On the blog today we have a guest post from Harry Wu, giving us background and insights into his Medical History article ‘The Moral Career of ‘Outmates’: Towards a History of Manufactured Mental Disorders in Post-Socialist China’, which appeared in the special issue: ‘Tales from the Asylum. Patient Narratives and the (De)construction of Psychiatry)’ https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2015.70
Harry writes: My article deals with an unusual but popular concept regarding the development of modern psychiatry in China. Bei jingshenbing, a Mandarin neologism in referring to ‘manufactured mentally ill’, was a catch phrase appearing in China in the first decade of the 21st Century. The term was coined to describe conditions of involuntary psychiatry treatment or admission due to unjustifiable, and often non-medical reasons.
Since I began to conduct research into the history of psychiatry, I have been particularly interested in the development of the discipline in the Chinese-speaking world. In the monograph that I am currently working on, I look at how theories and methods of social psychiatry have been jointly framed at the World Health Organization (WHO) by scientists, visionary European thinkers, as well as technocrats from the non-western world. However, the project in the WHO did not include People’s Republic of China, since psychiatry was suspended by the Chinese government during the period of the Cultural Revolution.
After coming back to work in Asia, I took the opportunity to take a closer look at the discipline of psychiatry in China in the neglected years. And I found that the story of psychiatry in China during this period cannot be examined under the existing historiographic frameworks, such as the East-West comparison or localisation of the modern western psychiatry. Chinese psychiatry, in fact, evolved in the complex web weaved together in the emerging strands of medical, economic, political, and legal infrastructures during the period of the building of the modern state. In these fields, psychiatry means different and it functions in very different ways for different stakeholders.
The general readers may think that the term is burdened with a heavy political connotation. The negative comments on Chinese psychiatry proliferated, while Human Rights workers began to report on the likely confinement of Falungung practitioners in the 1990s. But my research has found that the misfortune of unjustifiable psychiatric admissions occurred under circumstances when the aforementioned modernization projects failed to evenly mature.
The publication time of this article coincided the implementation of China’s Mental Health Law, which aspired to remove the stigma of mental patients and decrease the situation of human rights violations regarding psychiatric care. I hope that my article can contribute an alternative analytical framework for historians who writes about modern psychiatry in post-socialist China.
Harry Wu
Monday, 20 November 2017
Wednesday, 1 November 2017
Illness, Healing and the Dynamics of Reciprocal Exchange on the Upper Guinea Coast
On the blog today we have a guest post from Philip Havik which introduces us to his recent Medical History article ‘Hybridising Medicine: Illness, Healing and the Dynamics of Reciprocal Exchange on the Upper Guinea Coast (West Africa)’ https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2016.3. Including travel accounts, missionary reports and documents produced by the Portuguese Inquisition, Philip's article shows how forms of medical knowledge shifted and circulated between littoral areas and their hinterland, as well as between the coast, the Atlantic and beyond.
My article seeks to bring health related considerations back into the equation by focusing on the early period of Euro-African encounters, and fill a number of lacuna by mapping exchanges of knowledge taking place from the fifteenth and to the eighteenth centuries. Centring on the West African Senegambian/Guinea region, which became an important area for slave and commodity exports from the sixteenth century, it shows that European and local African actors and communities were actively involved in the search for remedies that could cure or prevent certain ailments common in the tropics. It confirms the importance attached to the information circulated by and among traders, settlers and missionaries on the one hand, and local communities on the other, on a variety of medical techniques, compounds and cures. Thus, different elements from Galenic medicine, as well as from Oriental medical practice and local African phyto-therapeutical methods came to be used by an increasingly heterogeneous population in coastal areas.
This shows that the social, cultural and economic encounters occurring in this contact zone would lead to a progressive entanglement between different bodies of medical knowledge against the background of a globalising world. Over time, this intense cross-cultural interaction and borrowing would result in a progressive hybridisation of knowledge and practice assembled in the form of ‘cultural kits’ which could be accessed by incoming and local actors, illustrating the fluidity of boundaries. Based upon data extracted from Portuguese, English and French published and archival sources, my article presents evidence of the dissemination and evolution of biophysical and spiritual healing techniques in some coastal locations. These ‘cultural transfers’ based upon a relational approach to health, would operate in a multi-centred fashion in the Senegambia/Guinea region, producing innovative complementary and competing healing narratives and practices.
