few risk factors that can change from shift to shift. But 80% of people who die by suicide had not previously expressed suicidality, and 98.3% of people who have endorsed suicidality do not die by suicide.14 While the former statistic may improve with increased assessment, the later will likely worsen.
Suicide is not a trivial matter. We admire those that study it and advocate for better interventions. We have compassion for those who have suffered the loss of a loved one to suicide. Our patients have died as a result of the human limitations surrounding suicide prevention. Recognizing the weight of suicide and making an effort to avoid minimizing its immense consequences drive our desire to be honest with ourselves, our patients and their families, and society. That includes the unfortunate truth regarding the current state of the evidence and our ability to enact change.
It is our concern that the rising fascination with repeated suicide risk assessment is misguided in its current form and serves the purpose of appeasing administrators more than reflecting a scientific understanding of the literature. More sadly, we are concerned that this “quantity-over-quality” approach is yet another barrier to practicing what may be one of the few interventions with any hope of meaningfully impacting a patient’s risk of suicide in the clinical setting – spending time connecting with our patients.
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 member of the psychiatry faculty at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research. Dr. Badre and Dr. Compton have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Joint Economic Committee. (2019). Long Term Trends in Deaths of Despair. SCP Report 4-19.
2. Kroenke K and Spitzer RL. The PHQ-9: A new depression diagnostic and severity measure. Psychiatr Ann. 2013;32(9):509-15. doi: 10.3928/0048-5713-20020901-06.
3. Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS) Full Lifetime/Recent.
4. Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS) Full Since Last Contact.
5. Franklin JC et al. Risk factors for suicidal thoughts and behaviors: A meta-analysis of 50 years of research. Psychol Bull. 2017 Feb;143(2):187-232. doi: 10.1037/bul0000084.
6. Beautrais AL. Further suicidal behavior among medically serious suicide attempters. Suicide Life Threat Behav. 2004 Spring;34(1):1-11. doi: 10.1521/suli.34.1.1.27772.
7. Belsher BE. Prediction models for suicide attempts and deaths: A systematic review and simulation. JAMA Psychiatry. 2019 Jun 1;76(6):642-651. doi: 10.1001/jamapsychiatry.2019.0174.
8. Carter G et al. Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists clinical practice guideline for the management of deliberate self-harm. Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2016 Oct;50(10):939-1000. doi: 10.1177/0004867416661039.
9. Fosse R et al. Predictors of suicide in the patient population admitted to a locked-door psychiatric acute ward. PLoS One. 2017 Mar 16;12(3):e0173958. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0173958.
10. Kessler RC et al. Suicide prediction models: A critical review of recent research with recommendations for the way forward. Mol Psychiatry. 2020 Jan;25(1):168-79. doi: 10.1038/s41380-019-0531-0.
11. Mulder R. Problems with suicide risk assessment. Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2011 Aug;45(8):605-7. doi: 10.3109/00048674.2011.594786.
12. Pokorny AD. Prediction of suicide in psychiatric patients: Report of a prospective study. Arch Gen Psychiatry. 1983 Mar;40(3):249-57. doi: 10.1001/archpsyc.1983.01790030019002.
13. Rosen A. Detection of suicidal patients: An example of some limitations in the prediction of infrequent events. J Consult Psychol. 1954 Dec;18(6):397-403. doi: 10.1037/h0058579.
14. McHugh CM et al. (2019). Association between suicidal ideation and suicide: Meta-analyses of odds ratios, sensitivity, specificity and positive predictive value. BJPsych Open. 2019 Mar;5(2):e18. doi: 10.1192/bjo.2018.88.
Suicide is not a trivial matter – it upends families, robs partners of a loved one, prevents children from having a parent, and can destroy a parent’s most cherished being. It is not surprising that societies have repeatedly made it a goal to study and reduce suicide within their populations.
The suicide rate in the United States is trending upward, from about 10 per 100,000 in 2000 to about 15 per 100,000 in more recent reports. The increasing suicide rates have been accompanied by increasing distress among many strata of society. From a public health level, analysts are not just witnessing increasing suicide rates, but a shocking rise in all “deaths of despair,”1 among which suicide can be considered the ultimate example.
On an individual level, many know someone who has died of suicide or suffered from a serious suicide attempt. From the public health level to the individual level, advocacy has called for various interventions in the field of psychiatry to remedy this tragic problem.
Psychiatrists have been firsthand witnesses to this increasing demand for suicide interventions. When in residency, the norm was to perform a suicide risk assessment at the time of admission to the hospital and again at the time of discharge. As the years passed, the new normal within psychiatric hospitals has shifted to asking about suicidality on a daily basis.
In what seems to us like an escalating arms race, the emerging standard of care at many facilities is now not only for daily suicide risk assessments by each psychiatrist, but also to require nurses to ask about suicidality during every 8-hour shift – in addition to documented inquiries about suicidality by other allied staff on the psychiatric unit. As a result, it is not uncommon for a patient hospitalized at an academic center to receive more than half a dozen suicide risk assessments in a day (first by the medical student, at least once – often more than once – by the resident, again by the attending psychiatrist, then the social worker and three nurses in 24 hours).
One of the concerns about such an approach is the lack of logic inherent to many risk assessment tools and symptom scales. Many of us are familiar with the Patient Health Questionnaire (PHQ-9) to assess depression.2 The PHQ-9 asks to consider “over the last 2 weeks, how often have you ...” in relation to nine symptoms associated with depression. It has always defied reason to perform a PHQ-9 every day and expect the answers to change from “nearly every day” to “not at all,” considering only 1 day has passed since the last time the patient has answered the questions. Yet daily, or near daily, PHQ-9 scores are a frequently used tool of tracking symptom improvement in response to treatments, such as electroconvulsive therapy, performed multiple times a week.
One can argue that the patient’s perspective on how symptomatic he or she has been over the past 2 weeks may change rapidly with alleviation of a depressed mood. However, the PHQ-9 is both reported to be, and often regarded as, an objective score. If one wishes to utilize it as such, the defense of its use should not be that it is a subjective report with just as much utility as “Rate your depression on a scale of 0-27.”
Similarly, many suicide scales were intended to assess thoughts of suicide in the past month3 or have been re-tooled to address this particular concern by asking “since the last contact.”4 It is baffling to see a chart with many dozens of suicide risk assessments with at times widely differing answers, yet all measuring thoughts of suicide in the past month. Is one to expect the answer to “How many times have you had these thoughts [of suicide ideation]? (1) Less than once a week (2) Once a week ...” to change between 8 a.m. and noon? Furthermore, for the purpose of assessing acute risk of suicidality in the immediate future, to only consider symptoms since the last contact – or past 2 weeks, past month, etc. – is of unclear significance.
Provider liability
Another concern is the liability placed on providers. A common problem encountered in the inpatient setting is insurance companies refusing to reimburse a hospital stay for depressed patients denying suicidality.
Any provider in the position of caring for such a patient must ask: What is the likelihood of someone providing a false negative – a false denial of suicidality? Is the likelihood of a suicidal person denying suicidality different if asked 5 or 10 or more times in a day? There are innumerable instances where a patient at a very high risk of self-harm has denied suicidality, been discharged from the hospital, and suffered terrible consequences. Ethically, the psychiatrist aware of this risk is no more at ease discharging these patients, whether it is one suicide risk scale or a dozen that suggests a patient is at low risk.
Alternatively, it may feel untenable from a medicolegal perspective for a psychiatrist to discharge a patient denying suicidality when the chart includes over a dozen previously documented elevated suicide risk assessments in the past 72 hours. By placing the job of suicide risk assessment in the hands of providers of varying levels of training and responsibility, a situation is created in which the seasoned psychiatrist who would otherwise be comfortable discharging a patient feels unable to do so because every other note-writer in the record – from the triage nurse to the medical assistant to the sitter in the emergency department – has recorded the patient as high risk for suicide. When put in such a position, the thought often occurs that systems of care, rather than individual providers, are protected most by ever escalating requirements for suicide risk documentation. To make a clinical decision contrary to the body of suicide risk documentation puts the provider at risk of being scapegoated by the system of care, which can point to its illogical and ineffective, though profusely documented, suicide prevention protocols.
Limitations of risk assessments
Considering the ongoing rise in the use of suicide risk assessments, one would expect that the evidence for their efficacy was robust and well established. Yet a thorough review of suicide risk assessments funded by the MacArthur Foundation, which examined decades of research, came to disheartening conclusions: “predictive ability has not improved over the past 50 years”; “no risk factor category or subcategory is substantially stronger than any other”; and “predicting solely according to base rates may be comparable to prediction with current risk factors.”5
Those findings were consistent with the conclusions of many other studies, which have summarized the utility of suicide risk assessments as follows: “occurrence of suicide is too low to identify those individuals who are likely to die by suicide”;6 “suicide prediction models produce accurate overall classification models, but their accuracy of predicting a future event is near zero”;7 “risk stratification is too inaccurate to be clinically useful and might even be harmful”;8 “suicide risk prediction [lacks] any items or information that to a useful degree permit the identification of persons who will complete suicide”;9 “existing suicide prediction tools have little current clinical value”;10 “our current preoccupation with risk assessment has ... created a mythology with no evidence to support it.”11 And that’s to cite just a few.
Sadly, we have known about the limitations of suicide risk assessments for many decades. In 1983 a large VA prospective study, which aimed to identify veterans who will die by suicide, examined 4,800 patients with a wide range of instruments and measures.12 This study concluded that “discriminant analysis was clearly inadequate in correctly classifying the subjects. For an event as rare as suicide, our predictive tools and guides are simply not equal to the task.” The authors described the feelings of many in stating “courts and public opinion expect physicians to be able to pick out the particular persons who will later commit suicide. Although we may reconstruct causal chains and motives, we do not possess the tools to predict suicides.”
Yet, even several decades prior, in 1954, Dr. Albert Rosen performed an elegant statistical analysis and predicted that, considering the low base rate of suicide, suicide risk assessments are “of no practical value, for it would be impossible to treat the prodigious number of false positives.”13 It seems that we continue to be unable to accept Dr. Rosen’s premonition despite decades of confirmatory evidence.
“Quantity over quality”
Regardless of those sobering reports,
One can reasonably argue that the periodic performance of a suicide risk assessment may have clinical utility in reminding us of modifiable risk factors such as intoxication, social isolation, and access to lethal means. One can also reasonably argue that these risk assessments may provide useful education to patients and their families on epidemiological risk factors such as gender, age, and marital status. But our pursuit of serial suicide risk assessments throughout the day is encouraging providers to focus on a particular risk factor that changes from moment to moment and has particularly low validity, that being self-reported suicidality.
Reported suicidality is one of the few risk factors that can change from shift to shift. But 80% of people who die by suicide had not previously expressed suicidality, and 98.3% of people who have endorsed suicidality do not die by suicide.14 While the former statistic may improve with increased assessment, the later will likely worsen.
Suicide is not a trivial matter. We admire those that study it and advocate for better interventions. We have compassion for those who have suffered the loss of a loved one to suicide. Our patients have died as a result of the human limitations surrounding suicide prevention. Recognizing the weight of suicide and making an effort to avoid minimizing its immense consequences drive our desire to be honest with ourselves, our patients and their families, and society. That includes the unfortunate truth regarding the current state of the evidence and our ability to enact change.
It is our concern that the rising fascination with repeated suicide risk assessment is misguided in its current form and serves the purpose of appeasing administrators more than reflecting a scientific understanding of the literature. More sadly, we are concerned that this “quantity-over-quality” approach is yet another barrier to practicing what may be one of the few interventions with any hope of meaningfully impacting a patient’s risk of suicide in the clinical setting – spending time connecting with our patients.
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 member of the psychiatry faculty at University of California, San Diego. His background includes medical education, mental health advocacy, work with underserved populations, and brain cancer research. Dr. Badre and Dr. Compton have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Joint Economic Committee. (2019). Long Term Trends in Deaths of Despair. SCP Report 4-19.
2. Kroenke K and Spitzer RL. The PHQ-9: A new depression diagnostic and severity measure. Psychiatr Ann. 2013;32(9):509-15. doi: 10.3928/0048-5713-20020901-06.
3. Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS) Full Lifetime/Recent.
4. Columbia-Suicide Severity Rating Scale (C-SSRS) Full Since Last Contact.
5. Franklin JC et al. Risk factors for suicidal thoughts and behaviors: A meta-analysis of 50 years of research. Psychol Bull. 2017 Feb;143(2):187-232. doi: 10.1037/bul0000084.
6. Beautrais AL. Further suicidal behavior among medically serious suicide attempters. Suicide Life Threat Behav. 2004 Spring;34(1):1-11. doi: 10.1521/suli.34.1.1.27772.
7. Belsher BE. Prediction models for suicide attempts and deaths: A systematic review and simulation. JAMA Psychiatry. 2019 Jun 1;76(6):642-651. doi: 10.1001/jamapsychiatry.2019.0174.
8. Carter G et al. Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists clinical practice guideline for the management of deliberate self-harm. Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2016 Oct;50(10):939-1000. doi: 10.1177/0004867416661039.
9. Fosse R et al. Predictors of suicide in the patient population admitted to a locked-door psychiatric acute ward. PLoS One. 2017 Mar 16;12(3):e0173958. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0173958.
10. Kessler RC et al. Suicide prediction models: A critical review of recent research with recommendations for the way forward. Mol Psychiatry. 2020 Jan;25(1):168-79. doi: 10.1038/s41380-019-0531-0.
11. Mulder R. Problems with suicide risk assessment. Aust N Z J Psychiatry. 2011 Aug;45(8):605-7. doi: 10.3109/00048674.2011.594786.
12. Pokorny AD. Prediction of suicide in psychiatric patients: Report of a prospective study. Arch Gen Psychiatry. 1983 Mar;40(3):249-57. doi: 10.1001/archpsyc.1983.01790030019002.
13. Rosen A. Detection of suicidal patients: An example of some limitations in the prediction of infrequent events. J Consult Psychol. 1954 Dec;18(6):397-403. doi: 10.1037/h0058579.
14. McHugh CM et al. (2019). Association between suicidal ideation and suicide: Meta-analyses of odds ratios, sensitivity, specificity and positive predictive value. BJPsych Open. 2019 Mar;5(2):e18. doi: 10.1192/bjo.2018.88.
Death anxiety in psychiatry and society: Facing our fears and embracing life
Our fear of death is exposed often in medicine. It is not uncommon to hear the last moments of a patient’s life described as a series of futile, sterile medical interventions that attempt to prolong that life in quasi-sadistic fashion. So much effort is placed in making sure that “everything necessary” is tried that less emphasis is made on providing a comfortable death.
It seems obvious that a profession dedicated to prolonging health would have difficulty confronting death. But it should also be natural for psychiatry to be the specialty able to integrate this discomfort within the medical psyche.
Yet, in training, we have noted much more time spent on the assessment of capacity in patients in order to refuse medical intervention than on time spent educating about the importance to die at the right time, as suggested by Friedrich Nietzsche.1 A psychiatry resident may graduate knowing dozens of questions to assess the ability of a family member to consider the risk, benefits, and alternatives of continued intubation in a comatose patient, but may feel very ill-equipped in discussing the meaning of a rightful life and a rightful death.
Death anxiety can also come outside the context of not having endured enough traumas or successes in one’s life, or not having lived life right. As poignantly described by Dostoevsky in his 1864 novella, “Notes from the Underground,” death anxiety can manifest as a result of the deterministic nature of life.2 Doing everything which is expected of us can feel like a betrayal of our one chance to have lived life authentically. This concept is also particularly familiar to physicians, who may have – in part – chosen their career path in response to a recommendation from their parents, rather than a more authentic feeling. Dostoevsky goads us to transgress, to act in a rebellious way, to truly feel alive. This can serve as a solution for death anxiety – if you are scared to die then live, live your fullest. Even if that means doing the unexpected or changing your path.
The fear of being forgotten after death can also drive many to pursue a legacy. Even a parent choosing to have children and teaching them values and belief systems is a way of leaving behind a mark on the world. For some, finding ways for being remembered after death – whether through fame, fortune, or having children, is a way of dealing with death anxiety.
The Mexican holiday “Dia de los Muertos,” or Day of the Dead, and the Japanese holiday “Obon” are examples from cultures where deceased ancestors are celebrated through rituals and offerings. Such cultures may relieve the anxiety of death by suggesting that one’s descendants will still care for the departed, and their legacy may remain.
Coping with death anxiety
For others, the road to recovery from death anxiety may take a completely different approach. Some may find comfort in the position that, to extinguish death anxiety, one should not live to the fullest but accept the tragic and mostly inconsequential aspects of life. The philosophical movement of “absurdism” addresses this perspective.
In our modern world, where we are so deeply attached to finding the cause and reason for things, absurdism reminds us that most of our lives and world do not have to make sense. While Albert Camus, arguably the most famous of the absurdist philosophers, encourages us to create meaning and transcend the tragedy and randomness of life,3 some patients can also find comfort in the idea that life is absurd, and thus one should not judge one’s own life and not fear own’s inevitable death.
Death anxiety can also be therapeutic. Especially in the existential tradition, one can enlist the fear of death for motivation. Many patients come to see us with a lack of motivation or drive. They feel paralyzed by their predicament and mental illness. As in the experiments of Martin Seligman, PhD, who shocked animals at random, a human exposed to repeated failure and abuse can get a sense of learned helplessness.4 Such patients can be very hard to reach, yet ultimately their despondence is no match for the reality that life will end. Reminding a patient that any day spent not feeling alive might as well be a metaphor for death is a challenging interpretation, but one that can lead to significant growth.
When considering the fear of death, psychiatry has generally taken the position that it is pathological, a form of anxiety. Psychiatry argues that one should strive to find fulfillment and joy in life. It thus may be a surprise to find that this is not a universally shared perspective.
In his 2010 book, author Thomas Ligotti argues on behalf of pessimistic and antinatalist views.5 Throughout the book he emphasizes the suffering that life can offer and argues against the endless pursuit of more life. To some psychiatrists, such arguments will be understood as insulting to our profession. Some may even interpret his texts as an argument in favor of ending one’s life.
However, psychiatrists must ask themselves “what are my answers to those arguments?” Mr. Ligotti’s book is a series of arguments against the idea that life will be pleasurable. Understanding those arguments and formulating a rebuttal would be an important process for any mental health provider. It is foolish to think that our patients do not have a rich and complicated relationship to death, and that none of our patients find death attractive in some ways. After all, accepting our fears as an important part of our body is a natural coping skill, which can also be taught.6
Part of the difficulty in discussing death and the fear of death may come from society’s resistance at having complicated conversations. It is not uncommon, currently, to include trigger warnings at the mention of discussions about death, even abstract ones. While we appreciate and encourage the articulation of feelings that a discussion about death may raise, we worry that such trigger warnings may be a form of censure that only makes society more resistant to talk about those important topics.
For another example of the avoidance of discussions about death, recall the “death panel” debates of 2009.7 When the U.S. government considered encouraging physicians to have discussions with their patients about end-of-life care, politicians and pundits decried that such discussions were “death panels,” and claimed they were an encouragement to patients to “cut [their] life short.” Such public projection of one’s anxiety about death has made it particularly difficult for psychiatry to make meaningful progress.
Acknowledging and addressing the fear
Death anxiety is such a common aspect of human life that most religions make some effort to address this fear. Many do so by offering a form of afterlife, often one described in idyllic fashion without anxiety.
Heaven, if one believes in it, is appealing for the person dreading death anxiety. Heaven is often described as being offered to those who have lived a rightful life, thus relieving the anxiety regarding the decisions one has made. Reincarnation can also be interpreted as another way of calming death anxiety, by promising a continual repetition of chances at getting life right. However, for many patients, religion doesn’t have the appeal that it once had.
Ultimately, the fear of death is a complex and multifaceted issue that can manifest in various ways. The medical profession, especially psychiatry, has a responsibility to address this fear in patients, but it also struggles with its own discomfort with the topic. The importance of providing a comfortable death is often overshadowed by the emphasis on prolonging life, which may manifest as a series of futile medical interventions.
The fear of death can be therapeutic and motivating, but it can also be pathological and lead to a lack of motivation or drive. The philosophical movements of absurdism and antinatalism offer alternative perspectives on death and life, and it is important for mental health providers to understand and engage with these views.
Yet acknowledging and addressing the fear of death is an important aspect of mental health care and a crucial part of the human experience.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. 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. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Nietzsche F. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 1883-1892.
2. Dostoevsky F. Notes from the Underground. 1864.
3. Camus A. The Plague. 1947.
4. Seligman M. Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. 1975.
5. Ligotti T. The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. 2010.
6. Hayes SC. Behav Ther. 2016 Nov;47(6):869-85. doi: 10.1016/j.beth.2016.11.006.
7. Nyhan B. The Forum. 2010 April 27;8(1). doi: 10.2202/1540-8884.1354.
Our fear of death is exposed often in medicine. It is not uncommon to hear the last moments of a patient’s life described as a series of futile, sterile medical interventions that attempt to prolong that life in quasi-sadistic fashion. So much effort is placed in making sure that “everything necessary” is tried that less emphasis is made on providing a comfortable death.
It seems obvious that a profession dedicated to prolonging health would have difficulty confronting death. But it should also be natural for psychiatry to be the specialty able to integrate this discomfort within the medical psyche.
Yet, in training, we have noted much more time spent on the assessment of capacity in patients in order to refuse medical intervention than on time spent educating about the importance to die at the right time, as suggested by Friedrich Nietzsche.1 A psychiatry resident may graduate knowing dozens of questions to assess the ability of a family member to consider the risk, benefits, and alternatives of continued intubation in a comatose patient, but may feel very ill-equipped in discussing the meaning of a rightful life and a rightful death.
Death anxiety can also come outside the context of not having endured enough traumas or successes in one’s life, or not having lived life right. As poignantly described by Dostoevsky in his 1864 novella, “Notes from the Underground,” death anxiety can manifest as a result of the deterministic nature of life.2 Doing everything which is expected of us can feel like a betrayal of our one chance to have lived life authentically. This concept is also particularly familiar to physicians, who may have – in part – chosen their career path in response to a recommendation from their parents, rather than a more authentic feeling. Dostoevsky goads us to transgress, to act in a rebellious way, to truly feel alive. This can serve as a solution for death anxiety – if you are scared to die then live, live your fullest. Even if that means doing the unexpected or changing your path.
The fear of being forgotten after death can also drive many to pursue a legacy. Even a parent choosing to have children and teaching them values and belief systems is a way of leaving behind a mark on the world. For some, finding ways for being remembered after death – whether through fame, fortune, or having children, is a way of dealing with death anxiety.
The Mexican holiday “Dia de los Muertos,” or Day of the Dead, and the Japanese holiday “Obon” are examples from cultures where deceased ancestors are celebrated through rituals and offerings. Such cultures may relieve the anxiety of death by suggesting that one’s descendants will still care for the departed, and their legacy may remain.
Coping with death anxiety
For others, the road to recovery from death anxiety may take a completely different approach. Some may find comfort in the position that, to extinguish death anxiety, one should not live to the fullest but accept the tragic and mostly inconsequential aspects of life. The philosophical movement of “absurdism” addresses this perspective.
