In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Two Different “Religious Experience vs Psychopathology” DistinctionsAwais Aftab, MD (bio)Mohammed Rashed’s analysis of the distinction between “religious experience” and “psychopathology” challenges the assumptions that underlie traditional efforts to make such a distinction and he arrives at a provocative and memorable conclusion: “The distinction between religious experience and mental disorder can only be invoked from a secular standpoint but can only be clarified from a religious standpoint. In other words: (...) if you have the grounds to invoke it, you cannot have the tools to clarify it; and if you have the tools to clarify it, you do not have the grounds to invoke it” (Rashed, 2024). (For another recent discussion that challenges underlying assumptions of this dichotomy, see Gipps and Clark (2024) on the distinction between religious delusion and religious belief.)There is great merit in Rashed’s analysis, and I am in agreement with many aspects of the discussion. In particular, I admire Rashed’s ability here, as well as elsewhere (Rashed, 2021), to break the impasse of definitional debates by deconstructing and destabilizing the distinctions involved. In this commentary I’d like to note some points of disagreement and qualification that I hope can move Rashed’s analysis forward in a constructive way.The first thing I want to bring up is that Rashed defines religious experience very broadly: “Psychological distress or anomalous experience that has a religious origin, content, or end (purpose).” This effectively turns the distinction between religious experience and psychopathology into an instance of the general distinction between the religious worldview and the secular worldview. “Mental disorder” is understood by Rashed to be an exclusively secular concept. I am not sure this way of framing the dichotomy is entirely correct. If our notion of “religious experience” include any anomalous experiences believed to serve a religious purpose, then Rashed is correct that for the religious no anomalous experience would be excluded. And if “mental disorder” requires giving up on the idea of a divine purpose for our [End Page 211] suffering, then indeed the religious do not have the grounds to invoke it.I’d suggest that a better approach may be to think of two different “religious experience vs psychopathology” distinctions, one within the context of the religious worldview and one within the context of the secular worldview. Both are fuzzy and present demarcation problems of their own; both can be and ought to be destabilized.Rashed recognizes that the religious worldview does make space for illness and disease; it’s just that he says even these concepts are understood within a broader religious view of suffering:the proposal is not that religious traditions have no category of distress that is somatic in nature—of course they do—but that even with those categories, religion is never far off the horizon and will make an appearance at some point, if not in the origin or content of distress, then in terms of its broader purpose and so the recommended interventions.(Rashed, 2024, pp. 201)A vital implication of this is that the distinction between religious experience and a secular view of somatic illness would pose the same problem as the distinction between religious experience and mental illness; the religious would not have grounds to invoke it, for no illness is devoid of religious significance. And yet, the religious do meaningfully talk of “illnesses” and “diseases,” and they do meaningfully talk of “madness” (if not mental illness), and many often do meaningfully differentiate between madness and mysticism. This shows that the religious worldview has its own notions of disease and psychopathology, which differ from their secular counterparts in the sense that suffering involved is imbued with a divine purpose. The religious scholars interested in differentiating between the anomalous nature of the mystical experience and the anomalous nature of madness are interested, in part, in marking out abnormalities of thought and behavior so severe that they come to resemble the effects of somatic illness. Madness is where the internal coherence of the mystical experience breaks down, and becomes an instance of suffering at par with somatic illness.The secular worldview recognizes the phenomenology of religious experience—there is religious or mystical content—but... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Better to Have No Deep Cut Anywhere in the Biopsychosocial SystemDerek Bolton, PhD (bio)It is very good to see theoretical work on the biopsychosocial model, acknowledging the causal role of these three kinds of factors in health and disease. I think Ongaro is right to argue that the biopsychosocial model requires an account of these three also being one—integrated—and that systems theoretic concepts such as dynamic, nonlinear causation are (...) helpful for capturing this. In a recent paper (Bolton, 2023) I have described Engel’s original (1997) paper as visionary but programmatic: visionary in seeing radical theory change afoot, citing von Bertalanffy’s new general system theory, but programmatic because the changes had not happened. The systems theoretic approach applies across the life, behavioral and social sciences, and typically envisages multiple interacting systems and causal pathways, including feedback and feedforward mechanisms, within and between systems. However, linear mechanisms are less complicated to research, and early social epidemiology used standard linear regression models (e.g., see the Whitehall II study [Marmot et al., 1991]). Such models do not capture non-linear connections in which the dependent variable also functions over time as an independent variable. However, the background theory typically would not exclude nonlinear dynamic causation, but on the contrary envisages it. Lower social status raises risk of ill health in a linear model, but it is also a plausible hypothesis that ill health in turn raises risk of lowering social status, which is testable in another or in a composite linear model. As well as social epidemiology, another large-scale theory change was underway at the time Engel wrote, the so-called cognitive revolution in psychology. Axiomatic in this shift was the idea that behavior is a response to the environment as perceived, thus merging the psychological/behavioral with the environmental, including the social. This latter point bears on Ongaro’s main proposal that the biopsychosocial model should envisage social causes as externalist, distinguished from the bio-psychological orientation of current psychiatry—and will be picked up below.Paper 2 makes some bold claims about the positive therapeutic value of construing causes [End Page 321] of mental health problems in external terms that have shared social meaning. These claims are made for functional neurological problems, but with extension to other kinds, in relation to a culture in which the shared social meanings refer to spirit possession, which, as a general type, is found in many non-modern Western cultures, as well as now, in our globalized world, in subcultures worldwide. One of the author’s claims is that within the spirit possession framework the shared framework of external causes enables society to adapt to the problem of living, to make it manageable, by shifting the social environment around the patient. As appropriate for ethnomethodology, there is no reference to controlled studies of outcome or mechanisms and I follow this immersed observational methodology here, with an experiential story that illustrates absence of personal and social acceptance and manageability of problematic conditions. While wandering recently with a friend in the mountains in the northern part of Africa, the local guide, in conversation in the local language and in English, having found out that two of us worked in “psychiatry/psychology,” asked us what we knew about; our brief reply included “obsessive-compulsive disorder” (OCD) and “anxiety”; the guide responded by asking whether OCD was washing hands a lot, and then wanted to discuss with us two people he knew well. One was a relation engaged, since many years, for many hours a day washing and cleaning, avoiding many daily tasks, sometimes childcare; friends and wider kinship structures had tried everything, except modern Western psychiatry (which was unavailable anyway), and, to put it briefly and colloquially, they were not at all happy about the person’s state and wished the person would get better. This person lived at a distance and we could not see them, so we do not know their view, but to judge by people with definite or probable OCD that we are familiar with, they may or may not have been happy in their reclusive state. Also to mention that the local healer had investigated... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hermeneutical Injustice and Best PracticeAlasdair Coles, PhD, MRCP (bio)To a doctor who routinely sees people with psychosis and neurological conditions causing strange experiences, José Porcher’s paper is challenging and troubling.Challenging, because the accusation of hermeneutical injustice is accurate. In the hurly burly of the emergency department or a government outpatient clinic, doctors resort to reductionism, for the sake of urgent efficiency. A person becomes a “case of psychosis” and (...) the immediate questions are: “Should they be admitted? Are they fit to make their own decisions? What medication should we prescribe?” In that context, spending time on analyzing the contents of the delusions, and acknowledging their meaning to the individual, is a luxury. Most doctors, burnt out by COVID and struggling to get people basic healthcare, will probably be unconcerned about hermeneutical injustice. But, disdain for the experience of psychosis leads to loss of trust between patient and doctor, as nicely illustrated by Heriot-Maitland, Knight, and Peters’ first patient. One consequence is that patients withhold information they imagine will not be well received by the medical profession. In my experience, of studying the rare entity of people with epilepsy that causes pleasurable or even religious experience, the patients have usually not discussed this with their doctor (Coles & Collicut, 2019) A tangible medical consequence is that their doctors are not aware of the risk of non-compliance with anticonvulsant drugs, so that they are at risk of serial seizures or even sudden death.Porcher’s uncritical appreciation of the Avraham case worries me. Although one of the two therapists is described as “particularly well-versed in Jewish custom and lore” (Bilu et al., 1990), they are not believers. Yet, they take on priestly roles. For instance, after identifying Avraham’s “the Black” as a demon (“which the patient did not belie” [Bilu et al., p. 110]), they prescribe incantations based on Jewish exorcism rites. And, once Avraham was better, he and his wife attributed his “miraculous cure” to the therapists who they regarded as “pious and pure hearted” (Bilu et al., p. 116). Not only are Avraham’s secular therapists being disingenuous, it is dangerous for seculars to appropriate religious language, concepts, and customs. In particular, clumsy use of exorcism rituals can lead to long-term spiritual distress. Those ministers of religion who practice deliverance [exorcism] are highly trained, not least to respect the importance of asking for psychiatric [End Page 239] help. It is unwise not to return the professional favor. Avraham’s therapists should have called in a Jewish minister, trained in clinical pastoral care, to assist them.Key issues are raised by Porcher’s analysis of the Femi case. Femi presented with a psychosis that included religious content. This is common (Sofou et al., 2021): religious imagery is present in 5% to 50% of cases of psychosis, assessed by repeated studies across multiple cultures. The medical team concluded Femi had a psychosis, because his symptoms caused him harm (social isolation, absence from work). Porcher rightly condemns Femi’s therapists because they undermined his dignity, by invalidating his experience of God. And Porcher goes on to state the “both–and” view, that something can be psychopathology and a religious experience. So far so good. But what Porcher does not allow is that some people experience psychoses with very harmful and dark religious imagery, invalidation of which is therapeutic. So, when Porcher asks “what could ever justify someone in the judgment that someone’s religious experiences are illegitimate?” the answer is: compassion. Schizophrenia is not fun. And the disease causes hallucinations that have no relation to reality; to the person I saw recently who believed her clothes were eating her, how helpful would it be to validate the nonsense of clothes with teeth? It follows that some religious delusions may be just that. And people are helped by knowing that. That is the reality of care of the deluded patient. For those therapists who just assume all religious content is inauthentic, Porcher’s article stands as a useful corrective. But assuming the opposite may be as harmful or more. There has to be judgement somewhere along the line. Best practice is that this is done... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Models of Psychopathology and ReligionSuffering, Psychosis, and NeurodiversityKate Finley, PhD (bio)To draw out some implications of Scrutton’s paper, I will address a few points of clarification and objection as well as connections to empirical literature and topics for further research. Scrutton frames her discussion as an exploration of ‘both–and’ (BA) accounts, according to which “someone might experience both a religious experience and psychopathology” in contrast to an ‘either/or’ account, (...) which “presupposes that a person’s experience can be either psychopathological, or else a genuine religious experience” and focuses on instances of ‘voice hearing’ which may be a religious experience (i.e., God talking to you) and/or an instance of psychopathology (i.e., an auditory hallucination). She then defines religious experience as one which “comes from God... [specifically as] an instance of special divine action” and mental illness as dys-functional emotional, cognitive, and/or perceptual processes resulting in suffering that is in need of healing and/or treatment.1One potentially ambiguous point concerns the potential causes of psychopathology—while in some places, Scrutton seems to assume that psychopathology can only be caused by natural (biopsychosocial) causes, in others, she highlights “conjunctive causal explanations” on which divine action can occur within and through ‘natural’ (e.g., psychological, neurological) phenomena and processes. It is important to note that this latter approach is needed in order to truly entertain BA accounts which posit both natural and supernatural causes for the psychopathological experience in question. Relatedly, although Scrutton cites an intuitive view that a hallucination is a “distorted perception of reality,” instead an account of hallucination which allows for veridical as well as non-veridical hallucinations is needed.2 Without these assumptions, the categories of religious experience and psychopathology may seem to be mutually exclusive and thus an either/or account trivially true. For example, one might think that an instance of ‘hearing voices,’ if it is an auditory hallucination (and thus results from solely natural causes and is non-veridical), then cannot also be a religious experience (brought about by divine [End Page 261] action and veridical). These are friendly clarifications of Scrutton’s setup which also highlight the need for further explanation of the relationship between human and divine causation in such cases.There is also some ambiguity about what counts as a singular experience for Scrutton’s purposes—for example, ‘hearing voices over the course of a few minutes or hours’ or ‘hearing voices off and on over a period of a few months and reflecting on these occurrences.’ Scrutton seems to favor the latter, using ‘experience’ in a “diachronic and holistic sense,” and sees the former as too narrowly focused on only part of an experience. On Scrutton’s understanding, much more, perhaps even all of what is recounted about Abeo would count as parts of her experience—thus, a BA account of this experience being correct would mean that all of the individual instances of voice hearing would be both psychopathological and genuine religious experiences (in some sense). In contrast, on the former more circumscribed understanding, each instance in which Abeo “seem[ed] to hear God talk to her” would count as a distinct experience—and thus, a BA account might be correctly applied to only some of these instances. While Scrutton’s approach can sidestep skeptical worries stemming from this view—what to make of the fact that Abeo may genuinely hear God speak to her on one day, but only seem to hear God speaking to her on another—I believe the former understanding of ‘experience’ allows for important nuance and specificity when addressing these issues. As a friendly clarification, this point mainly draws attention to the different implications of understanding Scrutton’s models as employing either the first or the second understanding of ‘experience.’In objecting to the Mysterium Tremendum Model 1, she claims that because Christians (qua Christians) “do not undergo suffering pointlessly [(i.e., in a way that does not further their spiritual life)],” genuine (salutary) religious experience would not lead to psychopathology (presumably pointless suffering). Notably, the claim that psychopathology results in pointless suffering is seemingly challenged both by Scrutton’s preferred Model 4... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:MetanoiaRichard G. T. Gipps, ClinPsyD, PhD (bio)A “honeysuckle on a broken fence”: Scrutton’s (2024) theologically potent image offers us a dignified vision of how a living faith and the experience of mental illness might intersect. Mental and physical illness, deprivation and bereavement sometimes provide a propitious structure on which faith’s bright strands may grow. Scrutton posits no simply causal relationship between faith and mental illness, and steers us helpfully (...) away from the narcissistic overvaluation of inner experience too often met with in (1) mysterium tremendum (meeting-God-blew-my-mind), and (3) mental openness (divine-light-pours-through-the-cracks), formulations. She helps us to avoid settling, too, for the clever-sounding but ultimately too-easy idea of (2) ‘mental illness’ and ‘religious experience’ as different descriptions under which identical experiences may sometimes be brought. For one thing, and to animadvert now in my own vein: can we really—as William James aspires to, say, when he takes it for granted that the “more personal branch [of] feelings, acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to... the divine” can be neatly hived off from the “institutional branch of religion... worship... theology... ceremony... ” and so on—even individuate the relevant experiential phenomena independently of their meaning-conferring contexts? For another, it seems to me that too often in the literature of (1) (2) and (3) do we meet with a fatal confusion that can be expressed in terms of a conflation of two meanings of “ego,” as when a) the dropping of the kinds of boundaries which it makes sense to talk of putting up (i.e., our ego’s defensive, prideful, shame-driven shirking of intimacy) is muddled together with b) the crumbling of such individuating ego boundaries as constitute us. Such a confusion gets readily promulgated by vague and tacitly polysemic talk not only of ‘ego’ but also of ‘non-duality,’ ’transpersonal,’ and ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ ‘levels’ of ‘self’ and ‘consciousness’ (e.g., see Kasprow & Scotton 1999). Sometimes driving this, one can’t help suspect, is the narcissistic gain of conflating the dismal dissolution of ego boundaries in illness (Conrad, 1958) with the epiphanic transcendence of a grasping and fearful ego. Spiritual pride and spiritual bypass (i.e. fleeing the relational tasks of adult development into a self-preoccupied ‘spiritualised’ inner journey) (Welwood, 2000) then abound, not only for the sufferer but also for the lowly therapist who now receives their shamanic guide/hierophant upgrade. By contrast with all of this, Scrutton’s (4) honeysuckle on a broken fence model stands out in its theological dignity and psychological sobriety.Even so I found myself, on reading Scrutton’s piece, wondering whether a more romantic conception of a growing faith’s possible relation [End Page 257] to psychological disturbance might yet be available and sometimes even find application. What particularly came to my mind was that notion of metanoia as offered us by the existential tradition in both theology and psychopathology.Mark’s gospel begins with John the Baptist heralding Christ’s arrival and preaching the “baptism of repentance [metanoia; μετανοίας] for the remission of sins” (Mark 1:4). Jesus’s first public words then proclaim the same message: “the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye [μετανοεῖτε], and believe the gospel” (Mark 1:15). ‘Repentance’ is today often understood as a sorrowful acknowledgement of one’s wrongdoings, but it has long been acknowledged that, if that be the meaning we give the term, it is an inapt translation of ‘metanoia’ (Walden, 1896). For what the gospel instead calls for is rather a wholesale turning about, or conversion, from ‘ego-dominance to surrender’ (Barron, 2021), i.e. from (a) defensive and illusory attempts to handle our vulnerability and dependency through self-reliance and self-affirmation to (b) an aliveness to grace (i.e. seeing our lives and their bounties under the aspect of the freely given gift) and a trusting surrender to the dominion of that God of love in which we anyway inexorably ‘live and move and have our being’ (Acts 17:28). The ‘I’ in Paul’s “It is no longer I who... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Psychiatric Practice and the Living Force of the Social in the BiopsychosocialGeorge Ikkos, BSc, FRCPsych (bio) and Giovanni Stanghellini, MD, DPhil (HC) (bio)One of the handful of universally acknowledged founders of his discipline, sociologist Emile Durkheim (1857–1917; see Fournier, 2013) is best known to psychiatrists for his seminal “Suicide: A Study in Sociology” (1897/2002). Arguably, he should have been at least as well known for his last completed work (...) “The Elementary Forms of Religious Life” (1912/1995), the best book of sociology ever written according to some (Bellah, 1995). In this magisterial work, through a comprehensive survey of the anthropological evidence available at the time and fine conceptual analysis, Durkheim came to define from a strictly secular perspective phenomena such as the sacred and the profane, soul and magic, but also “mana” (a penetrating and connecting force) and collective “effervescence” (wild gesticulating, copulating, or aggressing when aboriginal family groups came together). The last two concepts can help us to understand the origin and persistence of the living force of the social in our daily experience, that is, what it is, what it feels like and how it plays itself out in relationships (Ikkos & McQueen, 2019). Although he makes no reference to Durkheim, nor to mana nor effervescence, social anthropologist Ongaro’s welcome ambition is to lift the social out of the shadow of the dominating bio- and psychological in the use of the biopsychosocial model and, thus, bring it to bear as an immediately experienced and enacted living force akin to mana and effervescence in contemporary psychiatric practice.In this commentary, we first review issues relating to the biopsychosocial model, Ongaro’s externalist foundations, and predictive processing and functional neurological, somatic and mental symptoms. We then discuss our formulation of contemporary anorexia nervosa and hysteria as examples of our attempts at enhanced engagement with the social. We conclude by suggesting the work of social historian and cultural critic Walter Benjamin (1892–1940) as a vital resource for better engagement with the social in biopsychosocial practice in the future. [End Page 325]The Biopsychosocial ModelMany find that in current practice the biopsycho-social model is simply the biomedical cloaked in another name (Mohtashemi et al., 2016). Those most expert in it acknowledge doubts about what it is exactly (Bolton, 2022). Most would agree with Ongaro and Williamson that though not yet dead, if it is to survive as a clinical force in practice, it needs clarification and revival (Williamson, 2022). Bolton suggests that “we can make use of the term ‘biopsychosocial model’ as a shorthand for methodological assumptions that causes and/or cures of specific conditions at specific stages, including matters of adjustment and quality of life, will generally—across a wide range of conditions—include biological, psychological and social factors, and interactions between them. The contrast here is with the ‘biomedical model’, which deals with biological factors only” (Bolton, 2022). Bolton then discusses the utility and advantages of his definition of the model specifically in relation to research on the social determinants of disease and on pain. That is fine, as far as it goes, that is, research methodology and clinical theory. Ongaro, however, wants to ensure that the social is understood as a more immediately experienced and directly enacted force in clinical encounters. To achieve his aim, he argues, we need a more balanced and persuasive integration of all three components of the model: bio-psycho-social. In effect what he proposes is to vitalize psychiatry with something related to Durkheim’s ideas of mana and effervescence.Externalist FoundationsIn his first paper, Ongaro argues that he can partly achieve his aims by using the tools provided by our contemporary neuroscience research on “predictive processing” and philosophical theories of “enactivism” (Ongaro, 2024a). In his second paper he reports on his anthropological experience of living for 19 months with the Akha, a group of swidden farmers in highland Laos. Here he investigated how they respond to functional neurological disorders (FNDs), functional somatic symptoms (FSS) (Burton et al., 2020), also to what Western medicine defines as (functional) mental disorders (FMDs) and what the Akha and he sometimes conceive as spiritual... