I was inspired to write this article by two young people I have been working with in psychological therapy over the past few years. Both of them have had very tough lives and at times I have felt a lot of self-doubt as to whether what I was doing was helping in any way. Nevertheless, as they knew each other outside of the therapy room they cornered me and presented me with some small, but thoughtful gifts and beautifully written letters which displayed emotional growth and maturity. But even better, I witnessed them together acting like regular teenagers, something neither of them had the opportunity to do when they were actual teenagers.

This left me with a lot to reflect on, in fact it came to me that it was a similar sensation to the feeling evoked when an ailing plant or tree you had all but given up on flowering or bearing fruit suddenly throwing out new shoots. You come to realise that all that time and effort you had put in to helping it recover from whatever disaster befell it had been helping despite there being little outward evidence that this was the case.

Moreover, when you consider how environmental factors impact plants, for example impoverished soil, a giant oak overshadowing it and hoovering up all the water, a building blocking out all of the sun – they may not kill the plant unfortunate enough to be growing in the vicinity but they will severely limit their growth and they are unlikely to ever reach their full potential. Personally, I don’t see humans as any different. When people are exposed to limiting structural factors – poverty, emotional deprivation, poor housing, abusive relationships, bullying, structural inequality – they too are unlikely to reach their full potential. Nevertheless, both plants and people have an indomitable will to live, and neither are often aware of the limitations imposed upon them by their environment until they start to become exposed to ideal conditions; and so will survive and stretch themselves to overcome the odds.

I notice that when you see a row of trees planted at a roadside, if one of them has been shaded by a nearby building, it simply bends it’s growth to try to reach the light. In comparison to it’s perfect lollipop shaped friends, it is contorted and unique and therefore more interesting. I often find that this is the case in people too, although people suffer under adverse conditions, they will always develop ways of coping that create eccentricities in their identity which make them brilliant, interesting people – although many of them are unable to see it for themselves. Unfortunately we live in a society which favours and accepts the ‘lollipop shaped trees’ and ‘lollipop shaped people’ and shuns the contorted.

In horticulture, if you receive a plant which has been exposed to such adversities and provide it with everything it needs, it will most likely retain evidence of it’s harsh past life, but over time the new growth will lush and regular. It retains it’s interest, but projects an image of vitality. I would argue that this reflects the concept of ‘post-traumatic growth’ in people. In order for this growth to occur, the conditions need to be right and ideally there would be an attentive and experienced gardener attending to it’s needs for as long as it takes to recover. Though such is life I am not the first to draw comparisons between therapy and horticulture, I came across a quote by David Smail:

“Rather like tender plants that thrive only in a greenhouse, it seems that people find that there is still a cold and hostile world waiting for them at the end of their therapy sessions…”

David is (as usual) absolutely right. It is no use nurturing a plant only to put it back into the conditions that caused the impoverishment in the first place. Unfortunately in modern mental health services this is often the case, as many of the environmental factors that caused the harm are never going to go away through therapy sessions. This is why I believe so much attention needs to be paid to assisting people with structural issues such as finances and housing, before you even start to address the emotional needs of the person.

Furthermore, I find that as the thriving ‘therapy industry’ develops it has begun to look rather like an industrial nursery, only, instead of adapting it’s methods of cultivation to the needs of each species of plant, it is set up as a standardised regime for all. Unlike the gardener, who will take the time to research and consider the specific needs of each of their plants , be patient and try their best to help them thrive, it is an automated set of pre-programmed instructions with little concern that the impact is at best temporary or at worst harmful. What it is, is efficient, cheap and easy. The gardeners are ever more being seen as a relic of the past, unnecessary in a world of ‘scientific’ homogenised approaches to care.

Every gardener knows that the best results come with trial and error, patience and truly ‘knowing’ the needs of the plants they nurture, and any good therapist knows that this is also the secret to nurturing people. It troubles me greatly that many ‘therapists’ will never feel the joy of witnessing growth because they are so wedded to the set of instructions they are told to follow.

This article was written by ‘E.G.’, a survivor, artist, writer and obnoxious comedian based in Liverpool.

We enter this world naive and oblivious to the nature of how society treats individuals and our mental health. Society has advanced in such a way that impacts the innocent’s chances in life. They say we have choices and freedom of speech when it comes to what happens to us or what is discussed about us, but in reality it’s very different to that. We find ourselves in a position when we need to ask for help that we are left at the mercy of a system that seldom gives us any say in our treatment.

I am an individual who has experienced childhood trauma and I found myself facing mental health professional after mental health professional through a system that was supposed to help me and guide me on a path of recovery, but instead found myself covered with an overabundance of labels; none of which I was given the chance to have a say about.