In our modern world, where we are so deeply attached to finding the cause and reason for things, absurdism reminds us that most of our lives and world do not have to make sense. While Albert Camus, arguably the most famous of the absurdist philosophers, encourages us to create meaning and transcend the tragedy and randomness of life,3 some patients can also find comfort in the idea that life is absurd, and thus one should not judge one’s own life and not fear own’s inevitable death.
Death anxiety can also be therapeutic. Especially in the existential tradition, one can enlist the fear of death for motivation. Many patients come to see us with a lack of motivation or drive. They feel paralyzed by their predicament and mental illness. As in the experiments of Martin Seligman, PhD, who shocked animals at random, a human exposed to repeated failure and abuse can get a sense of learned helplessness.4 Such patients can be very hard to reach, yet ultimately their despondence is no match for the reality that life will end. Reminding a patient that any day spent not feeling alive might as well be a metaphor for death is a challenging interpretation, but one that can lead to significant growth.
When considering the fear of death, psychiatry has generally taken the position that it is pathological, a form of anxiety. Psychiatry argues that one should strive to find fulfillment and joy in life. It thus may be a surprise to find that this is not a universally shared perspective.
In his 2010 book, author Thomas Ligotti argues on behalf of pessimistic and antinatalist views.5 Throughout the book he emphasizes the suffering that life can offer and argues against the endless pursuit of more life. To some psychiatrists, such arguments will be understood as insulting to our profession. Some may even interpret his texts as an argument in favor of ending one’s life.
However, psychiatrists must ask themselves “what are my answers to those arguments?” Mr. Ligotti’s book is a series of arguments against the idea that life will be pleasurable. Understanding those arguments and formulating a rebuttal would be an important process for any mental health provider. It is foolish to think that our patients do not have a rich and complicated relationship to death, and that none of our patients find death attractive in some ways. After all, accepting our fears as an important part of our body is a natural coping skill, which can also be taught.6
Part of the difficulty in discussing death and the fear of death may come from society’s resistance at having complicated conversations. It is not uncommon, currently, to include trigger warnings at the mention of discussions about death, even abstract ones. While we appreciate and encourage the articulation of feelings that a discussion about death may raise, we worry that such trigger warnings may be a form of censure that only makes society more resistant to talk about those important topics.
For another example of the avoidance of discussions about death, recall the “death panel” debates of 2009.7 When the U.S. government considered encouraging physicians to have discussions with their patients about end-of-life care, politicians and pundits decried that such discussions were “death panels,” and claimed they were an encouragement to patients to “cut [their] life short.” Such public projection of one’s anxiety about death has made it particularly difficult for psychiatry to make meaningful progress.
Acknowledging and addressing the fear
Death anxiety is such a common aspect of human life that most religions make some effort to address this fear. Many do so by offering a form of afterlife, often one described in idyllic fashion without anxiety.
Heaven, if one believes in it, is appealing for the person dreading death anxiety. Heaven is often described as being offered to those who have lived a rightful life, thus relieving the anxiety regarding the decisions one has made. Reincarnation can also be interpreted as another way of calming death anxiety, by promising a continual repetition of chances at getting life right. However, for many patients, religion doesn’t have the appeal that it once had.
Ultimately, the fear of death is a complex and multifaceted issue that can manifest in various ways. The medical profession, especially psychiatry, has a responsibility to address this fear in patients, but it also struggles with its own discomfort with the topic. The importance of providing a comfortable death is often overshadowed by the emphasis on prolonging life, which may manifest as a series of futile medical interventions.
The fear of death can be therapeutic and motivating, but it can also be pathological and lead to a lack of motivation or drive. The philosophical movements of absurdism and antinatalism offer alternative perspectives on death and life, and it is important for mental health providers to understand and engage with these views.
Yet acknowledging and addressing the fear of death is an important aspect of mental health care and a crucial part of the human experience.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. 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. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Nietzsche F. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 1883-1892.
2. Dostoevsky F. Notes from the Underground. 1864.
3. Camus A. The Plague. 1947.
4. Seligman M. Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. 1975.
5. Ligotti T. The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. 2010.
6. Hayes SC. Behav Ther. 2016 Nov;47(6):869-85. doi: 10.1016/j.beth.2016.11.006.
7. Nyhan B. The Forum. 2010 April 27;8(1). doi: 10.2202/1540-8884.1354.
Our fear of death is exposed often in medicine. It is not uncommon to hear the last moments of a patient’s life described as a series of futile, sterile medical interventions that attempt to prolong that life in quasi-sadistic fashion. So much effort is placed in making sure that “everything necessary” is tried that less emphasis is made on providing a comfortable death.
It seems obvious that a profession dedicated to prolonging health would have difficulty confronting death. But it should also be natural for psychiatry to be the specialty able to integrate this discomfort within the medical psyche.
Yet, in training, we have noted much more time spent on the assessment of capacity in patients in order to refuse medical intervention than on time spent educating about the importance to die at the right time, as suggested by Friedrich Nietzsche.1 A psychiatry resident may graduate knowing dozens of questions to assess the ability of a family member to consider the risk, benefits, and alternatives of continued intubation in a comatose patient, but may feel very ill-equipped in discussing the meaning of a rightful life and a rightful death.
Death anxiety can also come outside the context of not having endured enough traumas or successes in one’s life, or not having lived life right. As poignantly described by Dostoevsky in his 1864 novella, “Notes from the Underground,” death anxiety can manifest as a result of the deterministic nature of life.2 Doing everything which is expected of us can feel like a betrayal of our one chance to have lived life authentically. This concept is also particularly familiar to physicians, who may have – in part – chosen their career path in response to a recommendation from their parents, rather than a more authentic feeling. Dostoevsky goads us to transgress, to act in a rebellious way, to truly feel alive. This can serve as a solution for death anxiety – if you are scared to die then live, live your fullest. Even if that means doing the unexpected or changing your path.
The fear of being forgotten after death can also drive many to pursue a legacy. Even a parent choosing to have children and teaching them values and belief systems is a way of leaving behind a mark on the world. For some, finding ways for being remembered after death – whether through fame, fortune, or having children, is a way of dealing with death anxiety.
The Mexican holiday “Dia de los Muertos,” or Day of the Dead, and the Japanese holiday “Obon” are examples from cultures where deceased ancestors are celebrated through rituals and offerings. Such cultures may relieve the anxiety of death by suggesting that one’s descendants will still care for the departed, and their legacy may remain.
Coping with death anxiety
For others, the road to recovery from death anxiety may take a completely different approach. Some may find comfort in the position that, to extinguish death anxiety, one should not live to the fullest but accept the tragic and mostly inconsequential aspects of life. The philosophical movement of “absurdism” addresses this perspective.
In our modern world, where we are so deeply attached to finding the cause and reason for things, absurdism reminds us that most of our lives and world do not have to make sense. While Albert Camus, arguably the most famous of the absurdist philosophers, encourages us to create meaning and transcend the tragedy and randomness of life,3 some patients can also find comfort in the idea that life is absurd, and thus one should not judge one’s own life and not fear own’s inevitable death.
Death anxiety can also be therapeutic. Especially in the existential tradition, one can enlist the fear of death for motivation. Many patients come to see us with a lack of motivation or drive. They feel paralyzed by their predicament and mental illness. As in the experiments of Martin Seligman, PhD, who shocked animals at random, a human exposed to repeated failure and abuse can get a sense of learned helplessness.4 Such patients can be very hard to reach, yet ultimately their despondence is no match for the reality that life will end. Reminding a patient that any day spent not feeling alive might as well be a metaphor for death is a challenging interpretation, but one that can lead to significant growth.
When considering the fear of death, psychiatry has generally taken the position that it is pathological, a form of anxiety. Psychiatry argues that one should strive to find fulfillment and joy in life. It thus may be a surprise to find that this is not a universally shared perspective.
In his 2010 book, author Thomas Ligotti argues on behalf of pessimistic and antinatalist views.5 Throughout the book he emphasizes the suffering that life can offer and argues against the endless pursuit of more life. To some psychiatrists, such arguments will be understood as insulting to our profession. Some may even interpret his texts as an argument in favor of ending one’s life.
However, psychiatrists must ask themselves “what are my answers to those arguments?” Mr. Ligotti’s book is a series of arguments against the idea that life will be pleasurable. Understanding those arguments and formulating a rebuttal would be an important process for any mental health provider. It is foolish to think that our patients do not have a rich and complicated relationship to death, and that none of our patients find death attractive in some ways. After all, accepting our fears as an important part of our body is a natural coping skill, which can also be taught.6
Part of the difficulty in discussing death and the fear of death may come from society’s resistance at having complicated conversations. It is not uncommon, currently, to include trigger warnings at the mention of discussions about death, even abstract ones. While we appreciate and encourage the articulation of feelings that a discussion about death may raise, we worry that such trigger warnings may be a form of censure that only makes society more resistant to talk about those important topics.
For another example of the avoidance of discussions about death, recall the “death panel” debates of 2009.7 When the U.S. government considered encouraging physicians to have discussions with their patients about end-of-life care, politicians and pundits decried that such discussions were “death panels,” and claimed they were an encouragement to patients to “cut [their] life short.” Such public projection of one’s anxiety about death has made it particularly difficult for psychiatry to make meaningful progress.
Acknowledging and addressing the fear
Death anxiety is such a common aspect of human life that most religions make some effort to address this fear. Many do so by offering a form of afterlife, often one described in idyllic fashion without anxiety.
Heaven, if one believes in it, is appealing for the person dreading death anxiety. Heaven is often described as being offered to those who have lived a rightful life, thus relieving the anxiety regarding the decisions one has made. Reincarnation can also be interpreted as another way of calming death anxiety, by promising a continual repetition of chances at getting life right. However, for many patients, religion doesn’t have the appeal that it once had.
Ultimately, the fear of death is a complex and multifaceted issue that can manifest in various ways. The medical profession, especially psychiatry, has a responsibility to address this fear in patients, but it also struggles with its own discomfort with the topic. The importance of providing a comfortable death is often overshadowed by the emphasis on prolonging life, which may manifest as a series of futile medical interventions.
The fear of death can be therapeutic and motivating, but it can also be pathological and lead to a lack of motivation or drive. The philosophical movements of absurdism and antinatalism offer alternative perspectives on death and life, and it is important for mental health providers to understand and engage with these views.
Yet acknowledging and addressing the fear of death is an important aspect of mental health care and a crucial part of the human experience.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. 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. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Nietzsche F. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 1883-1892.
2. Dostoevsky F. Notes from the Underground. 1864.
3. Camus A. The Plague. 1947.
4. Seligman M. Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. 1975.
5. Ligotti T. The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. 2010.
6. Hayes SC. Behav Ther. 2016 Nov;47(6):869-85. doi: 10.1016/j.beth.2016.11.006.
7. Nyhan B. The Forum. 2010 April 27;8(1). doi: 10.2202/1540-8884.1354.
Overcoming death anxiety: Understanding our lives and legacies
Disappointment – “I failed this exam, my life is ruined” or regret – “I am getting a divorce, I wasted so much of my life.” Patients present with a wide variety of complaints that can be understood as a form of death anxiety.
Fundamentally, patients come to see us to understand and explain their lives. One can reinterpret this as a patient asking, “If I died today, would my life have been good enough?” or “When I die, how will I look back at this moment in time and judge the choices I made?”
Other patients come to us attempting to use the same maladaptive defenses that did not serve them well in the past in the hopes of achieving a new outcome that will validate their lives. While it may be understandable that a child dissociates when facing abuse, hoping that this defense mechanism – as an adult – will work, it is unlikely to be fruitful and will certainly not validate or repair the past. This hope to repair one’s past can be interpreted as a fear of death – “I cannot die without correcting this.” This psychic conflict can intensify if one does not adopt a more adaptive understanding of his or her life.
Death anxiety is the feeling associated with the finality of life. Not only is life final, but a constant reminder of that fact is the idea that any one moment is final. Other than in science fiction, one cannot return to a prior moment and repair the past in the hope of a better future. Time goes only in one direction and death is the natural outcome of all life.
Death may have some evolutionary purpose that encourages the promotion of newer and more fitter genes, but one doesn’t have to consider its origin and reason to admit death’s constancy throughout humanity. People die and that is an anxiety-provoking fact of life. Death anxiety can feel especially tangible in our connected world. In a world of constant news, it can feel – for many people – that if your house wasn’t displaced because of global warming or that you are not a war refugee, you don’t deserve to be seen and heard.
This can be a particularly strong feeling for and among physicians, who don’t think that the mental health challenges generated by their own tough circumstances deserve to be labeled a mental disorder, so they designate themselves as having “burnout”1 – as they don’t deserve the sympathy of having the clinically significant impairments of “depression.” Our traumas don’t seem important enough to deserve notice, and thus we may feel like we could die without ever having truly mattered.
This can also be applied in the reverse fashion. Certain individuals, like celebrities, live such extravagant lives that our simpler achievements can feel futile in comparison. While the neighbor’s grass has always felt greener, we are now constantly exposed to perfectly manicured lawns on social media. When compounded, the idea that our successes and our pains are both simultaneously irrelevant can lead one to have very palpable death anxiety – my life will never matter if none of the things I do matter, or my life will never matter because I will never achieve the requisite number of “likes” or “views” on social media required to believe that one’s life was worth living.
A way of alleviating death anxiety can be through the concept of legacy, or what we leave behind. How will people remember me? Will people remember me, or will I disappear like a shadow into the distant memory of my near and dear ones? The idea of being forgotten or lost to memory is intolerable to some and can be a strong driving force to “make a name” for oneself. For those who crave fame, whether a celebrity or a generous alumnus, part of this is likely related to remaining well known after death. After all, one can argue that you are not truly dead as long as you continue to live in the memory and/or genes of others.
Legacy thus serves as a form of posthumous transitional object; a way of calming our fears about how we will be remembered. For many, reconciling their feelings towards their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety.
A case study
The case of Mr. B illustrates this. As a 72-year-old male with a long history of generalized anxiety, he once had a nightmare as a child, similar to the plot of Sleeping Beauty. In his dream, he walks up a spiral staircase in a castle and touches the spindle on a spinning wheel, thus ending his life. The dream was vivid and marked him.
His fear of death has subsequently reared its head throughout his life. In more recent years, he has suffered from cardiovascular disease. Although he is now quite stable on his current cardiac medications, he is constantly fearful that he will experience a cardiac event while asleep and suddenly die. He is so anxious about not waking up in the morning that falling asleep is nearly impossible.
Mr. B is single, with no close family besides a sister who lives in another state. He has a dog and few friends. He worries about what will happen to his dog if he doesn’t wake up in the morning, but perhaps most distressing to him is “there’s so much left for me to do, I have so much to write!” As an accomplished author, he continues to write, and hopes to publish many more novels in his lifetime. It is unsurprising that someone without a strong social network may fear death and feel pressured to somehow make a mark on the world before the curtain falls. It is scary to think that even without us, life goes on.
By bringing to Mr. B’s attention that his ever-present anxiety is rooted in fear of death, he was able to gain more insight into his own defensive behaviors. By confronting his death anxiety and processing his definition of a life well lived together in therapy, he’s acknowledged his lack of social connection as demoralizing, and has made significant strides to remedy this. He’s been able to focus on a more fulfilling life day to day, with less emphasis on his to-do list and aspirations. Instead, he’s connected more with his faith and members of his church. He’s gotten close to several neighbors and enjoys long dinners with them on his back patio.
At a recent meeting, he confessed that he feels “lighter” and not as fearful about sudden cardiac death, and thus has noticed that his overall anxiety has diminished greatly. He concluded that experiencing meaningful relationships in the present moment would give him greater joy than spending his remaining time engaged in preserving a future identity for himself. It seems elementary, but if we look within, we may find that we all suffer similarly: How much of our daily actions, thoughts, and fears are tied to the looming threat of death?
Conclusion
While modern psychiatry continues to advance with better understandings of our neurobiology, improved knowledge of pathophysiological processes of mental illness, and expanding discovery of novel pharmacotherapeutics, the modern psychiatrist should not forget fundamental truths of behavior and humanity that were once the staple of psychiatry.
Death anxiety is one of those truths; it is the ultimate stressor that we will all face and should be regular study and practice for psychiatrists. In this article, we explored some of those facets most meaningful to us but recommend you expand your study to the many more available.
Patients often come to physicians seeking validation of their lives or trying to use the same maladaptive defense mechanisms that did not serve them well in the past to achieve a better outcome.
In today’s world, death anxiety can feel palpable due to the constant exposure to global news and social media that can make us feel irrelevant. However, legacy, or what we leave behind, can serve as a way to alleviate death anxiety. For many, reconciling their feelings toward their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety. Therapy can help individuals gain insight into their defensive behaviors and process their definition of a life well lived. By focusing on a life worth living, individuals can alleviate their death anxiety and gain a sense of fulfillment.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. 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. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Badre N. Burnout: A concept that rebrands mental illness for professionals. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2020 Mar 5.
Disappointment – “I failed this exam, my life is ruined” or regret – “I am getting a divorce, I wasted so much of my life.” Patients present with a wide variety of complaints that can be understood as a form of death anxiety.
Fundamentally, patients come to see us to understand and explain their lives. One can reinterpret this as a patient asking, “If I died today, would my life have been good enough?” or “When I die, how will I look back at this moment in time and judge the choices I made?”
Other patients come to us attempting to use the same maladaptive defenses that did not serve them well in the past in the hopes of achieving a new outcome that will validate their lives. While it may be understandable that a child dissociates when facing abuse, hoping that this defense mechanism – as an adult – will work, it is unlikely to be fruitful and will certainly not validate or repair the past. This hope to repair one’s past can be interpreted as a fear of death – “I cannot die without correcting this.” This psychic conflict can intensify if one does not adopt a more adaptive understanding of his or her life.
Death anxiety is the feeling associated with the finality of life. Not only is life final, but a constant reminder of that fact is the idea that any one moment is final. Other than in science fiction, one cannot return to a prior moment and repair the past in the hope of a better future. Time goes only in one direction and death is the natural outcome of all life.
Death may have some evolutionary purpose that encourages the promotion of newer and more fitter genes, but one doesn’t have to consider its origin and reason to admit death’s constancy throughout humanity. People die and that is an anxiety-provoking fact of life. Death anxiety can feel especially tangible in our connected world. In a world of constant news, it can feel – for many people – that if your house wasn’t displaced because of global warming or that you are not a war refugee, you don’t deserve to be seen and heard.
This can be a particularly strong feeling for and among physicians, who don’t think that the mental health challenges generated by their own tough circumstances deserve to be labeled a mental disorder, so they designate themselves as having “burnout”1 – as they don’t deserve the sympathy of having the clinically significant impairments of “depression.” Our traumas don’t seem important enough to deserve notice, and thus we may feel like we could die without ever having truly mattered.
This can also be applied in the reverse fashion. Certain individuals, like celebrities, live such extravagant lives that our simpler achievements can feel futile in comparison. While the neighbor’s grass has always felt greener, we are now constantly exposed to perfectly manicured lawns on social media. When compounded, the idea that our successes and our pains are both simultaneously irrelevant can lead one to have very palpable death anxiety – my life will never matter if none of the things I do matter, or my life will never matter because I will never achieve the requisite number of “likes” or “views” on social media required to believe that one’s life was worth living.
A way of alleviating death anxiety can be through the concept of legacy, or what we leave behind. How will people remember me? Will people remember me, or will I disappear like a shadow into the distant memory of my near and dear ones? The idea of being forgotten or lost to memory is intolerable to some and can be a strong driving force to “make a name” for oneself. For those who crave fame, whether a celebrity or a generous alumnus, part of this is likely related to remaining well known after death. After all, one can argue that you are not truly dead as long as you continue to live in the memory and/or genes of others.
Legacy thus serves as a form of posthumous transitional object; a way of calming our fears about how we will be remembered. For many, reconciling their feelings towards their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety.
A case study
The case of Mr. B illustrates this. As a 72-year-old male with a long history of generalized anxiety, he once had a nightmare as a child, similar to the plot of Sleeping Beauty. In his dream, he walks up a spiral staircase in a castle and touches the spindle on a spinning wheel, thus ending his life. The dream was vivid and marked him.
His fear of death has subsequently reared its head throughout his life. In more recent years, he has suffered from cardiovascular disease. Although he is now quite stable on his current cardiac medications, he is constantly fearful that he will experience a cardiac event while asleep and suddenly die. He is so anxious about not waking up in the morning that falling asleep is nearly impossible.
Mr. B is single, with no close family besides a sister who lives in another state. He has a dog and few friends. He worries about what will happen to his dog if he doesn’t wake up in the morning, but perhaps most distressing to him is “there’s so much left for me to do, I have so much to write!” As an accomplished author, he continues to write, and hopes to publish many more novels in his lifetime. It is unsurprising that someone without a strong social network may fear death and feel pressured to somehow make a mark on the world before the curtain falls. It is scary to think that even without us, life goes on.
By bringing to Mr. B’s attention that his ever-present anxiety is rooted in fear of death, he was able to gain more insight into his own defensive behaviors. By confronting his death anxiety and processing his definition of a life well lived together in therapy, he’s acknowledged his lack of social connection as demoralizing, and has made significant strides to remedy this. He’s been able to focus on a more fulfilling life day to day, with less emphasis on his to-do list and aspirations. Instead, he’s connected more with his faith and members of his church. He’s gotten close to several neighbors and enjoys long dinners with them on his back patio.
At a recent meeting, he confessed that he feels “lighter” and not as fearful about sudden cardiac death, and thus has noticed that his overall anxiety has diminished greatly. He concluded that experiencing meaningful relationships in the present moment would give him greater joy than spending his remaining time engaged in preserving a future identity for himself. It seems elementary, but if we look within, we may find that we all suffer similarly: How much of our daily actions, thoughts, and fears are tied to the looming threat of death?
Conclusion
While modern psychiatry continues to advance with better understandings of our neurobiology, improved knowledge of pathophysiological processes of mental illness, and expanding discovery of novel pharmacotherapeutics, the modern psychiatrist should not forget fundamental truths of behavior and humanity that were once the staple of psychiatry.
Death anxiety is one of those truths; it is the ultimate stressor that we will all face and should be regular study and practice for psychiatrists. In this article, we explored some of those facets most meaningful to us but recommend you expand your study to the many more available.
Patients often come to physicians seeking validation of their lives or trying to use the same maladaptive defense mechanisms that did not serve them well in the past to achieve a better outcome.
In today’s world, death anxiety can feel palpable due to the constant exposure to global news and social media that can make us feel irrelevant. However, legacy, or what we leave behind, can serve as a way to alleviate death anxiety. For many, reconciling their feelings toward their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety. Therapy can help individuals gain insight into their defensive behaviors and process their definition of a life well lived. By focusing on a life worth living, individuals can alleviate their death anxiety and gain a sense of fulfillment.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. 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. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Badre N. Burnout: A concept that rebrands mental illness for professionals. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2020 Mar 5.
Disappointment – “I failed this exam, my life is ruined” or regret – “I am getting a divorce, I wasted so much of my life.” Patients present with a wide variety of complaints that can be understood as a form of death anxiety.
Fundamentally, patients come to see us to understand and explain their lives. One can reinterpret this as a patient asking, “If I died today, would my life have been good enough?” or “When I die, how will I look back at this moment in time and judge the choices I made?”