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Mental Disorder and Religious ExperienceThe Need for a Humble, Pragmatic PluralismWarren Kinghorn, MD (bio)Mohammed Abouelleil Rashed follows Charles Taylor’s argument that in the “therapeutic turn” of modernity, “certain human struggles, questions, issues, difficulties, problems are moved from a moral/spiritual to a therapeutic register,... from a hermeneutic of sin, evil or spiritual misdirection, to one of sickness” (Taylor, 2007, pp. 619–620). While the project of construing mental disorder in naturalistic, (...) non-religious terms carries the risk of subsuming “the rest of life” into the realm of the medical, it is nonetheless needed in order “to protect a region of illness and incapacity from the reach and excesses of the hermeneutic disciplines with their tendency to over-interpretation, and from cultural traditions, including religious discourse, that can implicate the person in narratives of evil, sin, faithlessness, spiritual misdirection, and moral deviance.” Rashed notes, however, that this medical narrative is challenged not only by religious communities but also by various forms of identity-based activism including the Mad Pride and Neurodiversity movements. He argues that strict illness/purpose, deficit/value, mechanism/meaning dichotomies have become “unstable” and encourages scholars to focus their attention on resolving the apparently contradictory realities that people sometimes demand and require medical forms of care while investing significance in the sociocultural and existential context of their distress and refusing reductionistic constructions of their distress as illness.I agree wholeheartedly with Rashed’s conclusion that clinicians and scholars must move beyond a strict mechanism/meaning dichotomy with respect to unwanted and/or disvalued experience and behavior, and must remain open to the social and contextual interpretations that particular cultural communities—including religious communities—offer. But as a psychiatrist who is also [End Page 215] a Christian theological ethicist, I suggest that this sensible conclusion can be reached more straightforwardly by adopting a more flexible approach to “religious experience” and by abandoning the assumptions that mental disorder is “a fully areligious type of suffering” and that religious experience and mental disorder are “fundamentally separate apprehensions of our experience.”Although Rashed never defines religious experience, he posits a distinction between “psychological distress or anomalous experience that has a religious origin, content, or end (purpose)” and “psychological distress or anomalous experience that has no religious origin, content, or end (purpose).” He then helpfully describes how Islamic tradition narrates psychological suffering as deviation from fitrah and as God’s trial, arguing that in Islamic perspective “mental disorder cannot be disentangled from the person’s religious situation and from the religious origin, content, or end (purpose) of his distress.” I make no claim about Rashed’s interpretation of Islam, but would observe that many voices within Christian tradition resist both the equation of psychological suffering with wrongdoing and the assertion that God is the direct cause of psychological suffering (see, for example, John Paul II, 1984). Suffering may instead have to do with being sinned against (as in the case of war, assault, or oppression), or the experience of living in a fallen world that God will one day make right. When the psalmist cries, “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck” (Psalm 69:1, NRSVue), many Christians observe that it is the psalmist’s enemies, not God, who are the proximate cause of the psalmist’s distress. That is to say, Christian tradition allows for a broad range of interpretations about the cause of distress, including distress resulting from injury, physical illness, and oppression. Christians are encouraged to regard all of their lives as in some way related to God as the creator, sustainer, and orienting end of life—and so in that sense all experience is “religious” in nature. But at least for Christians this does not preclude more naturalistic or sociological interpretations of distress and suffering.Rashed is right that a “fully areligious type of suffering” with “no religious origin, content, or end (purpose)” can only be invoked from a secular standpoint—if “secularity” is taken in Charles Taylor’s first sense of “public spaces... [that] have been allegedly emptied of God, or of any reference to ultimate reality” (Taylor, 2007, p. 2). This is not because... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Grounding Psychiatry in the Body and the Social WorldLaurence J. Kirmayer, MD, FRCPC, FCAHS, FRSC (bio)The sensing body is like an open circuit that completes itself only in things, in others, in the surrounding earth.—David Abram (2012)Giulio Ongaro has written an interesting set of papers that aim to advance our thinking about ‘externalist’ (i.e., social) approaches to psychiatry by rehearsing an enactivist account of mental disorder and elaborating an (...) ethnographic example of social explanation rooted in a different cultural ontology and system of healing. I am completely onboard with his calls for more attention to the social world in psychiatric theory, research, and practice. What is especially novel in his work is the use of ethnographic research to inform philosophical thinking about psychiatry.Despite my enthusiasm for this effort, I have three concerns with his argument that I can only briefly outline in this commentary: i) the lack of attention to a large body of work in social epidemiology, psychosomatics, and cultural psychiatry that speaks directly to the goals of the biopsychosocial (BPS) approach and that vitiates much of the recent critique of that model; ii) the use of an ethnographic example to idealize an ‘externalist’ system of medicine that patently cannot address the many social structural and sociophysiological processes that psychiatry needs to understand; and iii) most importantly from a philosophical perspective, the fact that the enactivist framework he endorses actually breaks down the distinctions between internalist/externalist psychiatry and naturalist/constructivist ontologies around which he organizes his critique and proposed remedy (Kirmayer & Ramstead, 2017).Integration and the BPS ApproachOngaro’s first paper begins by acknowledging the recent critiques of the BPS approach that claim the BPS leaves vague or underspecified the ways in which the biological, psychological and social domains interact to give rise to mental disorders and how they can be included in systematic case formulation to guide assessment and treatment [End Page 315] intervention. Ongaro notes that current efforts to elaborate an embodied, enactivist approach to psychiatry hold the promise of outlining a more systematic approach to the relationship between levels or domains in the BPS. However, he argues this still leaves psychiatry with excessive emphasis on ‘internalizing’ explanations that appeal to biological or psychological processes within the person to characterize mental disorders. He suggests that this needs to be complemented by an externalizing approach that gives due weight to social processes. The dominant approaches leave the social world underspecified and he notes psychiatry lacks an “ontology of the social.”To some extent, this recent critique—not by Ongaro but by some of the authors he cites—reveals a lack of familiarity or engagement with a rich literature in social epidemiology, psychosomatics and sociosomatics that has long demonstrated the close links between social and physiological processes (Krieger, 2021). This research has produced multiple examples of these relationships detailing their mechanisms and dynamics in ways that do not privilege internal processes. There is no problem identifying many specific instances of these links; for example, research has examined how exposure to racism and discrimination results in increased risk for psychiatric disorders (Kirkbride et al., 2024). We have listed many other such mechanisms related to depression in a recent paper (Gómez-Carrillo & Kirmayer, 2023). This work does not yield a single overarching model or explanation but reveals diverse kinds of mechanisms that interact in a multilevel system that includes both dynamic and linguistic modes (Gómez-Carrillo et al., 2023). Integration occurs in the functioning of this system and cannot be captured in any monolithic theory. This is not a limitation of the BPS, simply a reflection of the complexity of human beings.Can we have a general theory of the links between dimensions or domains in the BPS or will it always remain a piecemeal account that depends on the details of specific systems? Given the many different kinds of processes involved, it seems unrealistic to expect a totalizing theory. If so, both research and clinical work need practical ways to assess the myriad pathways and processes involved in psychiatric disorders in order to formulate cases efficiently, identify a manageable subset of factors to consider in a... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Externalist Psychiatry, Mindshaping, and Embodied InjusticeMichelle Maiese, PhD (bio)Ongaro maintains that although enactivist approaches to psychiatry help to account for the integration of biological, psychological, and social factors, they gloss over an important distinction between patient-centered (bio and psycho) approaches and externalist (social) approaches to mental illness. The central problem is that they lack the means to account for the social causes of illness and do not specify how (...) social determinants can be addressed in the clinic. Since much of an organism’s interaction with the external world is social in kind, the implementation of externalist psychiatry could make the enactivist model truly biopsychosocial and usher in novel forms of treatment.According to Ongaro, this externalist orientation gives rise to an important question about ontology: what are the social causes of psychiatric illness made of, and how can these be conveyed in the clinic to facilitate treatment? A “shared social etiology” would allow for a “rich explanatory framework” that accounts for the social causes of mental disorder. For example, by pointing to spirit affliction as the social cause of mental illness, the Akha transform amorphous pains (which are difficult to capture naturalistically) into meaningful and familiar experiences. Such an approach involves combining a realist understanding of biopsychosocial integration with an anti-realist, social constructivist outlook on social etiology. For them, an illness that is explained as a rupture of a human-spirit relationship is experienced as a ‘problem in living’ that affects the person in an immediate and meaningful way, and can be treated via ritual action.Ongaro then considers social causation in a more familiar context, one where social determinants of mental illness include factors such as employment. Losing one’s job is a significant life event because it signals a change in social status and prompts feelings of uselessness. Ongaro characterizes these feelings of low subjective status as “socially constructed experiences that depend on collectively ingrained ideas about status, value, and self-realization that a person accepts—one could say ‘believes in’—by virtue of living in a particular society.” Because social worlds differ and what counts as social defeat is culturally specific, [End Page 333] social determinants of illness such as unemployment are either negligible or non-applicable in Ahka (non-capitalist) society.To acknowledge the impact of these social constructions, Ongaro maintains, clinical psychiatry should abandon its commitment to naturalism and embrace methodological constructivism instead. Methodological naturalism treats social causes as ‘real’ and holds that the social causes of disorder should be investigated using the scientific method; research focuses on social determinants, social stressors, and social capital. However, despite acknowledging that declining mental health correlates significantly with political and economic factors, Ongaro maintains that methodological naturalism when it comes to social causes will be insufficient to bring about meaningful changes in clinical practice. For one thing, individual psychiatrists lack the political power and economic resources to bring about the sorts of societal changes that are needed to address social determinants of health. Second, social determinants are probabilistic factors rather than definitive causes of mental disorder; psychiatric illnesses often do not have a well-defined cause or a clear-cut social trigger. Third, an explanation that points to ‘lack of social capital’ does “not possess the immediacy, emotional charge, and embodied meaning that could make them therapeutically effective in the same way that Akha explanations for spirit afflictions are.”Philosophically, Ongaro’s embrace of ‘methodological constructivism’ when it comes to social etiology entails a commitment to antirealism about social causation and fictionalism more specifically. Wilkinson (2022) notes that the core tenet of psychiatric fictionalism is that “when we engage in psychiatric discourse... we are not attributing a robust, objective property, but are instead engaging with a useful, perhaps even an indispensable, fiction” (p. 91). For Ongaro, this fiction consists in a meaningful explanatory narrative about the social causes of illness. However, if we take the notion of integration seriously, and characterize this integration naturalistically (as Ongaro does), then questions arise as to how these fictional narratives about social causes can impact people both biologically and psychologically, and thereby have such a powerful impact.I argue that an enactivist approach to treatment will be... (shrink)

Philosophical speculation about how psychiatric externalism might function in practice has yet to fully consider the multitude of externalist psychiatric systems that exist beyond the bounds of modern psychiatry. Believing that anthropology can inform philosophical debate on the matter, the paper illustrates one such case. The discussion is based on 19 months of first-hand ethnographic fieldwork among Akha, a group of swidden farmers living in highland Laos and neighboring borderlands. First, the paper describes the Akha set of medicinal, ritual, and (...) shamanic practices, analyzing issues of stigma and medical pluralism within it. Second, it makes the case that the Akha realize a functioning biopsychosocial system which comes with a well-developed set of resources for treating the social dimension of illness. Externalism among the Akha re-frames psychiatric illness as a ‘problem in living,’ which becomes manageable as such. The paper claims that, in so doing, the Akha system succeeds in many of the areas where modern internalist psychiatry falls short, and that it does so because Akha society is structured in such a way so that its practitioners can shift the social environment around the patient. As a takeaway for philosophers, it suggests that the development of an externalist psychiatry must begin from questioning the accepted ontology of the social causes of psychiatric illness. (shrink)

Response to commentaries on the three-paper set 'Outline for an externalist psychiatry'.

