ARMCHAIR psychiatry is a tricky business. Pundits may be quick to pronounce on the cause of the latest celebrity鈥檚 public meltdown, but this rarely amounts to anything more than speculation. That鈥檚 even truer for historical figures: retrospective diagnoses of the likes of Vincent van Gogh may make headlines, but they are almost impossible to validate.
Go back tens of thousands of years, and all we have to go on is archaeological and genetic evidence. That makes it all but impossible to diagnose individuals- but we can still make inferences about attitudes to and prevalence of mental illness. The idea that Homo sapiens rose to dominance over other hominins because of a greater tolerance for psychiatric conditions that produce unorthodox ways of thinking (see 鈥�Mental problems gave early humans an edge鈥�) is certainly intriguing. But given the inevitable lack of first-hand accounts, it is likely to remain contentious.
Nonetheless, this proposition prompts us to consider whether modern society might benefit by becoming more accepting of mental illness. There is contemporary evidence that traits associated with particular conditions may sometimes confer benefits: bipolar disorder seems to be linked to creativity, while even antisocial or psychopathic traits may be valuable attributes in such combative situations as the battlefield or boardroom.
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So how could society benefit from any advantages that such maverick thinkers might bring? We should start by reconsidering how we classify and label people. This is not only a matter of avoiding the stigma associated with 鈥渕adness鈥�: it makes good scientific sense too.
鈥淭he common-sense view is that there is no clear dividing line between mental health and illness鈥�
Psychiatrists conventionally use checklists of symptoms drawn from the (DSM) to distinguish between those who are well and those who need help. That doesn鈥檛 always work well. Even after extensive examination, psychiatrists may struggle to match a troubled individual鈥檚 symptoms to a particular named disorder. The conditions listed in the DSM have also been shaped partly by social expectations, as well as scientific evidence. Homosexuality, for instance, was only removed in 1973.
So some researchers are now trying to determine the biological and psychological traits that underlie psychiatric conditions, with the aim of replacing the DSM鈥榮 bewildering array of conditions with a simpler framework of 鈥渄imensions鈥� of mental health. Rather than ticking boxes, psychiatrists would score people for traits along continuous scales, much like height and weight.
That would reinforce the common-sense view that there is no clear dividing line between mental health and illness. For example, perfectionist athletes who practice relentlessly and indulge in superstitious pre-game rituals would then be seen to differ only in degree from those whose careers are crushed by obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Will discarding the concepts of 鈥渘ormal鈥� and 鈥渕ad鈥� lead humanity to new heights, mirroring the advances that might have stemmed from earlier tolerance of unusual thinking? Perhaps not. But it should definitely promote a clearer and more compassionate view of the misfit minds among us. That must be a good thing.