What You Can Change _. And What You Can't - Martin E. Seligman [122]
Absent coercion, we are free. Freedom of the will, choice, the possibility of change, mean nothing more—absolutely nothing more—than the absence of coercion. This means simply that we are free to change many things about ourselves. Indeed, the main facts of this book—that depressives often become nondepressives, that lifelong panickers become panic free, that impotent men become potent again, that adults reject the sex role they were raised with, that alcoholics become abstainers—demonstrate this. None of this means that therapists, parents, genes, good advice, and even dyspepsia do not influence what we do. None of this denies that there are limits on how much we can change. It only means that we are not prisoners.
Catharsis
The first inner-child premise—that childhood events determine adult personality—is false. Now I want to turn to the second inner-child premise—that coming to grips with childhood abuse cures adult problems.
John Bradshaw, in his best-seller Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child, details several of his imaginative techniques: asking forgiveness of your inner child, divorcing your parent and finding a new one, like Jesus, stroking your inner child, writing your childhood history. These techniques go by the name catharsis, that is, emotional engagement in past trauma-laden events. Catharsis is magnificent to experience and impressive to behold. Weeping, raging at parents long dead, hugging the wounded little boy who was once you, are all stirring. You have to be made of stone not to be moved to tears. For hours afterward, you may feel cleansed and at peace—perhaps for the first time in years. Awakening, beginning again, and new departures all beckon.
Catharsis, as a therapeutic technique, has been around for more than a hundred years. It used to be a mainstay of psychoanalytic treatment, but no longer. Its main appeal is its afterglow. Its main drawback is that there is no evidence that it works.15 When you measure how much people like doing it, you hear high praise. When you measure whether anything changes, catharsis fares badly. Done well, it brings about short-term relief—like the afterglow of vigorous exercise. But once the glow dissipates, as it does in a few days, the real problems are still there: an alcoholic spouse, a hateful job, early-morning blues, panic attacks, a cocaine habit. There is no documentation that the catharsis techniques of the recovery movement help in any lasting way with chronic emotional problems. There is no evidence that they alter adult personality. And, strangely, catharsis about fictitious memories does about as well as catharsis about real memories. The inner-child advocates, having treated tens of thousands of suffering adults for years, have not seen fit to do any follow-ups.16 Because catharsis techniques are so superficially appealing, because they are so dependent on the charisma of the therapist, and because they have no known lasting value, my advice is “Let the buyer beware.”
The Moral Dimension of Recovery Re-examined
I can find no support for the two basic assumptions of the recovery movement: that childhood abuse influences adult personality, and that cure by catharsis works. Even if the movement has no foundation, however, the appeal of taking on the victim label is still great. It is democratic, it is consoling, it raises our self-esteem, and it transforms others’ contempt into compassion. Or does it?
It depends on the alternatives. If you are alcoholic, the disease label may once have helped you a great deal. The only alternative label used to be “bad person.” Disease is curable, limited, and impersonal. Bad character is permanent, pervasive, and personal. Believing you are bad leads to helplessness, hopelessness, and self-hate. Believing you have a disease can lead to action, seeking out a cure, renewed hope, and some measure of self-esteem. If you are a black teenager, unemployed and facing jail, explaining your troubles as discrimination or bad schools may help for the same reason. The alternative labels, “stupid,