The biopsychosocial (BPS) model in psychiatry has come under fire for being too vague to be of any practical use in the clinic. For many, its central flaw consists in lack of scientific validity and philosophical coherence: the model never specified how biological, psychological and social factors causally integrate with one another. Recently, advances in the cognitive sciences have made great strides towards meeting this very ‘integration challenge.’ The paper begins by illustrating how enactivist and predictive processing frameworks propose converging (...) accounts of biopsychosocial integration that are far superior to those of previous theories. It argues, however, that the main problem of implementing the BPS model has less to do with integration than with the lack of a social etiology. Psychiatric practice leans heavily towards ‘bio’ and ‘psycho’ approaches, without an equally developed set of explanatory and therapeutic resources for dealing with the ‘social’ dimension of illness. This leaves psychiatry essentially internalist in orientation. As illustrated most poignantly by conditions such as functional neurological disorders, internalism comes with the risks of stigma and the curtailment of therapeutic possibilities. The paper argues that the answer to the failings of the BPS model lies in combining the integration challenge with the development of an ‘externalist psychiatry,’ which casts both causes and treatment of psychiatric illness onto the social environment. The following two papers explore the conditions that might make this idea a reality. (shrink)

Any progress in shaping up an externalist psychiatry, so previous discussion suggested, must begin from questions about the ontology of social causation. So far, research and theory have adhered to a naturalistic approach to the social causes of illness, concentrating mostly on the ‘social determinants of mental health’ (inequality, discrimination, housing insecurity, etc.). The paper starts with an assessment of ‘social determinants’ through the lens of epidemiology and critical psychiatry. It illustrates existing practical and political approaches that fight these constraints (...) and it highlights their therapeutic value. It argues, though, that a focus on social determinants is not sufficient for fully realizing externalism because a great portion of sociogenic illness remains causally indeterminate. Alongside political action, externalism requires a social etiology that is established by virtue of the meaning that it holds for patients, rather than by virtue of its capacity to identify objective social causes of illness. This entails abandoning naturalism about social causation and embracing constructivism. The paper shows that this methodological shift is less contradictory and more effective than it is commonly imagined. Drawing from further anthropological evidence, it concludes that only by lending support to projects that balance a focus on constraints with social construction will psychiatry be truly externalist. At stake is a prospect of effective treatment for sociogenic illness for the countless in struggle. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:From Methodological Naturalism to Interpretive Exclusivism About Religious PsychopathologyJosé Eduardo Porcher, PhDA particularly deep form of hermeneutical injustice arises when clinicians undermine a patient’s meaningful interpretation of their alleged psychotic symptoms within a religious framework. Cases like Femi’s (Rashed, 2010) illustrate how diagnosing and treating psychotic symptoms with religious content can perpetuate this injustice. Femi’s symptoms, which were very real, were interpreted solely as indicative of a psychotic episode, (...) without considering the possibility of a religious experience. Although hermeneutical injustice is often caused by negative stereotypes, lack of conceptual resources, implicit biases, practices of epistemic privileging, patronizing attitudes, and wrongful pathologization, I propose that interpretive exclusivism about religious psychopathology plays a pivotal role in causing hermeneutical injustice when attributing psychotic symptoms with religious content—that is, the view that an experience is either psychopathological or religious (Scrutton, 2023). Routinely, on attributing psychosis, the potential for the patient to have a genuine religious experience is disregarded and excluded from the therapeutic process and from the very realm of possibility. Why?In their thoughtful commentary, Rosa Ritunnano and Ian James Kidd do me the favor of not only giving careful attention to my argument, but also elucidating my position and providing avenues for further clarification. Although I have not gone much into what is behind interpretive exclusivism, they are right to point to unquestioning adherence to some form of naturalism. Contrary to what they intimate, however, I do not think we are speaking of different kinds of hermeneutical injustice. As I see it, we are speaking about the same kind of injustice, only at different levels of explanation. In my article, I rhetorically ask why [End Page 241] it is assumed that psychotic and religious experiences cannot coexist, and why it is assumed that the same experience cannot be both a genuine religious experience and an instance of psycho-pathology. Ritunnano and Kidd point in the right direction when they say, “Some interpretations of kinds of experience with religious content can be undermined if one is committed to a metaphysical naturalism” (2024, p. 235).Naturalism can be divided into two components: metaphysical and methodological (Papineau, 2020). The metaphysical component concerns the contents of reality, affirming the absence of “supernatural” or other metaphysically elusive entities. In contrast, the methodological component focuses on approaches to investigating reality and attributes a general authority to the scientific method. Therefore, metaphysical naturalism is the more comprehensive view, as it outright denies the existence of the supernatural. Meanwhile, methodological (or scientific) naturalism refers to a pragmatic approach within scientific inquiry, stating that the right methodology to investigate and research something (where this something might not be immediately obvious to be a scientific topic) is that of science, often particular of natural sciences.Although a commitment to metaphysical naturalism may at times be what lies behind interpretive exclusivism, we do not need to go that far, since a commitment to methodological naturalism is enough to breed unwarranted ontological exclusion in practice (Plantinga, 1997; Ratcliffe, 2003). This in turn leads to interpretive exclusivism which is, I argue, the main theoretical flaw behind the kind of hermeneutical injustice I am trying to flesh out. As Ritunnano and Kidd observe, either tacit or explicit adherence to such ontological exclusion causes individuals to struggle to view another person’s spiritual or religious interpretive framework as coherent or even intelligible. Note, however, that the opposite of interpretive exclusivism—that is, interpretive inclusivism—does not need to affirm that the experience is exclusively or even genuinely religious but rather keeps that question open while considering significant epistemic and meaning-making possibilities.Finally, in his commentary, Alasdair Coles (2024) proposes that I overlook the fact that some individuals undergo psychoses featuring deeply distressing and dark religious imagery, the dismissal of which can be therapeutically beneficial. He also contends that therapists often default to considering all religious content as inauthentic, contrasting this with my alleged stance, which he believes assumes the opposite extreme and may be equally or more harmful. In making these assertions, he misrepresents my argument on two counts. I took care to avoid implying that all religious experiences should be uncritically accepted and that all religious content is inherently... (shrink)

In this paper, I argue that a special kind of hermeneutical injustice occurs when someone is not permitted to interpret their experiences in a meaning-making way. I suggest that this occurs in certain cases where the possibility that the patient has a genuine religious experience is excluded by a medical diagnosis. In such cases, it is not that an experience is incomprehensible because of the absence of a valid interpretation. Instead, one perspective is not only dominant but exclusive, so the (...) ensuing power imbalance is absolute. I begin by introducing the notion of hermeneutical injustice and subsequent refinements that have been instrumental in applying it to psychiatry. Then I show how even though voice-hearers are liable to be victims of such injustices, the literature has neglected the specific harm done to someone whose interpretation of their own experience is obliterated because of the dominance of exclusive medical views. To illustrate this, I point to a case that evinces the harms perpetrated toward patients diagnosed with psychotic symptoms with religious content and argue that depriving persons of meaning-making interpretations of their own experiences constitutes a profound and willful form of hermeneutical injustice. I then gesture toward studies on the religious reframing of anomalous experiences through contact with a normalizing framework. Finally, I pry from a successful case a general directive toward the virtue of hermeneutical justice through the attitudes of respect to first-person authority and the hermeneutical flexibility it embodies. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:What Can (and Cannot) Be Said About the Distinction Between Religious Experience and PsychopathologyMohammed Abouelleil Rashed, MD, PhDThe distinction between religious experience and psychopathology as a puzzle to be pondered, debated, clarified, and analyzed is an example of a thoroughly modern problem. It is modern in that the distinction can only make sense if our starting assumption is the existence of unique and separate types of experience that might (...) overlap phenomenologically but are ultimately different entities that should be distinguished from each other. And it can only have this sort of sense in a secular worldview where the possibility of a fully areligious type of psychological suffering is on the table and widely accepted. By framing the matter in this way, the debate presupposes, rather than argues for, the existence of unique and separate types of experience. This is a major presupposition, and its coherence cannot be assumed, nor can we ignore the impact of our standpoint in the debate on whether or not we can actually make that distinction let alone resolve it. In the original paper (Rashed, 2024), I deconstruct the distinction by examining what can, and cannot, be said about it given the standpoint that we adopt. In what follows, I respond to Awais Aftab’s and Warren Kinghorn’s thoughtful commentaries on my paper and in the process clarify my thesis further.What We Believe and the limits of What We Can ArgueAwais Aftab (2024) perceptively points out that the way I define the terms renders the distinction between religious experience and psychopathology an instance of the broader distinction between the religious worldview and the scientific worldview. Accordingly, my approach deviates from the usual [End Page 219] approach in these debates, which tend to focus on specific areas of phenomenology (delusion, hallucinations, low mood, etc.). This focus then directs the debate toward distinguishing these states from each other, and not toward asking if there is a distinction that needs to made at all, and, if there is, what the distinction is really about. In order to overcome this potential blind spot, we need to step back and examine our assumptions about the possibility and the nature of the allegedly competing conceptions of religious experience and psychopathology. And to do so, we need to apprehend the distinction in the broadest possible sense, as it is there that we can identify our assumptions about those ‘things’ we are trying to distinguish from each other.The first step in deconstructing this debate is to identify our stance towards the categories of religious experience and mental disorder, and what this stance enables us to say and prohibits us from saying. On an ontological stance, we would be dealing with two distinct categories of experience out there in the world for us to identify, study, and differentiate; there is a truth of the matter as to the origin of the experience, a truth that we can get hold of if we can get to the essence of the respective phenomena. On a constructivist stance, there is no sense to this claim, and what we have are two possible interpretations of experience that cannot be differentiated from each other from a natural or a supernatural standpoint; they do not reflect distinct types of experience, merely the attribution of meaning, which can always go the other way depending on the social situation and the cultural context. And so, our initial stance as to an ontological or constructivist understanding will constrain from the outset what can and cannot be said about the distinction between religious experience and psychopathology. The issue is further complicated by the fact that we can hold a range of positions: we can, at the same time, adopt an ontological view of religious experience and a constructivist view of mental disorder, or vice versa, and in each case we might end up in a different place.For philosophers, theologians, and others writing from a religious standpoint, we can assume that they are adopting an ontological reading of religious experience. In other words, they take it to be true that some experiences have a divine origin, connect the person to non... (shrink)

