Can talking make you better?

CBT does not cure cancer, schizophrenia or arthritis, but it does improve mood, coping and quality o

Professor Ravetz is right. Cognitive behaviour therapy is Labour's new therapy of choice. But why is it suddenly popular in government circles not previously noted for their interest in psychological treatments?

Talking therapies are nothing new, but despite their long history many have struggled to prove themselves in a health service dominated by the economists. Psychoanalysis looks at deep-seated reasons for why we are the way we are - but even if it can answer questions about the human condition, it has not proved a success in treating specific disorders, and often takes years not doing so. In contrast, counselling is usually brief and cheap, but is sometimes not much more than sympathetic listening and empathy. Neither is much good when it comes to treating well-defined conditions such as panic disorder, phobias, obsessions and compulsions.

Cognitive behaviour therapy does represent a genuine advance in the treatment of many conditions. Unlike psychoanalysis it does not depend upon searching inquiries into childhood or early life, or speculative forays into the unconsciousness. CBT is about identifying conscious thoughts - thoughts about dying when having a panic attack, for instance, or about being useless when in the presence of other people. And then it is about how we react to these thoughts and how these behaviours in turn impact back on our thoughts and feelings. Perhaps I was in a road accident some years ago. Now I refuse to get into a car in case it happens again, and get tense and anxious even thinking about it. What I need is to identify my fearful thoughts, understand how they relate to my experiences, and then start a cautious programme of overcoming these fears by gradually spending more and more time in cars, as I learn that it is not inevitable that history will repeat itself. CBT is directive - it is not enough to be kind or supportive, although CBT therapists should be both - what is also needed is clarifying the thoughts which are determining our reactions and planning new behaviours as alternatives to these previously unsuccessful ways of coping or managing symptoms.

CBT has one further advantage over its predecessors. Because it is easier to describe, monitor and evaluate successes and failures, and because it deals in measurable outcomes, it lends itself to the empirical approach. And so there is now a wealth of evidence sufficient to satisfy even the most sceptical health economist that CBT can and does improve outcomes in various disorders.

Randomised controlled trials, which remain the gold standard of evidence, have shown that CBT is effective not just in the classic psychiatric disorders such as post-traumatic stress disorder, major depression, agoraphobia or schizophrenia, but also physical disorders such as cancer or rheumatoid arthritis, and even disorders such as irritable bowel syndrome or chronic fatigue syndrome that lie somewhere in between. Of course, CBT does not cure cancer, schizophrenia or arthritis, but it does improve mood, coping and quality of life.

CBT is not a panacea. And yes, it is trendy. Too trendy - since in the largely unregulated bear pit that are the psychotherapies virtually anyone can, and many do, claim to be carrying out CBT. To become a skilled CBT therapist takes about the same length of time as it does to become a doctor. That raises legitimate questions about the new "Improving Access to Psychological Therapies" initiative. Sometimes known as the Layard initiative, after the economist who has steered the scheme through government, this is intended to add 3,500 new CBT therapists to the NHS workforce.

A predecessor, the "Graduate Psychology Programme", which gave GPs access to psychology graduates who had not completed any clinical training and who became known colloquially as "barefoot psychologists", ran into difficulties since many GPs found that these willing but unskilled personnel lacked the experience and qualifications to make any meaningful impact. The Layard scheme has learned from the past, but will need to ensure that improving access is not at the expense of standards.

Finally, is this really a sly scheme simply to reduce the staggering costs of disability benefits? The answer is no, not directly. The aim is to give everyone who is suffering from clinical depression or an anxiety disorder the option of an effective psychological treatment, regardless of whether they are on benefits or not. However, if that also means that some are able to re-enter the world of work, then so much the better. If there is one thing that has been established by a generation of psychiatric research, it is the strong relationship that exists between mental health and unemployment.

