Minority Report
May 17th, 2011

“You could ask whether something happens to change brain development,” tom Insel said, “but you could also ask if it’s something about the brain that leads to pathology.” He was talking about attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, showing an animated slide depicting, side-by-side, the the brain development of a normal and an ADHD kid. “We call this ADHD,” he went on, “but it really looks like a disorder of cortical maturation.” ADHD, he acknowledged, encompasses some behaviors, but if you continue to focus on them, “if you don’t start to think abouit it as a cortical maturation problem, you lose.” We have to “stop looking at the behavioral,” he went on, because “the behavioral and the cognitive are the last thing to change. So long as we only stick with what’s observable, he conclluded, “we’re talking about getting into this game in the ninth inning.”

Insel then showed another slide–a moth called the Tropical Skipper. Turns out that the Tropical Skipper can come from ten different caterpillars. In other words, many different genotypes can lead to the one phenotype. There are many neural paths to depression, many genetic paths to schizophrenia, and many different ways in which the same biochemistry, neural and/or genetic can show up in behavior and cognition. Thsi problem–what scientists call heterogeneity–is what haunts phenomenological accounts of suffering. We are blinded by the light of lived experience and fail to see  the true reality underneath it.

If Insel grasps the religious nature of this argument, of this idea that appearances are the work of the devil who doesn’t want us to see the4 divine truth, he doesn’t indicate it.

What he makes of it, however, is something that your average knuckle-rapping nun would fully appreciate: that the earlier you catch onto a person’t pathology (the nun would of course call it sin) the more effectively you can intervene. That kid bouncing off the walls in school? The fight between Insel and the nun isn’t over whether or not the problem is in the kid or the school; it’s over what exactly is wrong inside the kid. Is it sinfulness or a lack of cortical thickening?

Either way, it is incumbent to do something now, to prevent perdition later. “Behavioral or pharmacological treatments” is what the modern psychiatrist always says (“behavioral treatments” being some kind of therapy, whcih is acceptable because we know that therapy can have brain effects too), but really they mean drugs. I mean, if you really can’t afford to wait for the ninth inning, there is no behavior to treat.

So don’t think for a second that the drug companies aren’t listening very closely to Insel.

This is why the DSM-5 is going to include Attenuated Psychotic Symptoms Syndrome (or whatever they call it) and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder (formerly Temper Dysregulation Disorder) and other “subthreshold” diagnoses–because the wave of the future is early detection of pathology, and early intervention. You just can’t start rapping their knuckles too early.

 

 




What psychiatrists, etc., pt. 3
May 17th, 2011

So why, you might ask, this sudden pessimism on the part of psychiatrists? (Or is it just honesty? Remember depressives are better at reality testing than non-depressives, which implies that pessmism is more trustworthy than its opposite.)

The answer is simple. It’s safe for psychiatrist to come clean about how bankrupt the scientific and intellectual underpinnings of their discipline are because they think they have something with which to replace it. Actually, they have two things: a new DSM and a new project initiated by the National Institute of Mental Health. DSM-5 and RDoC  actually have very little in common, although no one quite wants to admit it, preferring instead to pretend that the APA and the NIMH are singing kumbaya together. But they do share this sudden antipathy toward psychiatry up to this point, and they’ve both pointed the finger at the same culprit: the DSM-IV.

So this convention is very much a DSM-IV hatefest. The book not only reflects the lack of what Insel calls Science; it is one of the big reasons why psychiatry is so benighted, and its continued use can only further benight the profession.

So far, it’s hard to disagree with them. But in their view, the DSM-IV fails because it is a phenomenological account of human suffering, i.e., because it looks to the actual lived experience of distress in order to understand it. It’s important to see that their beef isn’t with the quality of that account. It’s not like they’re saying that the DSM-5 needs to provide a better phenomenology than the DSM-IV. It’s that it should pay as little attention to people’s experience as possible, and  only until neuroscience makes it unnecessary. Evidently, the mistake Bob Spitzer made in formulating DSM-III (and DSM-IV is really only a modification of Spitzer’s approach) was in not sufficiently eliminating the human. Spitzer, they think, didn’t throw the Freudian baby–the idea that our suffering has some kind of meaning, that its specifics are important–out with the bathwater of Freud’s metapsychology.

Of course, neuroscience was just a twinkle in psychiatry’s eye when Spitzer was in charge, and not much more than that when Al Frances came along. But now, what with those fMRI and PET scans, with genetics and genomics and all the other biochemical techniques at their disposal, psychiatrists are ready to try to cut out the middleman–that’s you and me and our lived experience–entirely. They want to drill down to the deepest level of all, the molecular world where, in their view, we are assembled into selves. Why bother listening to patients, what with the vagaries of their language and all the deceptions and evasions in whcih they engage (not only because they are sick, mind you, but because they are human and therefore incapable of reporting accurately what’s going on in their amygdalas and their DNA), why bother trying to make sense out of what they tell you when you can just look at the readout or the brain image and find the pathology there? Why bother wondering if a person is schizophrenic or bipolar, if he has depression or anxiety, if what we think today is Asperger’s disorder really is mild autism when the answer is really none of the above, when the answer is that this person’s ventral medial prefrontal cortex and the circuits it feeds have gone haywire. What difference does it make how that pathology manifests. I mean, do we really care what kind of pain a cancerous tumor causes, or whether it causes pain at all?