Debates on the distinction between religious experience and mental disorder tend to assume, rather than argue for, the existence of unique types of experience: the religious and the psychopathological. This paper interrogates this approach to the problem. It deconstructs the distinction by examining what the distinction is about beyond the terms in which it is presented and whether it matters who is trying to make it. A key idea is that one’s standpoint in the debate—that is, whether one adopts a (...) religious or a secular standpoint—determines what they can say about the distinction. This leads to the central argument of the first part of the paper: The distinction between religious experience and mental disorder can only be invoked from a secular standpoint but can only be clarified from a religious standpoint. In other words, if you have the grounds to invoke it, you cannot have the tools to clarify it; and if you have the tools to clarify it, you do not have the grounds to invoke it. In the second part, the paper follows through the implications, from a secular standpoint, of accepting this argument. It appeals to the politics of difference and to mental health activism to argue against the binary view whereby mental distress is either illness and incapacity or a path to purpose and identity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Introduction to the Special Theme Religious Experience and PsychopathologyMohammed Abouelleil Rashed, MD, PhDIn the first verse of the seventeenth sura of the Qur’an, Al-Isra’,1 we learn about Prophet Mohammed’s night-time journey to Al-Quds (Jerusalem):Glory to Him who made His servant travel by night from the sacred place of worship [in Mecca] to the furthest place of worship [in Al-Quds], whose surroundings We have blessed, to show him some of (...) Our signs.The year was 621 AD. The Prophet was transported by a fabled creature known as Al-Buraq—a name that derives from the Arabic word for lightning—that was able to cover the distance of a month-long journey in a matter of hours. Accompanied by the Angel Jibreel, the second part of the journey, Al-Mi’raj,2 involved an ascension to the Heavens. Along the way, the Prophet met several past Messengers until, now all alone, he received communications from Allah and, according to some accounts, encountered the Divine manifestation.When he returned to Mecca the following morning and recounted his miraculous journey, he met with a familiar range of responses. Abu Bakr Al-Siddiq, who was to become the first Caliph following the Prophet’s death, immediately believed him and never doubted the veracity of his account. Members of the Quraish tribe, a polytheistic tribe then dominant in the Arabian Peninsula and hostile to the Prophet, denounced his account outright, mocking him for its apparent impossibility or accusing him of madness. Others agreed that the Prophet had undergone the experiences he described but reasoned that this was a spiritual journey and not a physical one of literal bodily transportation. Later Christian critics went further by reducing the experience to the manifestations of epilepsy and insanity, or by questioning its Divine origin and attributing it to spirits and satanic entities.It really did matter how the Prophet’s experiences were understood and received: the stakes could not be higher. Here was the Prophet in the 11th year of a mission that called for a renewal of the message of monotheism. If true, this journey to the three holy sites of Islam (Mecca, Medina, Al-Quds) and to the Heavens was further evidence of his Prophethood and one of his miracles. His [End Page 195] critics and his followers had their own answer to the question on everyone’s mind: did the Prophet really undergo these experiences, whether in a spiritual or physical sense, or was it an expression of a pathological disturbance?________The year is 1997 AD. Mike Jackson and Bill Fulford publish a paper entitled Spiritual Experience & Psychopathology. The paper engages the exact question that troubled the Prophet’s critics and allies 1,376 years earlier. The question is now framed as a distinction between spiritual and pathological varieties of psychotic phenomena. And even though the stakes do not rise to the level of Prophethood—we have banished Prophets a long time ago—they are high enough:Spiritual experiences, whether welcome or unwelcome, and whether or not they are psychotic in form, have nothing (directly) to do with medicine.... It would be quite wrong, then, to “treat” spiritual psychotic experiences with neuroleptic drugs, just as it is quite wrong to “treat” political dissidents as though they were ill.(Jackson & Fulford, 1997, p. 42)Jackson and Fulford were not the first to invoke the distinction as a problem to be examined. In modern times, this is usually traced to William James’ Varieties of Religious Experience (1902), where he drew attention to the overlap between religious experiences and psychosis. James, like Jackon and Fulford a century later, noted the phenomenological similarities among these two ‘types’ of experience: voices, visions, an ineffable sense of significance to otherwise mundane events, and the loss of agency to external forces and powers.The 1997 paper stimulated much debate, responses, and rebuttals. In the process, at least four approaches for drawing the distinction have emerged: by appealing to the outcome of the experience; by appealing to theological criteria; by examining the organization of the experience; and by paying attention to the process of meaning-making in its cultural context. On the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Religion, Psychiatry, and “Radical” Epistemic InjusticesRosa Ritunnano, MD (bio) and Ian James Kidd, PhD (bio)Hermeneutical injustice as a concept has evolved since its original formulation by Miranda Fricker (2007). The concept has been taken up in psychiatry, with its moral, epistemic and clinical premium on the interpretation of extremely complex and difficult experiences (Kidd et al., 2022). There are many varieties of hermeneutical injustice with different forms, sources, degrees, (...) effects, and interpersonal and socio-structural aspects (Medina, 2017). José Eduardo Porcher has proposed the addition of a new form of ‘radical’ hermeneutical injustice, with a case study of psychotic symptoms involving religious content.He offers different characterizations of this injustice:a particularly radical form of injustice, namely, having their own interpretation of their experiences unjustifiably undermined.a form of hermeneutical injustice that occurs when a patient diagnosed with psychosis is denied the opportunity of interpreting their own experiences within their own religious framework.These are different things. Denying someone the opportunity to interpret their experiences in their own, preferred framework is one way of undermining their interpretations. Another is forcing someone to use your own preferred framework and then belittling their own, which seems doubly wrong. Misusing some preferred interpretive framework can be as unjust as not using it. The two definitions could be combined, but then much will depend on what it means to undermine someone’s interpretation of an experience. We think there is a form of radical hermeneutical injustice—different to the one described by Porcher. Some interpretations of kinds of experience with religious content can be undermined if one is committed to a metaphysical naturalism. In these cases, one person cannot regard someone’s interpretive framework as coherent or intelligible (one that involves supernatural entities, for instance).Most discussions of hermeneutical injustice focus on social structures. Fricker notes structural dimensions to hermeneutical injustice. In a standard case, a group has unequal participation in collective practices for making and using interpretive resources (Ritunnano, 2022). In a rich analysis, José Medina describes four ‘axes’ or dimensions for distinguishing forms of hermeneutical injustice [End Page 235] (Medina, 2017). The source of these injustices can be semantic or performative. The dynamics may be structural or interpersonal, or both. Moreover, there are different degrees of breadth and depth, defined here in terms of the ‘reach’ of the injustice across one’s life, and the depth of damage to one’s hermeneutic agency, respectively (Medina, 2017, p. 45). On this model, what might count as ‘radical’ hermeneutical injustices? Deep and broad hermeneutical injustices can be radical when they are very broad in scope and very deeply damaging. This might be what Porcher has in mind. But we think there is a further option, relevant to his case study.Porcher focuses on a case where individuals experience unusual beliefs and perceptions with religious content receive a ‘psychosis’ diagnosis. The alleged injustice is that the possibility of a genuine religious experience is not recognized and validated. The example is Femi, a young man with Christian background, who enters the mental health system following the onset of psychotic ‘symptoms’. After being found “disoriented and depleted in public” – tired and undernourished—Femi is compulsorily admitted to hospital, explaining he undertook fasting and isolation in response to orders from God. During this time, Femi devoted himself to Bible reading and stopped going to work. In hospital, where the authenticity of God’s voice is challenged by clinicians, Femi is treated for acute psychosis with pharmacotherapy. While remission of symptoms follow, there is no functional recovery, and Femi is described as “unmotivated and apathetic”.Femi interpreted his experiences in religious terms, but this interpretation is not accepted or pursued by the clinicians. Is this a hermeneutical injustice? If so, is it a ‘radical’ one? Granted, Femi’s religious interpretation may be psychologically adaptive—enhancing his sense of life as meaningful (Ritunnano & Bortolotti, 2022). But this is consistent with it being a hermeneutical injustice. Plus, a religious framing may be conducive to his functional recovery after being discharged, especially in conjunction with a supportive religious community, able to help him articulate, understand, and respond to those religious experiences (see Cottingham, 2005; Wynn, 2005). However, none of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Deepening and Expanding Both–And ApproachesTasia Scrutton, PhDExcitingly for the topic of religion and mental health, both Gipps’ and Finley’s commentaries point to the emergence of a both-and consensus. Finley does this in a number of ways, for example by pointing to the ways in which her own brilliant research has provided further and more specific support for a “honeysuckle on a broken fence” model, and also inviting a renewed (...) examination of Model 3 in response to studies on absorption, psychosis and religious experience. Gipps does this by putting forward an additional both-and model, according to which a potential or early-stage instance of mental illness, responded to by a grace-ful engagement with psychotherapy, becomes instead an instance of metanoia through which the person’s drives and emotions are integrated into a more rounded adult psyche.As well as pointing to the emergence of a both-and