What's wrong with America? More specifically, when did we turn into a nation of crybabies, wimps, and moral imbeciles? The answer, of course, is that most of our fellow citizens did not suddenly turn into crybabies, wimps, and moral imbeciles overnight. Most Americans still gut their way through the hardships of life. Unfortunately, a significant portion of the country's elite, the ones that emerged from the crucible of the 1960s, does not. And their influence over our institutions has hammered a serious dent in the "rugged individualism" that made this country what it is today. You know the type. They are the touchy-feely education counselors, the grief therapists that swoop in on any disaster, natural or man-made, to offer "comfort" to the survivors, and the academics in university psychology departments that advocate smothering all of life's discomforts in a blanket of schmaltzy sensitivity. After listening to these dolts spew their soul-deadening venom, it's a wonder any of us can roll out of bed in the morning without bursting into tears. How did it come to this? The answer appears in "One Nation Under Therapy: How the Helping Culture Is Eroding Self-Reliance," a fascinating book by Christina Hoff Sommers and Sally Satel. Welcome to the world of therapism!
Therapism, according to the authors, is a doctrine that preaches openness, feelings, and self-absorption. It also posits that Americans need more therapists to help us get through the traumas of daily life. Therapism advocates a belief that we are not strong people by nature, but rather weak individuals awash in a sea of mental instability. The authors believe that the therapism culture specifically targets children as a way of promoting their agendas. How so? The first chapter lays out much of the evidence. To save kids from the grief of feeling "left out," agents of therapism have managed to ban games like tag and dodge ball from many schools across the country. They have excised "disturbing" events in American history from the textbooks because they feel discussions about war or colonization (to cite but two examples) could make certain students feel uncomfortable. Therapism's acolytes push kids to divulge their inner feelings in class, believing that such a process builds a person's self-esteem. Nonjudgmentalism plays a big role as well. Judging other people and other cultures could lead to hurt feelings and negative self-perception. As a result, we have kids who cannot bring themselves to condemn Jeffrey Dahmer's crimes or say anything negative about the holocaust.
Where did this nonsense come from? According to Sommers and Satel, therapism arose from--surprise, surprise--the 1960s. Think Abraham Maslow and Carl Rogers, two idiots with advanced degrees who believed mankind should reject religion in favor of a new, human-centered theology. Mankind possesses the ability to elevate itself, these two argued, through understanding our needs and by recognizing that aberrations of the human condition are merely "sicknesses" we needed to understand and overcome through a process of deep introspection. The theories of Maslow and Rogers, called humanistic psychology, eventually faded into obscurity in academia, but followers like Timothy Leary, Abbie Hoffman (who Maslow privately diagnosed as a psychopathic personality), and others ran with them to create self-help movements in the 1970s that relied on drug use or cult-like adherence to help people gain "insights" into their inner selves. The codification of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD)--a result of the Vietnam War--as a psychological malady requiring intensive therapeutic treatment, and the eventual widening of the definition of PTSD to include life events with the slightest connotation of negativity, inculcated in more Americans the idea that life was just too darn unsettling and confused to handle on their own.
Sommers and Satel leave few stones unturned in their quest to expose therapism for what it truly is: a morally relativistic, feel good psychological doctrine that harms more than it helps. "One Nation Under Therapy" cites report after report repudiating the tenets of therapism. The authors convincingly argue that the tendency to intercede in unfolding human tragedies before the dust settles likely hinders our natural healing properties. Giving vent to emotions isn't always the best way to move beyond a tragedy. A heightened sense of self-esteem doesn't automatically lead to enlightened souls who exceed at every endeavor, but often results in narcissistic individuals who have trouble dealing with life's insecurities. Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome is a rare occurrence that, despite the claims of therapism's apostles, often recedes with minimal psychological treatment. The terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, warned the therapists and grief counselors, would lead to a mental health crisis never before seen in human history. Instead, rates of mental distress barely rose above the norm. At every turn, the book disputes the claims made by the therapy gurus. And it does so by citing mountains of research while maintaining a highly readable style surprisingly free of jargon and psychobabble.
It's tough to disagree with the claims in the book. Mere observation of our fellow citizens proves most of the authors' assertions. One point the book failed to capitalize upon, in my opinion, concerns a psychological principle called projection. I suspect the people with the real sickness here are the therapists and the grief counselors. THEY are the ones who fear life in modern society, so they project their worries and concerns onto people willing to buy into their pap. Therapism makes those who accept its treatment sick by overriding their natural human tendency to overcome challenges both big and small. Call it Munchausen by Proxy Syndrome on a national scale. Anyway, definitely check this book out when you get a chance. It's a quick but worthwhile examination of a problem we can ill afford in a day when America needs to stand strong against foreign aggression.
This book is an indictment on the over-abused pseudo-science of therapism in American culture. While the book at times is a little strident (probably due to Sommers' style of writing), it is at the very least interesting, and often (I'm displaying my own bias now) confirms some of my already held beliefs about an over reliance on counseling and psychology as the new religion in the 21st century. This has caused an unhealthy view of us, where people are overly protective of their children, overly self-preoccupied, and overly caught up on the self-esteem rabbit trail.
The first two chapters titled "The Myth of the Fragile Child" and "Esteem Thyself" are particular interests and I assert, right on the mark. In the latter chapter, they provide a critique of the human potential movement (Maslow and Rogers) and why there is a gap from serious psychology academic study and clinical pysch as practiced in modern therapy centers. They demonstrate, quite forcefully that Maslow's "needs" may seem intuitive, but fail miserably in reality, because it was not based on careful scientific study, among other things.
I think they do a very good job of discussing "sin" as compared to "syndrome" and "emotional correctness." They present a solid look at addiction and the recovering from loss. Their last chapter on the aftermath of September 11 and the rush to provide therapy showed how out of touch many therapists are. I do think, however, that their conclusion suffers by not providing an overarching synopsis (this is a recent trend in many political type books - this is written in that tone, but it is not political in nature per se).
The authors do caveat that counseling has a role, but not at the expense of ethics and morals. I enjoyed the writing style very much as it is academic enough, but easily readable for entertainment, allowing access to a lay-reader and popular audience. It is well reasoned and researched. Some of the negative reviews do have points, however, but all in all, they have been far too critical or they have missed the point. Four stars, because there are some weak areas, but not many.
