Advances in diagnosing and treating the mentally
disturbed have been marked in the last several decades.  Although the social system–health care
providers especially–has been slow to catch up, one can be reasonably
optimistic that future research in both the physiology and psychology of mental
illness will provide more breakthroughs. 
Thus, for serious pathologies, one has now some hope of treatment which
may provide some reasonable standard of life. 
Previously never-ending hospitalization seemed the only course of
action.  At the same time, one can see
an increasing tendency to medicate and counsel individuals who would not have
previously been considered to suffer from mental illness.  Although this can be attributed to simply
understanding some more "everyday" illnesses such as depression
better, one might skeptically wonder if we are being fed a consumer product
which we no more need than an off-road Hummer for suburban life. 

My favorite example of this curious
pathologizing of normal existence is an ad for an anti-depressant.  A soft voice asks the TV audience questions
like "Have you ever felt down and you don’t know why?" and, my personal
favorite, "Have you ever felt awkward in a social situation?"  I wonder at the individual who could
confidently say "No" to such questions.  Wouldn’t that person be a bit monstrous–someone who experiences
24/7 happiness and comfort in every situation? 
One also can’t help but wonder at the deeply anti-political drive of
such pathologizing of the everyday–you aren’t unhappy because you work two
jobs to make ends meet–you are unhappy because you lack X-pill or Y-self-help
philosophy.  As Oprah and Dr. Phil tell
us–it is all in your mind.  It isn’t the
situation, it is you!  You are sick because you feel awkward,
ill-at-ease, socially impaired.  You
need help.

Perhaps therapy–both
pharmaceutical and psychological–makes us more unhappy, more ill-at-ease.  Thus, one can see a great need for critical discussions
of precisely this contemporary tendency. 
Our Last Great Illusion would
appear to be precisely the book.   
However, this text is the worst written and most ill-conceived text I
have ever read.  I have read a great
number of obscure and complicated texts in the history of philosophy and in
psychoanalytic theory.  By no means do I
think "easily digestible" is a virtue.  However, Our Last Great
Illusion is not complex; it is incomprehensible.  I would provide a review of the text if I could understand what
it was about.  As is, it is merely
gibberish.

To let the reader of this review
consider just what I mean–here are some examples of the text.  Under the subheading "The Death of
Therapy." Weatherill writes, "Therapy is hyperventilating to enter the
Real of emotional life.  Intoxicated
with power, therapy proliferates with new forms, new mutant strains to meet
explosive demands in hypereality.  What
will be the life cycle of this caring phenomenon?" (pg. 17)  After this set of claims, one does not continue
to read what "Real" means or what "new forms" or "new
mutant strains" are.  Nor does one
exactly understand what is hypereality or what these "demands" are.
After some more incomprehensible (rhetorical?) questions, we find such gems as
"The symbolic is the domain of the pact, the gift of sacrifice, of
obligation, of ceremony and ritual, of a secret brutality (the wrath of God)
and formalized and significant marking (castration)." (pg.19) And one of
my favorites "The subtle masters of the world are tourism and
therapy.  Tourism is postmodern: a
creeping prostitution.  The world is
made to give herself, make herself available without commitment or protest, for
abundant play time." (pg. 82)

Now, any text worth reading will
have some quotes taken out of context which would seem silly, needlessly
obscure, or just incomprehensible. 
Thus, I would normally feel guilty about pulling out a few random
sentences.  However, the entire text is
from one of these masterpieces of mutilating psychoanalytic theory and the
English language to another.  There are
no transitions, no arguments, no clear definitions, just an endless surfing
upon po-mo jargon.   Let me also note, I
read postmodernism for a living.  I am
not Alan Sokel.   I am firmly in the
camp which considers Jacques Derrida one of the 20^th century’s
greatest philosophers, who thinks Jacques Lacan is a brilliant theorist, who
teaches Marx and Marcuse to undergraduates. 
If I cannot make sense of this text who can?  I can only conclude Rob Weatherill must be the lone soul.  Weatherill does, to his credit, note that
one does not need to read the chapters in order (I might add one also does not
gain much from reading the sentences in order). 

It was clear from page ten onward
that this text was not actually going somewhere.  However, I was still surprised at the end to find out that this
"radical critique of therapy culture" managed to connect therapy, the
apocalypse, and the Internet.  I can
only leave this review by quoting Weatherill’s conclusion: "Only the protective
illusory shield of therapy and total care can hide and deter, the
apocalypse.  The Internet, which has
enabled the rapid globalization of therapeutic logic, began as a net for
American strategic defense.  It now
presides over our very own electronic intimacy and transparency, the digital
veil that at every site marks the disappearance of the other and a loss too
great to record, to be measured increasingly on a global scale." (pgs.
102-103)

©
2005 Talia Welsh

Talia Welsh, Ph.D., Department of Philosophy, The University of Tennessee at Chattanooga

Categories: Philosophical, Psychotherapy