I and many others who I know have entered the system, entered with blind hope and the illusion that we will be helped and looked after, taking us to the end when we can finally say goodbye at the right time. But instead however, we are greeted with a professional who does not ask us much more about ourselves than our names and if we’re feeling suicidal. They tick a few boxes, ask you about your symptoms to a diagnosis you did not even know you had, prescribe some medication and you are right as rain, moved along so the next person can be seen. Like a conveyor belt. We are not given the space to vocalise who we are or to have any input in our treatment and even if on the small chance that we are, we are instantly overshadowed by professionals who think they know us, but only through paperwork of what other professionals have said about us, who did not listen to us either. Or they misconstrued what we were trying to say, turning it in to traits of something or another diagnosis in itself. We are instantly judged on our personal background; whether we grew up in poor or affluent environments, whether we have a criminal record, a history of substance misuse or our educational needs, which to them deems whether or not we can comprehend our treatment needs.

I should clarify here that by labels I mean diagnoses. We are given labels which a lot of the time do not fit us adequately and are subject to change at any given moment with no input from ourselves, that more often than not we are not even told about. Most of these diagnoses that stick, leaves a long lasting effect that stays with us for the rest of our lives; leaving us with the stigma that we will encounter in all aspects of life and hinders us through prejudices of other people, potential employers or in our educational endeavours. All hopes of a regular life separate from our mental health issues lost. Our self esteem shattered by professionals who did not care about the impact of the flick of their pen on a diagnosis that might as well have been a death sentence on the future we hoped to have. Labels that seems to be our only way in to a system that is supposed to help us. A system guarded by gatekeepers who blocks help to those in need, who might not fit the labels they deem are only worthy of help. Those who are considered to only suffer with “mild” mental health deserve just as much consideration as those the professionals deem to have more “complex” issues. Labels should not be the criteria for help, it should be the individual’s experience of their own mental health. These labels are so overused to the point where that is all the person sees as their identity and how it seems that the professional only sees us all, less than a person and just a condition.         

We need a system that focuses on the individual’s experience of their own mental health rather than labels and criterion. A system where the client’s input is an integral part of their own treatment. Where our voices are deemed vital for our care. Where both parties, clients and professionals work harmoniously, focusing on the here and now, and not on the client’s background. Where both are equal. More than labels, more than diagnoses, we are human and we deserve to be heard. We matter, we have a voice and we can comprehend.                                                                                                          

As time goes on it has become abundantly clear to me that public enemy number one in mental health is the pathologising of human experience. For those unfamiliar with the term, pathology is the study of the cause and effect of disease and is of course extremely important in science and medicine. If only we understood the pathology of COVID-19, perhaps we would be off enjoying our summer holidays soon. For as long as there has been a field of psychiatry, pathology has been a central pillar, but tragically, a pillar made of sand. Generations of psychiatrists and psychologists have conducted breathtaking amounts of research and publication to find the elusive ‘pathology’ for mental distress and yet, there is no convincing explanation so many decades later. However, these decades of effort have not been fruitless. What has been produced is a monstrosity which has had such wide ranging consequences for the Western World and ever increasingly, the rest of the world. That is, the systems by which we identify and label ‘mental disorders’ – namely the DSM and the ICD.

What these systems set in motion is a dangerous set of ideas that are now deeply embedded in our psyches, that human distress is an indication that there is something wrong with the person. This is a fundamentally different statement to ‘human distress is an indication that something is wrong’. This distortion in our perception of distress has been hugely convenient for those who profit from activities which generate psychological distress. For the politician siphoning money away from needy communities, for the property developer bulldozing a local park, for the lawyer wanting to discredit a defendant. This system allows them locate the source of the distress within the person, by pathologising them. Over decades of relentless hyper-capitalist politics, the UK and in England particularly acutely we find ourselves in an unimaginably absurd position. We have almost completely lost sight of normal human responses to adverse experience. This is the real ‘mental health explosion’ which awaits us after COVID-19.

Radical movements have sprung up in protest against this, ‘Drop the Disorder’ coined a particularly apt term for a series of events they hosted named “A Disorder for Everyone”. Whoever you are, if you are reading this you will find several diagnoses that will apply to you and no doubt, different diagnoses for different days depending how you are feeling. Much like the appeal of Astrology, there is a permeability and vagueness to diagnostic categories which means it is highly likely at least some of the listed ‘symptoms’ and ‘traits’ will resonate with you.

A toxic combination of decades of signalling that happiness should be pursued at all costs, combined with (deservedly) great faith in medical science means that people now seek to ‘identify and fix’ most all of the fears, woes and difficulties they experience and find an establishment which is always on hand to help them do it. Sadly, what all of these people don’t realise is that they voluntarily entering a hellish dystopia of false hope, self-blame and gaslighting which is likely to ensnare them for years to come. It might sound like hyperbole, and yes some do have lucky escapes, but I have encountered some of the most tragic cases in my years of practice. Here’s a typical, the entirely fictional example.

John grew up in a rough part of the city, his parents, both of whom had suffered tremendous hardships in their own early years, are constantly at each others throats. When John’s father has a drink, which is often, he shouts abuse at both him and his mother, which at times becomes physical. John feels constantly frightened, the only sanctuary from the emotional rollercoaster is at a neighbour’s house, who befriended and sheltered him from the chaos of his own household. Over many months John learns to trust and enjoy the company of the neighbour, but this relationship turns out to have sickening strings attached as he begins to sexually exploit him. John finds himself torn between the apparent warmth and safety of the neighbour’s home, but having to perform confusing acts which make him feel dirty and used, or return to the violence and lovelessness of his family home. As he grows up John finds himself so alienated from his healthier, happier peers that he enters into a world of isolation and withdraws within himself and his imagination as means of coping and entertaining himself.