Other patients come to us attempting to use the same maladaptive defenses that did not serve them well in the past in the hopes of achieving a new outcome that will validate their lives. While it may be understandable that a child dissociates when facing abuse, hoping that this defense mechanism – as an adult – will work, it is unlikely to be fruitful and will certainly not validate or repair the past. This hope to repair one’s past can be interpreted as a fear of death – “I cannot die without correcting this.” This psychic conflict can intensify if one does not adopt a more adaptive understanding of his or her life.
Death anxiety is the feeling associated with the finality of life. Not only is life final, but a constant reminder of that fact is the idea that any one moment is final. Other than in science fiction, one cannot return to a prior moment and repair the past in the hope of a better future. Time goes only in one direction and death is the natural outcome of all life.
Death may have some evolutionary purpose that encourages the promotion of newer and more fitter genes, but one doesn’t have to consider its origin and reason to admit death’s constancy throughout humanity. People die and that is an anxiety-provoking fact of life. Death anxiety can feel especially tangible in our connected world. In a world of constant news, it can feel – for many people – that if your house wasn’t displaced because of global warming or that you are not a war refugee, you don’t deserve to be seen and heard.
This can be a particularly strong feeling for and among physicians, who don’t think that the mental health challenges generated by their own tough circumstances deserve to be labeled a mental disorder, so they designate themselves as having “burnout”1 – as they don’t deserve the sympathy of having the clinically significant impairments of “depression.” Our traumas don’t seem important enough to deserve notice, and thus we may feel like we could die without ever having truly mattered.
This can also be applied in the reverse fashion. Certain individuals, like celebrities, live such extravagant lives that our simpler achievements can feel futile in comparison. While the neighbor’s grass has always felt greener, we are now constantly exposed to perfectly manicured lawns on social media. When compounded, the idea that our successes and our pains are both simultaneously irrelevant can lead one to have very palpable death anxiety – my life will never matter if none of the things I do matter, or my life will never matter because I will never achieve the requisite number of “likes” or “views” on social media required to believe that one’s life was worth living.
A way of alleviating death anxiety can be through the concept of legacy, or what we leave behind. How will people remember me? Will people remember me, or will I disappear like a shadow into the distant memory of my near and dear ones? The idea of being forgotten or lost to memory is intolerable to some and can be a strong driving force to “make a name” for oneself. For those who crave fame, whether a celebrity or a generous alumnus, part of this is likely related to remaining well known after death. After all, one can argue that you are not truly dead as long as you continue to live in the memory and/or genes of others.
Legacy thus serves as a form of posthumous transitional object; a way of calming our fears about how we will be remembered. For many, reconciling their feelings towards their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety.
A case study
The case of Mr. B illustrates this. As a 72-year-old male with a long history of generalized anxiety, he once had a nightmare as a child, similar to the plot of Sleeping Beauty. In his dream, he walks up a spiral staircase in a castle and touches the spindle on a spinning wheel, thus ending his life. The dream was vivid and marked him.
His fear of death has subsequently reared its head throughout his life. In more recent years, he has suffered from cardiovascular disease. Although he is now quite stable on his current cardiac medications, he is constantly fearful that he will experience a cardiac event while asleep and suddenly die. He is so anxious about not waking up in the morning that falling asleep is nearly impossible.
Mr. B is single, with no close family besides a sister who lives in another state. He has a dog and few friends. He worries about what will happen to his dog if he doesn’t wake up in the morning, but perhaps most distressing to him is “there’s so much left for me to do, I have so much to write!” As an accomplished author, he continues to write, and hopes to publish many more novels in his lifetime. It is unsurprising that someone without a strong social network may fear death and feel pressured to somehow make a mark on the world before the curtain falls. It is scary to think that even without us, life goes on.
By bringing to Mr. B’s attention that his ever-present anxiety is rooted in fear of death, he was able to gain more insight into his own defensive behaviors. By confronting his death anxiety and processing his definition of a life well lived together in therapy, he’s acknowledged his lack of social connection as demoralizing, and has made significant strides to remedy this. He’s been able to focus on a more fulfilling life day to day, with less emphasis on his to-do list and aspirations. Instead, he’s connected more with his faith and members of his church. He’s gotten close to several neighbors and enjoys long dinners with them on his back patio.
At a recent meeting, he confessed that he feels “lighter” and not as fearful about sudden cardiac death, and thus has noticed that his overall anxiety has diminished greatly. He concluded that experiencing meaningful relationships in the present moment would give him greater joy than spending his remaining time engaged in preserving a future identity for himself. It seems elementary, but if we look within, we may find that we all suffer similarly: How much of our daily actions, thoughts, and fears are tied to the looming threat of death?
Conclusion
While modern psychiatry continues to advance with better understandings of our neurobiology, improved knowledge of pathophysiological processes of mental illness, and expanding discovery of novel pharmacotherapeutics, the modern psychiatrist should not forget fundamental truths of behavior and humanity that were once the staple of psychiatry.
Death anxiety is one of those truths; it is the ultimate stressor that we will all face and should be regular study and practice for psychiatrists. In this article, we explored some of those facets most meaningful to us but recommend you expand your study to the many more available.
Patients often come to physicians seeking validation of their lives or trying to use the same maladaptive defense mechanisms that did not serve them well in the past to achieve a better outcome.
In today’s world, death anxiety can feel palpable due to the constant exposure to global news and social media that can make us feel irrelevant. However, legacy, or what we leave behind, can serve as a way to alleviate death anxiety. For many, reconciling their feelings toward their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety. Therapy can help individuals gain insight into their defensive behaviors and process their definition of a life well lived. By focusing on a life worth living, individuals can alleviate their death anxiety and gain a sense of fulfillment.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. 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. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Badre N. Burnout: A concept that rebrands mental illness for professionals. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2020 Mar 5.
The sacrifice of orthodoxy: Maintaining collegiality in psychiatry
Psychiatrists practice in a wide array of ways. We approach our work and our patients with beliefs and preconceptions that develop over time. Our training has significant influence, though our own personalities and biases also affect our understanding.
Psychiatrists have philosophical lenses through which they see patients. We can reflect and see some standard archetypes. We are familiar with the reductionistic pharmacologist, the somatic treatment specialist, the psychodynamic ‘guru,’ and the medicolegally paralyzed practitioner. It is without judgment that we lay these out, for our very point is that we have these constituent parts within our own clinical identities. The intensity with which we subscribe to these clinical sensibilities could contribute to a biased orthodoxy.
Orthodoxy can be defined as an accepted theory that stems from an authoritative entity. This is a well-known phenomenon that continues to be visible. For example, one can quickly peruse psychodynamic literature to find one school of thought criticizing another. It is not without some confrontation and even interpersonal rifts that the lineage of psychoanalytic theory has evolved. This has always been of interest to us. A core facet of psychoanalysis is empathy, truly knowing the inner state of a different person. And yet, the very bastions of this clinical sensibility frequently resort to veiled attacks on those in their field who have opposing views. It then begs the question: If even enlightened institutions fail at a nonjudgmental approach toward their colleagues, what hope is there for the rest of us clinicians, mired in the thick of day-to-day clinical practice?
It is our contention that the odds are against us. Even the aforementioned critique of psychoanalytic orthodoxy is just another example of how we humans organize our experience. Even as we write an article in argument against unbridled critique, we find it difficult to do so without engaging in it. For to criticize another is to help shore up our own personal identities. This is especially the case when clinicians deal with issues that we feel strongly about. The human psyche has a need to organize its experience, as “our experience of ourselves is fundamental to how we operate in the world. Our subjective experience is the phenomenology of all that one might be aware of.”1
In this vein, we would like to cite attribution theory. This is a view of human behavior within social psychology. The Austrian psychologist Fritz Heider, PhD, investigated “the domain of social interactions, wondering how people perceive each other in interaction and especially how they make sense of each other’s behavior.”2 Attribution theory suggests that as humans organize our social interactions, we may make two basic assumptions. One is that our own behavior is highly affected by an environment that is beyond our control. The second is that when judging the behavior of others, we are more likely to attribute it to internal traits that they have. A classic example is automobile traffic. When we see someone driving erratically, we are more likely to blame them for being an inherently bad driver. However, if attention is called to our own driving, we are more likely to cite external factors such as rush hour, a bad driver around us, or a faulty vehicle.
We would like to reference one last model of human behavior. It has become customary within the field of neuroscience to view the brain as a predictive organ: “Theories of prediction in perception, action, and learning suggest that the brain serves to reduce the discrepancies between expectation and actual experience, i.e., by reducing the prediction error.”3 Perception itself has recently been described as a controlled hallucination, where the brain makes predictions of what it thinks it is about to see based on past experiences. Visual stimulus ultimately takes time to enter our eyes and be processed in the brain – “predictions would need to preactivate neural representations that would typically be driven by sensory input, before the actual arrival of that input.”4 It thus seems to be an inherent method of the brain to anticipate visual and even social events to help human beings sustain themselves.
Having spoken of a psychoanalytic conceptualization of self-organization, the theory of attribution, and research into social neuroscience, we turn our attention back to the central question that this article would like to address.
When we find ourselves busy in rote clinical practice, we believe the likelihood of intercollegiate mentalization is low; our ability to relate to our peers becomes strained. We ultimately do not practice in a vacuum. Psychiatrists, even those in a solo private practice, are ultimately part of a community of providers who, more or less, follow some emergent ‘standard of care.’ This can be a vague concept; but one that takes on a concrete form in the minds of certain clinicians and certainly in the setting of a medicolegal court. Yet, the psychiatrists that we know all have very stereotyped ways of practice. And at the heart of it, we all think that we are right.
We can use polypharmacy as an example. Imagine that you have a new patient intake, who tells you that they are transferring care from another psychiatrist. They inform you of their medication regimen. This patient presents on eight or more psychotropics. Many of us may have a visceral reaction at this point and, following the aforementioned attribution theory, we may ask ourselves what ‘quack’ of a doctor would do this. Yet some among us would think that a very competent psychopharmacologist was daring enough to use the full armamentarium of psychopharmacology to help this patient, who must be treatment refractory.
When speaking with such a patient, we would be quick to reflect on our own parsimonious use of medications. We would tell ourselves that we are responsible providers and would be quick to recommend discontinuation of medications. This would help us feel better about ourselves, and would of course assuage the ever-present medicolegal ‘big brother’ in our minds. It is through this very process that we affirm our self-identities. For if this patient’s previous physician was a bad psychiatrist, then we are a good psychiatrist. It is through this process that our clinical selves find confirmation.
We do not mean to reduce the complexities of human behavior to quick stereotypes. However, it is our belief that when confronted with clinical or philosophical disputes with our colleagues, the basic rules of human behavior will attempt to dissolve and override efforts at mentalization, collegiality, or interpersonal sensitivity. For to accept a clinical practice view that is different from ours would be akin to giving up the essence of our clinical identities. It could be compared to the fragmentation process of a vulnerable psyche when confronted with a reality that is at odds with preconceived notions and experiences.
While we may be able to appreciate the nuances and sensibilities of another provider, we believe it would be particularly difficult for most of us to actually attempt to practice in a fashion that is not congruent with our own organizers of experience. Whether or not our practice style is ‘perfect,’ it has worked for us. Social neuroscience and our understanding of the organization of the self would predict that we would hold onto our way of practice with all the mind’s defenses. Externalization, denial, and projection could all be called into action in this battle against existential fragmentation.
Do we seek to portray a clinical world where there is no hope for genuine modeling of clinical sensibilities to other psychiatrists? That is not our intention. Yet it seems that many of the theoretical frameworks that we subscribe to argue against this possibility. We would be hypocritical if we did not here state that our own theoretical frameworks are yet other examples of “organizers of experience.” Attribution theory, intersubjectivity, and social neuroscience are simply our ways of organizing the chaos of perceptions, ideas, and intricacies of human behavior.
If we accept that psychiatrists, like all human beings, are trapped in a subjective experience, then we can be more playful and flexible when interacting with our colleagues. We do not have to be as defensive of our practices and accusatory of others. If we practice daily according to some orthodoxy, then we color our experiences of the patient and of our colleagues’ ways of practice. We automatically start off on the wrong foot. And yet, to give up this orthodoxy would, by definition, be disorganizing and fragmenting to us. For as Nietzsche said, “truth is an illusion without which a certain species could not survive.”5
Dr. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. 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. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Buirski P and Haglund P. Making sense together: The intersubjective approach to psychotherapy. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson; 2001.
2. Malle BF. Attribution theories: How people make sense of behavior. In Chadee D (ed.), Theories in social psychology. pp. 72-95. Wiley-Blackwell; 2011.
3. Brown EC and Brune M. The role of prediction in social neuroscience. Front Hum Neurosci. 2012 May 24;6:147. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2012.00147.
4. Blom T et al. Predictions drive neural representations of visual events ahead of incoming sensory information. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA. 2020 Mar 31;117(13):7510-7515. doi: 10.1073/pnas.1917777117.
5. Yalom I. The Gift of Therapy. Harper Perennial; 2002.
Psychiatrists practice in a wide array of ways. We approach our work and our patients with beliefs and preconceptions that develop over time. Our training has significant influence, though our own personalities and biases also affect our understanding.
Psychiatrists have philosophical lenses through which they see patients. We can reflect and see some standard archetypes. We are familiar with the reductionistic pharmacologist, the somatic treatment specialist, the psychodynamic ‘guru,’ and the medicolegally paralyzed practitioner. It is without judgment that we lay these out, for our very point is that we have these constituent parts within our own clinical identities. The intensity with which we subscribe to these clinical sensibilities could contribute to a biased orthodoxy.
Orthodoxy can be defined as an accepted theory that stems from an authoritative entity. This is a well-known phenomenon that continues to be visible. For example, one can quickly peruse psychodynamic literature to find one school of thought criticizing another. It is not without some confrontation and even interpersonal rifts that the lineage of psychoanalytic theory has evolved. This has always been of interest to us. A core facet of psychoanalysis is empathy, truly knowing the inner state of a different person. And yet, the very bastions of this clinical sensibility frequently resort to veiled attacks on those in their field who have opposing views. It then begs the question: If even enlightened institutions fail at a nonjudgmental approach toward their colleagues, what hope is there for the rest of us clinicians, mired in the thick of day-to-day clinical practice?
It is our contention that the odds are against us. Even the aforementioned critique of psychoanalytic orthodoxy is just another example of how we humans organize our experience. Even as we write an article in argument against unbridled critique, we find it difficult to do so without engaging in it. For to criticize another is to help shore up our own personal identities. This is especially the case when clinicians deal with issues that we feel strongly about. The human psyche has a need to organize its experience, as “our experience of ourselves is fundamental to how we operate in the world. Our subjective experience is the phenomenology of all that one might be aware of.”1
In this vein, we would like to cite attribution theory. This is a view of human behavior within social psychology. The Austrian psychologist Fritz Heider, PhD, investigated “the domain of social interactions, wondering how people perceive each other in interaction and especially how they make sense of each other’s behavior.”2 Attribution theory suggests that as humans organize our social interactions, we may make two basic assumptions. One is that our own behavior is highly affected by an environment that is beyond our control. The second is that when judging the behavior of others, we are more likely to attribute it to internal traits that they have. A classic example is automobile traffic. When we see someone driving erratically, we are more likely to blame them for being an inherently bad driver. However, if attention is called to our own driving, we are more likely to cite external factors such as rush hour, a bad driver around us, or a faulty vehicle.
We would like to reference one last model of human behavior. It has become customary within the field of neuroscience to view the brain as a predictive organ: “Theories of prediction in perception, action, and learning suggest that the brain serves to reduce the discrepancies between expectation and actual experience, i.e., by reducing the prediction error.”3 Perception itself has recently been described as a controlled hallucination, where the brain makes predictions of what it thinks it is about to see based on past experiences. Visual stimulus ultimately takes time to enter our eyes and be processed in the brain – “predictions would need to preactivate neural representations that would typically be driven by sensory input, before the actual arrival of that input.”4 It thus seems to be an inherent method of the brain to anticipate visual and even social events to help human beings sustain themselves.
Having spoken of a psychoanalytic conceptualization of self-organization, the theory of attribution, and research into social neuroscience, we turn our attention back to the central question that this article would like to address.
When we find ourselves busy in rote clinical practice, we believe the likelihood of intercollegiate mentalization is low; our ability to relate to our peers becomes strained. We ultimately do not practice in a vacuum. Psychiatrists, even those in a solo private practice, are ultimately part of a community of providers who, more or less, follow some emergent ‘standard of care.’ This can be a vague concept; but one that takes on a concrete form in the minds of certain clinicians and certainly in the setting of a medicolegal court. Yet, the psychiatrists that we know all have very stereotyped ways of practice. And at the heart of it, we all think that we are right.
We can use polypharmacy as an example. Imagine that you have a new patient intake, who tells you that they are transferring care from another psychiatrist. They inform you of their medication regimen. This patient presents on eight or more psychotropics. Many of us may have a visceral reaction at this point and, following the aforementioned attribution theory, we may ask ourselves what ‘quack’ of a doctor would do this. Yet some among us would think that a very competent psychopharmacologist was daring enough to use the full armamentarium of psychopharmacology to help this patient, who must be treatment refractory.
When speaking with such a patient, we would be quick to reflect on our own parsimonious use of medications. We would tell ourselves that we are responsible providers and would be quick to recommend discontinuation of medications. This would help us feel better about ourselves, and would of course assuage the ever-present medicolegal ‘big brother’ in our minds. It is through this very process that we affirm our self-identities. For if this patient’s previous physician was a bad psychiatrist, then we are a good psychiatrist. It is through this process that our clinical selves find confirmation.
We do not mean to reduce the complexities of human behavior to quick stereotypes. However, it is our belief that when confronted with clinical or philosophical disputes with our colleagues, the basic rules of human behavior will attempt to dissolve and override efforts at mentalization, collegiality, or interpersonal sensitivity. For to accept a clinical practice view that is different from ours would be akin to giving up the essence of our clinical identities. It could be compared to the fragmentation process of a vulnerable psyche when confronted with a reality that is at odds with preconceived notions and experiences.
While we may be able to appreciate the nuances and sensibilities of another provider, we believe it would be particularly difficult for most of us to actually attempt to practice in a fashion that is not congruent with our own organizers of experience. Whether or not our practice style is ‘perfect,’ it has worked for us. Social neuroscience and our understanding of the organization of the self would predict that we would hold onto our way of practice with all the mind’s defenses. Externalization, denial, and projection could all be called into action in this battle against existential fragmentation.
Do we seek to portray a clinical world where there is no hope for genuine modeling of clinical sensibilities to other psychiatrists? That is not our intention. Yet it seems that many of the theoretical frameworks that we subscribe to argue against this possibility. We would be hypocritical if we did not here state that our own theoretical frameworks are yet other examples of “organizers of experience.” Attribution theory, intersubjectivity, and social neuroscience are simply our ways of organizing the chaos of perceptions, ideas, and intricacies of human behavior.
If we accept that psychiatrists, like all human beings, are trapped in a subjective experience, then we can be more playful and flexible when interacting with our colleagues. We do not have to be as defensive of our practices and accusatory of others. If we practice daily according to some orthodoxy, then we color our experiences of the patient and of our colleagues’ ways of practice. We automatically start off on the wrong foot. And yet, to give up this orthodoxy would, by definition, be disorganizing and fragmenting to us. For as Nietzsche said, “truth is an illusion without which a certain species could not survive.”5
Dr. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. 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. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Buirski P and Haglund P. Making sense together: The intersubjective approach to psychotherapy. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson; 2001.
2. Malle BF. Attribution theories: How people make sense of behavior. In Chadee D (ed.), Theories in social psychology. pp. 72-95. Wiley-Blackwell; 2011.
3. Brown EC and Brune M. The role of prediction in social neuroscience. Front Hum Neurosci. 2012 May 24;6:147. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2012.00147.
4. Blom T et al. Predictions drive neural representations of visual events ahead of incoming sensory information. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA. 2020 Mar 31;117(13):7510-7515. doi: 10.1073/pnas.1917777117.
5. Yalom I. The Gift of Therapy. Harper Perennial; 2002.
Psychiatrists practice in a wide array of ways. We approach our work and our patients with beliefs and preconceptions that develop over time. Our training has significant influence, though our own personalities and biases also affect our understanding.
Psychiatrists have philosophical lenses through which they see patients. We can reflect and see some standard archetypes. We are familiar with the reductionistic pharmacologist, the somatic treatment specialist, the psychodynamic ‘guru,’ and the medicolegally paralyzed practitioner. It is without judgment that we lay these out, for our very point is that we have these constituent parts within our own clinical identities. The intensity with which we subscribe to these clinical sensibilities could contribute to a biased orthodoxy.
Orthodoxy can be defined as an accepted theory that stems from an authoritative entity. This is a well-known phenomenon that continues to be visible. For example, one can quickly peruse psychodynamic literature to find one school of thought criticizing another. It is not without some confrontation and even interpersonal rifts that the lineage of psychoanalytic theory has evolved. This has always been of interest to us. A core facet of psychoanalysis is empathy, truly knowing the inner state of a different person. And yet, the very bastions of this clinical sensibility frequently resort to veiled attacks on those in their field who have opposing views. It then begs the question: If even enlightened institutions fail at a nonjudgmental approach toward their colleagues, what hope is there for the rest of us clinicians, mired in the thick of day-to-day clinical practice?
It is our contention that the odds are against us. Even the aforementioned critique of psychoanalytic orthodoxy is just another example of how we humans organize our experience. Even as we write an article in argument against unbridled critique, we find it difficult to do so without engaging in it. For to criticize another is to help shore up our own personal identities. This is especially the case when clinicians deal with issues that we feel strongly about. The human psyche has a need to organize its experience, as “our experience of ourselves is fundamental to how we operate in the world. Our subjective experience is the phenomenology of all that one might be aware of.”1
In this vein, we would like to cite attribution theory. This is a view of human behavior within social psychology. The Austrian psychologist Fritz Heider, PhD, investigated “the domain of social interactions, wondering how people perceive each other in interaction and especially how they make sense of each other’s behavior.”2 Attribution theory suggests that as humans organize our social interactions, we may make two basic assumptions. One is that our own behavior is highly affected by an environment that is beyond our control. The second is that when judging the behavior of others, we are more likely to attribute it to internal traits that they have. A classic example is automobile traffic. When we see someone driving erratically, we are more likely to blame them for being an inherently bad driver. However, if attention is called to our own driving, we are more likely to cite external factors such as rush hour, a bad driver around us, or a faulty vehicle.
We would like to reference one last model of human behavior. It has become customary within the field of neuroscience to view the brain as a predictive organ: “Theories of prediction in perception, action, and learning suggest that the brain serves to reduce the discrepancies between expectation and actual experience, i.e., by reducing the prediction error.”3 Perception itself has recently been described as a controlled hallucination, where the brain makes predictions of what it thinks it is about to see based on past experiences. Visual stimulus ultimately takes time to enter our eyes and be processed in the brain – “predictions would need to preactivate neural representations that would typically be driven by sensory input, before the actual arrival of that input.”4 It thus seems to be an inherent method of the brain to anticipate visual and even social events to help human beings sustain themselves.
Having spoken of a psychoanalytic conceptualization of self-organization, the theory of attribution, and research into social neuroscience, we turn our attention back to the central question that this article would like to address.