My article seeks to bring health related considerations back into the equation by focusing on the early period of Euro-African encounters, and fill a number of lacuna by mapping exchanges of knowledge taking place from the fifteenth and to the eighteenth centuries. Centring on the West African Senegambian/Guinea region, which became an important area for slave and commodity exports from the sixteenth century, it shows that European and local African actors and communities were actively involved in the search for remedies that could cure or prevent certain ailments common in the tropics. It confirms the importance attached to the information circulated by and among traders, settlers and missionaries on the one hand, and local communities on the other, on a variety of medical techniques, compounds and cures. Thus, different elements from Galenic medicine, as well as from Oriental medical practice and local African phyto-therapeutical methods came to be used by an increasingly heterogeneous population in coastal areas.
This shows that the social, cultural and economic encounters occurring in this contact zone would lead to a progressive entanglement between different bodies of medical knowledge against the background of a globalising world. Over time, this intense cross-cultural interaction and borrowing would result in a progressive hybridisation of knowledge and practice assembled in the form of ‘cultural kits’ which could be accessed by incoming and local actors, illustrating the fluidity of boundaries. Based upon data extracted from Portuguese, English and French published and archival sources, my article presents evidence of the dissemination and evolution of biophysical and spiritual healing techniques in some coastal locations. These ‘cultural transfers’ based upon a relational approach to health, would operate in a multi-centred fashion in the Senegambia/Guinea region, producing innovative complementary and competing healing narratives and practices.
Philip J. Havik
Monday, 23 October 2017
‘I’m a psychogeriatrician’
In today's guest post, Claire Hilton argues that historical evidence about psychogeriatrics is crucial to understand the political, medical, social and professional factors which have shaped the specialty, drawing on her 2016 Medical History article ‘Psychogeriatrics in England: Its Route to Recognition by the Government as a Distinct Medical Specialty, c.1970–89’ (Medical History, 2016, 60, 2, 206-228) https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2016.4
‘I’m a psychogeriatrician’ uttered at a social event, almost always stops conversation. This was common during the formative years of the specialty of psychogeriatrics (or old age psychiatry) and remains common today. The questioner almost always implies: why would anyone want to work specifically with older people who are mentally unwell?
Psychogeriatricians in the 1970s and 1980s advocated for their patients. They fought to achieve government recognition for their specialty. Recognition enabled dedicated funding and training, and expansion of the specialty nationally and internationally. This helped to ensure that older people received evidence-based treatment for their mental illnesses. Treatment methods, at that time well established for younger people, were used infrequently for older people suffering the same illnesses. Treatment required some modification to take into account challenges associated with ageing, like frailty, risk of falls and co-existing physical illnesses. Importantly, the psychogeriatricians’ medico-psycho-social model of treatment could ameliorate problematic symptoms and behaviours, support carers, and enable older people to live in their own homes for longer, thus reducing bed use in institutions. Psychogeriatricians struggled against stereotypes of the ‘slippery slope’ of old age health expectations, lack of public and political interest in older people’s mental health, and therapeutic nihilism about treatment.
The psychogeriatricians used religious language to describe their work, such as ‘pilgrim’ and ‘crusade’. Those who discovered the rewarding nature of the work described themselves as ‘converts’. Their successors still do.
In 2015, leading psychogeriatrician Dr James Warner wrote about the ‘erosion of old age services’ (James Warner, ‘Old age psychiatry in the modern age’ British Journal of Psychiatry (2015) 207, 375–376). Erosion can be attributed to various factors, including austerity and financial constraints, ongoing under-valuing of older people, and misled political correctness about the anti-discrimination agenda. Anti-discrimination has led to the re-emergence of ‘ageless services’ in many parts of the UK, but this model of one-size-fits-all too frequently marginalises the specific needs of older people, and removes the enthusiastic staff who feel inspired to spend their careers working with them. We once again see older frail people being treated on the same ward as younger physically fit disturbed patients, and the occurrence of fractured bones when frail patients fall if accidentally pushed, an avoidable risk which the early psychogeriatricians aimed to eliminate.
Historical evidence about psychogeriatrics is crucial to understand the political, medical, social and professional factors which have shaped the specialty. This knowledge should help to avoid re-introducing risky treatment and care practices which undermine wellbeing and lead to unnecessary suffering and financial expense.