The years go on and his isolation has been so intensive that he has develop ideas about himself and the world that seem strange and at odds with the general culture, he has also taken to talking to himself and has developed several characters whom influence his day to day life. Eventually he visits his GP because he has been struggling to hold down a job and feels apathetic and low most of the time. Through their dialogue, John begins to explain some of his ideas and experiences to the GP who consequently begins to suspect there was something going very wrong with John. After seeing several ‘mental health professionals’ for ‘assessment’, the psychiatrists concludes that John has ‘paranoid schizophrenia’ and tells him that he will need to take ‘medication’ for the rest of his life if he is to function. Now a young man, John now understands that he has a ‘severe mental illness’. His isolation increases as he is fearful that people will find out he is a ‘schizophrenic’ and hurl abuse at him because they read in the paper that ‘schizophrenics are dangerous’. The characters he created in his mind, once good company, have now turned out to be frightening symptoms of the illness. John has become reliant on the benefits system because the combination of his poor social and emotional skills and the sedative effect of the drugs he is taking make his employment prospects negligible. He has never had a partner and is confused about his identity and his sexuality thanks to his neighbours abuse. He occasionally sees his mother, who takes pity on him because of his ‘illness’ and hopes that one day he will ‘get better’.

Stagnant years pass by and he becomes well known to the mental health team. Because John finds the ‘medication’ he is prescribed causes unpleasant effects such as hypersalivation and weight gain he regularly stops taking them in an effort to try to feel better. This leads to a ‘relapse’, or a sudden rush of the painful emotions the drugs numb and for John to be closely monitored by crisis staff, who decide he cannot be trusted to take his own medication and issuing ‘depot injections’ – a monthly jab in the backside which ‘slow-releases’ the drug over the course of a month. Eventually John becomes extremely fed up with the fact that he still ‘isn’t getting better’. At a loss, the psychiatrist decides John might benefit from ‘psychological therapy’.

So after a long wait, John finally meets the therapist. After years of ‘psychiatric reviews’ John waits in anticipation for the therapist to administer their ‘fix’ for his illness but instead finds a confusing array of questions about his past and his feelings. Although John has always been honest about his ‘dad being a bit of a bastard’ he hadn’t really thought much of it, after all, it was just normal for him, and what had that got do with his illness anyway? Incidentally he had never told anybody about his neighbour because it had been drummed into him that if he breathed a word there would be severe consequences, locking in the abuse under layers of fear and shame. But even so, the neighbour had offered him a sense of security and warmth that was unavailable anywhere else, so he felt a perverse sense of loyalty towards him anyway.

After eight sessions, the therapist has learned a lot about John’s past and it is clear to them that they have been subject to a great deal of abuse and as such have been developed their way of being as a means of coping. Although John had found it pleasant having somebody take such interest in his life, he is still waiting for the therapist to tell him what to do to ‘get better’. Being a natural helper, the therapist goes against the nagging sense of futility and confusion in the back of their mind and decides to offer John some new ‘coping strategies’. John has a go at ‘mindfulness’ for a few sessions, which he finds an infuriating experience of being forced to pay attention to some of the less savoury characters in his mind which he usually tries his utmost to block out and avoid. He also tries ‘deep breathing techniques’ which make him feel a little bit calmer, for a little bit of time. And that’s it, he’s discharged from therapy with honours for his good attendance and a glowing report of how he once said he felt a bit more calm, and is back at home living out his days waiting to ‘get better’.

The fictional case of John is a composite of the trajectories I have encountered many times during work in mental health services. I have been that therapist in my earlier days, well intentioned, but unaware of the sheer scale of the impact the early pathologising of John’s experience had on his life. If our systems made sense, he would been offered the time and space to explain what had happened to him by people offering a long term and trusting relationship with him. He would never have been told that he was ill, rather that he had done a remarkable job creatively making efforts to manage living through impossibly challenging circumstances. Instead of being medicated into submission, he would have been assisted in learning how to understand his feelings and work with the characters in his mind harmoniously, seeing them as a gift rather than a curse.

We are such a long way away from the ‘ideal world’ that I have described, not only because the virulent nature of pathology in mental health is so widespread and engrained, but because tremendously powerful institutions and interests rely on it for profit and status. This is a catastrophe for the human spirit, because now the ill effects of the real sources of distress are completely obfuscated and it is all our personal responsibility to ‘get better’ and ‘be happy’. As I go on in my role as a clinical psychologist I have noticed the very best outcomes are achieved through attempts to ‘undo’ the pathologising narrative. When people start to see themselves as average, decent people whose behaviour, emotions and experience has been a natural response to the environment they have been exposed to, as opposed to a mental health patient with a disorder to be treated. ‘de-pathologising’ or ‘normalising’ is the biggest gift we can offer a person, but also makes me feel that my role is made almost farcical as a result of it. Instead of being a ‘scientist-practitioner’ delivering ‘evidence-based’ techniques, skills and treatments I am simply a bloke listening to a person and trying to open their eyes to the madness they have been taught to believe through basic common sense. Though in a society where this is hard to come by, I guess that makes the role an asset.