consensus, Finley and Gipps’ commentaries importantly reflect the fact that both-and accounts are likely to be diverse, complex and multi-faceted. As Gipps notes, my account focuses on spiritual guidance and medication, especially psychiatric medication; the therapeutically informed psychological perspective that Gipps provides is a very welcome addition to the discussion. In addition to both-and accounts being diverse, different psychiatric conditions and symptoms may invite different models, and multiple models may be in play in one person’s life at the same time. Finley gives an example of this possibility when she posits that a version of model 3 might fruitfully by understood as part of, or perhaps combined with, Model 4.Hopefully this paper and the two commentaries on it open the door to a deeper account of the “honeysuckle on a broken fence” model and potentially to other both-and models too. I want to see that door open—but perhaps not too open, and I think less open certainly than Finley and perhaps also Gipps would like. This is because of my view of the relationship between suffering and psychopathology, and suffering and evil (or badness), which I want to discuss in more detail below.Suffering, Badness, and PathologyThe first thing I want to say is that I think that suffering is bad, by which I mean that it is undesirable. This is true to the way we talk about suffering (if someone tells us that they are suffering, we express regret, not joy), and it is important [End Page 265] morally to remember that suffering is an evil if we are to work to prevent and overcome it (including in ways relevant to mental illness, such as through social justice, peace-building and medical care). It can be tempting to romanticize suffering and to try to justify its romanticization on the basis that sometimes good things come out of situations of suffering. However, to do this is to conflate what something is with other things it may become intertwined with. It is also to encourage masochistic and socially and politically conservative forms of spirituality that are antithetical to the Christian Gospel, since it baptizes suffering rather than seeing suffering as something people are called to be liberated from.The second thing I want to say is that I think that pathology, including psychopathology, involves suffering, and that if it does not involve suffering (either in a specific moment or over time) then it is not pathology. The centrality of suffering to pathology is indicated by the fact that the term ‘distress,’ which denotes suffering, appears in the DSM-5 618 times. The presence of either distress or impairment in social, occupational or important other areas of functioning (which, over time, is likely to lead to suffering) is a prerequisite of many psychiatric conditions, according to DSM-5. Homosexuality was rightly removed from the DSM and other psychiatric manuals when it became clear that same-sex attraction does not inherently involve distress (and so suffering). Significant for the shift towards demythologizing homosexuality was Evelyn Hooker’s 1957 study, which showed no similarities in the well-being and happiness of 30 homosexual and 30 heterosexual men (Ebacioni, 2014, p. 4). To take another example, hearing voices (with no... (shrink)

Psychiatric literature about when instances of voice hearing should be regarded as religiously inflected psychopathology and when they should be regarded as religious experiences sometimes presupposes that a person’s experience can only be either psychopathological, or else a genuine religious experience. In this paper I will consider an alternative: the possibility of a both–and account. A both–and account might involve the idea that a religious experience causes psychopathology, or is psychopathology, or that people open to religious experiences may also be (...) susceptible to psychopathology. After arguing that these are either problematic or under-evidenced, I will argue for another version of a both–and account: that genuine religious experience can arise out of situations involving psychopathology. I will also point to some of the clinical and pastoral implications of my view. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Toward a Fictionalist Psychiatry?Sam Wilkinson, PhD (bio)I am deeply sympathetic to what Giulio Ongaro (2024a, 2024b, 2024c) writes in these three excellent interlocking papers. I will argue that there is a slightly more efficient way of approaching these issues. It involves adopting fictionalism rather than externalism (although fictionalism can accommodate externalist insights). Fictionalism is something that Ongaro briefly, and approvingly, mentions, in the final paper, but there is an (...) implicit realism in the initial approach. I am not sure there is much disagreement, however, and perhaps we end up in the same place, having approached from different starting points. The fictionalist approach is largely compatible with all of the substantive things Ongaro wants to say, but is, strictly speaking, in tension with the most natural interpretation of externalism, namely, construed as a form of descriptivism and realism (two notions I unpack later).Externalism, Evaluativism, and Social IntegrationA major theme of the first paper is that mainstream internalist Western psychiatry is bad at integrating the social dimension of mental illness. I agree. Furthermore, recent externalistic (enactive and predictive processing) approaches, while better, are still lacking in that they collapse the “social” into the “psychosocial.” Again, I agree. But my diagnosis (excuse the pun) is slightly different. The social dimension of illness concerns in large part the evaluative nature of illness, not the need to descriptively, causally capture a complex, objectively real phenomenon called “illness.”Having said this, in integrating this evaluative social dimension, we need to tread carefully lest we fail to meet the “demarcation challenge” (Murphy, 2008). This concerns the challenge of demarcating different kinds of problem. Humans have always had problems, for which they have needed help, accommodation, allowances made, and so on, but how do you distinguish mental health problems, from other kinds of problems? How do you distinguish money woes, or marital strife, both of which certainly cause unhappiness, or even psychological states that look like psychiatric symptoms (e.g., anxiety, low mood), from properly mental health problems?The biomedical “internalist” says: Easy! Either there is something objectively wrong with you, or there is not. However, notice that this is exactly [End Page 337] what externalists can say too, to the extent that they are trying to describe and define disorder in value-free terms. The only difference is that the internalist will talk about what is wrong within the biological boundaries of the organism, whereas the externalist will go beyond that.Externalism about a particular phenomenon, if it is to be a non-trivial position, needs to be sensitive to the distinction between cause and constitution (or what Adams & Azaiwa [2001] call “coupling-constitution confusion”). We see this in externalism about the mind in general. In the Extended Mind Hypothesis (Clark & Chalmers 1998), the claim is not that Otto’s notebook causally contributes to Otto’s mind (his belief about where MOMA is). Nobody would deny that. The interesting claim is that the notebook is constitutive of his belief: it is literally part of his mind. Similarly, nobody is denying that external (e.g., social) factors cause mental health problems, the question is: Do they constitute those problems? Externalism takes this question seriously and answers in the affirmative, at least in some cases. But the articulation of this has to be nuanced.Suppose I have crippling anxiety over financial concerns. Anxiety can be a mental health problem, but if, in this case, you transferring money into my bank account makes my anxiety disappear, then one might think this is not a mental health problem. It is a money problem. Or is it? Enter fictionalism (Wilkinson, 2022).Fictionalism is the view that calling someone mentally ill is not describing them as having a particular property, but involves something like engaging in a fiction, a fiction that has been constructed in order to encourage certain courses of action. According to fictionalism, given the facts, there is a lot of wiggle room about how we are to think of, and respond to, people’s problems.To borrow some insights from meta-ethics, when we examine normative discourse (one canonical domain being ethics) we can ask: what does the discourse do? And what... (shrink)

This paper examines the impact of TikTok on the public's understanding and engagement with psychiatric and psychological concepts. The rise of mental health-related content on social media has been linked to an increase in adults seeking a diagnosis of ADHD (Yeung et al., 2022). By reviewing a case study: the revision of the term "object permanence" from a developmental stage to an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder symptom, I argue that a looping effect, modeled after Hacking (1999), can explain the pattern of language (...) revision for psychological terms on TikTok. Interviews with TikTok users provide preliminary evidence for this looping effect and the research is contextualized within the broader psychiatric discourse. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:An Interesting Framework That Deserves to Be Developed and Used WidelyThe author reports no conflict of interests.Friesen's "Why Democratize Psychiatric Research?" is an important piece of work and makes a compelling epistemic and ethical case. As someone who has spent decades in the field of (in chronological order): survivor involvement, service user involvement, patient and public involvement and now lived experience; I am delighted when I see a robust (...) reminder of the reasons why we need to take this seriously. The author is right to stop us sleepwalking into an activity because funders expect it, psychiatry now prides itself on it, and academics write countless pieces on it. People who have not lived in a time when our involvement in research was entirely counter-cultural (or even symptomatic of a patient lacking insight) could be forgiven for thinking it was always like this.There are, however, three themes that could and should be developed from this thinking. They concern assumptions about general medicine, the institutional discrimination within psychiatry, and the significant cultural change that has occurred since the rise of the survivor movement as one of the later rights movements of the last century.Many years ago, I would have made the same argument about how psychiatry lacks the objectivity and testable biomarkers of general medicine. As I have spent more time with assorted medics, many at the top of their game, it is clear that there is much more subjectivity across much of medicine and rather than place psychiatry as uniquely needing more democratic research (a proposition I wholeheartedly endorse), I would love to see us take these arguments into medicine as a whole. Until we do this, we risk "othering" psychiatry as a whole rather than showing an area in which psychiatric patients (or survivors, or service users, or people with lived experience, as you wish) can become leaders in progressive medical thinking.A more important omission which needs significant addressing if we genuinely are to democratize psychiatric research is the racial inequality within psychiatric practice. There are many inequalities both within psychiatry and in broader society that contributes to mental health inequalities, but the experience of racialized communities, in our [End Page 139] psychiatric services has been a consistent theme. For those unfamiliar with the extent of difference between White and Black experience of UK psychiatry you need only look at the differential rates of detention under mental health legislation. National Health Service data show that people from minority ethnic groups are more likely to experience compulsory detention than their White counterparts. In 2020/21, rates of detention by ethnicity were Black or Black British: 309.4 per 100,000 people compared with White: 76.2 per 100,000 people (National Health Service Digital, 2021.)If we are to truly democratize research in psychiatry, we need to more actively engage racialized communities and ensure that they are leading and coproducing more of our research. Although this forms part of the argument in feature #3, it warrants being front and center of features #1 and #4 where the differences between Black and White are so marked.We as democratizing researchers should be carrying an anti-racist banner high and doing more to both improve our own practice and constantly challenge a psychiatry that has failed, review after review, to address this. The Whiteness and Race Equality Network, part of the Collaborating Centre for Values Based Practice1 is working hard on this theme but much more is needed.The final challenge which needs addressing, and one which certainly needs the analytical skill and clarity of thinking that Friesen has applied throughout, is the breadth and diversity of what now constitutes "lived experience" in mental health. Even if we restrict our scope to psychiatry, this is a much broader research field than when survivor research started to be taken seriously. The vast majority of survivor researchers would have spent considerable periods of time as inpatients in psychiatric hospitals, often as detained patients. None of us would have chosen to self-diagnose, most of us would have done all we could to shed our diagnostic labels, some of us find it hard to forget... