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Archive for the ‘narrative’ Category

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Michael Foley, focusing on Henri Bergson’s philosophy in “Life Lessons from Bergson”, writes –

there is a tendency to see what things have in common rather than what makes them unique, the source of a dispiriting sense of sameness.
As a doctor I need to know how to make a diagnosis. I also need a knowledge of the natural history of disease. However to actually help any individual patient I need something else as well – knowledge of this individual. So, I have to be able to see what things people have in common (certain symptoms and signs which indicate particular pathologies perhaps) and I need to be able to see this person sitting in front of me right now.
This person sitting in front of me right now is not the same as all the others. Every narrative I hear is unique and individual. No two patients have led, or are leading, identical lives, with identical bodies, minds, values and beliefs.
Reducing the individual to what they have in common with others is, in my opinion, “the source of a dispiriting sense of sameness”. That’s why I have such an aversion to Medicine by flow-chart, and the distorted practice of so called evidence based medicine which seeks to replace subjective human experience with data.
In short, we do not see the actual things themselves but in most cases confine ourselves to reading the attached labels.
Our left cerebral hemisphere is great for analysing things, sorting them into categories and applying labels, but it’s not enough. We have to attempt to “see the actual things themselves” and not be blinded by the labels. For doctors, that includes seeing the actual patients themselves, and not confining their understanding to the “attached labels” – diagnoses, categories or types.
I think the creation and appreciation of narrative is an important part of a doctor’s job and it requires more than a knowledge of the “medical sciences”.
Here’s Michael Foley again –
A crucial function of the arts is to prevent, or break down, dismissive labelling and reveal the singular instead of the similar, the peculiar instead of the familiar, and the inscrutable instead of the understood.
This reminds me so much of Deleuze’s three modes of thinking – science, which is thinking about function; philosophy, which is thinking about concepts; and, art, which is thinking about percepts and affects. Deleuze was a great advocate of thinking about difference too.
What an elegant phrase too – revealing “the singular instead of the similar, the peculiar instead of the familiar, and the inscrutable instead of the understood”.
What a great way to enhance respect for the individual – seeing them as unique and knowing you will never achieve a complete understanding them….which reminds me of Saint-Éxupery’s teaching that “What is essential is invisible to the eye”

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In Life Lessons from Bergson, Michael Foley writes –

What happens when we fail to live in duration, no longer hear the inner melody and lose touch with the intuitive self? We become frozen, petrified – automatons, slaves of habit or convention or both. 
“Living in duration” is living in the experience of life, being fully present, attentive and aware. The opposite is to live in our inner worlds of representations and labels. Iain McGilchrist describes this brilliantly in his The Emperor and His Emissary, showing how the right hemisphere of our cerebral cortex processes the raw information as we pick it up from the world, then hands off some of it to be re-presented and analysed in the left hemisphere. What should happen next is that the analyses and representations are fed back to the right side to be re-contextualised. McGilchrist makes the point that, sadly, we’ve created a world where we forget the importance of the activities of our right hemispheres, and give primacy to those of the left.
“Hearing our inner melody” is a beautiful phrase. When we experience music we don’t experience it as separate notes and pauses. We experience it as rhythm and melody.
And our “intuitive self”? That deep, natural, heart-focused knowing….
What happens when we lose touch with those things? We get rigid and stuck.
There is no doubt that the pressures to conform in our society are enormous. It seems to me we are becoming less and less tolerant of difference, fearing “others” and suppressing diversity.
Every day we need to freely choose what to do, what to say, and what to think. As Michael Foley says –
Our freedom, in the very movements that affirm it, creates the developing habits that will stifle if it fails to be renewed by constant effort: it is dogged by automatism.
This is the fundamental theme of this blog – we all tend to default into autopilot and in so doing we live in a more limited, and less fully human way – like zombies – with habits and routines and “norms” on loops. Our alternative is to wake up, become aware and consciously choose to become the author of the one unique story in which we are the hero, the protagonist, the main character.
William James, who shared many of the same views as Bergson said
Could the young but realize how soon they will become mere walking bundles of habits, they would give more heed to their conduct while in the plastic state. (Psychology: The Briefer Course, 1892)
My only issue with that statement is I don’t accept we completely lose our “plastic state” – what he means by “plastic” is dynamic, malleable, capable of being changed. Sure, as we become constrained by our habits and automatisms, it becomes harder to change.
But with awareness and will, change is possible!

