Psychosocial Pandemics, Part 1: Modern Psychotherapy and its Misconceptions about Systems Theory
Modern psychology as we know it is largely rooted in WEIRD nations: Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic. WEIRD cultures tend to be more individualistic than collectivistic. Yet the counseling subfield known as Marriage and Family Therapy, which I am licensed to practice as an LMFT, is systems-oriented. We LMFTs are trained to view the individual, and their mental health complaints, in the context of their social environment. Some approaches to individual therapy, such as Internal Family Systems (IFS) and Attachment Theory based frameworks, take a more systemic view as well. But as a whole, western psychology focuses intrapsychically on the individual.
I posit that this is changing, but not in the way it appears. “Social justice” ideology is currently capturing the fields of counseling and social work. I put that term in quotes because I’m not of the opinion that the beliefs in practice befit the name they are given, but that’s a subject for another time. The ideological framework currently taking over appears systems-minded on its surface, with its concern for sociopolitical and economic issues, and its victim/oppressor lens that emphasizes the role social forces play in affecting an individual’s mental health. However, I believe this framework’s lack of depth, nuance, and mature psychological insight results in substantial oversight of the real social forces at play here, such as social incentives for maintaining illness.
In true Family Systems based counseling, the therapist examines the role an individual’s mental health symptoms serve in the family. For example, could a teenager acting out be her way of distracting mom and dad from their marital problems, and giving them another problem to focus on so that the family remains together? If she were to stop acting out, what new problems would she subconsciously fear this might create? Divorce would be terrifyingly disruptive, wouldn’t it? Perhaps shoplifting and binge drinking seem safe in comparison. If the therapist can get mom and dad to talk about their problems with each other more productively, can the teen feel relieved of the burden of distracting and redirecting them, and give up her behavioral issues as a natural consequence of the systemic change? Viewed this way, the reckless teen is not as helpless as she appears. By feeling and acting out of control, she is actually maintaining control in the family, and playing a vital role in holding them together. The therapist recognizes and positively reframes the power and agency the teen does have, and reorganizes the system so that her power can find its proper place and be applied to healthier endeavors.
In contrast, a therapist applying a social justice framework to this situation might have a rigid, naive view of power that assumes the parents, as adult authority figures, hold all the power, while their daughter holds none, and treat this as the problem. The framework thus colludes with the teen’s immature beliefs and narratives about what is going on, positioning her as victim, parents as oppressor. The therapist might indulge the teen’s self-pitying tantrums, reinforcing the notion that she has no control and is right to feel this way. Meanwhile, the therapist ignores the role of marital conflict and thus, family dynamics. The therapist acting this way may also be ignoring developmental psychology, overestimating the accuracy or objectivity of the teen’s perception of the situation, and colluding with the family system’s precocious parentification of the daughter, leaving her without the lovingly authoritative boundaries and parental guidance that she actually needs in order to mature safely. Having this much power to control the narrative before an adolescent has gained adequate life experience actually maintains a high state of anxiety for the teen, who, deep down, on some level, knows that she’s not prepared to handle this position — though she won’t admit it for many years, because her job as a teenager is to push for her autonomy and overestimate her wisdom and invincibility.
This is but one example of how a social justice framework applied to family therapy appears to be systems-oriented — it views people in the contexts of their environments, especially in regards to notions of power — yet it actually lacks the deeper wisdom that comes from a mature, nuanced, psychological understanding of systems. To be fair, I am not suggesting any social justice oriented therapist would take this particular approach to this kind of situation. Human beings are a lot more nuanced and complex than that. But the social justice framework is prone to accepting people’s stories of powerlessness at face value, without question. In doing so, it acts with a huge blind spot to how the subjective, verbalized, imagined or feigned sense of “powerlessness” might be a symptom, adopted role, or inherited belief that an “identified patient” takes on for a purpose that fits within the larger system. Social justice frameworks also largely remain naive to their own roles within larger systems. Have therapists who’ve adopted these frameworks unwittingly taken on a role within the larger systemic constellation of an entire society? Could this role be somehow serving to maintain the illness of the system, while believing itself to be a healing force?
For example, how many of us are flying monkeys? A powerful archetypal image many of us are familiar with from the Wizard of Oz, the term “flying monkey” is nowadays often used to describe the unwitting servants of narcissists. Have you ever awakened from a haze in which you had spent months or years of your life hypnotized, lured in, and manipulated by a powerful, charismatic figure? Perhaps this person made you feel especially loved at first, and valued as a member of a community he or she led. As time went on, that feeling of specialness they gave you became more fickle, less frequent, interspersed with coldness or rage. You started to doubt yourself and your worth, and you worked harder and harder to please them. Meanwhile, you heard gossip about others, and you were expected to ostracize your former friends when they fell from the good graces of the leader. You became one of many flying monkeys, until you yourself lost your value as a tool of the narcissist’s bidding. Perhaps you started to burn out, or to question what was happening, or you felt uncomfortable with the increasingly cruel and manipulative tasks that were assigned to you. At some point, the charismatic leader decided he or she no longer needed you, and you, too, were ousted from the club, likely with some distorted narrative that misconstrued your behavior in order to vilify or humiliate you. Your former friends who remained close to the leaders were now the flying monkeys out to get you, and you couldn’t believe how cruel they could be.
Does that sound familiar? Perhaps you’ve been through it, or helplessly witnessed someone you cared about suffer the same. The narcissist could have been a religious or cult leader, boss, parent, romantic partner, celebrity, or popular “friend.”
The thing about being a flying monkey is that you don’t know you are one until you’re not anymore. If you’re really being honest with yourself, you recall that at a gut level you felt hesitant about doing something you now see was wretched, or you felt sick as a bystander witnessing your beloved leader tormented a former friend. But you didn’t arrive in those moments overnight. You arrived at them after months if not years of grooming to get you to that point. That’s why you didn’t speak up and leave right then. It was complicated, like the frog in the metaphorical pot.
That sense of being special to someone (something?) so seemingly important is a powerfully euphoric drug we call narcissistic supply. Your ego becomes vicariously inflated simply from being in the presence of someone so grandiose. It’s an incredible feeling that becomes addictive. Then the doses are meted out less frequently, more sporadically. There is less reward, more punishment, with periodic fits of rage that intimidate, guilt-trip, and cause you to doubt your own perception. Soon, you would do anything to alleviate the dysphoric angst of being without that special glow you had grown so accustomed to. You work harder and harder to please your beloved… well, to be blunt… master.
How many “social justice” oriented therapists are flying monkeys addicted to the narcissistic supply opiate of pleasing the grand ideology? While no one single charismatic leader could be picked out as the cause of all this, there seems to be some collective force that serves as Wicked Witch of the West in Sheep’s Clothing, if you’ll tolerate the mixed metaphor. Decent people with ordinary human foibles are led by their deepest emotional hooks, insecurities, and longings, into doing the bidding of something secretly sinister that wears the seductive mask of Justice. As such, those who believe most ardently that they and their fellow monkeys are on the right side of history paradoxically seem to have no problem harming their fellow human if the metaphorical Witch dictates that this is what good people do… in other words, this is how good people maintain their opiate supply if they don’t want to suffer withdrawal.
We now see how it’s possible to think of oneself as playing a particular, helpful role in addressing what one sees as systemic problems, while altogether serving a different role when we zoom out and look at the bigger picture.
This article began with a different title and topic in mind: psychological immunity to mind-viruses. However, to lay out that concept, it first felt necessary to begin with some of the concepts I’ve written about in the earlier part of this article. The piece then unfolded in a different direction I had also been wanting to explore. I will now address the originally intended topic in Part 2 of this series.