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Is Expertise-by-Experience Impossible?The author reports no conflict of interests.In his article, "Experience and expertise: Can personal experience of mental illness make someone an expert?" Abdi Sanati uses Wittgenstein's arguments on private language and Ryle's philosophy of knowledge to critique the concept of Expertise-by-Experience. The principal argument is that introspection on personal experiences cannot constitute the basis for knowledge underpinning expertise. From the start, and in various sections of the (...) article, Sanati highlights the importance of patient involvement in the delivery of mental healthcare. He clarifies the contributions made by the community of patients in the design and delivery of mental health services are not only valuable but also necessary and long overdue. He argues patients must be involved in their care independently of how knowledgeable they are and, in a way, considers the attribution of a status of expertise as potentially counterproductive, since it may restrict the involvement of those who do not possess this status. I will explore initially the core premise made by Sanati that is then subjected to a thorough philosophical scrutiny. This is important because, as we shall see, there can be a different reading of the core premise that throws a slightly different lens into the Inquiry made. We'll end by discussing the future of expertise in the unfamiliar landscape of artificial intelligence (AI) systems, such as large language models and multimodal AI.Necessary and Sufficient Conditions for Expertise-by-ExperienceIn his initial section titled "Philosophical views on Expert-by-Experience," Sanati examines the literature on Expertise-by-Experience and the recognition it gradually gained as a form of knowledge stemming from the privileged position of subjective experience. Thomasina Borkman (1976), within the context of her research with self-help groups such as Alcoholic Anonymous developed the concept of experiential knowledge. By studying these groups, she saw how some individuals developed valuable skills to help others recover. Borkman (1976), Noorani (2013) and Mazanderani et al. (2020) stress the importance of more than just experience for acquiring expert knowledge. For someone within a community, to emerge as an expert, they must be able to effectively articulate and share the content of their experience, for it to stand a kind of reality testing on its usefulness in guiding and helping other members of it.Ultimately, it appears for the authors cited, Expertise-by-Experience is not conceived on essentialist, a priori theoretical grounds, but on pragmatic outcomes achieved via a constructivist approach. Expertise by experience can't be articulated in context independent propositions. Sanati, in the summary provided at the end of [End Page 109] this section, does not appear to highlight as much this latter formative pragmatic element as a necessary condition for gaining a status of expert-by-experience. He articulates his critique portraying a linear progression from "personal experience" to "unique expertise". In my view, and at least on paper, the claim made for a status of Expertise-by-Experience is a modest one. While it is true, personal experience is acknowledged as a source of a unique type of knowledge, for it to amount to expertise it needs to fulfill the pragmatic test where, by being articulated, shared, tested, and refined accordingly, leads to a know-how relevant to non-experts of the same community. Personal experience as a source of expertise is a necessary condition, but not a sufficient one.Knowledge and Expertise: A Philosophical ViewIn the following sections of the article, Sanati provides an in-depth exploration of the concept of expertise and the philosophical reasoning underpinning his core argument. If we assume Sanati has made a correct interpretation of the cited literature, then a lot of the philosophical analysis provided subsequently assists him convincingly in the task. Collins' (2008) emphasis on the central role of language and discourse in acquiring expertise within a community, and how this leads to a form of life (p. 12), that is also characterized by the possession of a substantial body of true beliefs compared to most people, appears to exclude any possibility for a personal experience on its own to become a source... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Scientific Expertise, Service Users and Democratising Psychiatric ResearchThe author reports no conflict of interests.Friesen outlines six different reasons for democratizing scientific research. Three of them are epistemic and three are ethical. In this commentary I consider how service users might relate to values if significant levels of scientific knowledge are required to understand those values. I specifically consider the traditional theoretical virtues discussed by philosophers of science (Psillos, 1999; (...) Solomon, 2001) whereby we might judge scientific concepts based upon their simplicity, consistency or coverage. This raises questions of how democratic approaches should function when expertise is important.There is a general problem of how democratic institutes should function when members lack understanding. For example, most voters in current European democracies have limited understanding of economics. They may understand some broad principles but would not understand how to actually manage an economy on a daily basis. A simple solution to this is that political parties outline a broad framework and then are given consent to run the economy once elected. Our elected representatives or members of an unelected bureaucracy actually then make the "on the ground" decisions about how to run the economy given the broad framework which the political party was voted in on. This hopefully then means that, with varying degrees of success, people who have some understanding of economies are playing a key role. We can certainly ask important questions about this system, such as what level of economic understanding do citizens have and what level they need, who should constitute the unelected bureaucracy and whether the bureaucracy could actually be elected. My simple point is that this is one approach to limiting the decision-making of people who may lack economic expertise. In relation to democratizing psychiatric research, I consider whether Friesen's approach might mean service users require a level of expertise that they typically lack.Friesen outlines how there is a very high level of value decision involved in psychiatry given the gap between data and theories. Friesen thinks service users should be included in decisions over what values to use. I now provide an example of where making good value decisions might require [End Page 135] significant levels of scientific knowledge. I consider a specific type of value applied to a specific area. There has been recent discussion of service users being involved in decision-making over modifying psychiatric diagnoses, whereby they might play a role in deciding what psychiatric diagnoses there are and what their diagnostic criteria should be (Bueter, 2019; Fellowes, 2023; Tekin, 2022). I consider how we can assess psychiatric diagnoses using theoretical virtues. It should be emphasized that this problem may or may not have applicability to other areas of service user involvement, that theoretical virtues are not the only values which are important for assessing psychiatric diagnoses and that scientists might themselves make bad decisions in relation to theoretical virtues. I now outline five theoretical virtues.First, simplicity. There are lots of different ways to understand simplicity but here I consider how simple a system of psychiatric diagnoses (i.e., the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders [DSM]) is. We can ask if the system of psychiatric diagnoses is too simple because it contains too few diagnoses or too complicated because it contains too many diagnoses. Simplicity and complexity might also depend on the degree different diagnoses have overlapping symptoms. We can judge a particular psychiatric diagnosis on the degree it adds to simplicity or complexity. Establishing the strength of this theoretical virtue requires knowledge of many different psychiatric diagnoses.Second, coverage. This relates to the degree that all the phenomena that we desire covered are being covered. We can ask whether a system of psychiatric diagnoses is or is not covering all the symptoms that we think need covering by psychiatry. We can judge particular diagnoses on how they contribute to coverage. Assessing this requires knowledge of a vast range of symptoms.Third, embedded within a theoretical network. Scientific concepts can be connected to other scientific concepts. A diagnosis can be judged on the degree it connects to other well-established areas of science, whereby the diagnosis might have been formulated based upon being... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Democratizing Psychiatric ResearchRecognizing the Potential and the Limits of Experiential ExpertiseThe author reports no conflict of interests.First, I want to express my gratitude for such thoughtful and generative responses to the manuscript "Why Democratize Psychiatric Research?," which has been in development for several years and is the product of much reflection that has taken place in academic, advocacy, and interpersonal contexts. I am delighted to see such insightful engagement (...) with the piece and to have a chance to respond to both Drs. David Crepaz-Keay and Sam Fellowes here. Given that the authors raise such different questions within their commentaries, I consider each in turn.In his illuminating commentary, Crepaz-Keay makes three important points in response to the epistemic and ethical reasons I lay out as justifications for democratizing efforts in mental health research. First of all, Crepaz-Keay warns that there is "more subjectivity across much of medicine" than in the picture I've painted, and that we might do better to focus on this shared territory, taking up the goal of democratization across all of medicine, rather than risk "othering" psychiatry as uniquely subjective. In this way, Crepaz-Keay emphasizes, mental health service user researchers might "become leaders in progressive medical thinking."I appreciate this call to emphasize the ways in which the importance of subjective experiences cuts across all of medicine and to learn broad lessons from the pioneering participatory work that has been accomplished in the domain of mental health. I agree that much of medicine suffers from a focus on the objective to the neglect of the subjective, and wonder if this focus can sometimes create a distinct kind of worry in territories in which objective measures are widely available. Consider the focus on reducing the size of a tumor at all costs that can sometimes obscure important considerations related to what a good end of life might look like (Gawande, 2014). Particularly [End Page 143] within the process of determining what is worth measuring within research (and what is worth treating within clinical contexts), patient voices are essential to making an informed and beneficial decision. I agree with Crepaz-Keay here—this point applies to all realms of medicine.In contrast, I