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September’s issue of Philiosophie magazine has an interview with the Japanese author, Kenzaburô ôe who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1994.

It’s a fascinating and striking article. He has been a controversial figure in Japan because of the subject matter of his novels, one of which challenges the official version of what happened in Okinawa at the end of the Second World War. Officially, 100,000 Okinawans committed suicide claiming loyalty to the Emperor rather than be over-run by the invading Americans. Kenzaburô says this is a lie. He says the Imperial Army massacred the Okinawans and they died called for their mothers, not swearing loyalty to the Emperor.

He has also shone a clear light on the reality of life for those who survived the blasts in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Telling their stories shows how these particular bombs didn’t just kill and wound when they were dropped, but continue to damage those who survived right into the present day.

It’s no surprise then to read that since Fukushima he actively campaigns for the abandonment of nuclear power in Japan.

A big part of the story of his life is the birth of his son in 1963. Hikari was born with a severe brain defect and his parents had to decide to either let him die, or have an operation which would likely leave him severely mentally handicapped. They chose the latter. In addition to his severe handicap he has autism and he didn’t speak until he was six.

His first words were actually a sentence. The family was walking in the forest and at the sound of a particular bird call, Hikari said, in exactly the same way a radio presenter of a nature documentary would, “that is the call of the (such an such bird)” – and it was! After that his parents started buying bird song CDs and Hikari learned them all. They moved on to music, playing him Bach and Mozart, and were astonished to find, as he got older, that he could transcribe into musical notation perfectly any piece of music after hearing it just once. More than that, he went on to compose his own music.

Kenzaburô says his son has never expressed any emotion but his music is deeply emotional. His first CD sold 400,000 copies in Japan.

Here’s a video clip of one of his pieces.

Kenzaburô’s daily life is spent in his study reading and writing, while his son sits by him listening to, and writing, music.

A remarkable man.

Right at the end of the interview he says of creative work that it is important to find your own voice, or your own style – to be careful not to “get lost in the universal”.

I like that a lot. Too often we lose our singular uniqueness by trying to be accepted, or to fit in, or to be popular. Isn’t it more important to be the one unique person who only we can be?

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The Mission

I recently received my first “Discover Weekly Playlist” from Spotify and so far, I’ve really enjoyed every single track. So, does Spotify “know” me?

We have more and more services like this around us – Amazon telling us what other people who bought “this” also bought (or even looked at!), Apple telling us what other apps other people bought who bought this particular one….and so on. This is something which Maria Popova has written about in her excellent Brain Pickings

I recently found myself in an intense conversation with a friend about privacy — why it matters; how much of it we’re relinquishing and what for; whether it is even possible to maintain even a modicum of control over our own privacy at this point…….It suddenly struck me that our cultural narrative about privacy is completely backward: What we really fear is not that the internet — or a prospective employer, or a nosy lover, or Big Brother — knows too much about us, but that it knows too little; that it fails to encompass Whitman’s multitudes which each of contains; that it reduces the larger, complex truth of who we are to a few fragmented facts about what we do; that it hijacks our rich, ever-evolving personal stories and replaces them with disjointed anecdotal data.

I hadn’t thought of it that way around when it comes to the internet, but she is definitely onto something. The underlying truth of what she is referring to is similar to what I read years ago in Mary Midgley’s “Wisdom, Information and Wonder” where she wrote –

One cannot claim to know somebody merely because one has collected a pile of printed information about them

That observation seemed absolutely true to me in the domain of health care where sadly, far, far too often, “data” or “information” is ALL that is known about a particular patient as individual narratives are dismissed as “anecdotes” or “unscientific subjectivity”. That dominant way of practising Medicine always seemed to me to be just the opposite of how it should be done. Information, or data, can tell you something about some aspect of a person’s disease but it’s a long way from the person’s own narrative.