 




What psychiatrists say to each other, etc., pt. 2
May 15th, 2011

Among the most interesting things Insel said was in his discussion of the disappointing results of the various genomic studies. Psychiatry is not alone in having found very few illnesses that correspond to particular genetic variants, but in the context of all the other problems, this failure is more problematic.

Psychiatry may be different from other specialties, however, it the extent to which it has promised much more than it has produced when it comes to the discovery of biochemical causes of disease. And here something Insel said bears particular notice. He went out of his way to point out that there are no variants that map onto disruptions in the metabolism of serotonin or dopamine, the neurotransmitters most familiar to us from the repeated assertions, in doc tors’ offices and advertising and news stories. “It may be that neurotransmitters have nothing to do with pathophysiology or etiology of mental illness,” he added. Which he didn’t have to do, and every word Insel utters is significant, since he decides what studies get funded and therefore the overall direcction of psychiatric research. So what he was saying is, “Don’t come to me with more studies about neurotransmitters. That’s not where it’s at.” Someone will have to break the news to the drug companies that their best advertising strategy is kaput.

What I wonder is, in the 90 minutes that  Insel spoke, how many doctors told how many patients that they were suffering from a chemical imbalance or a serotonin deficiency or dopamine surge, which means they have a lifelong illness like diabetes and need to take drugs for it? The disconnect here between waht docs know and what they tell the rest of us is stunning and just plain wrong.

 




What psychiatrists tell each other while we’re listening to Prozac, pt. 1
May 15th, 2011

Here at the annual meeting of the American Psychiatric Association, I’m learning all about what terrible shape psychiatry is in. It used to be that this kind of bad news was delivered by fringe groups–gay psychiatrists, for instance, who informed the APA at annual meetings in the early 70s that neither they nor their patients were mentally ill just because they liked to have sex with people of the same sex, or the psychoanalysts who argued that the world would end if the industry turned to a non-Freudian conceptualization of mental illness, or just your usual doomsayers carping about reduced insurance payouts and so on.

But this year, it’s coming from the top, from America’s #1 psychiatrist, Tom Insel, the head of the National Institutes of Mental Health. In a speech kicking off the conference yesterday morning, Insel didn’t mince words. “We don’;t talk much about this,” he said, but when it comes to mental illnesses, psychiatrists lag far behind their colleagues in other specialties. “Diagnosis is by observation, detection is late, prediction is poor. Etiology is unknown, prevention is undeveloped. Therapy is by trial-and-error. We have no cures, no vaccines. We’re not even working on vaccines. Prevalence has not decreased. Mortality has not decreased.”

And it’s not like we’re talking about treating wrinkles or baldness here. Accordinb to the World Health Organization, mental illnesses are the most disabling afflictions worldwide, measured in something called Disability Adjusted Life Years. There were 34 thousand suicides in 2007, 90 percent of them related to mental illness. That;s more people than die in traffic accidents, and double the rate of homicide–and both of these have decreased in the past decade. People with serious mental illness have a 25 percent reduced life expectancy. And so on.

In short, mental illness is out of hand and psychiatrists don’t really understand what it is, how to diagnose it, or what to do about it.

At least that’s what they say to each other.

 




Ich bin ein Autismer
May 10th, 2011

And maybe you are too.

OK, that’s an exaggeration. For both of us, I’m guessing. But a widely publicized study in the American Journal of Psychiatry indicates that the official prevalence rates for autism are much lower than they ought to be. They’re already pretty high–one in 110 kids, one in 70 boys, as the banner at the top of the Autism Speaks website proclaims. But the new numbers are really scary: one in 38, nearly three times higher.

This is a vexing problem. And skeptical as I am of psychiatric diagnostics, I don’t think the increasing rates of autism are due solely to a clever manufacturing and marketing campaign, which is more than I can say about some other diagnoses. For one thing, there’s no drug to drive the diagnostic juggernaut. For another, there isn’t much subtle about what the DSM-IV calls autistic disorder. Once you’ve seen one of these kids, shrieking and rocking, unable to talk, hard-pressed to respond to love, and and their shell-shocked, despairing parents, you’d have to be some kind of raving ideologue, or maybe just a Scientologist, to claim that the psychiatrists made up this one to line their pockets and feed their egos.