Claire Hilton
Tuesday, 17 October 2017
Dynamic Case Notes and Clinical Encounters
In our guest post today, Hazel Morrison provides reflections on her article, ‘Constructing Patient Stories: ‘Dynamic Case Notes and Clinical Encounters at Glasgow’s Gartnavel Mental hospital, 1921-32’ which featured in Medical History 60:1 (2016), 67-86.
My dear Dr. Henderson
Above everything else congratulations on the second edition of your book! … What psychiatry needs is the courage of the case material and the problems shown therein, and less preoccupation with the traditional and formal principles.
Case notes and case histories, argued the doyenne of North American psychiatry – Dr Adolf Meyer - have the power to alter the course of the psychiatric profession. Meyer’s 1929 correspondence to his former student and colleague, Dr David Henderson, pre-empted the paradigmatic shift that would occur in British psychiatry between the two World Wars; as Henderson, at the height of his eminent career, steered patient case taking practices away from former emphases on description of symptoms, classification and brain pathology, and towards the study of individual personality, set within, and reacting to, his or her environment.
My article begins with Henderson’s articulation of his ‘dynamic’, otherwise known as psychobiological, approach to mental health care during the 1920s. The rest of the paper is an examination of the patient case note records produced during his physician superintendence of Glasgow’s Royal Asylum, Gartnavel, 1921-1932. Examination of the staff meeting record lies at the heart of this investigation. Instigated in Britain by Henderson at Gartnavel in 1921, this clinical practice spanned case presentation, patient examination and discussion of plans for treatment. Bringing together a multidisciplinary team of medical practitioners, the aim of the staff meeting was to study the whole person (body and mind) of a patient, reacting and adapting to the experimental stage of the clinical environment, while the patient’s own language and own understanding of illness formed the basis for therapeutic intervention. Recorded verbatim by clinical stenographers, transcripts allow this paper to ‘sit in’ on such meetings. The near uniqueness of these sources enables a new, rarely accessible kind of history to emerge; a history inclusive of patient-psychiatrist dialogues spoken within, and as an essential part of, the clinical encounter:
Dr. Henderson. You have spoken about your spine shifting. Do you believe that your spine is –
Patient. (breaking in) Yes I do. When the change comes on it about knocked me off my mind altogether. I think it was me getting the wind up - it made my nerves worse.”
Rarely can histories look beneath published records to access the clinical conversations, disputes and the situated possibilities for understanding and intervening in patient cases, but here such conversations are laid bare almost verbatim (in ‘real time’). Once the patient was escorted out of the meeting room, debate and discussion of the case continued between Henderson’s staff. Both senior and junior medical staff collaborated within a shared space wherein diverse psychiatric theories – from the most organic to the most psychoanalytic – are brought into dialogue with other branches of medicine, such as presented by staff working in the pathological laboratory or occupation department. Such dialogues almost never make their way into published, official records, as they lay bare the false starts, bold statements and interchanges that speak at cross purposes, before such exchanges were preened and presented at conferences, in papers and medical texts.
Drawing parallels with medical humanities scholarship, my paper endeavours to access a historical space in which methods and concepts, drawn from the humanities and biomedical sciences, mesh and are transformed into new medical knowledges. Situated within spaces, such as those of the staff conference, this project questions the extent to which Henderson’s initiation of multi-disciplinary working practices, which intersect with, and underscore the agency of the individual patient, were productive of case materials that transformed medical teaching and clinical practice in Britain.”
Hazel Morrison
To access Hazel’s article and find out more, please do visit Medical History’s website at https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2015.69
My dear Dr. Henderson
Above everything else congratulations on the second edition of your book! … What psychiatry needs is the courage of the case material and the problems shown therein, and less preoccupation with the traditional and formal principles.
Case notes and case histories, argued the doyenne of North American psychiatry – Dr Adolf Meyer - have the power to alter the course of the psychiatric profession. Meyer’s 1929 correspondence to his former student and colleague, Dr David Henderson, pre-empted the paradigmatic shift that would occur in British psychiatry between the two World Wars; as Henderson, at the height of his eminent career, steered patient case taking practices away from former emphases on description of symptoms, classification and brain pathology, and towards the study of individual personality, set within, and reacting to, his or her environment.