When we find ourselves busy in rote clinical practice, we believe the likelihood of intercollegiate mentalization is low; our ability to relate to our peers becomes strained. We ultimately do not practice in a vacuum. Psychiatrists, even those in a solo private practice, are ultimately part of a community of providers who, more or less, follow some emergent ‘standard of care.’ This can be a vague concept; but one that takes on a concrete form in the minds of certain clinicians and certainly in the setting of a medicolegal court. Yet, the psychiatrists that we know all have very stereotyped ways of practice. And at the heart of it, we all think that we are right.
We can use polypharmacy as an example. Imagine that you have a new patient intake, who tells you that they are transferring care from another psychiatrist. They inform you of their medication regimen. This patient presents on eight or more psychotropics. Many of us may have a visceral reaction at this point and, following the aforementioned attribution theory, we may ask ourselves what ‘quack’ of a doctor would do this. Yet some among us would think that a very competent psychopharmacologist was daring enough to use the full armamentarium of psychopharmacology to help this patient, who must be treatment refractory.
When speaking with such a patient, we would be quick to reflect on our own parsimonious use of medications. We would tell ourselves that we are responsible providers and would be quick to recommend discontinuation of medications. This would help us feel better about ourselves, and would of course assuage the ever-present medicolegal ‘big brother’ in our minds. It is through this very process that we affirm our self-identities. For if this patient’s previous physician was a bad psychiatrist, then we are a good psychiatrist. It is through this process that our clinical selves find confirmation.
We do not mean to reduce the complexities of human behavior to quick stereotypes. However, it is our belief that when confronted with clinical or philosophical disputes with our colleagues, the basic rules of human behavior will attempt to dissolve and override efforts at mentalization, collegiality, or interpersonal sensitivity. For to accept a clinical practice view that is different from ours would be akin to giving up the essence of our clinical identities. It could be compared to the fragmentation process of a vulnerable psyche when confronted with a reality that is at odds with preconceived notions and experiences.
While we may be able to appreciate the nuances and sensibilities of another provider, we believe it would be particularly difficult for most of us to actually attempt to practice in a fashion that is not congruent with our own organizers of experience. Whether or not our practice style is ‘perfect,’ it has worked for us. Social neuroscience and our understanding of the organization of the self would predict that we would hold onto our way of practice with all the mind’s defenses. Externalization, denial, and projection could all be called into action in this battle against existential fragmentation.
Do we seek to portray a clinical world where there is no hope for genuine modeling of clinical sensibilities to other psychiatrists? That is not our intention. Yet it seems that many of the theoretical frameworks that we subscribe to argue against this possibility. We would be hypocritical if we did not here state that our own theoretical frameworks are yet other examples of “organizers of experience.” Attribution theory, intersubjectivity, and social neuroscience are simply our ways of organizing the chaos of perceptions, ideas, and intricacies of human behavior.
If we accept that psychiatrists, like all human beings, are trapped in a subjective experience, then we can be more playful and flexible when interacting with our colleagues. We do not have to be as defensive of our practices and accusatory of others. If we practice daily according to some orthodoxy, then we color our experiences of the patient and of our colleagues’ ways of practice. We automatically start off on the wrong foot. And yet, to give up this orthodoxy would, by definition, be disorganizing and fragmenting to us. For as Nietzsche said, “truth is an illusion without which a certain species could not survive.”5
Dr. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. 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. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Buirski P and Haglund P. Making sense together: The intersubjective approach to psychotherapy. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson; 2001.
2. Malle BF. Attribution theories: How people make sense of behavior. In Chadee D (ed.), Theories in social psychology. pp. 72-95. Wiley-Blackwell; 2011.
3. Brown EC and Brune M. The role of prediction in social neuroscience. Front Hum Neurosci. 2012 May 24;6:147. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2012.00147.
4. Blom T et al. Predictions drive neural representations of visual events ahead of incoming sensory information. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA. 2020 Mar 31;117(13):7510-7515. doi: 10.1073/pnas.1917777117.
5. Yalom I. The Gift of Therapy. Harper Perennial; 2002.
The anecdote as antidote: Psychiatric paradigms in Disney films
A common refrain in psychiatry is that the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Text Revision, (DSM-5-TR), published in 2022, is the best we can do.
Since the DSM-III was released in 1980, the American Psychiatric Association, which publishes the manual, has espoused the position that we should list symptoms, in a manner that is reminiscent of a checklist. For example, having a depressed mood on most days for a 2-week period, or a loss of interest in pleasurable things, as well as 4 additional symptoms – among them changes in appetite, changes in sleep, changes in psychomotor activity, fatigue, worthlessness, poor concentration, or thoughts of death – can lead to a diagnosis of a major depressive episode as part of a major depressive disorder.
Criticisms of this approach can be apparent. Patients subjected to such checklists, including being repeatedly asked to complete the Patient Health Questionnaire 9 (PHQ-9), which closely follows those criteria, can feel lost and even alienated by their providers. After all, one can ask all those questions and make a diagnosis of depression without even knowing about the patient’s stressors, their history, or their social context.
The DSM permits the diagnosis of psychiatric disorders without an understanding of the narrative of the patient. In its defense, the DSM is not a textbook of psychiatry, it is a guide on how to diagnose individuals. The DSM does not demand that psychiatrists only ask about the symptoms on the checklists; it is the providers who can choose to dismiss asking about the important facets of one’s life.
Yet every time we attend a lecture that starts by enumerating the DSM symptoms of the disorder being discussed, we are left with the dissatisfying impression that a specialist of this disorder should have a more nuanced and interesting description of their disorder of study. This feeling of discontent is compounded when we see a movie that encompasses so much of what is missing in today’s psychiatric parlance, and even more so if that movie is ostensibly made for children. Movies, by design, are particularly adept at encapsulating the narrative of someone’s life in a way that psychiatry can learn from.
Other than the embarrassment of not knowing a patient outside the checklist, the importance of narrative cannot be understated. Dr. Erik Erikson rightfully suggested that the point of life is “the acceptance of one’s one and only life cycle”1 or rather to know it was okay to have been oneself without additions or substitutions. Therefore, one must know what it has meant to be themselves to reconcile this question and achieve Ego Integrity rather than disgust and despair. Narrative is the way in which we understand who we are and what it has meant to be ourselves. An understanding of our personal narrative presents a unique opportunity in expressing what is missing in the DSM. Below, we provide two of our favorite examples in Disney films, among many.
‘Ratatouille’ (2007)
One of the missing features of the DSM is its inability to explain to patients the intrapsychic processes that guide us. One of these processes is how our values can lead us to a deep sense of guilt, shame, and the resulting feelings of alienation. It is extremely common for patients to enter our clinical practice feeling shackled by beliefs that they should accomplish more and be more than they are.
The animated film “Ratatouille” does an excellent job at addressing this feeling. The film follows Remy, the protagonist rat, and his adventures as he explores his passion for cooking. Remy teams up with the inept but good-natured human Alfredo Linguini and guides him through cooking while hiding under his chef’s hat. The primary antagonist, Anton Ego, is a particularly harsh food critic. His presence and appearance are somber. He exudes disdain. His trim physique and scarf suggest a man that will break and react to anything, and his skull-shaped typewriter in his coffin-shaped office informs the viewer that he is out to kill with his cruel words. Anton Ego serves as our projected super-ego. He is not an external judge but the judgment deep inside ourselves, goading us to be better with such severity that we are ultimately left feeling condemned.
Remy is the younger of two siblings. He is less physically adept but more intellectual than his older brother, who does not understand why Remy isn’t content eating scraps from the garbage like the rest of their rat clan. Remy is the creative part within us that wants to challenge the status quo and try something new. Remy also represents our shame and guilt for leaving our home. On one hand, we want to dare greatly, in this case at being an extraordinary chef, but on the other we are shy and cook in secret, hiding within the hat of another person. Remy struggles with the deep feeling that we do not deserve our success, that our family will leave us for being who we are, and that we are better off isolating and segregating from our challenges.
The movie concludes that through talent and hard work, our critics will accept us. Furthermore, once accepted for what we do, we can be further accepted for who we are. The movie ends with Remy cooking the eponymous dish ratatouille. He prepares it so remarkably well, the dish transports Anton Ego back to a sublime experience of eating ratatouille as a child, a touching moment which not only underscores food’s evocative link to memory but gives a glimpse at Anton Ego’s own narrative.
Ego is first won over by the dish, and only afterward learns of Remy’s true identity. Remy’s talent is undeniable though, and even the stuffy Ego must accept the film’s theme that “Anyone can cook,” even a rat – the rat that we all sometimes feel we are deep inside, rotten to the core but trying so hard to be accepted by others, and ultimately by ourselves. In the end, we overcome the disgust inherent in the imagery of a rat in a kitchen and instead embrace our hero’s achievement of ego integrity as he combines his identities as a member of a clan of rats, and one of Paris’s finest chefs.
While modern psychiatry can favor looking at people through the lens of biology rather than narrative, “Ratatouille” can serve as a reminder of the powerful unconscious forces that guide our lives. “Ratatouille” is not a successful movie only because of the compelling narrative, but also because the narrative matches the important psychic paradigms that psychiatry once embraced.
‘Inside Out’ (2015)
Another missing feature of the DSM is its inability to explain how symptoms feel and manifest psychologically. One such feeling is that of control – whether one is in control of one’s life, feelings, and action or rather a victim of external forces. It is extremely common for patients to enter our clinical practice feeling traumatized by the life they’ve lived and powerless to produce any change. Part of our role is to guide them through this journey from the object of their lives to the subject of their lives.
In the animated feature “Inside Out,” Riley, a preteen girl, goes through the tribulation of growing up and learning about herself. This seemingly happy child, content playing hockey with her best friend, Meg, on the picturesque frozen lakes of Minnesota, reaches her inevitable conflict. Her parents uproot her life, moving the family to San Francisco. By doing so, they disconnect her from her school, her friends, and her hobbies. While all this is happening, we spend time inside Riley’s psyche with the personified characters of Riley’s emotions as they affect her decisions and daily actions amidst the backdrop of her core memories and islands of personality.
During the move, her parents seemingly change and ultimately destroy every facet of Riley’s sense of self, which is animated as the collapse of her personality islands. Her best friend engages Riley in a video call just to inform her that she has a new friend who plays hockey equally well. Her parents do not hear Riley’s concerns and are portrayed as distracted by their adult problems. Riley feels ridiculed in her new school and unable to share her feelings with her parents, who ask her to still be their “happy girl” and indirectly ask her to fake pleasure to alleviate their own anxiety.
The climax of the movie is when Riley decides to run away from San Francisco and her parents, to return to her perceived true home, Minnesota. The climax is resolved when Riley realizes that her parents’ love, representing the connection we have to others, transcends her need for control. To some degree, we are all powerless in the face of the tremendous forces of life and share the difficult task of accepting the cards we were dealt, thus making the story of Riley so compelling.
Additionally, the climax is further resolved by another argument that psychiatry (and the DSM) should consider embracing. Emotions are not all symptoms and living without negative emotion is not the goal of life. Riley grows from preteen to teenager, and from object to subject of her life, by realizing that her symptoms/feelings are not just nuisances to avoid and hide, but the key to meaning. Our anger drives us to try hard. Our fear protects us from harm. Our sadness attracts the warmth and care of others. Our disgust protects us physically from noxious material (symbolized as a dreaded broccoli floret for preteen Riley) and socially by encouraging us to share societal norms. Similarly, patients and people in general would benefit by being taught that, while symptoms may permit the better assessment of psychiatric conditions using the DSM, life is much more than that.
It is unfair to blame the DSM for things it was not designed to do. The DSM doesn’t advertise itself as a guidebook of all behaviors, at all times. However, for a variety of reasons, it has become the main way psychiatry describes people. While we commend the APA for its effort and do not know that we could make it any better, we are frequently happily reminded that in about 90 minutes, filmmakers are able to display an empathic understanding of personal narratives that biologic psychiatry can miss.
Dr. Pulido is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in women’s mental health, medical education, and outpatient psychiatry. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Erikson, EH. Childhood and society (New York: WW Norton, 1950).
A common refrain in psychiatry is that the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Text Revision, (DSM-5-TR), published in 2022, is the best we can do.
Since the DSM-III was released in 1980, the American Psychiatric Association, which publishes the manual, has espoused the position that we should list symptoms, in a manner that is reminiscent of a checklist. For example, having a depressed mood on most days for a 2-week period, or a loss of interest in pleasurable things, as well as 4 additional symptoms – among them changes in appetite, changes in sleep, changes in psychomotor activity, fatigue, worthlessness, poor concentration, or thoughts of death – can lead to a diagnosis of a major depressive episode as part of a major depressive disorder.
Criticisms of this approach can be apparent. Patients subjected to such checklists, including being repeatedly asked to complete the Patient Health Questionnaire 9 (PHQ-9), which closely follows those criteria, can feel lost and even alienated by their providers. After all, one can ask all those questions and make a diagnosis of depression without even knowing about the patient’s stressors, their history, or their social context.
The DSM permits the diagnosis of psychiatric disorders without an understanding of the narrative of the patient. In its defense, the DSM is not a textbook of psychiatry, it is a guide on how to diagnose individuals. The DSM does not demand that psychiatrists only ask about the symptoms on the checklists; it is the providers who can choose to dismiss asking about the important facets of one’s life.
Yet every time we attend a lecture that starts by enumerating the DSM symptoms of the disorder being discussed, we are left with the dissatisfying impression that a specialist of this disorder should have a more nuanced and interesting description of their disorder of study. This feeling of discontent is compounded when we see a movie that encompasses so much of what is missing in today’s psychiatric parlance, and even more so if that movie is ostensibly made for children. Movies, by design, are particularly adept at encapsulating the narrative of someone’s life in a way that psychiatry can learn from.
Other than the embarrassment of not knowing a patient outside the checklist, the importance of narrative cannot be understated. Dr. Erik Erikson rightfully suggested that the point of life is “the acceptance of one’s one and only life cycle”1 or rather to know it was okay to have been oneself without additions or substitutions. Therefore, one must know what it has meant to be themselves to reconcile this question and achieve Ego Integrity rather than disgust and despair. Narrative is the way in which we understand who we are and what it has meant to be ourselves. An understanding of our personal narrative presents a unique opportunity in expressing what is missing in the DSM. Below, we provide two of our favorite examples in Disney films, among many.
‘Ratatouille’ (2007)
One of the missing features of the DSM is its inability to explain to patients the intrapsychic processes that guide us. One of these processes is how our values can lead us to a deep sense of guilt, shame, and the resulting feelings of alienation. It is extremely common for patients to enter our clinical practice feeling shackled by beliefs that they should accomplish more and be more than they are.
The animated film “Ratatouille” does an excellent job at addressing this feeling. The film follows Remy, the protagonist rat, and his adventures as he explores his passion for cooking. Remy teams up with the inept but good-natured human Alfredo Linguini and guides him through cooking while hiding under his chef’s hat. The primary antagonist, Anton Ego, is a particularly harsh food critic. His presence and appearance are somber. He exudes disdain. His trim physique and scarf suggest a man that will break and react to anything, and his skull-shaped typewriter in his coffin-shaped office informs the viewer that he is out to kill with his cruel words. Anton Ego serves as our projected super-ego. He is not an external judge but the judgment deep inside ourselves, goading us to be better with such severity that we are ultimately left feeling condemned.
Remy is the younger of two siblings. He is less physically adept but more intellectual than his older brother, who does not understand why Remy isn’t content eating scraps from the garbage like the rest of their rat clan. Remy is the creative part within us that wants to challenge the status quo and try something new. Remy also represents our shame and guilt for leaving our home. On one hand, we want to dare greatly, in this case at being an extraordinary chef, but on the other we are shy and cook in secret, hiding within the hat of another person. Remy struggles with the deep feeling that we do not deserve our success, that our family will leave us for being who we are, and that we are better off isolating and segregating from our challenges.
The movie concludes that through talent and hard work, our critics will accept us. Furthermore, once accepted for what we do, we can be further accepted for who we are. The movie ends with Remy cooking the eponymous dish ratatouille. He prepares it so remarkably well, the dish transports Anton Ego back to a sublime experience of eating ratatouille as a child, a touching moment which not only underscores food’s evocative link to memory but gives a glimpse at Anton Ego’s own narrative.
Ego is first won over by the dish, and only afterward learns of Remy’s true identity. Remy’s talent is undeniable though, and even the stuffy Ego must accept the film’s theme that “Anyone can cook,” even a rat – the rat that we all sometimes feel we are deep inside, rotten to the core but trying so hard to be accepted by others, and ultimately by ourselves. In the end, we overcome the disgust inherent in the imagery of a rat in a kitchen and instead embrace our hero’s achievement of ego integrity as he combines his identities as a member of a clan of rats, and one of Paris’s finest chefs.
While modern psychiatry can favor looking at people through the lens of biology rather than narrative, “Ratatouille” can serve as a reminder of the powerful unconscious forces that guide our lives. “Ratatouille” is not a successful movie only because of the compelling narrative, but also because the narrative matches the important psychic paradigms that psychiatry once embraced.
‘Inside Out’ (2015)
Another missing feature of the DSM is its inability to explain how symptoms feel and manifest psychologically. One such feeling is that of control – whether one is in control of one’s life, feelings, and action or rather a victim of external forces. It is extremely common for patients to enter our clinical practice feeling traumatized by the life they’ve lived and powerless to produce any change. Part of our role is to guide them through this journey from the object of their lives to the subject of their lives.
In the animated feature “Inside Out,” Riley, a preteen girl, goes through the tribulation of growing up and learning about herself. This seemingly happy child, content playing hockey with her best friend, Meg, on the picturesque frozen lakes of Minnesota, reaches her inevitable conflict. Her parents uproot her life, moving the family to San Francisco. By doing so, they disconnect her from her school, her friends, and her hobbies. While all this is happening, we spend time inside Riley’s psyche with the personified characters of Riley’s emotions as they affect her decisions and daily actions amidst the backdrop of her core memories and islands of personality.
During the move, her parents seemingly change and ultimately destroy every facet of Riley’s sense of self, which is animated as the collapse of her personality islands. Her best friend engages Riley in a video call just to inform her that she has a new friend who plays hockey equally well. Her parents do not hear Riley’s concerns and are portrayed as distracted by their adult problems. Riley feels ridiculed in her new school and unable to share her feelings with her parents, who ask her to still be their “happy girl” and indirectly ask her to fake pleasure to alleviate their own anxiety.
The climax of the movie is when Riley decides to run away from San Francisco and her parents, to return to her perceived true home, Minnesota. The climax is resolved when Riley realizes that her parents’ love, representing the connection we have to others, transcends her need for control. To some degree, we are all powerless in the face of the tremendous forces of life and share the difficult task of accepting the cards we were dealt, thus making the story of Riley so compelling.
Additionally, the climax is further resolved by another argument that psychiatry (and the DSM) should consider embracing. Emotions are not all symptoms and living without negative emotion is not the goal of life. Riley grows from preteen to teenager, and from object to subject of her life, by realizing that her symptoms/feelings are not just nuisances to avoid and hide, but the key to meaning. Our anger drives us to try hard. Our fear protects us from harm. Our sadness attracts the warmth and care of others. Our disgust protects us physically from noxious material (symbolized as a dreaded broccoli floret for preteen Riley) and socially by encouraging us to share societal norms. Similarly, patients and people in general would benefit by being taught that, while symptoms may permit the better assessment of psychiatric conditions using the DSM, life is much more than that.
It is unfair to blame the DSM for things it was not designed to do. The DSM doesn’t advertise itself as a guidebook of all behaviors, at all times. However, for a variety of reasons, it has become the main way psychiatry describes people. While we commend the APA for its effort and do not know that we could make it any better, we are frequently happily reminded that in about 90 minutes, filmmakers are able to display an empathic understanding of personal narratives that biologic psychiatry can miss.
Dr. Pulido is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in women’s mental health, medical education, and outpatient psychiatry. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Erikson, EH. Childhood and society (New York: WW Norton, 1950).
A common refrain in psychiatry is that the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Text Revision, (DSM-5-TR), published in 2022, is the best we can do.
Since the DSM-III was released in 1980, the American Psychiatric Association, which publishes the manual, has espoused the position that we should list symptoms, in a manner that is reminiscent of a checklist. For example, having a depressed mood on most days for a 2-week period, or a loss of interest in pleasurable things, as well as 4 additional symptoms – among them changes in appetite, changes in sleep, changes in psychomotor activity, fatigue, worthlessness, poor concentration, or thoughts of death – can lead to a diagnosis of a major depressive episode as part of a major depressive disorder.
Criticisms of this approach can be apparent. Patients subjected to such checklists, including being repeatedly asked to complete the Patient Health Questionnaire 9 (PHQ-9), which closely follows those criteria, can feel lost and even alienated by their providers. After all, one can ask all those questions and make a diagnosis of depression without even knowing about the patient’s stressors, their history, or their social context.
The DSM permits the diagnosis of psychiatric disorders without an understanding of the narrative of the patient. In its defense, the DSM is not a textbook of psychiatry, it is a guide on how to diagnose individuals. The DSM does not demand that psychiatrists only ask about the symptoms on the checklists; it is the providers who can choose to dismiss asking about the important facets of one’s life.
Yet every time we attend a lecture that starts by enumerating the DSM symptoms of the disorder being discussed, we are left with the dissatisfying impression that a specialist of this disorder should have a more nuanced and interesting description of their disorder of study. This feeling of discontent is compounded when we see a movie that encompasses so much of what is missing in today’s psychiatric parlance, and even more so if that movie is ostensibly made for children. Movies, by design, are particularly adept at encapsulating the narrative of someone’s life in a way that psychiatry can learn from.
Other than the embarrassment of not knowing a patient outside the checklist, the importance of narrative cannot be understated. Dr. Erik Erikson rightfully suggested that the point of life is “the acceptance of one’s one and only life cycle”1 or rather to know it was okay to have been oneself without additions or substitutions. Therefore, one must know what it has meant to be themselves to reconcile this question and achieve Ego Integrity rather than disgust and despair. Narrative is the way in which we understand who we are and what it has meant to be ourselves. An understanding of our personal narrative presents a unique opportunity in expressing what is missing in the DSM. Below, we provide two of our favorite examples in Disney films, among many.
‘Ratatouille’ (2007)
One of the missing features of the DSM is its inability to explain to patients the intrapsychic processes that guide us. One of these processes is how our values can lead us to a deep sense of guilt, shame, and the resulting feelings of alienation. It is extremely common for patients to enter our clinical practice feeling shackled by beliefs that they should accomplish more and be more than they are.
The animated film “Ratatouille” does an excellent job at addressing this feeling. The film follows Remy, the protagonist rat, and his adventures as he explores his passion for cooking. Remy teams up with the inept but good-natured human Alfredo Linguini and guides him through cooking while hiding under his chef’s hat. The primary antagonist, Anton Ego, is a particularly harsh food critic. His presence and appearance are somber. He exudes disdain. His trim physique and scarf suggest a man that will break and react to anything, and his skull-shaped typewriter in his coffin-shaped office informs the viewer that he is out to kill with his cruel words. Anton Ego serves as our projected super-ego. He is not an external judge but the judgment deep inside ourselves, goading us to be better with such severity that we are ultimately left feeling condemned.
