Draft Manifesto for a Social Materialist Psychology of Distress
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DRAFT MANIFESTO FOR A SOCIAL MATERIALIST PSYCHOLOGY OF DISTRESS Journal of Critical Psychology, Counselling and Psychotherapy 12,2: 93-107 (2012) THE MIDLANDS PSYCHOLOGY GROUP John Cromby Bob Diamond Paul Kelly Paul Moloney Penny Priest David Smail Jan Soffe-Caswell Numbers in square brackets [p.xx] refer to page numbers in the published version. In this version we have corrected some minor errors that crept into the version published in the JCPCP (including an error in the attribution of authorship). CONTACT: [email protected] [p.93]Draft Manifesto for a Social Materialist Psychology of Distress ABSTRACT This paper explains the shared background and working practices of the authors; identifies the main assumptions of a social materialist psychology; and sets out a manifesto showing what it might mean to consider distress from a social materialist perspective. INTRODUCTION What follows is aimed in part, but not exclusively, at people in the ‘psy’ professions who seldom have any other vocabulary with which to talk about these issues - outside of psychiatry, on the one hand, and talking therapy on the other. The article marshals a wide range of theory and research on the kinds of misery that get treated by mental health professionals. We are a group of psychologists: clinical, counselling and academic. We have been meeting regularly since 2003. We call ourselves social materialist psychologists. This is not necessarily a formally worked-out philosophical stance. Most psychology is individual and idealist. It takes the individual as a given unit of analysis, and treats the social as a somewhat optional and often uniform context. And, in what is still at root a Cartesian move, it treats the material world as straightforwardly present, but simultaneously subordinate to the immaterial cognitions by which we reflect upon it. It is by contrast to this that our psychology is social materialist. Social because we affirm the primacy of the social, of collectivity, relationality and community, because we acknowledge that individuals are thoroughly social: ontogenetically, in their origins, and continuously and non-optionally during their existence. And material because we acknowledge that the cognitions by which we reflect upon the world do not simply float free of its affordances, character and properties. Cognition is both social and material, rooted in the ring-fenced metacognitive resources we have acquired, the embodied capacities it recruits, and the resources and subjective possibilities our world supplies (Johnson, 2007; Tolman, 1994; Vygotsky, 1962). By social materialist psychology, then, we do not mean to imply a mere inverse reflection of the mainstream, a negation, a futile rush to its polar opposite. Individuals exist, but their experiences are thoroughly social, at the [p.94 ]very same time as they are singular and personal. And cognitions occur, but their relation to the material world is neither determinate nor arbitrary. Our social materialist psychology is therefore aligned – in sentiment, if not content – with other contemporary initiatives that similarly refuse the naive separations of individual and social, experience and materiality: psychosocial studies, studies of subjectivity, process philosophy, the turns to language and to affect. In each of these perspectives (and more besides) we find resources, echoes and inspirations. We write as we act: collectively. In this, we align ourselves with a tradition of psychologists (Curt, 1994), political theorists and activists (The Free Association, 2011), writers and artists (Home, 1991) who reject in practice the notion that ideas are simply the achievement of individuals. At a moment when collectivity, solidarity and mutual trust are so sorely needed, this simple act may take on significances beyond the pages within which it appears. This manifesto is unfinished, a work in progress, a direction rather than a destination. We hope you find the ideas useful. Moreover, it may inspire you to join with like-minded others, to spend time sharing ideas and interests as we continue to do. 1. Persons are primordially social and material beings Before anything else, we are feeling bodies in a social world (Csordas, 1994; Merleau-Ponty, 2002; Schutz, 1970). Primordially, experience consists of a continuous flux of bodily feedback, or feeling. This feedback – which is the raw stuff of consciousness itself (Damasio, 1999) – reflects our embodied, material situation (hot, tired, hurting etc). It situates us in a particular setting, and furnishes an ongoing sense of our bodily potentials: an embodiment. This feedback is also continuously social (influenced by the changing social relations of the lived moment) and socialised (somewhat habitual, shaped by the impress of prior experience). Bodily feedback, in the form of feelings, is the most elemental stuff of our being human. However, the ineffability of the body means that the centrality of feeling often eludes reflection (Langer, 1967). Consequently, the most prominent component of thought itself is frequently what Vygotsky (1962) called inner speech. This running commentary on our own and others’ actions has social origins: its cognitive aspects are secondary to the social, discursive relations that engendered it. It is also largely retrospective, serving to stabilise or represent what has just occurred. In doing so it can serve as a tool to guide our own (and others’) actions, and in this way have some relatively limited influence on future circumstances. Bodily, despite our somewhat fuzzy edges, we are discrete individuals. But this individuality is relationally and socially produced: ontogenetically, in the fusion of egg and sperm; developmentally, in the experience-dependent construction of important neural assemblies (Schore, 2001); and psychologically, through relations and interactions that inculcate the implicit [p.95]habits and beliefs of selfhood. Because social relations shape our being, experience is not only specific to a particular trajectory of relational and familial social participation, it is also reflective of our epoch (Elias, 1978), class (Bourdieu, 1984) gender (Fine, 2010; Young, 1990) and – no doubt – other important social divisions. This is not a denial of individuality. No-one else will occupy precisely the same circumstances as you, with exactly the constellation of bodily capacities with which you are endowed: for this reason, we are each unique. But this uniqueness is constituted from elements of the same flesh, the same social relations, the same material organisations of tools, objects, locations and institutions, the same cultural resources, artefacts and norms, the same discursive signs and symbols. Uniqueness and individuality are thoroughly social and material accomplishments. 2. Distress arises from the outside inwards Distress is not the consequence of inner flaws or weaknesses. All mainstream approaches to ‘therapy’ locate the origin of psychological difficulty within the individual, usually as some kind of idiosyncracy of past experience. A morally neutral ‘normality’ may thus be seen as having become ‘neurotically’ distorted via, for example, unconscious personal desires or errors of personal judgment (e.g., over-generalization of negative experiences). Certainly this is the way we often experience our distress since such experience is inevitably interior. But experience and explanation are two very different things. Professional therapy tends to presume that both the causes and the experience of distress are interior, since this affords the therapist a legitimate ground of intervention: individuals can be worked on in ways that social and material circumstances cannot. Individuals thus quickly learn to see themselves as in some way personally defective when in fact their troubled experience arises from a defective environment (Smail, 2005). Neither is distress the consequence of cognitive errors, or failures to process information correctly. Those therapeutic approaches that do not attribute distress to some kind of personal emotional defect (however acquired) often point instead to ‘cognitive’ failure. The possibility that individuals, through no fault of their own, have drawn the wrong conclusions from unfortunate eventualities may at least have the advantage of absolving them from the odour of blame or personal shortcoming that tends often to waft around more ‘psychodynamic’ approaches. Again, this kind of view allows the therapist an apparently legitimate field of operation in re-working the person’s cognitive processes. It does so, however, at the expense of a truly convincing account of human learning. There is, surely, enough evidence of what a distressing place the world can be for us to avoid the necessity of concluding that the distress we experience is somehow mistaken (Smail, 2001a; 2005). So-called ‘individual differences’ in susceptibility to distress are largely the consequences of prior socialization. The fact that some of us seem to survive [p.96] adverse experience unscathed while others are thrown into confusion or despair may be taken as pointing to ‘interior’, personal qualities: ‘self-esteem’, ‘willpower’, or most recently ‘resilience’. However, it is far easier, and more credible, to point to the embodied advantages someone has acquired over time from the social/material environment than it is to postulate essentially mysterious and unanalysable personal qualities that originate from within. To mistake the gifts of providence for personal virtues is an all-too-common