One of the dangers of substituting data for narrative is the presumption of knowing – I used to say to patients that each of us spends a lifetime trying to really know ourselves (and I’m not sure any of ever complete that task!) so how can I presume to know them from hearing just a little of their story over the course of an hour or so? Frankly, reducing their stories to a few data points just takes doctors and nurses even further away from knowing their patients.

Maria Popova’s recommendation to counter this is to “master the art of personal narrative” –

Perhaps the most potent antidote to this increasingly disempowering cultural shift is to grow ever more thoughtful and deliberate about how we tell our own stories

Thought provoking, huh?

Even when someone uses the personal data we’ve shared to offer us more music, books, restaurants etc, that we may like, I think its best to keep these things as hints. That’s why “discover weekly” works for me – it doesn’t assume the impossible – they don’t know me – but I’m happy to have them help me discover new music. And I’ll use some of their suggestions to continue to make my own playlists.

Where are you with this issue of information, privacy and how we make ourselves known to the world?

 

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It strikes me that the practice of Medicine (I’m specifically referring to the world of Medicine for humans here), begins and ends with a relationship between human beings.

I’ll just focus on the doctor-patient relationship here, because that’s how I spent my working life. But I suspect that much of what is relevant to this relationship is also true for other health care workers, and perhaps even in other areas of human life.

When I say the practice of Medicine begins and ends with a relationship between human beings, I mean that the whole, unique person who is the patient has to be understood, cared about and attended to, by the whole unique person who is the doctor. Both individuals are important. I think this is partly why there are no doctors who are the best doctors for everyone, and I think it explains how in a group General Practice, each of the doctors in the partnership will have a specific loyal cohort of patients who always seek a consultation with that one particular doctor.

I also think this means that the whole person must always be considered. Anything less is reduced, and anything reduced is less than human.

In this context, I recently read “A General Theory of Love”, by Drs Thomas Lewis, Fari Amini and Richard Lannon. [ISBN 978-0-375-70922-7]. This book describes the model of the triune brain, which you might have come across elsewhere. (My introduction to that model was Dan Seigel, and later, Rick Hanson). It’s the observation that we have three brain regions – the brain stem, which is responsible for survival, and is found even in reptiles (henceforth to be known as the “reptilian brain”), the limbic system, which is responsible for memory processing and emotions (called the “mammalian brain”, because all mammals have this part), and the neocortex, which is massively developed in humans and seems to give us the capacities for abstract thought, conscious decision making and rational analysis.

In “A General Theory of Love”, Thomas Lewis and his colleagues focus on the limbic system – they describe in detail how this part of the brain helps us to “feel” other people’s feelings. It’s the kind of phenomenon that others call “heart feelings”. Without this part we’d have the reptilian survival strategies or the cold, analytic distancing of the neocortex. Let me be really clear here – this is a simplification and human beings are a lot more complicated than that. But this is a useful simplification which clarifies certain truths about what it is to be a human being.

In this post, I want to just bring to your attention some of the points the authors make when taking this perspective on the practice of Medicine, because I think health care is in a dire and degenerating situation in the world.

The last century saw a two-part transformation in the practice of medicine. First, an illness beset the relationship between doctor and patient, then radical restructuring attached the residual integrity of that attenuated tie.

I think the illness and the radical restructuring they refer to developed from a general reductive de-humanising of health care. Iain McGilchrist has shown how a “left hemisphere approach” has come to dominate society and I find that explanation helpful. Lewis says

American medicine has come to rely on intellect as the agency of cure. The neocortical brain has enjoyed a meteoric ascendancy within medicine even as the limbic star has fallen into disfavour.

Whilst this focus is a little different, the basic point is actually the same. By coming to rely on data, figures, statistics and techniques, we have reduced the human-ness of medicine. We’ve increasingly denigrated the patient’s narrative, the individual’s subjective experience, and the place of heart felt caring.

The limbic brain has a crucial role to play in attachment, and Lewis describes attachment theory along with the physical and social consequences of disordered attachment incredibly clearly. And here’s one of the most important points in this book – the physical reality and hence importance of relationships, emotions and attachment –

Medicine has lost sight of this truth: attachment is physiology

The radical restructuring they refer to is seen throughout Western Medicine – its the rise of bureaucracy. We see it in the proliferation of protocols and guidelines, of the prioritisation of measurement – what others have referred to as “Taylorism 2.0” (the modern equivalent of Taylor’s “scientific management”) – at the expense of what cannot be measured – the lived experiences of the patients and the health care workers.