Remy is the younger of two siblings. He is less physically adept but more intellectual than his older brother, who does not understand why Remy isn’t content eating scraps from the garbage like the rest of their rat clan. Remy is the creative part within us that wants to challenge the status quo and try something new. Remy also represents our shame and guilt for leaving our home. On one hand, we want to dare greatly, in this case at being an extraordinary chef, but on the other we are shy and cook in secret, hiding within the hat of another person. Remy struggles with the deep feeling that we do not deserve our success, that our family will leave us for being who we are, and that we are better off isolating and segregating from our challenges.
The movie concludes that through talent and hard work, our critics will accept us. Furthermore, once accepted for what we do, we can be further accepted for who we are. The movie ends with Remy cooking the eponymous dish ratatouille. He prepares it so remarkably well, the dish transports Anton Ego back to a sublime experience of eating ratatouille as a child, a touching moment which not only underscores food’s evocative link to memory but gives a glimpse at Anton Ego’s own narrative.
Ego is first won over by the dish, and only afterward learns of Remy’s true identity. Remy’s talent is undeniable though, and even the stuffy Ego must accept the film’s theme that “Anyone can cook,” even a rat – the rat that we all sometimes feel we are deep inside, rotten to the core but trying so hard to be accepted by others, and ultimately by ourselves. In the end, we overcome the disgust inherent in the imagery of a rat in a kitchen and instead embrace our hero’s achievement of ego integrity as he combines his identities as a member of a clan of rats, and one of Paris’s finest chefs.
While modern psychiatry can favor looking at people through the lens of biology rather than narrative, “Ratatouille” can serve as a reminder of the powerful unconscious forces that guide our lives. “Ratatouille” is not a successful movie only because of the compelling narrative, but also because the narrative matches the important psychic paradigms that psychiatry once embraced.
‘Inside Out’ (2015)
Another missing feature of the DSM is its inability to explain how symptoms feel and manifest psychologically. One such feeling is that of control – whether one is in control of one’s life, feelings, and action or rather a victim of external forces. It is extremely common for patients to enter our clinical practice feeling traumatized by the life they’ve lived and powerless to produce any change. Part of our role is to guide them through this journey from the object of their lives to the subject of their lives.
In the animated feature “Inside Out,” Riley, a preteen girl, goes through the tribulation of growing up and learning about herself. This seemingly happy child, content playing hockey with her best friend, Meg, on the picturesque frozen lakes of Minnesota, reaches her inevitable conflict. Her parents uproot her life, moving the family to San Francisco. By doing so, they disconnect her from her school, her friends, and her hobbies. While all this is happening, we spend time inside Riley’s psyche with the personified characters of Riley’s emotions as they affect her decisions and daily actions amidst the backdrop of her core memories and islands of personality.
During the move, her parents seemingly change and ultimately destroy every facet of Riley’s sense of self, which is animated as the collapse of her personality islands. Her best friend engages Riley in a video call just to inform her that she has a new friend who plays hockey equally well. Her parents do not hear Riley’s concerns and are portrayed as distracted by their adult problems. Riley feels ridiculed in her new school and unable to share her feelings with her parents, who ask her to still be their “happy girl” and indirectly ask her to fake pleasure to alleviate their own anxiety.
The climax of the movie is when Riley decides to run away from San Francisco and her parents, to return to her perceived true home, Minnesota. The climax is resolved when Riley realizes that her parents’ love, representing the connection we have to others, transcends her need for control. To some degree, we are all powerless in the face of the tremendous forces of life and share the difficult task of accepting the cards we were dealt, thus making the story of Riley so compelling.
Additionally, the climax is further resolved by another argument that psychiatry (and the DSM) should consider embracing. Emotions are not all symptoms and living without negative emotion is not the goal of life. Riley grows from preteen to teenager, and from object to subject of her life, by realizing that her symptoms/feelings are not just nuisances to avoid and hide, but the key to meaning. Our anger drives us to try hard. Our fear protects us from harm. Our sadness attracts the warmth and care of others. Our disgust protects us physically from noxious material (symbolized as a dreaded broccoli floret for preteen Riley) and socially by encouraging us to share societal norms. Similarly, patients and people in general would benefit by being taught that, while symptoms may permit the better assessment of psychiatric conditions using the DSM, life is much more than that.
It is unfair to blame the DSM for things it was not designed to do. The DSM doesn’t advertise itself as a guidebook of all behaviors, at all times. However, for a variety of reasons, it has become the main way psychiatry describes people. While we commend the APA for its effort and do not know that we could make it any better, we are frequently happily reminded that in about 90 minutes, filmmakers are able to display an empathic understanding of personal narratives that biologic psychiatry can miss.
Dr. Pulido is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in women’s mental health, medical education, and outpatient psychiatry. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Erikson, EH. Childhood and society (New York: WW Norton, 1950).
How to remain apolitical with patients
It is assumed that psychiatrists in general, but particularly in academia, are progressive liberals. There is evidence to support this idea, with a survey finding that more than three-quarters of U.S. psychiatrists are registered Democrats.1
Other corroborating factors to our field’s progressive tendency include the publication of pseudo-political books like “The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump: 27 Psychiatrists and Mental Health Experts Assess a President” – without a well-known equivalent on the other side.
Additionally, psychiatry has in the recent past, rightfully spent significant effort examining the disproportional trauma faced by patients with underprivileged backgrounds, which is often seen as a political position. The American Psychiatric Association has itself taken a stance on the national debate about abortion to warn against the psychiatric consequences of the Dobbs v. Jackson Supreme Court decision despite the clear political statement it makes.
We understand a likely rationale for psychiatry’s liberal tendency. Most psychiatrists support political objectives that provide resources for the treatment of the severely mentally ill. In general, the psychosocial consequences of mental illness place a downward economic pressure on our patients that leads to poverty and its associated traumas that then tend to feedback to worsen the severity of the illness itself. It is thus natural for psychiatry to promote political causes such as progressivism that focus on the needs of economically and socially struggling communities. If one posits a natural role for psychiatry in promoting the interests of patients, then it is a short leap to psychiatry promoting the political causes of the underprivileged, often in the form of endorsing the Democratic party.
As a result, a proportion of patients come into psychiatric treatment with expectations that their providers will negatively judge them and possibly punish their conservative beliefs or Republican political affiliation. Herein lies a question – “Is psychiatry willing to make 46.9% of Americans uncomfortable?” How should psychiatry address the 46.9% of Americans who voted Republican during the 2020 presidential election? In our desire to support the disadvantaged, how political are we willing to get and at what cost? While we cannot speak for the field as a whole, it is our concern that a vast percentage of Americans feel alienated from talking to us, which is particularly problematic in a field based on mutual trust and understanding.
This problem may be particularly palpable to us, as we are psychiatrists in a large metropolitan area of California who often treat specialty populations like veterans and law enforcement. In one study, law enforcement officers were found to be twice as likely to be Republicans as civilians.2 Michael McHale, the president of the National Association of Police Organizations, spoke at the 2020 Republican Party’s national convention as documented in an article titled “Union leader tells Republican convention why cops back Trump.”3 Similarly, about 60% of veterans identify as Republicans.4
Within the first few sessions, when patients are most vulnerable and sensitive to the perception of being judged, we commonly get asked questions to test our political beliefs. Some patients will display clothing that suggests a political affiliation; those wardrobe arrangements are, at times, an attempt at testing our knowledge of their in-group. While a bright-red cap with a reminder to keep the United States “great” in capital letters may be an overt invitation to address the topic, other patients may have a small symbol of a rattlesnake to test our ability to recognize the “Don’t Tread on Me” Gadsden flag.
Alternatively, other patients will ask our opinion, or bring up news topics, to share their concerns and/or examine our response and reactions. We remember, in particular, a patient who subtly asked if they needed to be vaccinated to attend therapy visits in person as a leading statement into their conservative political beliefs. It is a reminder that many patients fear how we will judge them or where we will draw the line – “Is there something I, the patient, can say that will make him dislike me?”
While the concept of making all patients comfortable may feel abstract or trivial to some, the consequences can be very real. We remember a patient with severe depression and occasional suicidality, who required many months of treatment for him to reveal that he owned a gun. His conservative beliefs made him very resistant to discuss gun ownership with someone who is presumably liberal and has the power to restrict such ownership. However, after a frank discussion that our concerns about his gun were not constitutional or political but medical, the patient agreed to relinquish his gun, at least temporarily, a likely more important intervention than many in psychiatry.
The ramifications are also wider than most imagine. In California, a particularly liberal state, many consistently and reliably liberal patients have some conservative beliefs. Those beliefs are often closeted: a Democratic mother who doesn’t think her 3-year-old daughter should wear a mask in school; a Democratic woman who questioned the veracity of Amber Heard during the Johnny Depp defamation trial and feels guilty about her prior dedication to the #MeToo movement.
Patients may feel torn about those beliefs and may be apprehensive to discuss them despite a nagging need to express or examine them in a place without judgment.
that we attempted to highlight in this article. In particular, a vast proportion of Americans may feel alienated from treatment or may refuse to divulge clinically relevant information, and a large number of patients may enter psychiatric treatment with concerns that they will be judged.
Psychiatry is founded on the honest exchange of thoughts and feelings between patients and providers without the fear of harsh judgment and intellectual retaliation. Psychiatrists would be wise to consider those factors and their repercussions when choosing to take political positions and setting a frame of care with their patients.
Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Sanger-Katz M. Your surgeon is probably a Republican, your psychiatrist probably a Democrat. New York Times. 2016 Oct 6.
2. Ba B et al. Who are the police? Descriptive representation in the coercive arm of government. 2022 Mar 21.
3. Rainey J. Union leader tells Republican convention why cops back Trump. Los Angeles Times. 2020 Aug 26.
4. Igielnik R et al. Trump draws stronger support from veterans than from the public on leadership of U.S. military. Pew Research Center. 2019 July 10.
It is assumed that psychiatrists in general, but particularly in academia, are progressive liberals. There is evidence to support this idea, with a survey finding that more than three-quarters of U.S. psychiatrists are registered Democrats.1
Other corroborating factors to our field’s progressive tendency include the publication of pseudo-political books like “The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump: 27 Psychiatrists and Mental Health Experts Assess a President” – without a well-known equivalent on the other side.
Additionally, psychiatry has in the recent past, rightfully spent significant effort examining the disproportional trauma faced by patients with underprivileged backgrounds, which is often seen as a political position. The American Psychiatric Association has itself taken a stance on the national debate about abortion to warn against the psychiatric consequences of the Dobbs v. Jackson Supreme Court decision despite the clear political statement it makes.
We understand a likely rationale for psychiatry’s liberal tendency. Most psychiatrists support political objectives that provide resources for the treatment of the severely mentally ill. In general, the psychosocial consequences of mental illness place a downward economic pressure on our patients that leads to poverty and its associated traumas that then tend to feedback to worsen the severity of the illness itself. It is thus natural for psychiatry to promote political causes such as progressivism that focus on the needs of economically and socially struggling communities. If one posits a natural role for psychiatry in promoting the interests of patients, then it is a short leap to psychiatry promoting the political causes of the underprivileged, often in the form of endorsing the Democratic party.
As a result, a proportion of patients come into psychiatric treatment with expectations that their providers will negatively judge them and possibly punish their conservative beliefs or Republican political affiliation. Herein lies a question – “Is psychiatry willing to make 46.9% of Americans uncomfortable?” How should psychiatry address the 46.9% of Americans who voted Republican during the 2020 presidential election? In our desire to support the disadvantaged, how political are we willing to get and at what cost? While we cannot speak for the field as a whole, it is our concern that a vast percentage of Americans feel alienated from talking to us, which is particularly problematic in a field based on mutual trust and understanding.
This problem may be particularly palpable to us, as we are psychiatrists in a large metropolitan area of California who often treat specialty populations like veterans and law enforcement. In one study, law enforcement officers were found to be twice as likely to be Republicans as civilians.2 Michael McHale, the president of the National Association of Police Organizations, spoke at the 2020 Republican Party’s national convention as documented in an article titled “Union leader tells Republican convention why cops back Trump.”3 Similarly, about 60% of veterans identify as Republicans.4
Within the first few sessions, when patients are most vulnerable and sensitive to the perception of being judged, we commonly get asked questions to test our political beliefs. Some patients will display clothing that suggests a political affiliation; those wardrobe arrangements are, at times, an attempt at testing our knowledge of their in-group. While a bright-red cap with a reminder to keep the United States “great” in capital letters may be an overt invitation to address the topic, other patients may have a small symbol of a rattlesnake to test our ability to recognize the “Don’t Tread on Me” Gadsden flag.
Alternatively, other patients will ask our opinion, or bring up news topics, to share their concerns and/or examine our response and reactions. We remember, in particular, a patient who subtly asked if they needed to be vaccinated to attend therapy visits in person as a leading statement into their conservative political beliefs. It is a reminder that many patients fear how we will judge them or where we will draw the line – “Is there something I, the patient, can say that will make him dislike me?”
While the concept of making all patients comfortable may feel abstract or trivial to some, the consequences can be very real. We remember a patient with severe depression and occasional suicidality, who required many months of treatment for him to reveal that he owned a gun. His conservative beliefs made him very resistant to discuss gun ownership with someone who is presumably liberal and has the power to restrict such ownership. However, after a frank discussion that our concerns about his gun were not constitutional or political but medical, the patient agreed to relinquish his gun, at least temporarily, a likely more important intervention than many in psychiatry.
The ramifications are also wider than most imagine. In California, a particularly liberal state, many consistently and reliably liberal patients have some conservative beliefs. Those beliefs are often closeted: a Democratic mother who doesn’t think her 3-year-old daughter should wear a mask in school; a Democratic woman who questioned the veracity of Amber Heard during the Johnny Depp defamation trial and feels guilty about her prior dedication to the #MeToo movement.
Patients may feel torn about those beliefs and may be apprehensive to discuss them despite a nagging need to express or examine them in a place without judgment.
that we attempted to highlight in this article. In particular, a vast proportion of Americans may feel alienated from treatment or may refuse to divulge clinically relevant information, and a large number of patients may enter psychiatric treatment with concerns that they will be judged.
Psychiatry is founded on the honest exchange of thoughts and feelings between patients and providers without the fear of harsh judgment and intellectual retaliation. Psychiatrists would be wise to consider those factors and their repercussions when choosing to take political positions and setting a frame of care with their patients.
Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Sanger-Katz M. Your surgeon is probably a Republican, your psychiatrist probably a Democrat. New York Times. 2016 Oct 6.
2. Ba B et al. Who are the police? Descriptive representation in the coercive arm of government. 2022 Mar 21.
3. Rainey J. Union leader tells Republican convention why cops back Trump. Los Angeles Times. 2020 Aug 26.
4. Igielnik R et al. Trump draws stronger support from veterans than from the public on leadership of U.S. military. Pew Research Center. 2019 July 10.
It is assumed that psychiatrists in general, but particularly in academia, are progressive liberals. There is evidence to support this idea, with a survey finding that more than three-quarters of U.S. psychiatrists are registered Democrats.1
Other corroborating factors to our field’s progressive tendency include the publication of pseudo-political books like “The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump: 27 Psychiatrists and Mental Health Experts Assess a President” – without a well-known equivalent on the other side.
Additionally, psychiatry has in the recent past, rightfully spent significant effort examining the disproportional trauma faced by patients with underprivileged backgrounds, which is often seen as a political position. The American Psychiatric Association has itself taken a stance on the national debate about abortion to warn against the psychiatric consequences of the Dobbs v. Jackson Supreme Court decision despite the clear political statement it makes.
We understand a likely rationale for psychiatry’s liberal tendency. Most psychiatrists support political objectives that provide resources for the treatment of the severely mentally ill. In general, the psychosocial consequences of mental illness place a downward economic pressure on our patients that leads to poverty and its associated traumas that then tend to feedback to worsen the severity of the illness itself. It is thus natural for psychiatry to promote political causes such as progressivism that focus on the needs of economically and socially struggling communities. If one posits a natural role for psychiatry in promoting the interests of patients, then it is a short leap to psychiatry promoting the political causes of the underprivileged, often in the form of endorsing the Democratic party.
As a result, a proportion of patients come into psychiatric treatment with expectations that their providers will negatively judge them and possibly punish their conservative beliefs or Republican political affiliation. Herein lies a question – “Is psychiatry willing to make 46.9% of Americans uncomfortable?” How should psychiatry address the 46.9% of Americans who voted Republican during the 2020 presidential election? In our desire to support the disadvantaged, how political are we willing to get and at what cost? While we cannot speak for the field as a whole, it is our concern that a vast percentage of Americans feel alienated from talking to us, which is particularly problematic in a field based on mutual trust and understanding.
This problem may be particularly palpable to us, as we are psychiatrists in a large metropolitan area of California who often treat specialty populations like veterans and law enforcement. In one study, law enforcement officers were found to be twice as likely to be Republicans as civilians.2 Michael McHale, the president of the National Association of Police Organizations, spoke at the 2020 Republican Party’s national convention as documented in an article titled “Union leader tells Republican convention why cops back Trump.”3 Similarly, about 60% of veterans identify as Republicans.4
Within the first few sessions, when patients are most vulnerable and sensitive to the perception of being judged, we commonly get asked questions to test our political beliefs. Some patients will display clothing that suggests a political affiliation; those wardrobe arrangements are, at times, an attempt at testing our knowledge of their in-group. While a bright-red cap with a reminder to keep the United States “great” in capital letters may be an overt invitation to address the topic, other patients may have a small symbol of a rattlesnake to test our ability to recognize the “Don’t Tread on Me” Gadsden flag.
Alternatively, other patients will ask our opinion, or bring up news topics, to share their concerns and/or examine our response and reactions. We remember, in particular, a patient who subtly asked if they needed to be vaccinated to attend therapy visits in person as a leading statement into their conservative political beliefs. It is a reminder that many patients fear how we will judge them or where we will draw the line – “Is there something I, the patient, can say that will make him dislike me?”
While the concept of making all patients comfortable may feel abstract or trivial to some, the consequences can be very real. We remember a patient with severe depression and occasional suicidality, who required many months of treatment for him to reveal that he owned a gun. His conservative beliefs made him very resistant to discuss gun ownership with someone who is presumably liberal and has the power to restrict such ownership. However, after a frank discussion that our concerns about his gun were not constitutional or political but medical, the patient agreed to relinquish his gun, at least temporarily, a likely more important intervention than many in psychiatry.
The ramifications are also wider than most imagine. In California, a particularly liberal state, many consistently and reliably liberal patients have some conservative beliefs. Those beliefs are often closeted: a Democratic mother who doesn’t think her 3-year-old daughter should wear a mask in school; a Democratic woman who questioned the veracity of Amber Heard during the Johnny Depp defamation trial and feels guilty about her prior dedication to the #MeToo movement.
Patients may feel torn about those beliefs and may be apprehensive to discuss them despite a nagging need to express or examine them in a place without judgment.
that we attempted to highlight in this article. In particular, a vast proportion of Americans may feel alienated from treatment or may refuse to divulge clinically relevant information, and a large number of patients may enter psychiatric treatment with concerns that they will be judged.
Psychiatry is founded on the honest exchange of thoughts and feelings between patients and providers without the fear of harsh judgment and intellectual retaliation. Psychiatrists would be wise to consider those factors and their repercussions when choosing to take political positions and setting a frame of care with their patients.
Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Sanger-Katz M. Your surgeon is probably a Republican, your psychiatrist probably a Democrat. New York Times. 2016 Oct 6.
2. Ba B et al. Who are the police? Descriptive representation in the coercive arm of government. 2022 Mar 21.
3. Rainey J. Union leader tells Republican convention why cops back Trump. Los Angeles Times. 2020 Aug 26.
4. Igielnik R et al. Trump draws stronger support from veterans than from the public on leadership of U.S. military. Pew Research Center. 2019 July 10.
Schizophrenia and postmodernism: A philosophical exercise in treatment
Schizophrenia is defined as having episodes of psychosis: periods of time when one suffers from delusions, hallucinations, disorganized behaviors, disorganized speech, and negative symptoms. The concept of schizophrenia can be simplified as a detachment from reality. Patients who struggle with this illness frame their perceptions with a different set of rules and beliefs than the rest of society. These altered perceptions frequently become the basis of delusions, one of the most recognized symptoms of schizophrenia.
A patient with schizophrenia doesn’t have delusions, as much as having a belief system, which is not recognized by any other. It is not the mismatch between “objective reality” and the held belief, which qualifies the belief as delusional, so much as the mismatch with the beliefs of those around you. Heliocentrism denial, denying the knowledge that the earth rotates around the sun, is incorrect because it is not factual. However, heliocentrism denial is not a delusion because it is incorrect, but because society chooses it to be incorrect.
We’d like to invite the reader to a thought experiment. “Objective reality” can be referred to as “anything that exists as it is independent of any conscious awareness of it.”1 “Consciousness awareness” entails an observer. If we remove the concept of consciousness or observer from existence, how would we then define “objective reality,” as the very definition of “objective reality” points to the existence of an observer. One deduces that there is no way to define “objective reality” without invoking the notion of an observer or of consciousness.
It is our contention that the concept of an “objective reality” is tautological – it answers itself. This philosophical quandary helps explain why a person with schizophrenia may feel alienated by others who do not appreciate their perceived “objective reality.”
Schizophrenia and ‘objective reality’
A patient with schizophrenia enters a psychiatrist’s office and may realize that their belief is not shared by others and society. The schizophrenic patient may understand the concept of delusions as fixed and false beliefs. However, to them, it is everyone else who is delusional. They may attempt to convince you, as their provider, to switch to their side. They may provide you with evidence for their belief system. One could argue that believing them, in response, would be curative. If not only one’s psychiatrist, but society accepted the schizophrenic patient’s belief system, it would no longer be delusional, whether real or not. Objective reality requires the presence of an object, an observer, to grant its value of truth.
In a simplistic way, those were the arguments of postmodernist philosophers. Reality is tainted by its observer, in a similar way that the Heisenberg uncertainty principle teaches that there is a limit to our simultaneous understanding of position and momentum of particles. This perspective may explain why Michel Foucault, PhD, the famous French postmodernist philosopher, was so interested in psychiatry and in particular schizophrenia. Dr. Foucault was deeply concerned with society imposing its beliefs and value system on patients, and positioning itself as the ultimate arbiter of reality. He went on to postulate that the bigger difference between schizophrenic patients and psychiatrists was not who was in the correct plane of reality but who was granted by society to arbitrate the answer. If reality is a subjective construct enforced by a ruling class, who has the power to rule becomes of the utmost importance.
Intersubjectivity theory in psychoanalysis has many of its sensibilities rooted in such thought. It argues against the myth of the isolated mind. Truth, in the context of psychoanalysis, is seen as an emergent product of dialogue between the therapist/patient dyad. It is in line with the ontological shift from a logical-positivist model to the more modern, constructivist framework. In terms of its view of psychosis, “delusional ideas were understood as a form of absolution – a radical decontextualization serving vital and restorative defensive functions.”2
It is an interesting proposition to advance this theory further in contending that it is not the independent consciousness of two entities that create the intersubjective space; but rather that it is the intersubjective space that literally creates the conscious entities. Could it not be said that the subjective relationship is more fundamental than consciousness itself? As Chris Jaenicke, Dipl.-Psych., wrote, “infant research has opened our eyes to the fact that there is no unilateral action.”3
Postmodernism and psychiatry
Postmodernism and its precursor skepticism have significant histories within the field of philosophy. This article will not summarize centuries of philosophical thought. In brief, skepticism is a powerful philosophical tool that can powerfully point out the limitations of human knowledge and certainty.
