On the one hand our patients suffer greatly from psychiatric symptoms, and it seems wildly foolish to theorize away their suffering. On the other hand our efforts to organize and classify their suffering can seem arbitrary and confusing. We organize or categorize a symptom cluster and give it a diagnostic name, and it overlaps with another cluster. Or a patient simply has symptoms of both. We start off with the expectation that there will be a match-up between therapeutic agent and diagnostic cluster, and we discover that, at the extreme, most of our pharmacologic agents seem to treat most of our disorders. Finally, we somehow want to resolve this confusion by getting at the underpinnings of the identified disorders, and we discover that the genetics and neuroscience donât support our groupings.
The practice of psychiatry, as described earlier, is very hard. But why is it so? Does it all come down to the mental disorderâs label, which is still too elusive, as suggested by Philips and colleagues? Or does the reason lie in the confusion concerning the biological basis of mental disorder, as stated by the same authors at the end of this quote? In other words, is a complete neurobiological framework still to come, and do we only have to wait? Iâll come back to these topics later. For the nonce, letâs start with a simple question. What are mental disorders?
As strange as it may seem, psychiatry has always been more interested to identify the meaning of the word âdisorderâ, in the âmental disorderâ label, rather than the word âmentalâ. Many authors (see Brulde and Radovis, 2006; Murphy, 2006; Graham, 2013) noted that what precisely is âmentalâ in mental disorder remains unclear in the psychiatric literature. The philosopher George Graham, for example, remarks:
The very idea of the mental deployed in psychiatry as well as in the theory of mental disorder typically is unexamined or at least under-examined by psychiatrists and other writing on mental disorder.
(Graham, 2013: 30)
Murphy even claims that âpsychiatry contains no principled understanding of the mentalâ (2006: 61). What does it mean? How is it possible that a medical discipline that has to do with disorders affecting the mind doesnât clarify properly the meaning of mental? I will elucidate this point later on, and, by now, I will come back to the initial question: what are mental disorders? To answer this question, letâs start from another one, which looks quite trivial: are mental disorders real? That is, are mental disorders out there, existing independently of the observers, entities which psychiatric categories try to match with better and better? If this is the case, a correct nosography has to correspond to these entities, which in turn have to remain much or less the same independently from the historical and social contexts (Patil and Giordano, 2010; Kendler, 2016; Eronen, 2019). In other words, mental disorders should be what they are, regardless of our linguistic practices and social norms.
The claim that mental disorders are real phenomena is the ground for realism in psychiatry. And realism is one of the dominant conceptions of psychiatry; according to this perspective, mental disorders are discrete entities, existing independently of the way we study them, they are, in other words, natural kinds. The strong realist position is both ontological and epistemological (Pouncey, 2005): it has an ontological commitment about the existence of abstract entities called mental disorders, and an epistemological commitment about our possibility to genuinely know them. However, there is also a weaker realism, where the commitment is ontological only; in other words, one can believe that mental disorders exist in nature, but can doubt our capacity to know them as they are. This seems to be a more plausible position, because it is hard to deny that psychiatric categories are constructs, viz., the best attempts to describe mental disordersâ abstract entities based on manifest symptoms alone. Thus, the vast majority of psychiatrists probably share this last position; maybe we arenât able to accurately characterize them, but mental disorders really exist out there. After all, does it make sense for a physician to doubt the reality of his patientâs disease? The same should be valid for a psychiatrist.
But is this ontological commitment justified? For instance, is there, in nature, something like depression, a category with essential and specific features, that can be described with objectivity and is clearly distinct from other mental disorders? The answer is no, for several reasons. First of all, psychiatric disorders donât have sufficient and necessary conditions. To give an example, the DSM-5âs criteria for major depression involve five or more symptoms among a list of nine; thus, no single symptom is sufficient, and, as strange as it may seem, the depressed mood is not even necessary (APA, 2013a). Secondly, the boundaries among psychiatric categories are fuzzy and blurred. For example, despite the claim, that dates back to Kraepelin (1883), that affective disorders and schizophrenia are two distinct categories, experience has shown that there are many hybrid cases (the schizo-affective disorder, see Jablensky, 2016), and the same can be said of affective disorder and personality disorders, or depression and anxiety disorders, or addiction and psychiatric disorders. In other words, comorbidity, that is, the presence of more mental disorders in a single person, is very common (Maj, 2005; Roca et al., 2009; Teesson et al., 2005). As pointed out by Jablensky âIt is not surprising that disorders, as defined in the current versions of DSM and ICD, have a strong tendency to co-occur, which suggests that fundamental assumptions of the dominant diagnostic schemata may be incorrectâ (2016: 28). It is not surprising, then, that the last edition of DSM shifted from a categorical to a dimensional approach, giving up the aim to identify distinct mental diseases, as one can read in the highlights of changes between DSM-IV and DSM-5:
Because the previous DSM approach considered each diagnosis as categorically separate from health and from other diagnoses, it did not capture the widespread sharing of symptoms and risk factors across many disorders that is apparent in studies of comorbidity. ⌠Indeed, the once plausible goal of identifying homogeneous populations for treatment and research resulted in narrow diagnostic categories that did not capture clinical reality, symptom heterogeneity within disorders, and significant sharing of symptoms across multiple disorders. The historical aspiration of achieving diagnostic homogeneity by progressive subtyping within disorder categories no longer is sensible.
(APA, 2013b: 12)
However, it is worth noticing that, in DSM-5, this dimensional model often remains a declaration of intent, rather than being an actual paradigm shift, especially when the Manual has to deal with what makes a behaviour abnormal. A clear cut-off among the different mental disorders is often really hard to find, but, and this is also more striking, the same issue regards the boundary between clinical normality and abnormality, too. Evidence has started to show that the line between normality and insanity is not a sharp one, and that mental disorders are extreme variants of normal continua (Poulton et al., 2000; van Os et al., 2009; Freeman et al., 2005; see also Chapter 7 in this book). In the general population, psychotic-like experiences are more common than expected, and it is sometimes hard to divide ânormalâ and pathological anxiety, or ânormalâ grief and depression. But the DSM largely ignores those evidence supporting the dimensional approach. Actually, the last edition expands the concept of mental disorder, âpathologizingâ normal reactions to distress or loss, like normal grief (major depressive disorder can now include people who are grieving the loss of a loved one if a patientâs distress and impairment last more than two months after the death), and including syndromes like premenstrual dysphoric disorder, caffe...