Simon Wessely is head of the department of psychological medicine at the Institute of Psychiatry, King's College London

This article first appeared in the 05 May 2008 issue of the New Statesman, High-street robbery

Ralph Steadman for the New Statesman.
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Tim Farron: Theresa May is "the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party"

The Liberal Democrat leader on his faith, Blairism and his plan to replace Labour as the opposition. 

This is Tim Farron’s seventh general election. His first was in 1992, when his Tory opponent was a 36-year-old called Ther­esa May. He was just 21 and they were both unsuccessful candidates in the Labour fortress of North-West Durham. He recalls talking “to a bunch of ex-miners who weren’t best pleased to see either of us, some kid Liberal and some Tory”. Now he sees his former and current opponent as “the prisoner of the Ukip wing of her party . . . I think it has rendered Ukip almost pointless – she is Ukip now.”

May was elected to parliament in 1997, but it took Farron until 2005 to join her. She leads the dominant Conservatives while he heads a party of only nine Liberal Democrat MPs. Still, their reversal of fortunes gives him hope. “After the 1992 election, every­one said there’s no way for a non-Tory government, and it turned out there was. So let’s not assume it’s a given there’s a Tory government [for ever].”

In April, I accompanied Farron to Manchester Gorton, in the lead-up to a by-election that was cancelled by May’s decision to call a snap election on 8 June. Still, the 46-year-old’s party has been in campaign mode for months; Lib Dems spoke of using last December’s Richmond Park by-election to test their messaging. It clearly had an effect: the incumbent Conservative, Zac Goldsmith, lost to their candidate, Sarah Olney.

Brexit, to which the Liberal Democrats are vehemently opposed, will be a dominant theme of the election. Their party membership has just exceeded 100,000, close to an all-time high, and they have enjoyed much success in council by-elections, with more to come in the local elections of 4 May.

However, any feel-good factor swiftly evaporated when Farron appeared on Channel 4 News on 18 April. He was asked by the co-presenter Cathy Newman whether or not he believes that homosexuality is a sin, a question that he answered obliquely in 2015 by saying that Christianity started with acknowledging that “we’re all sinners”.

This time, he told Newman, he was “not in the position to make theological announcements over the next six weeks . . . as a Liberal, I’m passionate about equality”.

The Channel 4 interview divided opinion. One Liberal politician told me that Farron’s stance was “completely intolerable”. Stephen Pollard, the influential editor of the Jewish Chronicle, described it as
“a very liberal position: he holds certain personal views but does not wish to legislate around them”. Jennie Rigg, the acting chair of LGBT+ Liberal Democrats, said it was “as plain as the nose on my face that Tim Farron is no homophobe”.

Farron declined the chance to clarify his views with us in a follow-up phone call, but told the BBC on 25 April: “I don’t believe that gay sex is a sin,” adding, “On reflection, it makes sense to actually answer this direct question since it’s become an issue.”

For his critics, Farron’s faith and politics are intertwined. He sees it differently, as he told Christian Today in 2015: “. . . the danger is sometimes that as a Christian in politics you think your job is to impose your morality on other people. It absolutely isn’t.”

Tim Farron joined the then Liberal Party at the age of 16 but didn’t become a Christian until he was 18. Between completing his A-levels in Lancashire and going to Newcastle University to read politics, he read the apologetics, a body of Christian writing that provides reasoned arguments for the gospel story. “I came to the conclusion that it was true,” he told me. “It wasn’t just a feel-good story.”

In speeches, Farron now takes on the mannerisms of a preacher, but he had a largely non-religious upbringing in Preston, Lancashire. “I don’t think I’d been to church once other than Christmas or the odd wedding,” he says. “I went once with my dad when I was 11, for all the good that did me.”

When we meet, it is Theresa May’s religion that is in the spotlight. She has condemned the National Trust for scrubbing the word “Easter” from its Easter egg hunt, a row it later emerged had been largely invented by the right-wing press in response to a press release from a religious-themed chocolate company.

“It’s worth observing there’s no mention of chocolate or bunny rabbits in the Bible,” Farron reminds me. “When people get cross about, in inverted commas, ‘us losing our Christian heritage’ they mean things which are safe and comfortable and nostalgic.” He pauses. “But the Christian message at Easter is shocking, actually, and very radical.”

