Within common mental health treatments there exists a paradox, in which personal agency over a problem appears to increase by disownership of the problem. I endeavor to explain this paradox and by doing so, shed light on the relationships among identity, psychopathology, and therapeutic agency. The work of the philosopher Harry Frankfurt, with emphasis on his concept of externality, is used as the model for unraveling the paradox of agency.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:In, Out Me, You Mental, Moral Where Do I Begin?Mark D. Rego (bio)I once attended a Buddhist meditation retreat, led by an American meditation teacher. The instructor had studied and practiced is Asia for many years and was well versed in the practices and teachings of Buddhism. Among his opening remarks was something along the line of the following: "One question that is asked on every retreat is, 'if (...) there is no true self, then who is it who has come here to become free of the illusion of a self?' The answer is, I don't know, but we can start anyway."This sense of practicality in the face of unanswerable questions is built into Buddhism, as is the relationship among the particularities of each individual, a process akin to externality, mental well-being, and morality.I raise Buddhism both because of its central interest into the nature of the self (an obviously germane consideration in the papers under discussion) and because of this second feature noted, namely the comfortable integration of individuality, character building, ethical action, and mental well-being (the issue of the true self will, thankfully, have to wait). It is this theme that I raise via the discussion of externality.The commentaries of Talmadge and Graham, unintentionally I think, pull me toward a beguiling observation in my daily practice of psychiatry. Namely, patients commonly report their clinical improvements in terms of how they deal better with others, how they are more thoughtful and even handed (with themselves included), and how they better cope with the demands of their individual lives. In senses both highly individual and highly principled, and in ways both explicit and implicit, when patients feel better they often feel that they are better people (all the kinds of treatment mentioned in my paper equally apply; there is no exclusivity in this result).There is also an interesting consistency in a dual manner in which this is expressed. In one way people report the improved coping, handling, and so on mentioned. In the next breath the same person commonly says, "I feel like myself."The meditation instructor would be pleased; it appears that through a process of becoming aware of and letting go of some form of negativity an individual feels better, acts better, and feels more unified. (As the instructor was psychologically sophisticated, he would not mistake the "like myself" sentiment as a Buddhist heresy. Rather, he would understand it as a reflection of being more at ease with and aware of disparate parts of himself.) And all this without figuring out who the real self is. [End Page 331]I mention these observations about Buddhism and clinical care because when I consider the processes of evaluating, deciding, and forging identity and volition it seems to me that somewhere between the lines the individual is aligning himself with some sense of what is good. The resultant experience of volition and cohesive identity is, often but not always, experienced as good both psychologically and morally.Change, Others, and ValuesIn the two commentaries that follow my paper on Frankfurtian externality and therapeutic change (Rego 2004), Talmadge (2004) and Graham (2004) highlight different aspects of externality and therapeutics. Talmadge, an addiction psychiatrist, expands the theme of volitional change in recovery from addiction. For Talmadge, as for most in the field, the question of when and how an addict has truly committed to change (hitting "rock bottom"? accepting the first of the twelve steps?) is perennially in the air. Such knowledge would be invaluable in guiding addicts along their rocky paths.Although still far short of the mark, Talmadge finds some illustrative guidance in Frankfurt. The shift that takes place within the addict to place him on the road to recovery is not necessarily "rock bottom," or conformity to a program's dictates or a state of new knowledge. Rather, it is a shift in will. By whatever process (and Talmadge is quite aware that there seem to be many paths) the addict has come to care about sobriety in a way he or she did not before. He or she now cares in a way that is part of him or her... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Subjective Knowledge, Mental Disorders, and MedsHow to Parse the EquationMark D. Rego (bio)Keywordspsychopathology, antidepressants, suicidality, subjective experience, pre-reflectiveA few weeks, ago I was walking down the hall to my office when I spotted my brother-in-law coming the other way. This was odd on two accounts. First, he lives in Kentucky (I am in Connecticut) and second, he is at least a foot taller than the man in my hallway. (...) Nonetheless, I struggled to figure out why he was there. The resemblance was so striking it took me a minute or two to convince myself it was not him. Even after such convincing, the feeling that it was him remained.Later, I imagined that had I just returned from a crack cocaine den I would have been hypervigilant, if not paranoid, and consequently would be certain that my brother-in-law had arrived unannounced. Furthermore, I would probably assume that he was up to no good.How did I retain a strong feeling of recognition, the feeling that maybe it was really him, when I already concluded otherwise? And why, were I on crack cocaine, would the obvious facts be useless in rendering a decision about the identity of the man in the hall? Last, why would the post-cocaine man in the hall become a nefarious brother-in-law rather than a benign one?If I just computed some symbols to figure this out, wouldn't the feeling have gone away? If I activated a brother-in-law neural network, how did I come to acquire an evil brother-in-law neural network? And why wouldn't that go away either?In his article in this issue of Philosophy, Psychiatry, & Psychology, Hadreas looks at questions like these through the prism of before and after effects of people treated with selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). Hadreas investigates the implications of a straightforward recomputation of self-awareness when treated with these medicines and finds such approaches unsatisfying and incomplete