Tag: CPR Series Mad Lectures

This lecture dove straight into the history of animosity between science and religion with discussion of scientists as individuals either without a mind or without a soul. Dr. Giancarlo ran through as many major cinematic depictions of the mad scientist trope as possible, from the original in Metropolis (1927) to any number of Frankenstein films (1910, 1931, etc.) in order to juxtapose the common characteristics and motivations with depictions of science from the viewpoint of the church. This involved heavy analysis of science’s driving goal or motivation—while many would argue it is a scientist’s desire to play god, others would suggest it is to better mankind. Dr. Giancarlo explained this as the crux of the madness or soullessness debate, given that such clear guidelines for what is god and what is man establishes what is normative behavior and aspirations for man. Therefore, madness is created as a label for any individual with intent to deviate from the norm.
While this presentation of facts followed a decent logic, I feel that certain aspects of the lecture did not sit well with me. Disability studies is nothing if not interdisciplinary—my academic experience and research desires are nothing if not interdisciplinary. I cannot help but feel that a trope such as the mad scientist, which Dr. Giancarlo admitted rose largely in response to the use of science for warfare, should be addressed as a response to the inherent divorce of science from humanities. When a case is presented, as it was in this lecture, of a real live scientist such as Fritz Haber, known for his work in the fixation of nitrogen to fertilize the land and feed the nation, whose labor was co-opted by the government for violence (specifically, gas chambers), it not only presents science as something that is inherently good, only corrupted out of happenstance, but as something that is doing its best as is. I, like many other disabled activists, cannot stress enough that science could do better and is obligated to do so. Yes, scientists can have good intentions and they can make wonderful creations—countless accessibility devices and therapies have been created, often times by disabled scientists—but this does not mean that intentions outweigh impact. The field as a whole must take a reasonable level of accountability and enforce a standard of curriculum that rounds out their understanding of their impact. I study psychology! I know how little even the social sciences care to educate us on our torturous past and present, and how much what we learn is actually rooted in eugenicist ideals. We have a crisis in the field of only reporting the results we favor; we have institutional problems of favoring the privileged and therefore endorsing wildly biased ideals! Pretending that ethics boards are enough to topple power dynamics, or that learning the “objective facts” of science is enough to ensure scientists are doing the best they can is unacceptable. As a scientist, I feel obligated to accept the criticism the mad scientist trope provides. I may not be responsible for all of the violence done through scientific means, but I am obligated to know my history and to prevent any further damage. Just as my position as a white, able bodied woman, I feel obligated to accept criticism, to know my history, and to challenge the systems that inherently benefit me as they stand. Recognizing these privileges does not posit us as god-like nor as soulless, it merely presents us with an opportunity to do better.

WC: 586
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

This lecture, starting with disability rights’ iconic “nothing about us without us,” and leaping into discussion of the deep need for disabled voices in representation of mental illness, forced me to reevaluate some of my own thoughts and feelings on tropes I had normalized growing up.
I have always been inherently bothered by tropes of disturbed, mad, or mentally ill villains for the obvious perpetuation of neurodivergence as criminal, so when she made reference to the romanticization of the Joker character, I was entirely on-board. That stereotyping has real live consequences—just look at how many laws there are that ask the state to identify mentally ill individuals by their danger level first, humanity second! When she made reference to the demonization of asylums via Arkham Asylum, though, I was entirely unsure of my own feelings. I am by no means anti-psychiatry or against any other accessible, nontoxic form of healthcare, for that matter; obviously so much of disability rights activism has been centered around the right to access these institutions. I suppose the most annoyance I ever truly got out of demonizing institutions in fiction is that it has allowed unaffected individuals—namely, neurotypicals—to distance themselves, finding the medical tortures and abuse to be a thing of the past, if real at all. Maybe it even deepens that fear neurotypicals have of disability because they feel that such maltreatment is the only option? I truly do not know; I cannot identify the tropes as the cause of the disconnect between myself and others when I would describe the horrendous things doctors had gotten away with right before my own eyes—that surely has more to do with an inability to empathize with a lived experienced outside their own, one that their privilege kept them from seeing—but it definitely helped widen the gap. However, in dissecting popularized depictions of medical institutions and mentally ill characters, I feel more understanding of the ways in which creating such tropes can demonize institutions for those that need it and interfere with their right to treatment.
In the past couple days, I seem to be coming back to the thought that these portrayals, while potentially based in some reality, cannot be the only representation available. It has linked in my mind as similar to the way deinstitutionalization activists had to fight for the right to treatment and the right to refuse treatment. Many felt that fighting for the “negative” right detracted from the “positive” right and vice versa; positive representation of healthcare may seem unrealistic, even if in an effort to destigmatize the experience for some (or even if simply in an effort to imagine a world where healthcare is not so taxing) it may be seen as taking away from the negative experiences portrayed, and the negative portrayals may be stigmatizing or depressing the individuals needing some positive representation. In the same way that disabled creators should be allowed to express their experiences of maltreatment and abuse through fiction without bearing the weight of having to imagine better institutions, disabled creators should also be allowed to express their positive (imagined or otherwise) experiences with institutions through fiction without feeling responsible for the general ignorance of neurotypicals. I suppose this is simply another situation in which polarizing depictions can only be resolved by more diverse, authentic representation.