As a pedagogic jest to trainees, we will often point out that none of us “really knows” our date of birth with absolute certainty. None of us were conscious enough to remember our birth, conscious enough to understand the concept of date or time, and conscious enough to know who participated in it. At a fundamental level, we chose to believe our date of birth. Similarly, while the world could be a fictionalized simulation,4 we chose to believe that it is real because it behaves in a consistent way that permits scientific study. Postmodernism and skepticism are philosophical tools that permit one to question everything but are themselves limited by the real and empiric lives we live.
Psychiatrists are empiricists. We treat real people, who suffer in a very perceptible way, and live in a very tangible world. We frown on the postmodernist perspective and do not spend much or any time studying it as trainees. However, postmodernism, despite its philosophical and practical flaws, and adjacency to antipsychiatry,5 is an essential tool for the psychiatrist. In addition to the standard treatments for schizophrenia, the psychiatrist should attempt to create a bond with someone who is disconnected from the world. Postmodernism provides us with a way of doing so.
A psychiatrist who understands and appreciates postmodernism can show a patient why at some level we cannot refute all delusions. This psychiatrist can subsequently have empathy that some of the core beliefs of a patient may always be left unanswered. The psychiatrist can appreciate that to some degree the reason why the patient’s beliefs are not true is because society has chosen for them not to be true. Additionally, the psychiatrist can acknowledge to the patient that in some ways the correctness of a delusion is less relevant than the power of society to enforce its reality on the patient. This connection in itself is partially curative as it restores the patient’s attachment to society; we now have some plane of reality, the relationship, which is the same.
Psychiatry and philosophy
However, tempting it may be to be satisfied with this approach as an end in itself; this would be dangerous. While gratifying to the patient to be seen and heard, they will over time only become further entrenched in that compromise formation of delusional beliefs. The role of the psychiatrist, once deep and meaningful rapport has been established and solidified, is to point out to the patient the limitations of the delusions’ belief system.
“I empathize that not all your delusions can be disproved. An extension of that thought is that many beliefs can’t be disproved. Society chooses to believe that aliens do not live on earth but at the same time we can’t disprove with absolute certainty that they don’t. We live in a world where attachment to others enriches our lives. If you continue to believe that aliens affect all existence around you, you will disconnect yourself from all of us. I hope that our therapy has shown you the importance of human connection and the sacrifice of your belief system.”
In the modern day, psychiatry has chosen to believe that schizophrenia is a biological disorder that requires treatment with antipsychotics. We choose to believe that this is likely true, and we think that our empirical experience has been consistent with this belief. However, we also think that patients with this illness are salient beings that deserve to have their thoughts examined and addressed in a therapeutic framework that seeks to understand and acknowledge them as worthy and intelligent individuals. Philosophy provides psychiatry with tools on how to do so.
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. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. Dr. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. https://iep.utm.edu/objectiv/.
2. Stolorow, RD. The phenomenology of trauma and the absolutisms of everyday life: A personal journey. Psychoanal Psychol. 1999;16(3):464-8. doi: 10.1037/0736-9735.16.3.464.
3. Jaenicke C. “The Risk of Relatedness: Intersubjectivity Theory in Clinical Practice” Lanham, Md.: Jason Aronson, 2007.
4. Cuthbertson A. “Elon Musk cites Pong as evidence that we are already living in a simulation” The Independent. 2021 Dec 1. https://www.independent.co.uk/space/elon-musk-simulation-pong-video-game-b1972369.html.
5. Foucault M (Howard R, translator). “Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason” New York: Vintage, 1965.
Schizophrenia is defined as having episodes of psychosis: periods of time when one suffers from delusions, hallucinations, disorganized behaviors, disorganized speech, and negative symptoms. The concept of schizophrenia can be simplified as a detachment from reality. Patients who struggle with this illness frame their perceptions with a different set of rules and beliefs than the rest of society. These altered perceptions frequently become the basis of delusions, one of the most recognized symptoms of schizophrenia.
A patient with schizophrenia doesn’t have delusions, as much as having a belief system, which is not recognized by any other. It is not the mismatch between “objective reality” and the held belief, which qualifies the belief as delusional, so much as the mismatch with the beliefs of those around you. Heliocentrism denial, denying the knowledge that the earth rotates around the sun, is incorrect because it is not factual. However, heliocentrism denial is not a delusion because it is incorrect, but because society chooses it to be incorrect.
We’d like to invite the reader to a thought experiment. “Objective reality” can be referred to as “anything that exists as it is independent of any conscious awareness of it.”1 “Consciousness awareness” entails an observer. If we remove the concept of consciousness or observer from existence, how would we then define “objective reality,” as the very definition of “objective reality” points to the existence of an observer. One deduces that there is no way to define “objective reality” without invoking the notion of an observer or of consciousness.
It is our contention that the concept of an “objective reality” is tautological – it answers itself. This philosophical quandary helps explain why a person with schizophrenia may feel alienated by others who do not appreciate their perceived “objective reality.”
Schizophrenia and ‘objective reality’
A patient with schizophrenia enters a psychiatrist’s office and may realize that their belief is not shared by others and society. The schizophrenic patient may understand the concept of delusions as fixed and false beliefs. However, to them, it is everyone else who is delusional. They may attempt to convince you, as their provider, to switch to their side. They may provide you with evidence for their belief system. One could argue that believing them, in response, would be curative. If not only one’s psychiatrist, but society accepted the schizophrenic patient’s belief system, it would no longer be delusional, whether real or not. Objective reality requires the presence of an object, an observer, to grant its value of truth.
In a simplistic way, those were the arguments of postmodernist philosophers. Reality is tainted by its observer, in a similar way that the Heisenberg uncertainty principle teaches that there is a limit to our simultaneous understanding of position and momentum of particles. This perspective may explain why Michel Foucault, PhD, the famous French postmodernist philosopher, was so interested in psychiatry and in particular schizophrenia. Dr. Foucault was deeply concerned with society imposing its beliefs and value system on patients, and positioning itself as the ultimate arbiter of reality. He went on to postulate that the bigger difference between schizophrenic patients and psychiatrists was not who was in the correct plane of reality but who was granted by society to arbitrate the answer. If reality is a subjective construct enforced by a ruling class, who has the power to rule becomes of the utmost importance.
Intersubjectivity theory in psychoanalysis has many of its sensibilities rooted in such thought. It argues against the myth of the isolated mind. Truth, in the context of psychoanalysis, is seen as an emergent product of dialogue between the therapist/patient dyad. It is in line with the ontological shift from a logical-positivist model to the more modern, constructivist framework. In terms of its view of psychosis, “delusional ideas were understood as a form of absolution – a radical decontextualization serving vital and restorative defensive functions.”2
It is an interesting proposition to advance this theory further in contending that it is not the independent consciousness of two entities that create the intersubjective space; but rather that it is the intersubjective space that literally creates the conscious entities. Could it not be said that the subjective relationship is more fundamental than consciousness itself? As Chris Jaenicke, Dipl.-Psych., wrote, “infant research has opened our eyes to the fact that there is no unilateral action.”3
Postmodernism and psychiatry
Postmodernism and its precursor skepticism have significant histories within the field of philosophy. This article will not summarize centuries of philosophical thought. In brief, skepticism is a powerful philosophical tool that can powerfully point out the limitations of human knowledge and certainty.
As a pedagogic jest to trainees, we will often point out that none of us “really knows” our date of birth with absolute certainty. None of us were conscious enough to remember our birth, conscious enough to understand the concept of date or time, and conscious enough to know who participated in it. At a fundamental level, we chose to believe our date of birth. Similarly, while the world could be a fictionalized simulation,4 we chose to believe that it is real because it behaves in a consistent way that permits scientific study. Postmodernism and skepticism are philosophical tools that permit one to question everything but are themselves limited by the real and empiric lives we live.
Psychiatrists are empiricists. We treat real people, who suffer in a very perceptible way, and live in a very tangible world. We frown on the postmodernist perspective and do not spend much or any time studying it as trainees. However, postmodernism, despite its philosophical and practical flaws, and adjacency to antipsychiatry,5 is an essential tool for the psychiatrist. In addition to the standard treatments for schizophrenia, the psychiatrist should attempt to create a bond with someone who is disconnected from the world. Postmodernism provides us with a way of doing so.
A psychiatrist who understands and appreciates postmodernism can show a patient why at some level we cannot refute all delusions. This psychiatrist can subsequently have empathy that some of the core beliefs of a patient may always be left unanswered. The psychiatrist can appreciate that to some degree the reason why the patient’s beliefs are not true is because society has chosen for them not to be true. Additionally, the psychiatrist can acknowledge to the patient that in some ways the correctness of a delusion is less relevant than the power of society to enforce its reality on the patient. This connection in itself is partially curative as it restores the patient’s attachment to society; we now have some plane of reality, the relationship, which is the same.
Psychiatry and philosophy
However, tempting it may be to be satisfied with this approach as an end in itself; this would be dangerous. While gratifying to the patient to be seen and heard, they will over time only become further entrenched in that compromise formation of delusional beliefs. The role of the psychiatrist, once deep and meaningful rapport has been established and solidified, is to point out to the patient the limitations of the delusions’ belief system.
“I empathize that not all your delusions can be disproved. An extension of that thought is that many beliefs can’t be disproved. Society chooses to believe that aliens do not live on earth but at the same time we can’t disprove with absolute certainty that they don’t. We live in a world where attachment to others enriches our lives. If you continue to believe that aliens affect all existence around you, you will disconnect yourself from all of us. I hope that our therapy has shown you the importance of human connection and the sacrifice of your belief system.”
In the modern day, psychiatry has chosen to believe that schizophrenia is a biological disorder that requires treatment with antipsychotics. We choose to believe that this is likely true, and we think that our empirical experience has been consistent with this belief. However, we also think that patients with this illness are salient beings that deserve to have their thoughts examined and addressed in a therapeutic framework that seeks to understand and acknowledge them as worthy and intelligent individuals. Philosophy provides psychiatry with tools on how to do so.
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. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. Dr. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. https://iep.utm.edu/objectiv/.
2. Stolorow, RD. The phenomenology of trauma and the absolutisms of everyday life: A personal journey. Psychoanal Psychol. 1999;16(3):464-8. doi: 10.1037/0736-9735.16.3.464.
3. Jaenicke C. “The Risk of Relatedness: Intersubjectivity Theory in Clinical Practice” Lanham, Md.: Jason Aronson, 2007.
4. Cuthbertson A. “Elon Musk cites Pong as evidence that we are already living in a simulation” The Independent. 2021 Dec 1. https://www.independent.co.uk/space/elon-musk-simulation-pong-video-game-b1972369.html.
5. Foucault M (Howard R, translator). “Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason” New York: Vintage, 1965.
Schizophrenia is defined as having episodes of psychosis: periods of time when one suffers from delusions, hallucinations, disorganized behaviors, disorganized speech, and negative symptoms. The concept of schizophrenia can be simplified as a detachment from reality. Patients who struggle with this illness frame their perceptions with a different set of rules and beliefs than the rest of society. These altered perceptions frequently become the basis of delusions, one of the most recognized symptoms of schizophrenia.
A patient with schizophrenia doesn’t have delusions, as much as having a belief system, which is not recognized by any other. It is not the mismatch between “objective reality” and the held belief, which qualifies the belief as delusional, so much as the mismatch with the beliefs of those around you. Heliocentrism denial, denying the knowledge that the earth rotates around the sun, is incorrect because it is not factual. However, heliocentrism denial is not a delusion because it is incorrect, but because society chooses it to be incorrect.
We’d like to invite the reader to a thought experiment. “Objective reality” can be referred to as “anything that exists as it is independent of any conscious awareness of it.”1 “Consciousness awareness” entails an observer. If we remove the concept of consciousness or observer from existence, how would we then define “objective reality,” as the very definition of “objective reality” points to the existence of an observer. One deduces that there is no way to define “objective reality” without invoking the notion of an observer or of consciousness.
It is our contention that the concept of an “objective reality” is tautological – it answers itself. This philosophical quandary helps explain why a person with schizophrenia may feel alienated by others who do not appreciate their perceived “objective reality.”
Schizophrenia and ‘objective reality’
A patient with schizophrenia enters a psychiatrist’s office and may realize that their belief is not shared by others and society. The schizophrenic patient may understand the concept of delusions as fixed and false beliefs. However, to them, it is everyone else who is delusional. They may attempt to convince you, as their provider, to switch to their side. They may provide you with evidence for their belief system. One could argue that believing them, in response, would be curative. If not only one’s psychiatrist, but society accepted the schizophrenic patient’s belief system, it would no longer be delusional, whether real or not. Objective reality requires the presence of an object, an observer, to grant its value of truth.
In a simplistic way, those were the arguments of postmodernist philosophers. Reality is tainted by its observer, in a similar way that the Heisenberg uncertainty principle teaches that there is a limit to our simultaneous understanding of position and momentum of particles. This perspective may explain why Michel Foucault, PhD, the famous French postmodernist philosopher, was so interested in psychiatry and in particular schizophrenia. Dr. Foucault was deeply concerned with society imposing its beliefs and value system on patients, and positioning itself as the ultimate arbiter of reality. He went on to postulate that the bigger difference between schizophrenic patients and psychiatrists was not who was in the correct plane of reality but who was granted by society to arbitrate the answer. If reality is a subjective construct enforced by a ruling class, who has the power to rule becomes of the utmost importance.
Intersubjectivity theory in psychoanalysis has many of its sensibilities rooted in such thought. It argues against the myth of the isolated mind. Truth, in the context of psychoanalysis, is seen as an emergent product of dialogue between the therapist/patient dyad. It is in line with the ontological shift from a logical-positivist model to the more modern, constructivist framework. In terms of its view of psychosis, “delusional ideas were understood as a form of absolution – a radical decontextualization serving vital and restorative defensive functions.”2
It is an interesting proposition to advance this theory further in contending that it is not the independent consciousness of two entities that create the intersubjective space; but rather that it is the intersubjective space that literally creates the conscious entities. Could it not be said that the subjective relationship is more fundamental than consciousness itself? As Chris Jaenicke, Dipl.-Psych., wrote, “infant research has opened our eyes to the fact that there is no unilateral action.”3
Postmodernism and psychiatry
Postmodernism and its precursor skepticism have significant histories within the field of philosophy. This article will not summarize centuries of philosophical thought. In brief, skepticism is a powerful philosophical tool that can powerfully point out the limitations of human knowledge and certainty.
As a pedagogic jest to trainees, we will often point out that none of us “really knows” our date of birth with absolute certainty. None of us were conscious enough to remember our birth, conscious enough to understand the concept of date or time, and conscious enough to know who participated in it. At a fundamental level, we chose to believe our date of birth. Similarly, while the world could be a fictionalized simulation,4 we chose to believe that it is real because it behaves in a consistent way that permits scientific study. Postmodernism and skepticism are philosophical tools that permit one to question everything but are themselves limited by the real and empiric lives we live.
Psychiatrists are empiricists. We treat real people, who suffer in a very perceptible way, and live in a very tangible world. We frown on the postmodernist perspective and do not spend much or any time studying it as trainees. However, postmodernism, despite its philosophical and practical flaws, and adjacency to antipsychiatry,5 is an essential tool for the psychiatrist. In addition to the standard treatments for schizophrenia, the psychiatrist should attempt to create a bond with someone who is disconnected from the world. Postmodernism provides us with a way of doing so.
A psychiatrist who understands and appreciates postmodernism can show a patient why at some level we cannot refute all delusions. This psychiatrist can subsequently have empathy that some of the core beliefs of a patient may always be left unanswered. The psychiatrist can appreciate that to some degree the reason why the patient’s beliefs are not true is because society has chosen for them not to be true. Additionally, the psychiatrist can acknowledge to the patient that in some ways the correctness of a delusion is less relevant than the power of society to enforce its reality on the patient. This connection in itself is partially curative as it restores the patient’s attachment to society; we now have some plane of reality, the relationship, which is the same.
Psychiatry and philosophy
However, tempting it may be to be satisfied with this approach as an end in itself; this would be dangerous. While gratifying to the patient to be seen and heard, they will over time only become further entrenched in that compromise formation of delusional beliefs. The role of the psychiatrist, once deep and meaningful rapport has been established and solidified, is to point out to the patient the limitations of the delusions’ belief system.
“I empathize that not all your delusions can be disproved. An extension of that thought is that many beliefs can’t be disproved. Society chooses to believe that aliens do not live on earth but at the same time we can’t disprove with absolute certainty that they don’t. We live in a world where attachment to others enriches our lives. If you continue to believe that aliens affect all existence around you, you will disconnect yourself from all of us. I hope that our therapy has shown you the importance of human connection and the sacrifice of your belief system.”
In the modern day, psychiatry has chosen to believe that schizophrenia is a biological disorder that requires treatment with antipsychotics. We choose to believe that this is likely true, and we think that our empirical experience has been consistent with this belief. However, we also think that patients with this illness are salient beings that deserve to have their thoughts examined and addressed in a therapeutic framework that seeks to understand and acknowledge them as worthy and intelligent individuals. Philosophy provides psychiatry with tools on how to do so.
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. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. Dr. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. https://iep.utm.edu/objectiv/.
2. Stolorow, RD. The phenomenology of trauma and the absolutisms of everyday life: A personal journey. Psychoanal Psychol. 1999;16(3):464-8. doi: 10.1037/0736-9735.16.3.464.
3. Jaenicke C. “The Risk of Relatedness: Intersubjectivity Theory in Clinical Practice” Lanham, Md.: Jason Aronson, 2007.
4. Cuthbertson A. “Elon Musk cites Pong as evidence that we are already living in a simulation” The Independent. 2021 Dec 1. https://www.independent.co.uk/space/elon-musk-simulation-pong-video-game-b1972369.html.
5. Foucault M (Howard R, translator). “Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason” New York: Vintage, 1965.
A prescription for de-diagnosing
In 2016, Gupta and Cahill challenged the field of psychiatry to reexamine prescribing patterns.1 They warned against the use of polypharmacy when not attached to improved patient functioning. They were concerned with the limited evidence for polypharmacy as well as DSM diagnostic criteria. In their inspiring article, they described a process of deprescribing.
In an effort to study and practice their recommendations, we have noticed a lack of literature examining the elimination of diagnostic labels. While there have been some studies looking at comorbidity, especially with substance use disorders,2 there is a paucity of scientific evidence on patients with numerous diagnoses. Yet our practices are filled with patients who have been labeled with multiple conflicting or redundant diagnoses throughout their lives depending on the setting or the orientation of the practitioner.
The DSM-5 warns against diagnosing disorders when “the occurrence … is not better explained by” another disorder.3 A mix of diagnoses creates confusion for patients as well as clinicians trying to sort through their reported psychiatric histories.
A routine example would include a patient presenting for an initial evaluation and stating “I’ve been diagnosed as manic-depressive, high anxiety, split personality, posttraumatic stress, insomnia, ADD, and depression.” A review of the medical record will reveal a list of diagnoses, including bipolar II, generalized anxiety disorder, borderline personality disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder, unspecified insomnia, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and major depressive disorder. The medication list includes lamotrigine, valproic acid, citalopram, bupropion, buspirone, prazosin, methylphenidate, clonazepam, hydroxyzine, and low-dose quetiapine at night as needed.
This is an example of polypharmacy treating multiple, and at times conflicting, diagnoses. While an extreme case, in our experience, cases like this are not uncommon. It was actually in our efforts to examine deprescribing that we noticed this quandary. When inquiring about patients on many psychotropic medications, we often receive this retort: the patient is only prescribed one medication per disorder. Some providers have the belief that multiple disorders justify multiple medications, and that this tautological thinking legitimizes polypharmacy.
A patient who has varying moods, some fears, a fluctuating temperament, past traumas, occasional difficulty sleeping, intermittent inattention, and some sadness may be given all the diagnoses listed above and the resulting medication list. The multiplication of diagnoses, “polydiagnosing,” is a convenient justification for future polypharmacy. A lack of careful assessment and thinking in the application of new diagnoses permits the use of increasing numbers of pharmacological agents. A constellation of symptoms of anxiety, concentration deficits, affective dysregulation, and psychosis may justify the combination of benzodiazepines, stimulants, mood stabilizers, and antipsychotics, while a patient with “just” schizophrenia who is sometimes sad, scared, or distracted is more likely to be kept on just one medication, likely an antipsychotic.
Contrary to most medical disorders (for example, tuberculosis) but similar to others (for example, chronic pain), psychiatric disorders are based on the opinion of a “modest number of ‘expert’ classifications.”4 While the broad categories of disorders are justifiable, individual diagnoses are burdened with high rates of comorbidity; lack of treatment specificity; and evidence that distinct syndromes share a genetic basis. Those concerns were exemplified in the study examining the inter-rater reliability of DSM-5 diagnoses, where many disorders were found to have questionable validity.5
A psychiatric diagnosis should be based on biological, psychological, and social factors, which align with our understanding of the natural course of an illness. A patient presenting with transient symptoms of sadness in the context of significant social factors like homelessness and/or significant biological factors associated with schizophrenia should not reflexively receive an additional diagnosis of a depressive disorder. A patient reporting poor concentration in the context of a manic episode should not receive an additional diagnosis of attention-deficit disorder. An older patient with depression on multiple antipsychotics for adjunctive treatment should not necessarily receive a diagnosis of cognitive disorder at the first sign of memory problems.
The cavalier and inconsistent use of diagnoses renders the patients with no clear narrative of who they are. They end up integrating the varying providers’ opinions as a cacophony of labels of unclear significance. Many patients have contradictory diagnoses like major depressive disorder and bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder. Those inaccurate diagnoses could not only lead to treatment mistakes, but also psychological harm.6
A clearer diagnostic picture is not only more scientifically sound but also more coherent to the patient. This in turn can lead to an improved treatment alliance and buy-in from the patient.
How should a provider practice de-diagnosing? Based on the work of Reeve, et al.,7 on the principles crucial to deprescribing, and subsequent research by Gupta and Cahill,8 we compiled a list of considerations for practitioners wishing to engage in this type of work with their patients.
Choose the right time. While insurance companies require diagnostic findings from the first visit, abrupt de-diagnosing for the sake of simplifying the record from that first visit could be detrimental. Patients can become attached to and find meaning in their diagnostic labels. This was exemplified with the removal of Asperger’s syndrome from the DSM-5.9 Acute symptomatology may be an opportune time to revisit the core pathology of a patient, or a poor time for a patient to have this discussion.
Compile a list of all the patient’s diagnoses. Our initial visits are often illuminated when patients enumerate the vast number of diagnoses they have been given by different providers. Patients will often list half a dozen diagnoses. The patterns often follow life courses with ADHD, conduct disorder, and learning disability in childhood; with anxiety, depression, and/or bipolar disorder in early adulthood; to complicated grief, depression with pseudodementia, and neurocognitive disorders in older adults. Yet patients rarely appreciate the temporary or episodic nature of mental disorders and instead accumulate diagnoses at each change of provider.
Initiate discussion with the patient. It is meaningful to see if patients resonate with the question, “Do you ever feel like every psychiatrist you have seen has given you a different diagnosis?” In our experience, patients’ reactions to this question usually exemplify the problematic nature of the vast array of diagnoses our patients are given. The majority of them are unable to confidently explain the meaning of those diagnoses, the context in which they were given, or their significance. This simple exercise has a powerful effect on raising awareness to patients of the problematic nature of polydiagnosing.