in their explanatory power. (My example looks at a type of awareness, but not specifically self-awareness, as does Hadreas. Furthermore, my paradigm asks about computational conclusions using language more common in psychiatric literature, whereas Hadreas uses standard philosophical terms. Although not isomorphic, I believe the interchange of the two remains true to the issues Hadreas is addressing). [End Page 57]In my example, there is clearly something else going on than the incorrect arrangement of symbols or the misfiring of nodes in a network that influences how I feel and what I think. Neither reason nor empiricism seem to serve me well here. Hadreas utilizes Husserl to begin to unpeel the layers of self-awareness and self-states that intermix to form the shifts and contradictions which are so common in psychiatric treatment (and in common experience as I describe).This is a welcome reckoning; the psychiatric literature is overflowing with unquestioned premises about the neuropsychiatric correlates of reason and empirical approaches (described more as computation and neural networks in the literature—again, not strictly analogous, but the same criticisms apply) Hadreas is critical of. Unfortunately, Hadreas has navigated through a sea of highly questionable assumptions about the psychopharmacology of depression to illustrate his points. This is due in large part to the common practice of consulting literary narratives and critics rather than one of immersion in the literature as a whole and the daily life of patients and active clinicians. He arrived at his destination despite this, because many of these details did not affect his particular analysis. However, to look forward to a continuation of this work and clarify some important issues I devote most of my commentary to these issues. The points I raise are more extensively discussed in a previous edition of this journal (Rego 2005).Affect to Reason ShiftLet's begin with the idea that SSRIs work by dampening emotions. An extension of this idea is that they dampen negative emotions and strengthen positive ones like assertiveness, confidence, and optimism. An even further development in this direction is that, by dampening strong emotions, cognitive enhancement takes place with SSRI treatment. A summary observation then is that SSRIs facilitate... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Surrender Versus Control:How Best Not to DrinkMark D. Rego (bio)Keywordsaddiction, Alcoholics Anonymous, will, St. AugustineI recall as a teenager noticing that some people modified nouns in, what sounded to me, a peculiar way. A friend's mother who was taking an automotive repair course said, " We're going to learn to fix the brakes next week." The same folks would also use the possessive for common nouns in phrases like: (...) "I'll be ready after I take my shower." Although not incorrect, I believe this type of usage reflected a different attitude about brakes, showers, and other things. These tended to be more hands-on people and thus, in my understanding at least, had a more particular relationship with things in their world than others for whom objects were examples of types of things.This brief vignette serves as an introduction to my qualified enthusiasm for the project taken up by Allison Mitchell in her paper, "Taking Mentality Seriously: A Philosophical Inquiry into the Language of Addiction and Recovery" (Mitchell, 2006). Indeed, as a practicing psychiatrist I would be hard pressed not to endorse the use of language as a key to deeper aspects of experience.My following remarks are mostly contra Mitchell's hypothesis, but before beginning I name one more reason I think this project is worthwhile. In spite of much research and recitations of the motto "treatment works," we do not presently have a reliable treatment for addiction. The linguistic portrait painted by Mitchell allows us to view our treatments in vivo and reflect upon what we see. (For the purpose of this commentary, I consider alcoholism and Alcoholics Anonymous [AA] as a general example of addiction and treatment.)Medication treatment remains almost inconsequential except when applied for comorbid psychiatric disorders rather than the primary addiction. Even then it rarely serves to undo some form of self-medication, but instead only offers an important leg up in battling the addiction.Research and much experience has shown AA to be the single best treatment for alcoholism (Vaillant and Hiller-Sturmhofel 1996). Some investigators have proposed underlying mechanisms for its efficacy (some, like "creating dependency" run very counter to Mitchell) (Vaillant 2005). AA's success is highly dependent upon attendance (McCrady et al. 2004), which can of course be a marker for getting better in the first place and not solely a cause of improvement (i.e., people who are doing better attend more meetings not vice- versa). Even within AA, the dropout rate is quite high (Martin et al. 1996). Workers in this area [End Page 223] have raised questions about AA's approach and have proposed other avenues to sobriety, including interpersonal, cognitive–behavioral, and relapse prevention programs (Witkiewitz and Marlatt 2005, 2004; O'Dwyer 2006). Lamentably, some very large studies failed to show any effective ability to match up alcoholics with a particular treatment modality (Church 2004; Read 2004).Given the lack of clarity with which we still work, I think an approach like Mitchell's is a welcome call for serious reflection. The limitations of a linguistic analysis place an unfortunate constriction on implications to be drawn.Mitchell's chief concern is that the language of recovery, as reflected in twelve-step programs, betrays and even fosters a degree of passivity, which leaves the addict without an adequate sense of agency and autonomy with which to combat addiction. From a more philosophical perspective, Mitchell believes this is due to an incomplete philosophical materialism; one that lacks "mentality" (i.e., the sense that part of our physical being is made up of mental activities such as emotions, motivations, beliefs, etc.). This attitude is manifest in a "pretheoretic conception of the self" that leaves the addict with a dearth of self-awareness as a mental agent of action and change.In place of the standard recovery model in use today, Mitchell suggests cultivating a sense of self that values and fosters engaged agency that is both capable of self-control and responsive to external obligations.A Few ConcernsFirst, I will offer a few concerns about premises at work within the paper. Then, I outline an attempt to make sense of the... (shrink)