Good physicians have always known that the relationship heals. Indeed good doctors existed before any modern therapeutic instruments did…

For many years, the medical community hasn’t believed that anything substantive travels between doctor and patient unless it goes down a tube or through a syringe.

They neatly sum up their thesis with

medicine was once mammalian and is now reptilian

Corporations and organisations have taken the high ground imposing their limits, their rules and regulations on those who try to care.

A corporation has customers, not patients; it has fiscal relationships not limbic ones.

The use of terms “customers”, “clients” and “consumers” in the area of health care has always disturbed me. Now I think I understand more clearly why!

I concur with this conclusion –

Before it is safe to go back to the doctor, a mammal will have to be in charge. And before that can happen, our physicians will have to recapture their belief in the substantive nature of emotional life and the determination to fight for it.

I’m not sure I’ve heard any politician, manager or profession leader say this so clearly – the problems facing health care are not ones of efficiency, targets and “better” guidelines. The problem is we need to make health care more human.

We need Medicine based on love, care and attention….where the heart is the keystone.

 

 

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paeony

If you look at the header of this blog page, you’ll see the byline “becoming not being”.

I was inspired by the writings of the French philosopher, Giles Deleuze, when I began this blog. He emphasised the difference between “être” and “devenir”. Here’s why –

Really everything in this universe constantly changes. It’s just that some things change more slowly than others. All living creatures, however, change quickly and unceasingly. Maybe you realise that none of the billions of cells which make up your body live as long as you do? Some of your cells only live a few days, whilst others have a life expectancy of a few years. The biological truth is that your body now contains very few cells which were there ten years ago.

We are more than our physical bodies. Our thoughts, feelings and sensations are in constant motion and we process all that information unceasingly. Hopefully, we mature, develop and grow through our lives. Discovering more talents, learning more skills, developing our behaviour and maturing our personalities.

We are more than single beings in isolation as well. We are incredibly social creatures. We live our days in constant exchange with other humans, with other animals and with the wider natural environment in which we live. It’s difficult, indeed I’d say impossible, to understand a person in isolation. We have to see each individual in the contexts within which they live.

How do we hold all these changes together and have some sense of stability? How do I still recognise myself in the flux of all these changes?

Well, partly, we do that by telling stories. Each of us is a narrative self. When you meet someone, you introduce yourself by telling where you came from, where you are now, and maybe also, where you hope to go. In other words, you tell a simple story with a beginning, a middle, and, if not an end, then at least a potential plot direction!

All living organisms are like this. It’s just that we have evolved to a greater level of complexity than other creatures and we, we humans, are the storytelling species.

So, if we focus on “to be” (on “être”) then we reduce the subject to an object. We pin down just part of a person to a particular place and time and we then try to label and categorise them on the basis of a small set of features or characteristics.

I find it so much more satisfying to focus on “becoming” (on “devenir”). It’s slippier, it’s more complex, but it’s more alive. And, fundamentally, it’s a much better reflection of reality.

Try it for yourself – try focusing on becoming instead of being…..

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There’s an excellent collection of articles about health in this month’s “Philosophie” magazine in France.

The cover instantly reminded me of the great quote by the American physician, Oliver Wendell Holmes –

Throw out opium, which the Creator himself seems to prescribe, for we often see the scarlet poppy growing in the cornfields, as if it were foreseen that wherever there is hunger to be fed there must also be a pain to be soothed; throw out a few specifics which our art did not discover, and it is hardly needed to apply; throw out wine, which is a food, and the vapors which produce the miracle of anaesthesia, and I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica [medical drugs], as now used, could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for mankind,—and all the worse for the fishes

Health is a much more complex and nuanced phenomenon than the simplistic ideas we are offered by the current dominant model of health care – that of Big Pharma and statistical medicine (drugs for every problem, protocols for every health care professional).

One of the central themes explored in this issue is summarised by the lead title of “Health, is it in your head?” There are those who promote the idea that all illness begins in the psyche and expresses itself in the body (Freud?), and others who promote the idea that all illness is physical, material change in the body whilst the psyche remains separate (Descartes?). There is a third option discussed, whose roots are traced to the philosophy of Spinoza – that the psyche and the body just express the same underlying disturbance, but each in their own language.