Introduce de-diagnosing. The engagement of patients in the diagnostic process has a significant effect. Reviewing not only diagnostic criteria but also nosology and debates in our understanding of diagnoses can provide patients with further engagement in their care. A simple review of the debate of the bereavement exclusion may permit a patient to not only understand the complexity, but also the changing nature of diagnoses. Suddenly, they are no longer bystanders, but informed participants in their care.
Identify diagnoses most appropriate for removal. Contradictory diagnoses are common in the clinical settings we work in. We routinely see patients carrying multiple mood diagnoses, despite our diagnostic systems not permitting one to have both unipolar and bipolar depression. Superfluous diagnoses are also frequent, with patients receiving depressive, or anxious labels when in an acute state of psychosis or mania. This is exemplified by patients suffering from thought blocking and receiving cognitive or attention-related diagnoses. Concurrent yet different diagnoses are also common in patients with a different list of diagnoses by their primary care provider, their therapist, and their psychiatrist. This is particularly problematic as it forces the patient to alternate their thinking or choose between their providers.
Create a new narrative for the patient. Once diagnoses are explained, clarified, and understood, patients with the help of their providers can reexamine their life story under a new and simplified construct. This process often leads to a less confusing sense of self, an increased dedication to the treatment process, whether behavioral, social, psychological, or pharmacologic.
Consider deprescribing. With a more straightforward and more grounded list of diagnoses (or simply one diagnosis), we find the process of deprescribing to be simpler and more engaging for patients. For example, patients can clearly understand the lack of necessity of an antipsychotic prescription for a resolved substance-induced psychosis. Patients are more engaged in their care, leading to improved medication compliance and less attachment to discontinued medications.
Monitor and adapt. One should of course reevaluate diagnoses as the course of illness provides us with additional information. However, we suggest waiting for a manic episode to emerge prior to diagnosing bipolar rather than suggesting the diagnosis because a patient was wearing red shoes, spoke multiple languages, had multiple degrees and was creative.10 The contextual basis and progression of the symptoms should lead to continual reassessment of diagnoses.
Physicians are aware of the balance between Occam’s razor, which promotes the simplest single explanation for a problem, versus Hickam’s dictum that reminds us that patients can have as many diseases as they please. However, similarly to polypharmacy, “polydiagnosing” has negative effects. While the field of psychiatry’s advancing knowledge may encourage providers to diagnose their patients with the growing number of diagnoses, patients still need and benefit from a coherent and clear medical narrative. Psychiatry would be wise to recognize this concerning trend, in its attempt at rectifying polypharmacy.
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. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Gupta S & Cahill JD. A prescription for “deprescribing” in psychiatry. Psychiatr Serv. 2016 Aug 1;67(8):904-7. doi: 10.1176/appi.ps.201500359.
2. Schuckit MA. Comorbidity between substance use disorders and psychiatric conditions. Addiction. 2006 Sep;101 Suppl 1:76-88. doi: 10.1111/j.1360-0443.2006.01592.x.
3. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Text Revision (DSM-5-TR). American Psychiatric Association, 2022. https://psychiatry.org/psychiatrists/practice/dsm.
4. Kendler KS. An historical framework for psychiatric nosology. Psychol Med. 2009 Dec;39(12):1935-41. doi: 10.1017/S0033291709005753.
5. Regier DA et al. DSM-5 field trials in the United States and Canada. Am J Psychiatry. 2013 Jan;170(1):59-70. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp.2012.12070999.
6. Bhattacharya R et al. When good news is bad news: psychological impact of false-positive diagnosis of HIV. AIDS Care. 2008 May;20(5):560-4. doi: 10.1080/09540120701867206.
7. Reeve E et al. Review of deprescribing processes and development of an evidence‐based, patient‐centred deprescribing process. Br J Clin Pharmacol. 2014 Oct;78(4):738-47. doi: 10.1111/bcp.12386.
8. Gupta S and Cahill JD. A prescription for “deprescribing” in psychiatry.
9. Solomon M. “On the appearance and disappearance of Asperger’s syndrome” in Kendler and Parnas (eds.) Philosophical Issues in Psychiatry IV: Classification of Psychiatric Illness. Oxford University Press, 2017. doi: 10.1093/med/9780198796022.003.0023.
10. Akiskal HS. Searching for behavioral indicators of bipolar II in patients presenting with major depressive episodes: The “red sign,” the “rule of three,” and other biographic signs of temperamental extravagance, activation, and hypomania. J Affect Disord. 2005 Feb;84(2-3):279-90. doi: 10.1016/j.jad.2004.06.002.
In 2016, Gupta and Cahill challenged the field of psychiatry to reexamine prescribing patterns.1 They warned against the use of polypharmacy when not attached to improved patient functioning. They were concerned with the limited evidence for polypharmacy as well as DSM diagnostic criteria. In their inspiring article, they described a process of deprescribing.
In an effort to study and practice their recommendations, we have noticed a lack of literature examining the elimination of diagnostic labels. While there have been some studies looking at comorbidity, especially with substance use disorders,2 there is a paucity of scientific evidence on patients with numerous diagnoses. Yet our practices are filled with patients who have been labeled with multiple conflicting or redundant diagnoses throughout their lives depending on the setting or the orientation of the practitioner.
The DSM-5 warns against diagnosing disorders when “the occurrence … is not better explained by” another disorder.3 A mix of diagnoses creates confusion for patients as well as clinicians trying to sort through their reported psychiatric histories.
A routine example would include a patient presenting for an initial evaluation and stating “I’ve been diagnosed as manic-depressive, high anxiety, split personality, posttraumatic stress, insomnia, ADD, and depression.” A review of the medical record will reveal a list of diagnoses, including bipolar II, generalized anxiety disorder, borderline personality disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder, unspecified insomnia, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and major depressive disorder. The medication list includes lamotrigine, valproic acid, citalopram, bupropion, buspirone, prazosin, methylphenidate, clonazepam, hydroxyzine, and low-dose quetiapine at night as needed.
This is an example of polypharmacy treating multiple, and at times conflicting, diagnoses. While an extreme case, in our experience, cases like this are not uncommon. It was actually in our efforts to examine deprescribing that we noticed this quandary. When inquiring about patients on many psychotropic medications, we often receive this retort: the patient is only prescribed one medication per disorder. Some providers have the belief that multiple disorders justify multiple medications, and that this tautological thinking legitimizes polypharmacy.
A patient who has varying moods, some fears, a fluctuating temperament, past traumas, occasional difficulty sleeping, intermittent inattention, and some sadness may be given all the diagnoses listed above and the resulting medication list. The multiplication of diagnoses, “polydiagnosing,” is a convenient justification for future polypharmacy. A lack of careful assessment and thinking in the application of new diagnoses permits the use of increasing numbers of pharmacological agents. A constellation of symptoms of anxiety, concentration deficits, affective dysregulation, and psychosis may justify the combination of benzodiazepines, stimulants, mood stabilizers, and antipsychotics, while a patient with “just” schizophrenia who is sometimes sad, scared, or distracted is more likely to be kept on just one medication, likely an antipsychotic.
Contrary to most medical disorders (for example, tuberculosis) but similar to others (for example, chronic pain), psychiatric disorders are based on the opinion of a “modest number of ‘expert’ classifications.”4 While the broad categories of disorders are justifiable, individual diagnoses are burdened with high rates of comorbidity; lack of treatment specificity; and evidence that distinct syndromes share a genetic basis. Those concerns were exemplified in the study examining the inter-rater reliability of DSM-5 diagnoses, where many disorders were found to have questionable validity.5
A psychiatric diagnosis should be based on biological, psychological, and social factors, which align with our understanding of the natural course of an illness. A patient presenting with transient symptoms of sadness in the context of significant social factors like homelessness and/or significant biological factors associated with schizophrenia should not reflexively receive an additional diagnosis of a depressive disorder. A patient reporting poor concentration in the context of a manic episode should not receive an additional diagnosis of attention-deficit disorder. An older patient with depression on multiple antipsychotics for adjunctive treatment should not necessarily receive a diagnosis of cognitive disorder at the first sign of memory problems.
The cavalier and inconsistent use of diagnoses renders the patients with no clear narrative of who they are. They end up integrating the varying providers’ opinions as a cacophony of labels of unclear significance. Many patients have contradictory diagnoses like major depressive disorder and bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder. Those inaccurate diagnoses could not only lead to treatment mistakes, but also psychological harm.6
A clearer diagnostic picture is not only more scientifically sound but also more coherent to the patient. This in turn can lead to an improved treatment alliance and buy-in from the patient.
How should a provider practice de-diagnosing? Based on the work of Reeve, et al.,7 on the principles crucial to deprescribing, and subsequent research by Gupta and Cahill,8 we compiled a list of considerations for practitioners wishing to engage in this type of work with their patients.
Choose the right time. While insurance companies require diagnostic findings from the first visit, abrupt de-diagnosing for the sake of simplifying the record from that first visit could be detrimental. Patients can become attached to and find meaning in their diagnostic labels. This was exemplified with the removal of Asperger’s syndrome from the DSM-5.9 Acute symptomatology may be an opportune time to revisit the core pathology of a patient, or a poor time for a patient to have this discussion.
Compile a list of all the patient’s diagnoses. Our initial visits are often illuminated when patients enumerate the vast number of diagnoses they have been given by different providers. Patients will often list half a dozen diagnoses. The patterns often follow life courses with ADHD, conduct disorder, and learning disability in childhood; with anxiety, depression, and/or bipolar disorder in early adulthood; to complicated grief, depression with pseudodementia, and neurocognitive disorders in older adults. Yet patients rarely appreciate the temporary or episodic nature of mental disorders and instead accumulate diagnoses at each change of provider.
Initiate discussion with the patient. It is meaningful to see if patients resonate with the question, “Do you ever feel like every psychiatrist you have seen has given you a different diagnosis?” In our experience, patients’ reactions to this question usually exemplify the problematic nature of the vast array of diagnoses our patients are given. The majority of them are unable to confidently explain the meaning of those diagnoses, the context in which they were given, or their significance. This simple exercise has a powerful effect on raising awareness to patients of the problematic nature of polydiagnosing.
Introduce de-diagnosing. The engagement of patients in the diagnostic process has a significant effect. Reviewing not only diagnostic criteria but also nosology and debates in our understanding of diagnoses can provide patients with further engagement in their care. A simple review of the debate of the bereavement exclusion may permit a patient to not only understand the complexity, but also the changing nature of diagnoses. Suddenly, they are no longer bystanders, but informed participants in their care.
Identify diagnoses most appropriate for removal. Contradictory diagnoses are common in the clinical settings we work in. We routinely see patients carrying multiple mood diagnoses, despite our diagnostic systems not permitting one to have both unipolar and bipolar depression. Superfluous diagnoses are also frequent, with patients receiving depressive, or anxious labels when in an acute state of psychosis or mania. This is exemplified by patients suffering from thought blocking and receiving cognitive or attention-related diagnoses. Concurrent yet different diagnoses are also common in patients with a different list of diagnoses by their primary care provider, their therapist, and their psychiatrist. This is particularly problematic as it forces the patient to alternate their thinking or choose between their providers.
Create a new narrative for the patient. Once diagnoses are explained, clarified, and understood, patients with the help of their providers can reexamine their life story under a new and simplified construct. This process often leads to a less confusing sense of self, an increased dedication to the treatment process, whether behavioral, social, psychological, or pharmacologic.
Consider deprescribing. With a more straightforward and more grounded list of diagnoses (or simply one diagnosis), we find the process of deprescribing to be simpler and more engaging for patients. For example, patients can clearly understand the lack of necessity of an antipsychotic prescription for a resolved substance-induced psychosis. Patients are more engaged in their care, leading to improved medication compliance and less attachment to discontinued medications.
Monitor and adapt. One should of course reevaluate diagnoses as the course of illness provides us with additional information. However, we suggest waiting for a manic episode to emerge prior to diagnosing bipolar rather than suggesting the diagnosis because a patient was wearing red shoes, spoke multiple languages, had multiple degrees and was creative.10 The contextual basis and progression of the symptoms should lead to continual reassessment of diagnoses.
Physicians are aware of the balance between Occam’s razor, which promotes the simplest single explanation for a problem, versus Hickam’s dictum that reminds us that patients can have as many diseases as they please. However, similarly to polypharmacy, “polydiagnosing” has negative effects. While the field of psychiatry’s advancing knowledge may encourage providers to diagnose their patients with the growing number of diagnoses, patients still need and benefit from a coherent and clear medical narrative. Psychiatry would be wise to recognize this concerning trend, in its attempt at rectifying polypharmacy.
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. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Gupta S & Cahill JD. A prescription for “deprescribing” in psychiatry. Psychiatr Serv. 2016 Aug 1;67(8):904-7. doi: 10.1176/appi.ps.201500359.
2. Schuckit MA. Comorbidity between substance use disorders and psychiatric conditions. Addiction. 2006 Sep;101 Suppl 1:76-88. doi: 10.1111/j.1360-0443.2006.01592.x.
3. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Text Revision (DSM-5-TR). American Psychiatric Association, 2022. https://psychiatry.org/psychiatrists/practice/dsm.
4. Kendler KS. An historical framework for psychiatric nosology. Psychol Med. 2009 Dec;39(12):1935-41. doi: 10.1017/S0033291709005753.
5. Regier DA et al. DSM-5 field trials in the United States and Canada. Am J Psychiatry. 2013 Jan;170(1):59-70. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp.2012.12070999.
6. Bhattacharya R et al. When good news is bad news: psychological impact of false-positive diagnosis of HIV. AIDS Care. 2008 May;20(5):560-4. doi: 10.1080/09540120701867206.
7. Reeve E et al. Review of deprescribing processes and development of an evidence‐based, patient‐centred deprescribing process. Br J Clin Pharmacol. 2014 Oct;78(4):738-47. doi: 10.1111/bcp.12386.
8. Gupta S and Cahill JD. A prescription for “deprescribing” in psychiatry.
9. Solomon M. “On the appearance and disappearance of Asperger’s syndrome” in Kendler and Parnas (eds.) Philosophical Issues in Psychiatry IV: Classification of Psychiatric Illness. Oxford University Press, 2017. doi: 10.1093/med/9780198796022.003.0023.
10. Akiskal HS. Searching for behavioral indicators of bipolar II in patients presenting with major depressive episodes: The “red sign,” the “rule of three,” and other biographic signs of temperamental extravagance, activation, and hypomania. J Affect Disord. 2005 Feb;84(2-3):279-90. doi: 10.1016/j.jad.2004.06.002.
In 2016, Gupta and Cahill challenged the field of psychiatry to reexamine prescribing patterns.1 They warned against the use of polypharmacy when not attached to improved patient functioning. They were concerned with the limited evidence for polypharmacy as well as DSM diagnostic criteria. In their inspiring article, they described a process of deprescribing.
In an effort to study and practice their recommendations, we have noticed a lack of literature examining the elimination of diagnostic labels. While there have been some studies looking at comorbidity, especially with substance use disorders,2 there is a paucity of scientific evidence on patients with numerous diagnoses. Yet our practices are filled with patients who have been labeled with multiple conflicting or redundant diagnoses throughout their lives depending on the setting or the orientation of the practitioner.
The DSM-5 warns against diagnosing disorders when “the occurrence … is not better explained by” another disorder.3 A mix of diagnoses creates confusion for patients as well as clinicians trying to sort through their reported psychiatric histories.
A routine example would include a patient presenting for an initial evaluation and stating “I’ve been diagnosed as manic-depressive, high anxiety, split personality, posttraumatic stress, insomnia, ADD, and depression.” A review of the medical record will reveal a list of diagnoses, including bipolar II, generalized anxiety disorder, borderline personality disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder, unspecified insomnia, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and major depressive disorder. The medication list includes lamotrigine, valproic acid, citalopram, bupropion, buspirone, prazosin, methylphenidate, clonazepam, hydroxyzine, and low-dose quetiapine at night as needed.
This is an example of polypharmacy treating multiple, and at times conflicting, diagnoses. While an extreme case, in our experience, cases like this are not uncommon. It was actually in our efforts to examine deprescribing that we noticed this quandary. When inquiring about patients on many psychotropic medications, we often receive this retort: the patient is only prescribed one medication per disorder. Some providers have the belief that multiple disorders justify multiple medications, and that this tautological thinking legitimizes polypharmacy.
A patient who has varying moods, some fears, a fluctuating temperament, past traumas, occasional difficulty sleeping, intermittent inattention, and some sadness may be given all the diagnoses listed above and the resulting medication list. The multiplication of diagnoses, “polydiagnosing,” is a convenient justification for future polypharmacy. A lack of careful assessment and thinking in the application of new diagnoses permits the use of increasing numbers of pharmacological agents. A constellation of symptoms of anxiety, concentration deficits, affective dysregulation, and psychosis may justify the combination of benzodiazepines, stimulants, mood stabilizers, and antipsychotics, while a patient with “just” schizophrenia who is sometimes sad, scared, or distracted is more likely to be kept on just one medication, likely an antipsychotic.
Contrary to most medical disorders (for example, tuberculosis) but similar to others (for example, chronic pain), psychiatric disorders are based on the opinion of a “modest number of ‘expert’ classifications.”4 While the broad categories of disorders are justifiable, individual diagnoses are burdened with high rates of comorbidity; lack of treatment specificity; and evidence that distinct syndromes share a genetic basis. Those concerns were exemplified in the study examining the inter-rater reliability of DSM-5 diagnoses, where many disorders were found to have questionable validity.5
A psychiatric diagnosis should be based on biological, psychological, and social factors, which align with our understanding of the natural course of an illness. A patient presenting with transient symptoms of sadness in the context of significant social factors like homelessness and/or significant biological factors associated with schizophrenia should not reflexively receive an additional diagnosis of a depressive disorder. A patient reporting poor concentration in the context of a manic episode should not receive an additional diagnosis of attention-deficit disorder. An older patient with depression on multiple antipsychotics for adjunctive treatment should not necessarily receive a diagnosis of cognitive disorder at the first sign of memory problems.
The cavalier and inconsistent use of diagnoses renders the patients with no clear narrative of who they are. They end up integrating the varying providers’ opinions as a cacophony of labels of unclear significance. Many patients have contradictory diagnoses like major depressive disorder and bipolar disorder, or schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder. Those inaccurate diagnoses could not only lead to treatment mistakes, but also psychological harm.6
A clearer diagnostic picture is not only more scientifically sound but also more coherent to the patient. This in turn can lead to an improved treatment alliance and buy-in from the patient.
How should a provider practice de-diagnosing? Based on the work of Reeve, et al.,7 on the principles crucial to deprescribing, and subsequent research by Gupta and Cahill,8 we compiled a list of considerations for practitioners wishing to engage in this type of work with their patients.
Choose the right time. While insurance companies require diagnostic findings from the first visit, abrupt de-diagnosing for the sake of simplifying the record from that first visit could be detrimental. Patients can become attached to and find meaning in their diagnostic labels. This was exemplified with the removal of Asperger’s syndrome from the DSM-5.9 Acute symptomatology may be an opportune time to revisit the core pathology of a patient, or a poor time for a patient to have this discussion.
Compile a list of all the patient’s diagnoses. Our initial visits are often illuminated when patients enumerate the vast number of diagnoses they have been given by different providers. Patients will often list half a dozen diagnoses. The patterns often follow life courses with ADHD, conduct disorder, and learning disability in childhood; with anxiety, depression, and/or bipolar disorder in early adulthood; to complicated grief, depression with pseudodementia, and neurocognitive disorders in older adults. Yet patients rarely appreciate the temporary or episodic nature of mental disorders and instead accumulate diagnoses at each change of provider.
Initiate discussion with the patient. It is meaningful to see if patients resonate with the question, “Do you ever feel like every psychiatrist you have seen has given you a different diagnosis?” In our experience, patients’ reactions to this question usually exemplify the problematic nature of the vast array of diagnoses our patients are given. The majority of them are unable to confidently explain the meaning of those diagnoses, the context in which they were given, or their significance. This simple exercise has a powerful effect on raising awareness to patients of the problematic nature of polydiagnosing.
Introduce de-diagnosing. The engagement of patients in the diagnostic process has a significant effect. Reviewing not only diagnostic criteria but also nosology and debates in our understanding of diagnoses can provide patients with further engagement in their care. A simple review of the debate of the bereavement exclusion may permit a patient to not only understand the complexity, but also the changing nature of diagnoses. Suddenly, they are no longer bystanders, but informed participants in their care.
Identify diagnoses most appropriate for removal. Contradictory diagnoses are common in the clinical settings we work in. We routinely see patients carrying multiple mood diagnoses, despite our diagnostic systems not permitting one to have both unipolar and bipolar depression. Superfluous diagnoses are also frequent, with patients receiving depressive, or anxious labels when in an acute state of psychosis or mania. This is exemplified by patients suffering from thought blocking and receiving cognitive or attention-related diagnoses. Concurrent yet different diagnoses are also common in patients with a different list of diagnoses by their primary care provider, their therapist, and their psychiatrist. This is particularly problematic as it forces the patient to alternate their thinking or choose between their providers.
Create a new narrative for the patient. Once diagnoses are explained, clarified, and understood, patients with the help of their providers can reexamine their life story under a new and simplified construct. This process often leads to a less confusing sense of self, an increased dedication to the treatment process, whether behavioral, social, psychological, or pharmacologic.
Consider deprescribing. With a more straightforward and more grounded list of diagnoses (or simply one diagnosis), we find the process of deprescribing to be simpler and more engaging for patients. For example, patients can clearly understand the lack of necessity of an antipsychotic prescription for a resolved substance-induced psychosis. Patients are more engaged in their care, leading to improved medication compliance and less attachment to discontinued medications.
Monitor and adapt. One should of course reevaluate diagnoses as the course of illness provides us with additional information. However, we suggest waiting for a manic episode to emerge prior to diagnosing bipolar rather than suggesting the diagnosis because a patient was wearing red shoes, spoke multiple languages, had multiple degrees and was creative.10 The contextual basis and progression of the symptoms should lead to continual reassessment of diagnoses.
Physicians are aware of the balance between Occam’s razor, which promotes the simplest single explanation for a problem, versus Hickam’s dictum that reminds us that patients can have as many diseases as they please. However, similarly to polypharmacy, “polydiagnosing” has negative effects. While the field of psychiatry’s advancing knowledge may encourage providers to diagnose their patients with the growing number of diagnoses, patients still need and benefit from a coherent and clear medical narrative. Psychiatry would be wise to recognize this concerning trend, in its attempt at rectifying polypharmacy.
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. He has no conflicts of interest. Dr. Lehman is a professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego. He is codirector of all acute and intensive psychiatric treatment at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in San Diego, where he practices clinical psychiatry. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Gupta S & Cahill JD. A prescription for “deprescribing” in psychiatry. Psychiatr Serv. 2016 Aug 1;67(8):904-7. doi: 10.1176/appi.ps.201500359.
2. Schuckit MA. Comorbidity between substance use disorders and psychiatric conditions. Addiction. 2006 Sep;101 Suppl 1:76-88. doi: 10.1111/j.1360-0443.2006.01592.x.
3. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Text Revision (DSM-5-TR). American Psychiatric Association, 2022. https://psychiatry.org/psychiatrists/practice/dsm.