Upon entering my career in clinical psychology, my first experience of therapy was being handed a copy of Adrian Wells’ ‘Cognitive Therapy for Anxiety Disorders’, a referral for a gentleman with a history of psychosis and multiple serious suicide attempts and to, well basically get on with it!

I recall my utter bewilderment at the impenetrable jargon laid out in front of me. The diagrams that reminded me of my days at college learning computer programming. The fact that what was written seemed to bear no resemblance to relatable experience. It certainly raised the suspicion that perhaps I was just not smart or academic enough to make it in this profession, but nevertheless I had a duty to do and a client with expectations that our work would help him. As it transpired, my diligence in following the manual faithfully fell on stony ground with a letter explaining how ineffective it had been for him. Only when we started to leave the book behind and honestly collaborate did meaningful change occur. He even ended up writing a poem about his recovery that was read out by my supervisor at a conference in his presence, a magical experience for both of us. Now, I recognise that manualised therapy aficionados would argue that their therapies should be elaborated upon and tailored somewhat, as any skilled therapist would, but nevertheless to this day I cannot recall a time that the pompous terminology of these manuals has made one jot of difference to a client’s life.

Looking back at this experience now, I realise how inexorably it shaped the way I view psychological therapy and mental health. It formed a healthy skepticism towards the way mental health professionals construe their clients’ experiences, whether it be the crude reductionism of psychiatric diagnosis, the pretentiousness of psychoanalytic interpretation or the human-as-machine formulation of cognitive behavioural approaches. Rather, I grew a faith in the authenticity of the human relationship and in order to do that, you have to invest yourself in the process. To commit to each therapy being a unique combination of two selves finding a way to collaborate, trust and develop understanding. This was recently reinforced when indulging in the memoirs of one of my therapy heroes Irvin Yalom, who bravely and diplomatically sidestepped away from the psychoanalytic and psychiatric traditions of his time and into the world of philosophy and humanism. It was heartening to hear that a giant in the field such as ‘Irv’ emphasised the areas of the therapeutic process I felt made sense, albeit with far more scholarly articulation.

Only this week a client and I were discussing the concept of ‘brainwashing’ in relation to the way an abuser had altered her perception to keep their abuse a secret. It left me thinking about the way that – done without elegance and honest intent- all of these ‘models of mental health’ are forms of brainwashing in their own right, if exposed to a person without a sense of curiosity and companionship. I have witnessed the harm this can cause, as people come to perceive their genuine human suffering as a ‘maladaptive thought process’ or ‘their illness flaring up’, as opposed to approaching said thoughts and feelings with openness, understanding and compassion. When a persons communication, verbal or non-verbal, are placed under these ontological microscopes uncritically there is an inevitable re-defining of reality that leads to misunderstanding within or between people or at worst inflicts a delusional state of mind that entraps the person, at times indefinitely.

Sadly, it seems that this way of thinking is somewhat unfashionable and alienating in contemporary mental health services. I notice that colleagues who hold similar ideas tend to keep them to their chests for fear of being exposed and condemned, preferring to reel off their favoured techniques and therapy models when asked about their practice. I can understand this position, it is far more threatening to admit that you have invested yourself personally in the process than to shield yourself with the narrative that you are simply administering a technique you have been trained in. A lecturer once taught me that this dynamic pushes practitioners to adopt positions of collusion; simply going along with the mainstream framework unquestioningly, electicism; adapting your position dependent on the situation, or defiance; holding on to your position in defiance with those around you. None of these positions feel particularly comfortable.

What sticks in my craw the most however, is that psychobabble unquestionably favours the purveyor of the terminology over the recipient. Similarly, to ‘legalese’ it insures that there is a language only those with ‘special training’ are able to access and comprehend. It provides protection and power to those who wield it, mystifying those around them who tend to respond with either unwarranted wonderment or hostile mockery. It enables a professional to transpose a person’s reality to fit their own reality, often the reality imposed by societal norms. It obfuscates the truth that psychological issues are only as complex as the person who is suffering them and that no book replete with elaborate concepts will provide an adequate, relevant explanation in the way that a sincere, non-judgemental inquiry would.

It may seem that I am discrediting and devaluing my own training and experience, and perhaps to some extent I am. Training does provide many valuable and necessary attributes, such as a set of guiding principles, boundaries and safeguarding procedures. I am not proposing that we ditch it altogether. Conversely, my proposition is that professionals started to be more honest with themselves, to resist the seduction of power and take a pin to their ballooning egos for the sake of the vulnerable minds they risk (perhaps unwittingly) distorting.

Jung’s theories on archetypes offer a framework for understanding some of the hazards psychologists and psychotherapists can present to an unwitting client body from their natural position as ‘the Magician’. Beware of those operating from the shadow positions of the magician archetype, ‘the detached manipulator’ and ‘the denying innocent one’.

“He who says he knows, does not know. He who knows, does not claim to know.”