My article begins with Henderson’s articulation of his ‘dynamic’, otherwise known as psychobiological, approach to mental health care during the 1920s. The rest of the paper is an examination of the patient case note records produced during his physician superintendence of Glasgow’s Royal Asylum, Gartnavel, 1921-1932. Examination of the staff meeting record lies at the heart of this investigation. Instigated in Britain by Henderson at Gartnavel in 1921, this clinical practice spanned case presentation, patient examination and discussion of plans for treatment. Bringing together a multidisciplinary team of medical practitioners, the aim of the staff meeting was to study the whole person (body and mind) of a patient, reacting and adapting to the experimental stage of the clinical environment, while the patient’s own language and own understanding of illness formed the basis for therapeutic intervention. Recorded verbatim by clinical stenographers, transcripts allow this paper to ‘sit in’ on such meetings. The near uniqueness of these sources enables a new, rarely accessible kind of history to emerge; a history inclusive of patient-psychiatrist dialogues spoken within, and as an essential part of, the clinical encounter:
Dr. Henderson. You have spoken about your spine shifting. Do you believe that your spine is –
Patient. (breaking in) Yes I do. When the change comes on it about knocked me off my mind altogether. I think it was me getting the wind up - it made my nerves worse.”
Rarely can histories look beneath published records to access the clinical conversations, disputes and the situated possibilities for understanding and intervening in patient cases, but here such conversations are laid bare almost verbatim (in ‘real time’). Once the patient was escorted out of the meeting room, debate and discussion of the case continued between Henderson’s staff. Both senior and junior medical staff collaborated within a shared space wherein diverse psychiatric theories – from the most organic to the most psychoanalytic – are brought into dialogue with other branches of medicine, such as presented by staff working in the pathological laboratory or occupation department. Such dialogues almost never make their way into published, official records, as they lay bare the false starts, bold statements and interchanges that speak at cross purposes, before such exchanges were preened and presented at conferences, in papers and medical texts.
Drawing parallels with medical humanities scholarship, my paper endeavours to access a historical space in which methods and concepts, drawn from the humanities and biomedical sciences, mesh and are transformed into new medical knowledges. Situated within spaces, such as those of the staff conference, this project questions the extent to which Henderson’s initiation of multi-disciplinary working practices, which intersect with, and underscore the agency of the individual patient, were productive of case materials that transformed medical teaching and clinical practice in Britain.”
Hazel Morrison
To access Hazel’s article and find out more, please do visit Medical History’s website at https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2015.69
Thursday, 12 October 2017
Focus on CGHH Research - China in the Worldwide Eradication of Smallpox, 1949-1980
In October 2017 Lu Chen joined CGHH as the recipient of a Wellcome Trust Medical Humanities PhD studentship. Lu is researching smallpox eradication in post-war China, focusing on how was smallpox eradication conceived, planned and delivered in China, and what international, regional, national and local political negotiations made success possible.
Lu writes: "In the US-and Western Europe-centric historiographical context on international and global health, China gets only short treatment. Different to many of its neighbouring countries where smallpox was still epidemic in 1950s, the Chinese smallpox eradication work did not rely on US assistance, had nominal links with WHO structures and budgets, and was, instead, built mainly upon a raft of bilateral aid agreements with the Soviet Union, the USSR’s Eastern European allies and, latterly, politically neutral Western European countries like Sweden. These international links provided vaccine, vaccinating kits and the transfer of vaccine production technologies. China’s government worked to its own timetables, independently gauging the value of international political alliances, and agreed to aid flows and involvement of overseas workers through very specific terms. In all this, Chinese representatives engaged the UN, the WHO, and the US and Western European aid agencies in distinctive ways, and only as and when they regarded it useful to do so (and, when internal politics allowed it). My research will investigate all these programmatic complexities independently and critically."
We look forward to hearing how the project progresses and would like to take this opportunity to welcome Lu to CGHH!
Lu writes: "In the US-and Western Europe-centric historiographical context on international and global health, China gets only short treatment. Different to many of its neighbouring countries where smallpox was still epidemic in 1950s, the Chinese smallpox eradication work did not rely on US assistance, had nominal links with WHO structures and budgets, and was, instead, built mainly upon a raft of bilateral aid agreements with the Soviet Union, the USSR’s Eastern European allies and, latterly, politically neutral Western European countries like Sweden. These international links provided vaccine, vaccinating kits and the transfer of vaccine production technologies. China’s government worked to its own timetables, independently gauging the value of international political alliances, and agreed to aid flows and involvement of overseas workers through very specific terms. In all this, Chinese representatives engaged the UN, the WHO, and the US and Western European aid agencies in distinctive ways, and only as and when they regarded it useful to do so (and, when internal politics allowed it). My research will investigate all these programmatic complexities independently and critically."