I suspect that the increase in autistic disorder is real and due to some kind of environmental hazard that is so diffuse that it’s hard to see, let alone to track. Free estrogens, heavy metals, too much  flushed prozac (excreted and discarded) in the water supply, electromagnetic pollution from cell ophones and wi-fi, bad tv, who knows? But something is triggering this malfunction, or, as we used to say, a stress is turning a diathesis into a really bad disease.

So we can;’t blame this one on psychiatry. Or can we?

If you look at those CDC numbers (and I suggest you do; they’re surprisingly accessible, and the CDC provides simple explanations of their statistical charts and tables), you discover that they were derived by examining the records of kids already identified by doctors or teachers as having developmental problems. Most of them were already diagnosed with a developmental disorder; the CDC reviewed the notes, confirmed the autism diagnoses and added in the kids who had the symptoms but not the diagnoses and concluded that one in 110 of them qualified for a diagnosis along the autism spectrum.

Now, here’s the problem: the “autism spectrum.” At some point in the post-DSM-IV era, the decision was made to create an autism spectrum disorder (ASD) out of diagnoses ranging from Asperger Disorder to Autistic Disorder and taking in some other, mostly rare, DSM-IV diagnoses along the way, and to call it the autism spectrum. This move, which will be made official in the DSM-5, has the effect of declaring all these problems as variations on a theme, with the strong implication that they share some biochemical basis and differ primarily in severity and presentation rather than in essence. Scientifically, politically, and philosophically, this is a rat’s nest, which I won’t go into here, except to say that by creating the spectrum, psychiatrists (and neurologists) are claiming much more than they have proved. Which means that they set the agenda with what they think (and maybe hope) is the case, and subsequent research that uses the spectrum can only confirm that it exists.

Among the implications of the spectrum, however, is the fact that epidemiological research using it, like the new AJP study, will count kids with Asperger Syndrome as “autistic.” There is no doubt that this will increase prevalence rates, but it is still an open question by how much. Previous studies, like the CDC’s, just don’t provide an answer.

But the new research is clear on this question. Rather than looking only at kids already identified, this study looked at 36,800 students in a single Korean city in a single school year. Three hundred of the kids were already identified as special needs, and thus as having a high probability for a diagnosis; the rest were just your average kids on the street minding their own business and un-sick enough not to have come to the attention of the authorities. But after the numbers were crunched, the researchers concluded that many of them were evidently harboring a serious mental illness without knowing it: 2.64 percent of the school age population of Goyang City, Korea, is “on the spectrum,” or as Autism Speak(a cosponsor of the study) is sure to proclaim soon, one in 38 kids is autistic.

Now that is a stunning number, especially when you consider that only one in 133 (three-quarters of a percentage point) of the population had already been identified as autistic. In other words, if you go out looking for trouble, you’ll find it in one in 38 kids. But if you wait for trouble to come to you, only one in 133 will turn out to have the kind of trouble you’re interested in. Now that could be because of reluctance among parents (the researchers note among “cultural considerations” the fact that “autism impugns the child’s lineage on both sides and threatens the marriage prospects of unaffected relatives”) or ignorance or something. But it’s also possible (I would say likely) that autistic disorder (as opposed to the other disorders on the spectrum), the kind of suffering that is bound to come to notice, is relatively rare.

Some other numbers bear this out. The overall rate of those “other ASDs” was roughly twice that of the autistic disorders. One in 106 of the overall population had autistic disorder; one in 58 had another ASD, and presumably many, if not most, of these were Asperger cases. To put it another way, out of any thousand of these children, 9 had autistic disorder and seventeen had another ASD. Now this could simply reflect the fact that Asperger’s is more common than autistic disorder, which is undoubtedly true. But that’s the point. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to fold a muchlarger category into a smaller one, and then to use the name of the smaller (and more severe) disorder for both of them.

Not that it’s a good thing that one out of every 58 kids qualifies for an Asperger diagnosis and one in 106 has autistic disorder. But it’s at least a little less frightening than the idea that one in 38 is autistic, especially when the commonly held meaning of “autism,” accurate or not, is the head-banging, shit-throwing, totally regressed nightmare child, while the head of Facebook is widely thought of as an “Aspie.” And this is exactly the kind of problem that jiggering diagnoses can lead to: increased prevalence that can’t be easily dimissed as a statistical artifact, that indeed seems plausible until you engage in some deconstruction of the terms of the research. A study like these needs a hermeneutician as much as a statistician.

And one other thing: What are we to make of the fact that the prevalence of autistic disorder in the Korean  study–one in 106–is so close to the CDC’s prevalence figure for autism (1 in 110)? Could it be that the CDC numbers, by relying on cases thast have already come to the attention of doctors or teachers, inadvertently filter out most of those “other ASD” cases? Is it possible that what the Korean study really shows is what happens when a diagnosis is actually applied to a population, and that the answer says more about the diagnosis than the population?