WC: 573
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

From what I understood of this lecture—and I cannot pretend that was much, in the grand scheme of things—there is perplexity to the way in which Descartes mentioned and then quickly abandoned the conception of madness as a challenge to proving the existence of an entity. Dr. Gorman led this discussion by first exploring the ways in which philosophy and mental illness have been known to interact through the case of Phineas Gage. Gage, the man we have to learn about in every psychology course to have ever existed, sustained a traumatic brain injury (specifically injuring the frontal lobe) and supposedly had a large change in personality and behavior. This obviously really impacted the ways in which we view humanity (mind, body, soul ‘n’ whatnot), but that is not exactly where this talk went with it. According to Dr. Shelley Tremain, this purported change in personality came about in response to differential treatment and ableism post-trauma; this ableism, baked into the sciences, raises a lot of questions for philosophers interested in discovering ethical approaches to disability. With that in mind, there was a circle back to Descartes’ argument. I still have no real idea where I stand on that; I imagine there is validity to the idea that he ditched it in order to avoid being stigmatized. What got me interested in the lecture, though, was the whole explanation of the principle of charity (not assuming the worst argument possible is intentional) and the principle of humanity (actions as close to your imagined own) as correlated and potentially undermining of neurodivergence. It reminded me of Dr. Alisha Gaines’ talk about a year ago on the ways in which many white ‘allies’ have responded to racism; the gist of that being that so much ‘allyship’ has historically centered the privileged self and based itself on the contention that if an experience is ‘unempathizable’ (for lack of a better word) to the masses then it is not worth considering and/or dignifying. In the same way that a dreaming state has often been likened with madness, perhaps as a ‘more accessible’ form of mental illness, white ‘allies’ have a deep history of parading around in blackface in order to witness (witness, not experience) racial discrimination ‘first hand.’ It all ties together in my head with assumed experiences over lived experiences; Gage’s condition medically being assumed over his condition socially, etc. (I am truly hoping at least 2% of this response made sense).

WC: 410
I pledge: Rebekah Stone

This lecture began with an overview of disability models, psychoanalytic perspectives of psychology, and surrealist principles, leading up to discussion of Hans Prinzhorn’s Artistry of the Mentally Ill (1922). Dr. DeLancey described Prinzhorn as having had a history of education in art and psychology, and she used his work to open up conversation on the fetishization and othering of the neurodivergent in multiple ways. Psychology at this time was all about Freud; everyone had an unconscious mind and symptomatic behaviors were merely indicative of latent thought needing to become manifest. Surrealism, an artistic movement of the time intending to challenge societal conventions by opening up the aforementioned unconscious mind, fixated on the minds of children, “primitive” (non-Western) cultures and societies, and the mentally ill. I contend that this fixation is not only fetishizing and mystifying, but a practice of cultural voyeurism. It is not the easiest argument to make, given that culture typically implies group identity, and mental illness had no clear-cut definition, but I am stickin’ with my gut on this one. The medical model aimed to eliminate disability, though medical institutions held more than just disabled individuals (insert long history of institutionalizing individuals over sexuality, gender, politics, etc.); institutionalized identity is broader than that which the surrealists aimed to objectify and appropriate. They wanted the edginess of all those that had been othered, but they specifically wanted the psychiatrically disabled; they wanted a lived experience they could never have, even if they tried (which they did, of course, with drugs). More bluntly, surrealist interest in the art of the mentally ill did little to encourage the creators or grant them autonomy or freedom; even Prinzhorn’s work pushed no boundaries. At best, it co-opted trauma narrative and commodified their creative endeavors (which, even with payout and consent, definitely played into saneism and infantilization for the way it was carried out).

WC: 311
I pledge: Rebekah Stone