I like that third idea – it seems totally congruent with the core value of my lifetime of medical practice. I refused to divide a person into two parts – a mind and a body, and I used the philosophy that there is a system or a force within all life forms which produces growth, maintains health and repairs the organism when it is damaged. It’s interesting to see how the more recent discoveries of neurobiology are showing us more and more interconnectedness within a person – with amazing multitudes of connections and pathways between the different organs and tissues. It’s becoming increasingly untenable to hold one of the divided views.

One of the articles mentions an old essay by Kant, written in 1798 “Du pouvoir du mental d’être maître de ses sentimentsmaladifs par sa seule résolution”. In that essay he distinguishes between “la sensation” and “le savoir” of health – in English, perhaps, something like the difference between what health feels like and the knowledge of health. This strikes me as close to the nub of the issue.

We experience health. It’s something we can all assess and comment on. We can say when we feel well and when we feel ill. But we have also developed ways of knowing about organ or cellular functions, so we can discover what our blood pressure is, or what level of haemoglobin exists in our red blood cells (two things we could not know by “sensation”). The point is, both of these perspectives are real. We do not have the kind of nervous system which can make us aware of the moment to moment functions of the organs of our bodies at a conscious level. Indeed, how could any of us live that way? But the connections exist. A certain level of heart cell dysfunction may be experienced as palpitations, pain or breathlessness. However, the heart can malfunction without us being aware of it at all – the investigation known as an “ECG” (a cardiogram) can reveal a “silent infarct” – damage which occurred to the heart from a clot without the person having experienced any pain or breathlessness.

The connections which exist between “sensation” and “consciousness” are complex but clearly non-linear – in other words, a small change in one area can have either a large, or a negligible, effect on another.

Isn’t this why we can encounter a person who feels very ill, but whose investigations are all “normal”, and why we find people who have “abnormal” results in investigations, but who feel completely well?

Where modern medical practice goes wrong, I believe, is by attributing truth to “knowledge” whilst dismissing “experience” as unreliable and so, not useful. This has come about from our obsession with measurement. We can measure physical changes, but we can’t measure pain, breathless, dizziness, nausea, or any of the other “sensations” of illness.

But to attribute symptoms (sensations) to mental disorders when physical test results are all within the normal range is neither rational, nor clever.

I think we need, in every case, a person-specific synthesis of what the tests tell us and what the person is experiencing. A person’s experience can be communicated to us by their telling of their story – which has the additional benefit of allowing us, together, to make sense of what is happening – by which I mean to explore the meaning of the illness.

Keeping focused on the narrative which includes this synthesis also enables us to explore the individual’s values, hopes and fears, allowing us to make more relevant, more holistic, diagnoses and so, hopefully, to offer more appropriate choices for each patient.

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the geometry of flowers

Isn’t this beautiful?

How could you fail to be seduced by the astonishing geometry of this flower?

We see this everywhere in the world – how patterns seem to display an remarkable mathematical order.

Interestingly, the same day I took this photograph (which I immediately titled “the geometry of flowers”) I read a fascinating article about mathematics teaching, entitled “The limits of a rational mind in an irrational world – the language of mathematics as a potentially destructive discourse in sustainable ecology.” by Steve Arnold of Auckland University of Technology. Here are a couple of paragraphs which caught my eye –

Galileo famously said, “The laws of Nature are written in the language of mathematics.” However we realise that this profound statement was while very true, it is not strictly true. There are times when the mathematical understanding of the world breaks down. Now in a time of ecological distress, we need technologies and tools that can match more perfectly our world. In reality, Mathematics is a highly nuanced poetry that describes the human condition, it mirrors the workings of the human brain (as mathematics is exclusively a product of human thought). Mathematics tells us our own story, it tells us how the human brain works, and as we strive to make meaning of the world, we do so using the tools available to us; number is one of the ways that we language our experience.