Lao Tzu

Work by the likes of Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud has almost entirely taken a back seat in the training of clinical psychologists and psychotherapists, with the field’s sights set on the scientific, the measurable and the time-limited. In a world dominated by contemporary behavioural therapies some of Jung’s theories read more like astrology than psychology, but it would be foolish to ignore the insights of a true behemoth in the field.

I was reintroduced to Jung’s theories on the self through work with a young lady. She had been playing a video game called ‘Persona’. I figured that given the title there must be rich opportunity to use the game as a scaffold for discussing her own identity. It seemed I was right, as she explained that the game focuses on “becoming your persona by accepting your shadow self”. Now, don’t worry I did not respond to this by attempting to emulate a Jungian psychotherapist! But, it did open the door to a bit of research for curiosities sake. This was where I rediscovered Jung’s theories on archetypes. I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject, merely reflecting on my experiences in the profession through the lens of material I have read.

Archetypes.

Jung postulated that we derive our roles and characters from the centuries of myths, motifs and symbols handed down to us from our ancestors through what he named ‘the collective unconscious’. The archetypes are theorised to form our personality through the values, emotions, motivations and goals they instill within us. Several archetypes may dominate any one person each with their own potential to provide strengths and weaknesses.

The Shadow.

Jung’s concept of the shadow is almost ubiquitous in the public consciousness even to this day. People generally acknowledge that humans have a ‘dark side’ to their characters, though do not tend to so readily accept that this includes themselves. It is theorised that all of us have a ‘shadow’, comprised of the unacceptable or unwanted urges, feelings and thoughts that are repressed by our ego. Though much of the shadow’s activity is pushed out of conscious awareness, it will still influence our day to day experience through means such as projection. This can be damaging to our relationships as we blame or scapegoat others for our own failures, weaknesses and flaws in order to avoid facing up to them ourselves.

“Projection is one of the commonest psychic phenomena…Everything that is unconscious in ourselves we discover in our neighbour, and we treat him accordingly.”

Carl Jung

It is posited that in order to live to our full potential, to become our true selves, we must understand and accept our shadow. To understand that though most of us like to see ourselves as good, kind and just people, have the potential to be as cruel and destructive as those we like to demonise.

The Magician Archetype

The Magician presents one of the most recognisable roles in mythology, they access to arcane, mystical forces and are capable of feats beyond the capability of those unenlightened in their practices. The magician is the historic counsel to the monarch (GoT fans think of ‘the hand of the King’!), informing and guiding with their wisdom and foresight. They are known for taking roles as the medicine man, shaman, the thinker and visionary, they are known to be reflective, intuitive, contemplative and with the potential to be transformative.

It is said that the magician archetype is strengthened through enrollment to a brotherhood or institution where they may be immersed in the secretive wisdom and knowledge. The magician develops the ability to access and contain their power through meticulous devotion to their subject, through ritual practice and use of ‘sacred spaces’. A fully developed magician has a desire to immerse or mentor willing others into their wisdom for the good of society; exposing people to the magician energy without overwhelming them, being transparent and open with their knowledge.

“This secret knowledge, of course, gives the magician an enormous amount of power. And because he has knowledge of the dynamics of energy flows and patterns in nature, in human individuals and societies, and among the gods—the deep unconscious forces—he is a master at containing and channeling power.”

Robert Moore & Dougless Gillette: in King, Warrior, Magician, Lover.

The Shadow Magician

The Detached Manipulator.

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When operating in the active shadow position the magician becomes the ‘detached manipulator’. The person has access to the magician energy but is no longer using their powers for the service of others, rather to disadvantage others for their own gain. They become covetous with their knowledge and wisdom, concealing key information to ensure they maintain a position of superiority and power over others. Their specialist knowledge offers them a position of feeling better than other people which they guard with ferocity.

It is said that in modern society we are continuously under the influence of detached manipulators as they have occupied powerful positions in government, advertising and marketing, the media etc… This would of course seem to be the natural home for the practice of dark magic in aid of self-interest and avarice, however we notice detached manipulators operating in more trusted fields such as healthcare, counselling, the self-help industry, the pharmaceutical industry.

The Denying Innocent One.

The passive shadow position is the denying ‘innocent’ one. In contrast to the manipulator, the innocent one does not have access to the power of the magician but wants the status and glory that comes with it. When a person is acting from this shadow they become the ‘faker’ that has not put in the effort to gain the skills they desire but act as though they have. They are jealous of those who have their desired skills or achievements and will not hesitate to undermine them for his own pleasure. When confronted over the behaviour or put to the test, they shy away in denial of responsibility for fear of exposing their incompetence.

Tricks of the trade.

I argue that psychologists and psychotherapists are naturally viewed by society as “the Magician” archetype, seen as possessing the mystic knowledge and skill to fix broken minds. Personally I have always felt that clinical psychologists and similar are enacting the traditional role of the priest, shaman or healer but in a form palatable in the scientific, secular era. I believe this is a position that the egos of the individuals working in the profession have much enjoyed, given the power, money and esteem provided to them. But as the old saying goes “with great power, comes great responsibility”. I argue that the shadow forms of the magician archetype are hugely prevalent in this area and do untold damage to the people they deceive.