We look forward to hearing how the project progresses and would like to take this opportunity to welcome Lu to CGHH!
Tuesday, 10 October 2017
Smashed by the National Health
In our guest post today. Philip Conford gives us some insights into the reasons behind the Pioneer Health Centre, Peckham's demise. You can read his article “‘Smashed by the National Health’? A Closer Look at the Demise of the Pioneer Health Centre”, which appeared in Medical History 20:2 (2016), at https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2016.6
Philip writes: "In 2014, the medical journalist Ben Goldacre published a book called I Think You’ll Find It’s a Bit More Complicated Than That. This title struck me as an appropriate response to some comments made by former members of South London’s Pioneer Health Centre (PHC), about the reasons for the Centre’s closure in 1950. “The National Health smashed it,” said one of them, bitterly. But was the explanation for the Centre’s demise really that straightforward?
Material at the Wellcome Trust, the National Archives and the London Metropolitan Archives suggested not. For a start, the PHC had always struggled financially. A decade before the NHS was established, it was having to be bailed out by loans and donations because it was attracting insufficient numbers – payment of a subscription was necessary – to make it viable.
The reasons for this reluctance to be involved lay in the minds of all those families who chose not to belong to the Centre, and have therefore never been open to analysis, though Paul Rotha’s documentary film The Centre (1947) provides at least some idea of why people might have resisted what the PHC was offering.
Unable to raise sufficient money through membership, the PHC sought help from the government and the Medical Research Council (MRC). But the tone of George Scott Williamson, one of the Centre’s founders, in his correspondence with officialdom, and the fact that he was deeply antagonistic to the proposed National Health Service, would not have helped his cause.
Whereas the MRC had been sympathetic before the war, it was markedly less so after it. Techniques of medical statistics were rapidly advancing, and the PHC’s standards of record-keeping evidently did not meet the standards that the leading figures in this new field (for example Austin Bradford Hill) required. Again, Scott Williamson did not help his cause by emphasising that the PHC’s work was not an exercise in orthodox science. Harold Himsworth of the MRC was distinctly cool towards the Centre, which he seemed to regard as an irritant.
Nor was the cultural climate favourable to the PHC’s approach. A mood of what I have termed “chemical triumphalism” was abroad: the invention of sulphonamide drugs encouraged an aggressive faith in the power of industrial chemistry to defeat sickness and disease. The unorthodox and exploratory approach of the PHC would have seemed very uncertain in comparison with the dramatic, specific, results achieved by the pharmaceutical industry’s “silver bullets”.
The NHS was not directly responsible for the Pioneer Health Centre’s demise, although its medical approach to curing sickness rather than promoting health took health policy (or sickness policy, as its critics maintained) in a different direction from that explored at the Centre. Blaming the NHS fits in well with the current ideology of the “small state”, and one of my aims in writing this article was to suggest that the truth about the Pioneer Health Centre’s closure was indeed “a bit more complicated than that”."
Philip writes: "In 2014, the medical journalist Ben Goldacre published a book called I Think You’ll Find It’s a Bit More Complicated Than That. This title struck me as an appropriate response to some comments made by former members of South London’s Pioneer Health Centre (PHC), about the reasons for the Centre’s closure in 1950. “The National Health smashed it,” said one of them, bitterly. But was the explanation for the Centre’s demise really that straightforward?
Material at the Wellcome Trust, the National Archives and the London Metropolitan Archives suggested not. For a start, the PHC had always struggled financially. A decade before the NHS was established, it was having to be bailed out by loans and donations because it was attracting insufficient numbers – payment of a subscription was necessary – to make it viable.
The reasons for this reluctance to be involved lay in the minds of all those families who chose not to belong to the Centre, and have therefore never been open to analysis, though Paul Rotha’s documentary film The Centre (1947) provides at least some idea of why people might have resisted what the PHC was offering.
Unable to raise sufficient money through membership, the PHC sought help from the government and the Medical Research Council (MRC). But the tone of George Scott Williamson, one of the Centre’s founders, in his correspondence with officialdom, and the fact that he was deeply antagonistic to the proposed National Health Service, would not have helped his cause.