Within mathematics there continues to this day an expectation that the simple relationships described in mathematics should be able to neatly describe our complex world. However the real world is not simple, tidy and neat. The real world is full of messiness, unpredictability, human emotion and error. Mathematics describes a predictable world, where error can be eliminated, and it is desirable to simplify and exterminate unwanted complications. Where the two differ, surprisingly it is the human experience in the real world that defers to the all-powerful notions of mathematics.

And, in conclusion, he makes the excellent point that mathematics is just one way to make sense of the world, and it’s a way that we ourselves have made up.

We put so much faith in numbers, that sometimes we place the power of the digit over the judgement of our experience. This idea of positivism has found a secure home in the teaching of mathematics in schools. We are controlled by numbers, from the early stages of test results, to class position and IQ, to more recently BMI scores, glasses prescriptions, salaries and postcodes. We sometimes forget that numbers are a way to tell the human story. We forget we make them up, not the other way round.

So, yes, this is a beautiful geometric flower and how often can we use mathematics to model the beauty of the natural world? But, surely, we need to always remember that the mathematical story of the world is not a perfect explanation. And that we should not allow anyone to reduce Life to numbers.

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ava charlie

I was recently sent a copy of an article published in Norway back in 2011. The article’s title is “The human biology – saturated with experience“. Here’s the summary –

SUMMARY

BackgroundHuman beings are reflective, meaning-seeking, relational and purposeful organisms. Although experiences associated with such traits are of paramount importance for the development of health and disease, medical science has so far failed to integrate these phenomena into a coherent theoretical framework.

Material and methodWe present a theory-driven synthesis of new scientific knowledge from a number of disciplines, including epigenetics, psycho-neuro-endocrino-immunology, stress research and systems biology, based on articles in recognised scientific journals and other academic works. The scientific sources have been deliberately chosen to provide insight into the interaction between existential conditions in the widest sense (biography) and biomolecular processes in the body (biology).

Results. The human organism literally incorporates biographical information which includes experienced meaning and relations. Knowledge from epigenetics illustrates the fundamental biological potential for contextual adaptation. Intriguingly, different types of existential stresses can enhance disease susceptibility through disturbances to human physiological adaptation systems, mediated in part through structural influences on the brain. Experiences of support, recognition and belonging, on the other hand, can help to strengthen or restore a state of health.

It’s a fascinating review of research literature on the links between “biography” – an individual’s unique story, and “biology” – the biomolecular processes of the body. It seems clearer to me than ever that talk of “mind and body” as if these are two separate entities is both unhelpful and misguided.

We are certainly “reflective, meaning-seeking, relational and purposeful organisms” and it’s long seemed to me that to practice medicine without that understanding demeans both patients and practitioners. Human beings are not objects which can be reduced to genes, molecules or cells. We are complex adaptive organisms with consciousness. As these authors say, we have  –

a capacity for self-reflection, for designing sophisticated symbolic structures, for attaching metaphorical concepts to experiences and for building models and categories with the aid of the imagination.

We create art, music, poetry and stories. We play. We make sense of our daily lives. (See my recent series of posts on re-enchanting life for more about these very human activities) We connect. We live embedded in a mesh of relationships. We use language, myths and symbols to interpret and experience the world.

Unfortunately, such experience does not lend itself easily to standardised interpretation; it is always an experience of something for someone, in a unique context

All of our experiences are personal and unique. To be fully human, to really understand another person, we must consider the personal and unique. My contention is that we must not only consider it, but must hold that focus as central come what may.

Yet, as these authors point out, contemporary “evidence based” approaches to medicine have failed to include the subjective –

Human subjectivity is not only absent from contemporary evidence-based medicine, it is in fact explicitly eliminated by the mathematical analyses performed during assembly of evidence.

Should we allow statistics and “controlled” de-humanised research (with the experiences of the human beings who are the subjects of the research removed) be our “gold standard”? We need the research which incorporates the subjective and the personal if we want the findings to be relevant to the real, everyday lives of human beings.