“It is the specialist knowledge he possesses that makes him feel proud and gives him a feeling of being better than”

When we consider that the ‘detached manipulator’ shadow for me it certainly brings to mind the elitist schools of psychodynamic therapies, renowned for their reputation as ‘custodians of the truth’. Unfortunately for those of ordinary backgrounds initiation to their brotherhood is only extended to those who can afford it. Likewise, we are also witnessing similar arrogance from the other end of the therapeutic spectrum, behavioural therapies, who have occupied the castle of ‘scientific evidence’ to brand themselves superior. The power struggles between these schools have resulted in the psychoanalysts offering their expensive long-term mysterious therapies to the upper echelons of society, whilst the behaviourists have claimed the public sector contracts to deliver their cheap, time-limited therapies to the masses.

According to the Jungians it is important for the Magician archetype to belong to a sect of sorts; think Hogwarts and Harry Potter. However, the purpose of the sect is to hone and develop the Magician’s skills to contain and understand the ‘Magician energy’ so that they may disseminate their findings to those around them, as opposed to being covetous and secretive with their wisdom. Nowadays, we find these sects look more like ‘therapy brands’ with charismatic leaders akin to ‘high priests’, each claiming to have the answers and techniques necessary to successfully ameliorate specific difficulties if you become an expert in their brand through an expensive accreditation process. There is a lot to unpack in this phenomena, but it has always seemed to me that there is always more in it for the therapist than the client. ‘The Dodo Hypothesis’ (“everybody has won and all must have prizes”) coined by Rosenzweig in 1936 seems as true then as it does today given the bulk of research indicating that the common factors between therapies are far more important than the technique of the therapy itself, which again highlights a sense of arrogance in the trend towards special techniques and accolades.

“Sometimes the Shadow Magician will use their special knowledge as a weapon against others when their identity or self-importance is threatened.”

At present psychological therapies such as Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) rely on their scientific ‘evidence base’ as a means of proving their superiority over other therapies. This may seem a given to the lay reader, as at face value it make sense that a form of therapy which has been tested with many people with good outcomes should be crowned as the preferred option. However, in reality the evidence base is rife with flawed and partisan research projects manipulated to skew their data to support their own agenda. The studies emulate the traditional empirical trials relied upon in physical medical research, piggybacking off of their well established credibility. However, academics analysing the evidence base as a whole have found there are very little differences between therapy models and that the common factors of human relationship, empathy and understanding contribute the lion’s share of the positive impact. In other words, the Emperor has no clothes.

What the evidence base has provided is arguably the ‘weapon’ in which to defend the identity of said specific therapy models and their advocates. It ensures that argument against the practice of evidence based therapies is dismissed as ‘unscientific’ and therefore ‘not really therapy’ or ‘making it up as you go along’. This discredits and silences ‘dissenters’ and encourages them to fall in line with their agenda. Now, I am aware that all of this may seem paranoid or exaggerated. I would like to clarify that I do not believe that this is occurring as conscious intention for the most part. However, we must consider the observable impact as local services and training courses for clinical psychology are increasingly structured in line with evidence-based practice shaped by the NICE guidelines. I have witnessed first hand how these structural changes are forcing qualified and trainee practitioners to alter their work against their clinical judgement.

There have been patterns that drew me in to reflect on the effect of the evidence base from the concept of the ‘shadow magician’. Most strikingly, the evidence base serves to protect the practitioner; “this is the evidence-based treatment available for your disorder”, which inevitably leads to patient blaming. Many a time have I personally read in a clients notes: ‘the patient is not suitable for therapy’, ‘they are too complex for CBT’, ‘it isn’t the right time for CBT’, ‘the patient did not engage’. When I meet the client, they will tell me something completely different; ‘I didn’t get a chance say what I needed to”, ‘I was asked to go to a busy park but it was too much’, ‘I didn’t like the way they spoke to me’, ‘I was given a form with smiley faces on it and felt patronised’. This way the therapist needn’t feel incompetent or inadequate, nor should they feel that the specialist knowledge they are wedded to is under threat. They are able to alter the reality of the interaction to protect themselves from true accountability.

A common feature for evidence based approaches is ‘psychoeducation’ or ‘socialisation to the model’. For those not au fait with psychobabble, this means educating the person on generally agreed psychological theories for phenomena such as panic attacks or emotional difficulties. The intention is to provide an explanation or framework for the person to understand why they experiencing difficulties and what is keeping them going, and ought to be offered as a tentative hypothesis or suggestion. It ought to be that clinicians are flexible and find alternative hypotheses based on the person’s personal experience. In practice this can be offered to a person as THE explanation for their difficulties and resistance to these notions then being cited as evidence that they are ‘not suitable for therapy’, ‘uncooperative’ or ‘lacking insight’, once again blaming the patient and to protecting the practitioner. Unsuccessful attempts to indoctrinate the patient into the therapists ideology mean that the therapists’ expert status and thus power are under threat.