think other kinds of risks arise in domains in which objective measures are not widely available and therefore subjective reports of patients make up an essential part of any diagnosis or assessment. Another area I often think about is placebo studies, and in this space, stereotypes related to 'real' suffering and 'real' healing circulate widely (Friesen, 2019b). Largely, these stereotypes tend to support the importance and reality of that which occurs at the level of the physical or biological and take much less seriously suffering or healing which is thought to be located 'all in the head' (Friesen & Dionne, 2022). These biases also cut across medicine, influencing which patients are seen as trustworthy, dramatic, or worthy of one's compassion. I would argue that they show up especially in the setting of mental health care and research, in part because of the lack of objective measures and physiological explanations. A psychiatrized patient often has nothing physical or objective to point to with regard to their suffering, and so may be at the whim of a provider in relation to whether they are likely to be believed or discredited. As such, we must be especially alert to the unique risks that arise when evidence for suffering comes in a subjective form, and how efforts toward democratization might help reduce such risks.Second, Crepaz-Keay offers an essential intervention in relation to the importance of anti-racism within participatory practices in psychiatry. Although I do make mention of the lack of representation of racialized communities in participatory psychiatric research in discussing the important role that values play in the development of psychiatric knowledge, Crepaz-Keay accurately points out that this point related to representation is cross-cutting, and highly relevant to several of the other reasons I offer for why psychiatry research ought to be democratized. I am grateful for this invitation to look more broadly at how the exclusion of some voices from participatory efforts might apply across... (shrink)

Building on decades of rich discussions of why 'nothing about us without us' matters in the field of psychiatry, this paper aims to illuminate the justifications underlying participatory research in psychiatry, and how these justifications might shape participatory methodologies. This is accomplished through the examination of several epistemic and ethical features of psychiatry that underlie the importance of engaging in participatory research in the field, unpacking their connection to participatory research, and offering suggestions related to their implications for research methodologies. (...) The epistemic features include: the irreducible value of patient experience, the extent of disagreement and uncertainty in the field, and the value-laden nature of knowledge in psychiatry. The ethical features include: the preponderance of harm, denials of agency and epistemic injustice, and the constant struggle for power. These features offer useful touchpoints for thinking through why participation matters in mental health research. (shrink)

This paper argues that the process of modeling in science and the process of encountering and working with a client in clinical psychotherapy overlap. In briefer terms: what makes a good therapist is much like what makes a good scientific modeler. Both modeling and psychotherapy are iterative processes, requiring careful observation, generation and testing of hypotheses. Both processes also face similar epistemic and pragmatic trade-offs. Heuristics and biases can shape both practices, for better and worse. Implications are considered for both (...) training in clinical psychotherapy, and for larger debates concerning evidence-based methods in assessment of mental health care, and categorical v. dimensional approaches to diagnosis. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Are Mental Health "Peer Support Workers" Experts by Experience?The author reports no conflict of interests.In this well-argued paper, Dr. Abdi Sanati asks whether a person's experience of mental illness could be the basis for professional expertise and concludes that, "on its own," it cannot be. Elsewhere he states that "the different forms of knowledge that are required for expertise … could not be produced solely on the basis of (...) personal experience" (Sanati, 2024, 107). The qualifications "on its own" and "solely" suggest that personal experience of mental illness could be the basis for professional expertise if other conditions are also met. What are these conditions, and can they be met? Gratefully, Sanati provides an excellent exposition of a concept of expertise and the conditions that are required for satisfying it.Expertise needs to be thought of as a "form of life" that requires more than the accumulation of knowledge and cannot happen in isolation. To become an expert, you need to be part of a community through which you can acquire factual knowledge (knowledge-that) and acquire the practical capacities and dispositions (knowledge-how) that enable you to conduct actions related to your area of expertise. With training over time, experts develop tacit knowledge that enables them to "ap ply background theories to new cases," which is why an expert is able to deal with a multitude of cases that appear different from each other. Experts should be able to hold a relatively cohesive view of their subject matter and see how it all 'holds together'.The importance of community for the possibility of becoming an expert is further emphasized by Sanati's appeal to Wittgenstein's Private-Language Argument. A 'private language,' if such a thing were to exist, is a language that enables the person to express mental states with reference only to what is occurring in the speaker's mind and known through introspection. This language, in being private, makes sense only to the speaker and is not comprehensible to others. Introspection allows privileged access to my mental states, which thus become a unique source of knowledge available only to me. And the argument against such a private language is that it is impossible, for in being unintelligible to others, it becomes nonsensical as such. The reasons behind this have to do with the nature of language as a rule-based activity that requires intersubjective agreement, engaging in which is to partake in a form-of-life. [End Page 113]Putting aside the details of the Private-Language Argument, I am interested in the conclusion that Sanati draws from it. He starts by pointing out that what is taken as the basis for expertise-by-experience is the supposed privileged access to one's mental states that leads to a unique form of knowledge. It is this knowledge that underlies the claim to expertise. Sanati's view is that one cannot acquire a kind of knowledge completely inaccessible to others yet expressed in language as this would amount to use of a private language, which is impossible. And so, the person is either expressing nonsense or is merely using shared language. If the latter, then the alleged uniqueness of the experience is lost as it has been brought under a rule-based form of life.Sanati seems to imply that experience can only constitute a unique form of knowledge if it arises from a single mind through introspection and use of a private language. Given that this is not possible, the experience can no longer be unique. But I do not see why it cannot be a form of knowledge which, while not being unique to a single individual, is still an expression of human experience that only a proportion of the population go through, the proportion who are diagnosed with a certain mental health condition. In other words, a form of knowledge does not to have to be unique to be distinct, and if it is distinct then perhaps it can constitute the basis for expertise if other conditions are also met. In fact, this is suggested by Sanati's conclusion when he writes: "for the community of experts to exist there... (shrink)

Despite the advances made in understanding the effects of humiliation, no univocal position regarding its meaning exists. Indeed, so indiscreet is its meaning, the emotion is commonly conflated with other related emotions such as shame, embarrassment, and anger. Employing a scoping review design, this review aimed to scope the empirical literature concerning the meaning of humiliation from the perspective of two definitional parameters: i) status, subsuming the values descriptive and prescriptive, and ii) format, subsuming the values intension and extension. CINAHL, (...) EMBASE, EMCare, MEDLINE, PsycINFO, and PubMed were searched for eligible studies. In total, twelve studies were synthesized in this review. Vis-à-vis status, seven studies were found to define humiliation prescriptively, and five, descriptively. Vis-à-vis format, seven studies defined humiliation intensionally, and five, extensionally. Accordingly, the meaning of humiliation varies in the literature. If further progress is to be made in humiliation studies, it is vital for researchers to be cognizant of the different meanings ascribed to humiliation. (shrink)

The title Expert-by-Experience has been used frequently in mental health literature and policy making in recent years. The implication is that by virtue of suffering from a mental disorder, the person has access to a unique form of knowledge that would separate them from others, affording them the status of an expert. In this article, the concept is put under philosophical scrutiny. I use Wittgenstein's Private Language Argument and Ryle's work on introspection to show that personal experience could not be (...) a basis for expertise. Personal experience and introspection could not be a basis for knowledge underpinning expertise. (shrink)

Despite how he begins, suggesting that it is somehow a problem for me that I think "there is such a thing as philosophy, which could then be useful for psychopathology," ultimately it is clear that the possibility of philosophy is not the issue for Ghaemi. Rather, his issue is with academic philosophy of psychiatry, as he sees it, and with my failure to ask what underlying assumptions typically operate in it.I do not dispute that someone like Jaspers would want to (...) ask such a question, nor do I dispute that it is, in general, a perfectly good question. But Ghaemi thinks that my paper is missing out on something by not posing it. The reason he thinks this is because he thinks my paper is an instance of a pattern in the discipline against which he evidently has an axe to grind. In particular, he thinks philosophy in general should be more attendant to the ways in which Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) categories are (problematically) socially constructed. The fact that philosophers have failed to critically point this out allegedly shows philosophy of psychiatry's— and my—unexamined sympathy with the postmodern tendencies—understood as tendencies toward "relativism about truth" and "skepticism about science"—of psychiatry itself. This is odd for a number of reasons, especially in the present context. Firstly, I am not presently in a position to exhaustively defend all of philosophy of psychiatry on the charge of 'postmodernism,' or on the charge of failure to critically engage with the DSM, but it is worth simply stating that I find these to be rather patently unsubstantiated charges. Prominent works that falsify the latter and easily come to mind are by Tsou (2011), Cooper (2004, 2007), Horwitz and Wakefield (2007), Murphy (2006), Poland and von Eckhardt (2013), and Lalumera (2016). Of these, only Lalumera is interested in defending a DSM-style descriptivism (which perhaps Ghaemi would call a kind of "social constructionism"), but even she limits her defense of DSM categories to their role as reference-fixing representations. It is also true that Tsou's paper is an argument that the practical considerations which go into shaping the DSM categories sometimes represent values that permissibly operate in psychiatry. Perhaps this could be construed as a kind of social constructionism as well, and presumably Ghaemi would disagree with it, but no one here is guilty of a failure to engage critically with the DSM and its history. Further, whichever position is taken by these theorists on whether the DSM does, or even one day could, cut nature at its joints, or whether some of the values that shape its construction do so permissibly or impermissibly, one's acceptance or rejection of relativism about truth is an entirely logically independent matter. (shrink)