British politics is tolerant of atheists (such as Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg) alongside those who, like David Cameron, are culturally Christian but whose faith is “a bit like the reception for Magic FM in the Chilterns: it sort of comes and goes”. But the reaction to Farron’s equivocation on homosexuality prompted many to wonder if a politician who talks openly about his faith is now seen as alarming. Nebulous wishes of peace and love at Christmas, yes; sincere discussions of the literal truth of the Resurrection? Hmm.

Tim Farron’s beliefs matter because he has a mission: to replace not only Jeremy Corbyn as leader of the opposition but Theresa May in Downing Street. Over lassis at the MyLahore curry house in Manchester, he tells me that Britain is facing two calamities. “One is Brexit, indeed hard Brexit . . . and the other is a Tory government for 25 years. We have to present a genuine, progressive alternative that can not only replace Labour as an opposition, it can replace the Tories as a government.” This is ambitious talk for a party with nine MPs. “I understand the ridicule that will be thrown at me for saying those things: but if you don’t want to run the country, why are you in politics?” He pauses. “That’s a question I would ask most people leading the Labour Party at present.”

What does he think of May, his one-time opponent in North-West Durham? “She strikes me as being very professional, very straightforward, somebody who is very conservative in every sense of the word, in her thought processes, her politics, in her style.” He recalls her 2002 conference speech in which she warned Tory activists: “Our base is too narrow and so, occasionally, are our sympathies. You know what some people call us: the nasty party.”

“In many ways, she was the trailblazer for Cameron in being a softer-focused Tory,” he says. “It now looks like she’s been trapped by the very people she was berating as the nasty party all those years ago. I like to think that isn’t really her. But that means she isn’t really in control of the Conservative Party.”

Voters, however, seem to disagree. In recent polls, support for the Conservatives has hovered between 40 and 50 per cent. Isn’t a progressive alliance the only way to stop her: Labour, the Liberal Democrats, the Greens, the SNP and Plaid Cymru all working together to beat the Tories?

“Let’s be really blunt,” he says. “Had Jeremy Corbyn stood down for us in Richmond Park [where Labour stood Christian Wolmar], we would not have won. I could have written Zac Goldsmith’s leaflets for you: Corbyn-backed Liberal Democrats.

“I’m a pluralist,” he adds. “But any progressive alliance has got to be at least equal to the sum of its parts. At the moment, it would be less than the sum of its parts. The only way the Tories are losing their majority is us gaining seats in Hazel Grove –” he ticks them off with his fingers, “– in Cheadle, in the West Country and west London. There’s no chance of us gaining those seats if we have a kind of arrangement with the current Labour Party in its current form.”

What about the SNP? “Most sensible people would look at that SNP manifesto and agree with 99 per cent of it,” Farron says. “But it’s that one thing: they want to wreck the country! How can you do a deal with people who want to wreck the country?”

There’s no other alternative, he says. Someone needs to step up and offer “something that can appeal to progressive younger voters, pro-Europeans and, you know, moderate-thinking Middle England”. He wants to champion a market economy, strong public services, action on climate change, internationalism and free trade.

That sounds like Blairism. “I’m a liberal, and I don’t think Blair was a liberal,” he replies. “But I admire Blair because he was somebody who was able to win elections . . . Iraq aside, my criticisms of Blair are what he didn’t do, rather than what he did do.”

Turning around the Tory tide – let alone with just nine MPs, and from third place – is one hell of a job. But Farron takes heart from the Liberal Party in Canada, where Justin Trudeau did just that. “I’m not Trudeau,” he concedes, “He was better-looking, and his dad was prime minister.”

There is a reason for his optimism. “I use the analogy of being in a maze,” he says, “You can’t see a way out of it, for a progressive party to form a majority against the Tories. But in every maze, there is a way out. We just haven’t found it yet.” 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.

This article first appeared in the 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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