I voted for two polarized reviews of this book -- one extolling its virtues, the other dismissing its arguments as simplistic. I suspect both are valid.
As a psychologist I frequently meet individuals of all ages who are taking psychotropic medication. Medication as an appropriate treatment option is unquestioned by most of the people I work with, although my colleagues often bemoan the fact that people prefer medication to therapy, thinking popping some pills will be a quick fix. I was required to learn about the range of psychotropic drugs available when I was in graduate school, memorizing their names, uses, and side effects. None of my professors or supervisors ever raised the question of whether the entire basis for prescribing psychotropic medication might be flawed.
The author of this book has an agenda, and doesn't cite counterarguments or counterevidence. That being said, this is a book that makes you sit up and take notice. Apparently Thorazine, the drug said to have kicked off the psychopharmacology revolution in the 1950s, was inadvertently discovered when a failed malaria medication was found to have sedating qualities. So in a context when frontal lobotomy was considered an appropriate and effective treatment for mental illness, and just as doctors were being newly granted prescription privileges and forging a new relationship with pharmacists, a rash of tranquilizers hit the market as a means of fighting mental illness. The whole mind-body question seemed to have been answered as people embraced the chemical imbalance theory of mental illness. While it seems to have been true that the new drugs affected brain chemistry, the question of whether mental illness was actually caused by a chemical imbalance was really not sufficiently explored. So were these drugs solving a problem, or creating one?
More drugs entered the market, and they seemed effective in the short run. Long-term outcomes were murkier, and even short-term outcome studies, upon examination, were frequently flawed and agenda-driven. Not to mention side effects and the possibility of long-term brain damage. Plus, as people relapsed whenever they went off their meds, and even when they were on them, the utility of these medications seemed questionable. Whitaker cites studies suggesting that mental illness outcomes were more positive before the introduction of medication, and notes that lots more people are collecting disability for mental illness today than ever before. So have the medications in fact helped us fight mental illness?
In the 1970s, it seems, people were actually becoming disillusioned with psychiatry, psychotropic medication, and the medical model of mental illness. Feeling threatened, the American Psychiatric Association revised the Freudian DSM-II and produced the DSM-III, which identified 265 psychiatric conditions. Although the biological underpinnings of mental illness remained unclear, the book was well-received and, according to Whitaker, launched a movement of scientific propaganda to promote the idea that mental illness was biochemical in nature and could be treated with psychotropic medication. The field was ripe for the introduction of Prozac and other newer psychotropic medications in the late 1980s, touted as miracle drugs despite appallingly shoddy research results. In the 1990s, with the popularization of childhood diagnoses like ADHD and childhood Bipolar disorder, prescribing these drugs to children took off.
Although this was a readable, intelligent, and persuasive book, I'm not ready to swallow Whitaker's arguments whole. He continues to insist that we don't have sufficient evidence to support the chemical imbalance theory of mental illness. Is that still true today, with the technological advances we have? If studies conducted today are failing to support the chemical imbalance theory, wouldn't this information get out? Are the pharmaceutical companies and psychiatrists so powerful that they can suppress news like that? And is Whitaker the first person to realize that research done by pharmaceutical companies carries an inherent conflict of interest? Has no one else ever thought of this, or taken steps to publish unbiased research on psychotropic medication?
Whitaker also claims that people who aren't prescribed psychotropic medication, or don't use this medication, have better outcomes than people who take psychotropic drugs. But might there be a selection bias there? What if the people who aren't receiving the prescriptions, or are choosing not to take them, are the people who are higher-functioning to begin with and whose problems are less pressing? Similarly, there's the age-old question of whether there's actually more mental illness today, or whether it simply went undiagnosed in earlier decades?
But here's what I think is true. I can see why popping a pill sounds more appealing, efficient, and cost-effective to everyone -- doctors, patients, parents -- than years of therapy. I can see why this might make doctors trigger-happy and prone to overdiagnosing and overprescribing, and well-meaning patients and parents eager to do what seems best. Medicine does seem more scientific and carry more authority than therapy, where so many human variables affect outcome. The psychiatrists I work with have said to me on more than one occasion that they think my job is much harder than theirs; certainly I wrestle with a lot of ambiguity and resistance in my work that doesn't seem to plague them as much. And I have memories of pharmaceutical companies showering my various workplaces with gifts and elaborate luncheons -- there's no doubt that marketing is a big priority for them, and that they would go to great lengths to promote their products.
So is this book agenda-driven? Yes. Simplistic? Somewhat. Whitaker acknowledges that psychotropic drugs were found to be more effective than placebos or no treatment for individuals with severe mental illness, and that it may be appropriate to prescribe these drugs judiciously for that population. So what he's saying is not black-and-white. When I was an intern, I was told that psychotropic medication was meant to be short-term, and was intended to make the client more accessible to therapy; with successful therapy, the client would learn missing skills and be weaned off of their medication. I think even Whitaker might agree with that particular use of medication in theory; unfortunately, I haven't seen it happen that way a lot in practice.
Whitaker cites a lot of compelling evidence. What I would like to see now is a good counterargument, also supported with solid evidence. Of course, if psychiatrists and pharmacists are in cahoots as Whitaker seems to suggest, that might be hard to find. But I'll be looking for it, and would welcome any recommendations.