Phobias: Fighting the Fear. Helen Saul

for absolute truths and was not attempting to pit future psychiatrist against future psychiatrist. However, his reasoning led to Cartesian dualism, which has translated into medical circles as the great divide between mind and body. Does the cause of a psychological problem such as a phobia lie in the thinking mind or in the physical brain? The question has never been answered and professionals line up on opposite sides of this divide. Geneticists, molecular biologists and neurophysiologists, looking ever more closely into the physical and mechanistic workings of the brain, represent the ‘body’ side of the argument. Their remit is to explore the parts of the brain that can make us susceptible to phobias, anxiety and panic, somehow change its delicate chemistry and reduce our fear. On the ‘mind’ side, psychologists and psychotherapists examine past experiences or current beliefs and aim to challenge and change our thinking patterns to dispel our phobias.

      Descartes believed that mind and body were closely linked and he would not have supported this interpretation of his work. In The Passions of the Soul he wrote: ‘There is such a tie between our soul and body that when we once have joined any corporal action with any thought, one of them never presents itself without the other.’ It is ironic that a philosopher who gave himself the widest possible brief is best remembered for naming the rift between some of the most polarised views in medicine and psychiatry.

      He even named the meeting place between mind and body as the pineal gland. We now know that the pineal is sensitive to light and one of the hormones produced there, melatonin, regulates our sleep-wake cycle. Scientists researching jet lag and shift-work patterns have long been interested in the pineal but their work apparently had little relevance to phobias. However, some researchers now believe that certain light frequencies, acting via the pineal, may influence our susceptibility to both anxiety and phobias (discussed further in chapter 9).

      Descartes’ belief in the central nature of thinking and reason makes him, like the Stoics before him, a rationalist. Cognitive therapists say that our beliefs fuel our fear, almost ‘I think, therefore I am frightened.’ Chapter 6, on cognition, examines at this in depth and it is quite possible that Descartes would have agreed with some of the main ideas.

      Immanuel Kant, more than a hundred years after Descartes, was another rationalist, and his ideas fit equally well with cognitive therapy. Again, he stressed the importance of reason. He said, ‘The understanding cannot see. The senses cannot think. Only by their union can knowledge be produced.’

      Kant believed that our ideas shape our view of the world. It is as if our ideas are spectacles that distort what we see. They determine what we focus on and how appealing it looks. We do not see an event itself, but only its appearance through these unreliable glasses. Put simply, there are alternative ways of looking at any event. Cognitive therapists today would agree. They aim to change people’s interpretation of events, just like adjusting their spectacles to change the focus or the tint.

       Locke and Empiricism

      An alternative view is that reason does not come into it at all. The human mind is, in fact, like a blank sheet of paper. Ideas are generated through our physical senses and our experiences, and projected on to this blank sheet. We work on the information derived from our senses, make associations and generalisations and build up our psychological picture of the world. No matter how abstract or complex the idea, it begins with physical sensations. Even belief in the existence of God can be built up in this way.

      These are the thoughts of John Locke, who was working soon after Descartes. He belonged to the opposite tradition in philosophy, empiricism, which rated experience above all else.

      Learning and memory are built on experience alone, Locke said. Phobias are therefore learnt as the result of a bad experience. And like behavioural therapists today, he said that fear can also be unlearnt through experience. Locke’s most important work was the Essay Concerning Human Understanding, published in 1690. His advice on dealing with irrational fears could have come straight out of a modern behaviour therapy textbook:

      If your child shrieks and runs away at the sight of a frog, let another catch it and lay it down at a good distance from him; at first accustom him to look upon it; when he can do that, to come nearer to it and see it leap without emotion; then to touch it lightly, when it is held fast in another’s hand; and so on, until he can come to handle it as confidently as a butterfly or sparrow.

      Empiricists like Locke would be at home talking to behaviour therapists in the twenty-first century.

      Behaviourism aligns itself with empiricism in the same way that cognitivism is linked with rationalism. These two schools of thought have continued through history like parallel lines, never getting any closer to each other. They ask different questions and look for different answers. Empiricists and behaviourists want to know what a boy does if you send a dog into the room where he is sitting. Rationalists and cognitivists ask why the boy starts screaming and climbs out of the window.

      Unfortunately, accurate observation and brilliant insights did not necessarily translate into practical and humane treatments. The seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries may have been a time of rapid progress in theories of learning and thinking, but people with anxiety disorders probably shrank from some of the proffered cures. The physician Thomas Sydenham suggested that hysterical disorders or today’s anxiety disorders could be helped with ‘bleeding, purging, opiates, foetid medicines, chalybeate medicines, filings of steel and rhenish wines, plaister at the navel, hysteric julap, opening pills or electuary’. Another writer regarded anxiety as a symptom of cardiac disease and recommended ‘narcotics and anodynes, mucilages, things fat and emplastik, emulsions and roborants’. Royalty escaped lightly in comparison, and Queen Anne’s physician Sir Richard Blackmore used opium because, he wrote in 1725, ‘It calms and soothes the disorders and perturbations of the animal spirits.’

      Treatment provided by the clergy was, perhaps predictably, more orientated towards ‘mind’ than ‘body’. One minister thought that the key to treating anxiety was to ‘put them in a Pleased condition’. Another clergyman who specialised in ‘Spiritual physicke to cure the diseases of the soule’ was effectively an early psychotherapist and recommended the use of silence.

      Darwin and the Dawn of

       Modern Science

      Charles Darwin had no desire for a head-on collision with the Church. By nature he was diplomatic and unassuming, certainly not confrontational. On top of this, his beloved wife Emma Wedgewood was deeply religious. But he was exasperated by the Church’s stranglehold on biology. The doctrine that we are made in the image of God, implying our perfection, was a particular problem. It elevated any study of humans into a direct challenge to God’s greatness and effectively stifled scientific thought.

      Scientists in other disciplines in the early nineteenth century had much more freedom than biologists. Darwin viewed them jealously as he wrote: ‘What would the Astronomer say to the doctrine that the planets moved [not] according to the laws of gravitation, but from the Creator having willed each separate planet to move in its particular orbit?’

      Another problem facing biology was the legacy of rationalist philosophy. It had produced great insights and set up trains of thought still followed today, but in practical terms it had come to a dead end. The philosophical view of the brain did not lend itself to systematic study. Kant even said that the mind was unquantifiable and beyond direct investigation so that a science of the mind was a logical impossibility.

      Darwin eventually overcame these obstacles and his work paved the way for an explosion of activity in mind and brain research. The parts relevant to phobias are explored in detail in the next chapter, but his greatest contribution was, in the mildest possible manner, to wrest control of biology from the Church.

      The Origin of Species, published in 1859, simply observed that living things adapt themselves to their surroundings. Species change over generations, he said. And if living things are not God-given, created once for all time, this implies that they are a legitimate target for scientific study. Darwin carefully excluded humans so as not to court more problems with the Church than