Therapeutic boundaries can be another fertile breeding ground for the ‘detached manipulator’. It is generally accepted that boundaries are necessary as the therapist-client relationship is unique and must be maintained with skill to build trust, cooperation, openness and a level of attachment that does not encourage dependency. However, boundaries can also be used as a means of the therapist exerting power. For those therapists who see themselves as ‘experts’ using their ‘special techniques’ to fix the clients problems boundaries provide a convenient barrier to cover up their personal limitations and inadequacies. By offering nothing of themselves and asking the client to offer everything they assume enormous power by elevating themselves as ‘more than human’. Boundaries can also be used by the shadow magician to punish and control, often ‘evidence-based practitioners’ will discharge or threaten to discharge their clients for daring to miss a session or arrive late, stating that this is a ‘violation of boundaries’. Similarly, it is can be used an excuse as to why they are unwilling to go ‘above the call of duty’ by helping the client with real life stressors that are not necessarily an agreed part of the therapy protocol.

I have also witnessed ‘consultation of the evidence base’ being used as a device to abdicate responsibility for personal opinion or clinical judgement, either because the therapist has no confidence in their own judgement or that they do not want to accept accountability. This frees therapists from having to risk scrutiny, by putting their hands in the air and saying “well there is no scientific evidence to support this”.

A final word, on self-interest, which is arguably the defining characteristic of the ‘shadow magician’. The evidence-based practice therapeutic method colludes with the structures of power that frame the workings of government, healthcare, research, insurance etc… This, for many years has been informed by the medical model of mental illness, reliant on ‘diagnosis and treatment of psychiatric disorders’. This is where the ‘shadow magicians’ demonstrate astounding hypocrisy as this model has been almost entirely discredited and abandoned by key scientific researchers and arguably kept alive by the pharma industry. Despite this, almost all research and practice using ‘evidence-based approaches’ accepts and even reinforces the use of such disorders, but with a ‘biomedical-lite’ interpretation. The people who would so easily discredit practitioners working with ‘less-evidence based’ methods are quite happy to advocate for the proliferation of scientifically discredited explanations for mental health difficulties. Through this collusion the ‘shadow magician’ is rewarded with access to status, funding, power and protection.

When it comes to mental health, disconnection is everywhere you look. It is what everybody wants but I believe is the exact opposite of what they need.

We all do it, some more than others. When life gets too much we turn to something that numbs us, pacifies us and separates us from the reality of our emotions and life situations. There are entire industries reliant on us continuing to do these things and that I believe is enormously problematic for our psychological and societal well-being.

I speak from experience. I can go on marathon Netflix binges during a tough time. I find myself mindlessly pawing away at my smartphone. I tell people “I’m fine” when I know full well that I am not. My trouble is I suffer from what Sloterdijk termed “zynismus” or ‘enlightened false consciousness’; something of an occupational hazard. I am fully aware of many of the reasons for my own misery but continue to engage in behaviours that I know drive disconnection out of a sense of resignation or apathy. Perhaps one day I will pull my finger out and get on with living to the full.

Going back to the subject at hand, generally speaking, people seek help from mental health services because they cannot tolerate unpleasant emotions and don’t know what to do about it, nothing they do seems to help. Thanks to decades of folk psychiatric rhetoric people are under the illusion that just like when they have a physical ailment, these unpleasant emotions are ‘symptoms’ that they need a professional to diagnose and treat; a procedure most will go along with uncritically. Disconnection is endemic in both.

Diagnosis provides a useful tool for both parties to distance themselves from feelings. Rather than being exposed to the horror of a patient’s childhood sexual abuse, the professional’s job is to provide a diagnosis which explains their feelings as the symptoms of an illness, the real reason for their presence is no longer needed. For many this comes as a relief – “thank god, now I know what is wrong with me!”. Now they have a rationale to disconnect from their feelings too, “it’s not me, it’s my illness” – and why not – these feelings are awful and an expert in the field has told them this is what is going on. Now that both parties are in agreement that they have identified the illness, then comes the treatment, which is overwhelmingly likely to be a drug. Without wanting this post to turn into a debate on psychiatric drugs, the effect of most so-called ‘anti-depressants’, ‘anti-psychotics’ and ‘anxiolytics’ is sedation, numbing, blunting which in one way or another drive emotional disconnection.

So far, so detached. But, as time goes on this approach starts to take its toll. People find that a sense of emptiness begins to emerge, apathy, lethargy. I frequently hear the phrase “I am existing, not living”. Relationships become strained as their loved ones can’t understand what is happening to them and seem futile in their efforts to help; if the person is lucky enough to have loved ones at all. Stigma and lack of understanding lead to people distancing themselves out of fear or impotence. Activities and interests begin to drop off slowly but surely, reducing life down to the comfort zone of a bedroom or sofa shut away from the unbearable blandness or ferocity of the outside world. It is under these isolative conditions that loneliness enters the fray to deliver its knockout blow to the soul.