4. Kendler KS. An historical framework for psychiatric nosology. Psychol Med. 2009 Dec;39(12):1935-41. doi: 10.1017/S0033291709005753.
5. Regier DA et al. DSM-5 field trials in the United States and Canada. Am J Psychiatry. 2013 Jan;170(1):59-70. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp.2012.12070999.
6. Bhattacharya R et al. When good news is bad news: psychological impact of false-positive diagnosis of HIV. AIDS Care. 2008 May;20(5):560-4. doi: 10.1080/09540120701867206.
7. Reeve E et al. Review of deprescribing processes and development of an evidence‐based, patient‐centred deprescribing process. Br J Clin Pharmacol. 2014 Oct;78(4):738-47. doi: 10.1111/bcp.12386.
8. Gupta S and Cahill JD. A prescription for “deprescribing” in psychiatry.
9. Solomon M. “On the appearance and disappearance of Asperger’s syndrome” in Kendler and Parnas (eds.) Philosophical Issues in Psychiatry IV: Classification of Psychiatric Illness. Oxford University Press, 2017. doi: 10.1093/med/9780198796022.003.0023.
10. Akiskal HS. Searching for behavioral indicators of bipolar II in patients presenting with major depressive episodes: The “red sign,” the “rule of three,” and other biographic signs of temperamental extravagance, activation, and hypomania. J Affect Disord. 2005 Feb;84(2-3):279-90. doi: 10.1016/j.jad.2004.06.002.
Will we ever outgrow the Goldwater rule?
Since it appeared in the first edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Principles of Medical Ethics in 1973, the “Goldwater rule” – often referred to in terms of where in the APA’s guideline it can be found, Section 7.3 – has placed a stringent prohibition on psychiatrists offering professional opinions about public figures “unless he or she has conducted an examination and has been granted proper authorization for such a statement.”1
Some psychiatrists experienced the restrictive nature of Section 7.3 more acutely perhaps than ever during the Trump presidency. This spurred numerous articles criticizing the guideline as an outdated “gag rule”2 that harms the public image of psychiatry.3 Some psychiatrists violated the rule to warn the public of the dangers of a president with “incipient dementia”4 occupying the most powerful position on earth.
Following President Trump’s exit from the White House, the alarm bells surrounding his presidency have quieted. Criticisms of the Goldwater rule, on the other hand, have persisted. Many of these criticisms now call for the rule to be refined, allowing for psychiatrists to give their professional opinions about public figures, but with certain guidelines on how to do so.5 Few have yet to make a sober case for the outright abolition of Section 7.3.6
Self-regulating and internal policing are important factors in the continued independence of the medical profession, and we should continue to hold each other to high professional standards. That being said, do psychiatrists need training wheels to prevent us from devolving into unprofessional social commentators? Other medical specialties do not see the need to implement a rule preventing their colleagues from expressing expertise in fear of embarrassment. Do we not have faith in our ability to conduct ourselves professionally? Is the Goldwater rule an admission of a juvenile lack of self-control within our field?
Not only do other medical specialties not forcibly handhold their members in public settings, but other “providers” in the realm of mental health likewise do not implement such strict self-restraints. Psychiatry staying silent on the matter of public figures leaves a void filled by other, arguably less qualified, individuals. Subsequently, the public discord risks being flooded with pseudoscientific pontification and distorted views of psychiatric illness. The cycle of speculating on the mental fitness of the president has outlived President Trump, with concerns about Joe Biden’s incoherence and waning cognition.7 Therein is an important argument to be made for the public duty of psychiatrists, with their greater expertise and clinical acumen, to weigh in on matters of societal importance in an attempt to dispel dangerous misconceptions.
Practical limitations are often raised and serve as the cornerstone for the Goldwater rule. Specifically, the limitation being that a psychiatrist cannot provide a professional opinion about an individual without a proper in-person evaluation. The psychiatric interview could be considered the most in-depth and comprehensive evaluation in all of medicine. Even so, is a trained psychiatrist presented with grandiosity, flight-of-ideas, and pressured speech unable to comment on the possibility of mania without a lengthy and comprehensive evaluation? How much disorganization of behavior and dialogue does one need to observe to recognize psychosis? For the experienced psychiatrist, many of these behavioral hallmarks are akin to an ST elevation on an EKG representing a heart attack.
When considering less extreme examples of mental affliction, such as depression and anxiety, many signs – including demeanor, motor activity, manner of speaking, and other aspects of behavior – are apparent to the perceptive psychiatrist without needing an extensive interview that dives into the depths of a person’s social history and childhood. After all, our own criteria for depression and mania do not require the presence of social stressors or childhood trauma. Even personality disorders can be reasonably postulated when a person behaves in a particular fashion. The recognition of transitional objects, items used to provide psychological comfort, including the “teddy bear sign” are common and scientifically studied methods to recognize personality disorder.8
The necessity for an in-person evaluation has become less compelling over the years. In our modern age, important social moments are memorialized in countless videos that are arguably more relevant, more accurate, and less subjective than a psychiatric interview. Furthermore, forensic psychiatrists routinely comment on individuals they have not examined for a variety of reasons, from postmortem analysis to the refusal of the client to be interviewed. Moreover, and with significant contradiction, many leaders in the field of psychiatry view integrated care, the practice of psychiatrists advising primary care doctors, often without even seeing patients, to be the future of psychiatry.9
Some reading this may scoff at the above examples. Perhaps Section 7.3 speaks to an underlying insecurity in our field regarding our ability to accurately diagnose. That insecurity is not unfounded. In terms of the DSM-5, the bar for reliability has been lowered to a kappa of 0.2-0.4, from a previous standard of 0.6, in an attempt to avoid critiques of unreliability.10 Yet herein lies a powerful recognition of the necessity of the Goldwater rule. If psychiatrists cannot reliably agree on the presence of diagnoses in the controlled setting of scientific study, how can we expect to speak with coherence and consistency on highly mediatized and provoking topics?
The defense – that the difficulty psychiatrists have at providing an accurate diagnosis stems from the immense complexity of the system being evaluated, the human mind – is a valid one. Attempts to force such complex pathology, with all its many variables, into the check-box approach implemented in the DSM inevitably leads to problems with diagnostic reliability. Still, as psychiatrists we retain a level of expertise in assessing and treating complex disorders of the mind that no other field can claim.
The duty physicians have not only to work toward the health of their individual patients, but also to act in service of the public health and well-being of communities in which our patients live, is well established. How ethical is it then for psychiatry to absolve itself from duty when it comes to public figures at the center of shaping public opinion? There are numerous recent, high-profile instances where our expertise may have helped shine light in an otherwise murky public discussion filled with disinformation. The death of George Floyd and the year of turmoil that followed is a salient example. The conservatorship of Britney Spears and the resulting societal outcry is another. Even setting the matter of diagnosis aside, we can help illuminate the societal implications of conservatorship laws,11 in addition to providing input on how to safely and responsibly approach an individual who is in crisis, under the influence of multiple illicit substances, and possibly suffering from excited delirium.
Whether psychiatry has progressed enough as a medical specialty to trust ourselves with the option of providing professional opinions on public figures is an ongoing debate. The persistence of the Goldwater rule is a strong testament to the internal lack of confidence among psychiatrists regarding our ability to provide accurate diagnoses, act with integrity in the public space, and foster a positive public image. That lack of confidence may be well deserved. However, it is possible that our field will never go through the necessary pains of maturing as long as Section 7.3 remains in place.
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. Dr. Compton has no conflicts of interest. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. American Psychiatric Association. The principles of medical ethics with annotations especially applicable to psychiatry. Section 7. American Psychiatric Association; 2013 edition.
2. Glass LL. The Goldwater rule is broken. Here’s how to fix it. STAT News. 2018 June 18.
3. Plymyer D. The Goldwater rule paradox. 2020 Aug 7.
4. Lieberman JA. Trump’s brain and the 25th Amendment. Vice. 2017 Sep 8.
5. Blotcky AD et al. The Goldwater rule is fine, if refined. Here’s how to do it. Psychiatric Times. 2022 Jan 6;39(1).
6. Blotcky AD and Norrholm SD. After Trump, end the Goldwater rule once and for all. New York Daily News. 2020 Dec 22.
7. Stephens B. Biden should not run again – And he should say he won’t. New York Times. 2021 Dec 14.
8. Schmaling KB et al. The positive teddy bear sign: Transitional objects in the medical setting. J Nerv Ment Dis. 1994 Dec;182(12):725.
9. Badre N et al. Psychopharmacologic management in integrated care: Challenges for residency education. Acad Psychiatry. 2015; 39(4):466-9.
10. Kraemer HC et al. DSM-5: How reliable is reliable enough? Am J Psychiatry. 2012 Jan;169(1):13-5.
11. Badre N and Compton C. Britney Spears – Reflections on conservatorship. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2021 Nov 16.
Since it appeared in the first edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Principles of Medical Ethics in 1973, the “Goldwater rule” – often referred to in terms of where in the APA’s guideline it can be found, Section 7.3 – has placed a stringent prohibition on psychiatrists offering professional opinions about public figures “unless he or she has conducted an examination and has been granted proper authorization for such a statement.”1
Some psychiatrists experienced the restrictive nature of Section 7.3 more acutely perhaps than ever during the Trump presidency. This spurred numerous articles criticizing the guideline as an outdated “gag rule”2 that harms the public image of psychiatry.3 Some psychiatrists violated the rule to warn the public of the dangers of a president with “incipient dementia”4 occupying the most powerful position on earth.
Following President Trump’s exit from the White House, the alarm bells surrounding his presidency have quieted. Criticisms of the Goldwater rule, on the other hand, have persisted. Many of these criticisms now call for the rule to be refined, allowing for psychiatrists to give their professional opinions about public figures, but with certain guidelines on how to do so.5 Few have yet to make a sober case for the outright abolition of Section 7.3.6
Self-regulating and internal policing are important factors in the continued independence of the medical profession, and we should continue to hold each other to high professional standards. That being said, do psychiatrists need training wheels to prevent us from devolving into unprofessional social commentators? Other medical specialties do not see the need to implement a rule preventing their colleagues from expressing expertise in fear of embarrassment. Do we not have faith in our ability to conduct ourselves professionally? Is the Goldwater rule an admission of a juvenile lack of self-control within our field?
Not only do other medical specialties not forcibly handhold their members in public settings, but other “providers” in the realm of mental health likewise do not implement such strict self-restraints. Psychiatry staying silent on the matter of public figures leaves a void filled by other, arguably less qualified, individuals. Subsequently, the public discord risks being flooded with pseudoscientific pontification and distorted views of psychiatric illness. The cycle of speculating on the mental fitness of the president has outlived President Trump, with concerns about Joe Biden’s incoherence and waning cognition.7 Therein is an important argument to be made for the public duty of psychiatrists, with their greater expertise and clinical acumen, to weigh in on matters of societal importance in an attempt to dispel dangerous misconceptions.
Practical limitations are often raised and serve as the cornerstone for the Goldwater rule. Specifically, the limitation being that a psychiatrist cannot provide a professional opinion about an individual without a proper in-person evaluation. The psychiatric interview could be considered the most in-depth and comprehensive evaluation in all of medicine. Even so, is a trained psychiatrist presented with grandiosity, flight-of-ideas, and pressured speech unable to comment on the possibility of mania without a lengthy and comprehensive evaluation? How much disorganization of behavior and dialogue does one need to observe to recognize psychosis? For the experienced psychiatrist, many of these behavioral hallmarks are akin to an ST elevation on an EKG representing a heart attack.
When considering less extreme examples of mental affliction, such as depression and anxiety, many signs – including demeanor, motor activity, manner of speaking, and other aspects of behavior – are apparent to the perceptive psychiatrist without needing an extensive interview that dives into the depths of a person’s social history and childhood. After all, our own criteria for depression and mania do not require the presence of social stressors or childhood trauma. Even personality disorders can be reasonably postulated when a person behaves in a particular fashion. The recognition of transitional objects, items used to provide psychological comfort, including the “teddy bear sign” are common and scientifically studied methods to recognize personality disorder.8
The necessity for an in-person evaluation has become less compelling over the years. In our modern age, important social moments are memorialized in countless videos that are arguably more relevant, more accurate, and less subjective than a psychiatric interview. Furthermore, forensic psychiatrists routinely comment on individuals they have not examined for a variety of reasons, from postmortem analysis to the refusal of the client to be interviewed. Moreover, and with significant contradiction, many leaders in the field of psychiatry view integrated care, the practice of psychiatrists advising primary care doctors, often without even seeing patients, to be the future of psychiatry.9
Some reading this may scoff at the above examples. Perhaps Section 7.3 speaks to an underlying insecurity in our field regarding our ability to accurately diagnose. That insecurity is not unfounded. In terms of the DSM-5, the bar for reliability has been lowered to a kappa of 0.2-0.4, from a previous standard of 0.6, in an attempt to avoid critiques of unreliability.10 Yet herein lies a powerful recognition of the necessity of the Goldwater rule. If psychiatrists cannot reliably agree on the presence of diagnoses in the controlled setting of scientific study, how can we expect to speak with coherence and consistency on highly mediatized and provoking topics?
The defense – that the difficulty psychiatrists have at providing an accurate diagnosis stems from the immense complexity of the system being evaluated, the human mind – is a valid one. Attempts to force such complex pathology, with all its many variables, into the check-box approach implemented in the DSM inevitably leads to problems with diagnostic reliability. Still, as psychiatrists we retain a level of expertise in assessing and treating complex disorders of the mind that no other field can claim.
The duty physicians have not only to work toward the health of their individual patients, but also to act in service of the public health and well-being of communities in which our patients live, is well established. How ethical is it then for psychiatry to absolve itself from duty when it comes to public figures at the center of shaping public opinion? There are numerous recent, high-profile instances where our expertise may have helped shine light in an otherwise murky public discussion filled with disinformation. The death of George Floyd and the year of turmoil that followed is a salient example. The conservatorship of Britney Spears and the resulting societal outcry is another. Even setting the matter of diagnosis aside, we can help illuminate the societal implications of conservatorship laws,11 in addition to providing input on how to safely and responsibly approach an individual who is in crisis, under the influence of multiple illicit substances, and possibly suffering from excited delirium.
Whether psychiatry has progressed enough as a medical specialty to trust ourselves with the option of providing professional opinions on public figures is an ongoing debate. The persistence of the Goldwater rule is a strong testament to the internal lack of confidence among psychiatrists regarding our ability to provide accurate diagnoses, act with integrity in the public space, and foster a positive public image. That lack of confidence may be well deserved. However, it is possible that our field will never go through the necessary pains of maturing as long as Section 7.3 remains in place.
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. Dr. Compton has no conflicts of interest. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. American Psychiatric Association. The principles of medical ethics with annotations especially applicable to psychiatry. Section 7. American Psychiatric Association; 2013 edition.
2. Glass LL. The Goldwater rule is broken. Here’s how to fix it. STAT News. 2018 June 18.
3. Plymyer D. The Goldwater rule paradox. 2020 Aug 7.
4. Lieberman JA. Trump’s brain and the 25th Amendment. Vice. 2017 Sep 8.
5. Blotcky AD et al. The Goldwater rule is fine, if refined. Here’s how to do it. Psychiatric Times. 2022 Jan 6;39(1).
6. Blotcky AD and Norrholm SD. After Trump, end the Goldwater rule once and for all. New York Daily News. 2020 Dec 22.
7. Stephens B. Biden should not run again – And he should say he won’t. New York Times. 2021 Dec 14.
8. Schmaling KB et al. The positive teddy bear sign: Transitional objects in the medical setting. J Nerv Ment Dis. 1994 Dec;182(12):725.
9. Badre N et al. Psychopharmacologic management in integrated care: Challenges for residency education. Acad Psychiatry. 2015; 39(4):466-9.
10. Kraemer HC et al. DSM-5: How reliable is reliable enough? Am J Psychiatry. 2012 Jan;169(1):13-5.
11. Badre N and Compton C. Britney Spears – Reflections on conservatorship. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2021 Nov 16.
Since it appeared in the first edition of the American Psychiatric Association’s Principles of Medical Ethics in 1973, the “Goldwater rule” – often referred to in terms of where in the APA’s guideline it can be found, Section 7.3 – has placed a stringent prohibition on psychiatrists offering professional opinions about public figures “unless he or she has conducted an examination and has been granted proper authorization for such a statement.”1
Some psychiatrists experienced the restrictive nature of Section 7.3 more acutely perhaps than ever during the Trump presidency. This spurred numerous articles criticizing the guideline as an outdated “gag rule”2 that harms the public image of psychiatry.3 Some psychiatrists violated the rule to warn the public of the dangers of a president with “incipient dementia”4 occupying the most powerful position on earth.
Following President Trump’s exit from the White House, the alarm bells surrounding his presidency have quieted. Criticisms of the Goldwater rule, on the other hand, have persisted. Many of these criticisms now call for the rule to be refined, allowing for psychiatrists to give their professional opinions about public figures, but with certain guidelines on how to do so.5 Few have yet to make a sober case for the outright abolition of Section 7.3.6
Self-regulating and internal policing are important factors in the continued independence of the medical profession, and we should continue to hold each other to high professional standards. That being said, do psychiatrists need training wheels to prevent us from devolving into unprofessional social commentators? Other medical specialties do not see the need to implement a rule preventing their colleagues from expressing expertise in fear of embarrassment. Do we not have faith in our ability to conduct ourselves professionally? Is the Goldwater rule an admission of a juvenile lack of self-control within our field?
Not only do other medical specialties not forcibly handhold their members in public settings, but other “providers” in the realm of mental health likewise do not implement such strict self-restraints. Psychiatry staying silent on the matter of public figures leaves a void filled by other, arguably less qualified, individuals. Subsequently, the public discord risks being flooded with pseudoscientific pontification and distorted views of psychiatric illness. The cycle of speculating on the mental fitness of the president has outlived President Trump, with concerns about Joe Biden’s incoherence and waning cognition.7 Therein is an important argument to be made for the public duty of psychiatrists, with their greater expertise and clinical acumen, to weigh in on matters of societal importance in an attempt to dispel dangerous misconceptions.
Practical limitations are often raised and serve as the cornerstone for the Goldwater rule. Specifically, the limitation being that a psychiatrist cannot provide a professional opinion about an individual without a proper in-person evaluation. The psychiatric interview could be considered the most in-depth and comprehensive evaluation in all of medicine. Even so, is a trained psychiatrist presented with grandiosity, flight-of-ideas, and pressured speech unable to comment on the possibility of mania without a lengthy and comprehensive evaluation? How much disorganization of behavior and dialogue does one need to observe to recognize psychosis? For the experienced psychiatrist, many of these behavioral hallmarks are akin to an ST elevation on an EKG representing a heart attack.
When considering less extreme examples of mental affliction, such as depression and anxiety, many signs – including demeanor, motor activity, manner of speaking, and other aspects of behavior – are apparent to the perceptive psychiatrist without needing an extensive interview that dives into the depths of a person’s social history and childhood. After all, our own criteria for depression and mania do not require the presence of social stressors or childhood trauma. Even personality disorders can be reasonably postulated when a person behaves in a particular fashion. The recognition of transitional objects, items used to provide psychological comfort, including the “teddy bear sign” are common and scientifically studied methods to recognize personality disorder.8
The necessity for an in-person evaluation has become less compelling over the years. In our modern age, important social moments are memorialized in countless videos that are arguably more relevant, more accurate, and less subjective than a psychiatric interview. Furthermore, forensic psychiatrists routinely comment on individuals they have not examined for a variety of reasons, from postmortem analysis to the refusal of the client to be interviewed. Moreover, and with significant contradiction, many leaders in the field of psychiatry view integrated care, the practice of psychiatrists advising primary care doctors, often without even seeing patients, to be the future of psychiatry.9
Some reading this may scoff at the above examples. Perhaps Section 7.3 speaks to an underlying insecurity in our field regarding our ability to accurately diagnose. That insecurity is not unfounded. In terms of the DSM-5, the bar for reliability has been lowered to a kappa of 0.2-0.4, from a previous standard of 0.6, in an attempt to avoid critiques of unreliability.10 Yet herein lies a powerful recognition of the necessity of the Goldwater rule. If psychiatrists cannot reliably agree on the presence of diagnoses in the controlled setting of scientific study, how can we expect to speak with coherence and consistency on highly mediatized and provoking topics?
The defense – that the difficulty psychiatrists have at providing an accurate diagnosis stems from the immense complexity of the system being evaluated, the human mind – is a valid one. Attempts to force such complex pathology, with all its many variables, into the check-box approach implemented in the DSM inevitably leads to problems with diagnostic reliability. Still, as psychiatrists we retain a level of expertise in assessing and treating complex disorders of the mind that no other field can claim.
The duty physicians have not only to work toward the health of their individual patients, but also to act in service of the public health and well-being of communities in which our patients live, is well established. How ethical is it then for psychiatry to absolve itself from duty when it comes to public figures at the center of shaping public opinion? There are numerous recent, high-profile instances where our expertise may have helped shine light in an otherwise murky public discussion filled with disinformation. The death of George Floyd and the year of turmoil that followed is a salient example. The conservatorship of Britney Spears and the resulting societal outcry is another. Even setting the matter of diagnosis aside, we can help illuminate the societal implications of conservatorship laws,11 in addition to providing input on how to safely and responsibly approach an individual who is in crisis, under the influence of multiple illicit substances, and possibly suffering from excited delirium.
Whether psychiatry has progressed enough as a medical specialty to trust ourselves with the option of providing professional opinions on public figures is an ongoing debate. The persistence of the Goldwater rule is a strong testament to the internal lack of confidence among psychiatrists regarding our ability to provide accurate diagnoses, act with integrity in the public space, and foster a positive public image. That lack of confidence may be well deserved. However, it is possible that our field will never go through the necessary pains of maturing as long as Section 7.3 remains in place.
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. Dr. Compton has no conflicts of interest. 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. He has no conflicts of interest.
References
1. American Psychiatric Association. The principles of medical ethics with annotations especially applicable to psychiatry. Section 7. American Psychiatric Association; 2013 edition.
2. Glass LL. The Goldwater rule is broken. Here’s how to fix it. STAT News. 2018 June 18.
3. Plymyer D. The Goldwater rule paradox. 2020 Aug 7.
4. Lieberman JA. Trump’s brain and the 25th Amendment. Vice. 2017 Sep 8.
5. Blotcky AD et al. The Goldwater rule is fine, if refined. Here’s how to do it. Psychiatric Times. 2022 Jan 6;39(1).
6. Blotcky AD and Norrholm SD. After Trump, end the Goldwater rule once and for all. New York Daily News. 2020 Dec 22.
7. Stephens B. Biden should not run again – And he should say he won’t. New York Times. 2021 Dec 14.
8. Schmaling KB et al. The positive teddy bear sign: Transitional objects in the medical setting. J Nerv Ment Dis. 1994 Dec;182(12):725.
9. Badre N et al. Psychopharmacologic management in integrated care: Challenges for residency education. Acad Psychiatry. 2015; 39(4):466-9.
10. Kraemer HC et al. DSM-5: How reliable is reliable enough? Am J Psychiatry. 2012 Jan;169(1):13-5.
11. Badre N and Compton C. Britney Spears – Reflections on conservatorship. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2021 Nov 16.