Manufacturing Controversy

Out hawking my book, I’ve been surprised by a question that nearly every interviewer asks in one form or another: Who are you trying to piss off here?

Now part of this is undoubtedly because my book can be read as an extended rant. That intrigues talk show hosts because they are the carnival barkers of American culture, and unless they have a genuine freak on their hands, they need a fight, preferably a polarized, intractable, unresolvable “debate.” Midget wrestling, as my buddy Garret Keizer calls it.

And then the poor talk show hosts read the book (or the press release) and they realize, perhaps at the last minute, maybe even while they are on the air, that I’m not going to denounce antidepressants as the spawn of Satan, which means that the psychiatrist they have on the phone, who is ready to argue that antidepressants are manna from heaven, and I are not going to oblige the audience with a screaming match, and that actually my book is fighting an entirely different battle, one that doesn’t really fit into the pre-established narrative. So when they discover, as Leonard Lopate did, that I’m making a “nuanced argument,” they aren’t necessarily happy.

Anyway, while I wasn’t trying to piss anyone off, at least not anyone in particular, I think the people I have made the most angry are the people dependent on that polarized debate. Who aren’t just the carnival barkers, and who sometimes include people with depression. Sometimes the anger has nothing to do with me or what I have said–as in the many emails that call me out for daring to say that antidepressants are evil, which I of course do not believe. But sometimes the anger is directed at the correct target: People are pissed because I have muddied the waters.

Case in point: I was asked to give a talk to a patient group in a large American city, as part of an ongoing lecture series the group sponsors. The person who asked me to speak was very enthusiastic about the prospect, and even willing to scare up a little extra money for my trouble. She had to get her board of directors’ approval, she told me, but she was pretty sure this would not be a problem. A few days later, I got some email from her

We discussed in our board meeting having you as a guest lecturer…and although there was complete consensus that your topic is fascinating and important to convey, just not for our core audience – many of whom have struggled most of their lives with severe depression and mania and multiple hospitalizations.  So I apologize for reaching out to you before I put it before the board.  I got carried away by the chance to have you present such an interesting and provocative topic…without thoroughly considering our audience

Of course, I can’t be sure of exactly why the board thought that people suffering with depression wouldn’t be a suitable audience for me, but my guess is that they were concerned that I would question the biochemical model, at least the universality of the model, and that  this would be disturbing, or maybe just offensive to the audience. Was the board patronizing its constituency, or accurately assessing its fragility? I’ll never know, but I think this is an excellent, and fascinating, illustration of the extent to which the disease model has become a template for identity.

One Response to “Manufacturing Controversy”

  1. It’s very interesting to read these web logs as a supplement to your book. I am in a somewhat peculiar position as I went to see a former professor of mine very recently and, somehow, I walked away from the conversation having been charged with the task of writing a review of ‘Manufacturing Depression’ for a local newspaper.

    Impossible as it is not to form biases before reading, I found myself wondering what manner of extremism would slap me in the face, like some kind of abusive pop-up book, when I parted the pages. It is with all sincerity that I say that I have never been more pleasantly surprised in my life; the writing is certainly pithy, but there is nothing that is not informed by fact or tempered by the understanding that the implications of facts tend to be more dialectical than absolute, in most cases.

    Moreover, it strikes me as a delightful irony that a book on depression could contain so many chuckles. I’m going to sign off now, before I start to sound like a sycophant or an acolyte, but I will part on the note that I am very much looking forward to completing my read of this book.

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