Of course, we can all be lonely even in a room full of people. But it is also possible to be quite content with being on our own, in solitude. It is when we feel emotional disconnection that we suffer. We feel that nobody understands us, that we are on our own, but we don’t want to be. Evolutionary psychologists theorise that we are hard-wired to feel this pain with relentless intensity because in hunter-gatherer societies to be connected with the tribe was key to our survival. Although in the modern era it is quite possible to ‘survive’ without the tribe, our brain has not evolved to match the pace of societal progress and bombards us with difficult emotions to tell us what we are doing is dangerous. This also means that we are programmed to be highly sensitive to social threats such as rejection and abandonment, to be exiled from the tribe could be lethal.

When we disconnect from each other, from the natural world, from our emotions, we cut off parts of ourselves. As much as advertisers would like us to believe, it is not possible to have the exciting and blissful parts of existence without acknowledging the dismal and horrific; they are two sides of the same coin. Our feelings enable authentic communication and expression; when we silence them we silence our ability to connect with other people. We lock ourselves into a glass cage. We all have an innate need for connection, but to achieve it requires exposing our vulnerabilities which is a terrifying experience; like getting up on stage and performing stand up comedy without rehearsal. For those who have had their vulnerability defiled in the past, distrust in others makes this challenging experience near impossible; performing stand up comedy without rehearsal and broadcast live on the BBC! It’s a tall order.

Whereas disconnection costs us our soul, connection demands taking risks. We have to step into the arena of judgement, criticism and mockery to be our authentic selves and for many of us our ego just can’t take the bruising. But when the gamble pays off, we gain the precious gift of existential validation and empathic understanding. This was the driver behind the group I developed for our community mental health team – ‘shared experiences’. Essentially we are increasing the odds by rigging the arena in favour of solidarity, non-judgement and compassion and filling it with people who have all been through hard times, who in one of our group member’s words “speak the same language”. People who have been floored by trauma, left behind by friends, family or society or had their essential humanity dissected and quarantined by the psychiatric system. It allows people to tell their story and discover that what they once feared would lead to condemnation, actually leads to a chorus of people saying “I thought I was the only one!”. I truly believe that this is what all of us need, whether we are struggling with our mental health or not. I have yet to meet a user of our service who has ever said “no” to the question “do you feel lonely?”.

Sadly, we live in a world which boasts that it is more connected than ever, but the reality is quite the opposite. In the United Kingdom, community spirit was written off and dismantled by the ‘make your own luck’, ‘greed is good’ ideology of Margaret Thatcher and every government since. Compounded by the warped lens of Facebook and Instagram, leading to people comparing themselves to carefully manicured illusions of one another, preventing the authentic connection that comes with honest ‘warts and all’ human interaction. Kicked into the ground by the media juggernaut manipulating us into pointing our fingers at each other for the effects of government failure and corporate greed. Surely Brexit is the zenith of protracted disconnection in our country? Whatever happened to ‘united we stand, divided we fall’?

One of the things that most took me aback when I started gardening was the incredible resilience of plants. During my first year in the garden I fretted and fussed over every dying stem and discoloured leaf, panicking that I had got something wrong. I have no doubt that this is perfectly natural for anybody trying to get to grips with the vast world of horticulture with zero knowledge or experience! But as I continued supported by my mother’s words of wisdom I came to realise that plants will survive almost anything. They can lose their limbs, their roots, their leaves and will still come back fighting; often in a more beautiful form than before they sustained their accidental or man-made maiming. I thought to myself, imagine if humans were able to repair and restore themselves as well as my plants. How ridiculous it would be if somebody with a severed limb simply grew a new one within a few months!

Well, I am starting to understand that this comparison is not as absurd as I first thought. It has started to occur to me that though the human body will not regenerate in as profound a way as a plant, the mind is another story. One of my clients has shown me that this is the case. Of course in this forum any discussion of clinical work is going to be short on details, but hopefully you will get the idea. This person suffered tremendous trauma having lost a parent at an early age, only to spend the rest of their childhood with a parent incapable of parenting. This poor soul set about looking for attachment and affection and sadly landed in the hands of a predator. They spent their teenage years having their body and mind manipulated and abused, only to be in their words “dumped like a sack of rubbish” when the abuser’s interest had expired.

To cope with such extreme circumstances, this person developed an entirely new identity to protect themselves from the trauma and from coming to further harm. Inventing a persona designed to distance themselves from their old self, but with a conscious awareness of both identities. This enabled them to survive and begin to engage with life again. They came to me for therapy as they recognised that what they were doing was never going to be a long term strategy and that the past would inevitably catch up with them. And they were right, as in quiet moments the feelings of despair, torment and hopelessness rose from the depths and tortured them, which they coped with ingeniously using art, writing and unfortunately a little self-harm.

As this person has continued to offer me the privilege of entering their internal world I have been astounded by the resilience the mind is capable of. Rather like the plant, when parts have become damaged, rotted and severed, it can quarantine and regenerate. I truly believe that also synonymous with my plants, this brave young person will come back more beautiful than they were before the horror. Yes, with a close eye you may see the scarring, but the fresh, lush growth will always draw your attention to their essence and vitality. There is an area of psychological research invested in this phenomena, termed ‘post-traumatic growth’. Yes, it is true that conditions need to be right for the growth to occur, but when it does it is magnificent.