Right up in the “Results” section of this paper the authors say “Experiences of support, recognition and belonging, on the other hand, can help to strengthen or restore a state of health”. That is completely congruent with the clinical experience of my lifetime’s work as a doctor. The essential elements of healing are based on the relationship – as a doctor it is my role to recognise each patient – to see each one as a unique individual with a particular issue or problem to discuss – and to be able to say “I see you”, “I hear you” and “I understand what you are experiencing” (and that includes making a diagnosis and being aware of the natural history of diseases). It is also my role to support, not judge. To provide what help and care I can. And finally, at the base of it all, it is my role to create a relationship with each patient, a meaningful connection which reduces the feelings of isolation or alienation a person who is suffering can experience.

It is heartening to see the beginnings of a scientific method which will help us all in the future to create the conditions for health. And if the start of that is to create “Experiences of support, recognition and belonging”, then we will be starting from a good place.

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strawberry

With the current dominant world view, there is an enormous tendency to focus on “mass” – mass production, mass consumption – and to focus on quantities – GDP, profit, numbers “in work” etc. This all seems to drive core values of conformity and uniformity. We have ever more protocols and algorithms which are supposed to deliver “evidence based outcomes”. We find one-size-fits-all policies in health care, education, economics and politics. Difference is described as “variation” to be eliminated and “integration” is about forcing people with different values and beliefs to conform.

What values and what kind of world view might develop from a positive prioritisation of difference?

A shift from the general to the particular. 

Human beings are brilliant at spotting patterns, classifying them and naming them. We categorise by moving quickly from specific instances to general characteristics. We do that by stripping away the context and homing in on one or a few characteristics. By doing so we quickly lose sight of the individual, of the reality of the uniqueness of every person, every experience, every organism. And we quickly lose sight of the whole.

If we keep our eyes and ears open for the differences, then we take these generalised patterns which we spot and then consider how this particular instance fits, or doesn’t fit into those generalities. In other words we do what Iain McGilchrist describes in his “Divided Brain” – we perceive with the right cerebral hemisphere, analyse and classify a part of that with the left, then hand that analysis back to the right for further integration.

A shift from quantities to qualities.

“Lies, damned lies, and statistics”? Does the total number of people with jobs mean very much? Or is the nature and content of those jobs important? Does it matter if the jobs are zero-hour contracts, or full-time, more than minimum wage contracts? Does it matter if the jobs are to manufacture chemical weapons, or chemotherapy?

In health care, in education, in politics or society, because these are human institutions, its the quality which matters, not just the numbers.

A shift from seeing the world as composed of fixed objects, to seeing the world as a complex system which is continuously growing and evolving.

A shift from conformity to diversity.

Should we all have the same beliefs, the same values and make the same choices? If I choose one modality of health care when I am ill, and you choose another, is that a good thing? Or is it better that we both receive the authorised treatment which the protocol demands? Nature thrives on diversity. Monocultures are not natural.

A shift from a focus on parts to a focus on connections.

When we focus on parts, we tend to reduce what we are considering to objects. But no object exists in isolation. Everybody, every creature and every “thing” on our planet has a history. We all emerge out of what already exists. In the here and now we are inextricably linked to who and what is around us. Our left cerebral hemisphere is great at focusing on the parts. Our right is fabulous at focusing on the connections – the “between-ness” (to use Iain McGilchrist’s term)

A shift to integration.

Integration is the creation of mutually beneficial relationships between well-differentiated parts.

Think of the human body. A heart is distinctly different from a liver. To be healthy we need both, and we need both to be working in ways which maximise the health of the other. Our heart and liver are not in competition. They are not fighting it out to see who survives – only the strongest? Instead, they function best by integrating. I think we can see the same principle at work everywhere – or at least in all complex systems, from living organisms, to families, societies, cultures and environments.

A shift to seeing the flow of change

Nothing stays the same. We have cycles of growth and cycles of destruction. We see change which describe as growth and maturation, from (in the case of human beings) single cells, a spermatozoon and an ovum, to a fertilised egg, which grows into a foetus, a child, and then a fully grown adult. to And from the first moments of the Universe until now we see not just change in terms of growth and maturation, but a direction of change which we call evolution – we see an increase in complexity from the first hydrogen based stars to human beings with consciousness.

Whether in terms of maturation, or evolution, what we see is flourishing – the coming to fullness of all a being can be.

So, here’s my starting list of values

  1. Uniqueness
  2. Diversity
  3. Tolerance
  4. Integration
  5. Flourishing

What might the world become if we prioritised these values?

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