Whereas the MRC had been sympathetic before the war, it was markedly less so after it. Techniques of medical statistics were rapidly advancing, and the PHC’s standards of record-keeping evidently did not meet the standards that the leading figures in this new field (for example Austin Bradford Hill) required. Again, Scott Williamson did not help his cause by emphasising that the PHC’s work was not an exercise in orthodox science. Harold Himsworth of the MRC was distinctly cool towards the Centre, which he seemed to regard as an irritant.
Nor was the cultural climate favourable to the PHC’s approach. A mood of what I have termed “chemical triumphalism” was abroad: the invention of sulphonamide drugs encouraged an aggressive faith in the power of industrial chemistry to defeat sickness and disease. The unorthodox and exploratory approach of the PHC would have seemed very uncertain in comparison with the dramatic, specific, results achieved by the pharmaceutical industry’s “silver bullets”.
The NHS was not directly responsible for the Pioneer Health Centre’s demise, although its medical approach to curing sickness rather than promoting health took health policy (or sickness policy, as its critics maintained) in a different direction from that explored at the Centre. Blaming the NHS fits in well with the current ideology of the “small state”, and one of my aims in writing this article was to suggest that the truth about the Pioneer Health Centre’s closure was indeed “a bit more complicated than that”."
Friday, 6 October 2017
Mental Health: Pasts, Current Trends and Futures
This is a guest post from Dr Philip Kerrigan, co-editor of Mental Health: Pasts, Current Trends and Futures
The Centre for Global Health Histories has
co-produced a new book with the University of York’s Centre for Chronic
Diseases and Disorders (now the Centre for Future Health) entitled Mental
Health: Pasts, Current Trends and Futures (published by Orient
BlackSwan).
Securing better mental health for everyone
around the world is one of the greatest current challenges in global public
health. Historically and to this day mental disability and illness has been
closely linked to social and political stigmatisation, which has led this
specialism to remain under-provisioned and under-represented in health
structures.
Advancing the mental health of the world’s
population is hence a challenge that requires multi-faceted solutions,
cooperation between many stakeholders, and a fulsome understanding of the
political, social, economic and cultural determinants of health. Mental illness
is also in many cases not a condition existing on its own but rather one which
connects to a wider range of afflictions (for example, post-epidemic disease
community support, as has been seen in relation to Ebola in western Africa).
This new work offers a number of carefully
researched but accessible case studies from different areas of the world and
across periods in time which shed light on some of the many motivations and
innovations in the field of mental health, and analyse the range of barriers
and opportunities that continue to impact on this complex area of work. Each
one is complemented by specially chosen photographs, prints and other visual
records, drawn from a variety of libraries and repositories, including Wellcome
Images and the WHO Picture Library, and which help to enrich and expand the
arguments and themes presented in the text.
As well as highlighting historical failures
and enduring problems, the chapters give hopeful evidence of successful
initiatives that could be adopted and built on across the globe and of a
burgeoning commitment by individuals and national and international
organisations to bring forward changes for the better.
The book is trilingual with English,
Portuguese and Hindi translations side by side so as to reach the widest
possible audience within international agencies, national and local
governments, and civil society groupings.
The origins of the work, which is the
latest volume in a series examining a range of issues in global public health
and health policy, lie in the University of York's commitment to health equity
and promotion internationally, which it seeks to advance through independent
and evidence-based research. The opportunities to prepare this book in close
partnership with colleagues at the World Health Organization were made
available through the Centre for Global Health Histories’ designation as the
WHO Collaborating Centre for Global Health Histories through which it works
closely with UN agencies and national governments on policy advocacy and public
engagement. The editors have worked closely also with the Brazilian Federal
Government (via Fiocruz, Rio de Janeiro), and the World Bank. The research and
editing work was funded by the Wellcome Trust, a global charitable foundation
based in the UK, via Centre for Chronic Diseases and Disorders, and the Centre
for Global Health Histories at the University of York, UK.
A poster exhibition has been created from
twenty of the most striking images from the book. The exhibition will go on display in the
University of York’s Ron Cooke Hub as part of a day of events to mark World
Mental Health Day on 10 October 2017. The book will also be officially launched
at a public lecture in the evening and free copies will be available to the
public to take away.
----------
The book was co-edited by Philip Kerrigan, Sanjoy Bhattacharya, Samantha Peel, Magali Romero Sa, Raghav Kishore and Alex Wade.
Contents
Introduction
1) Andrew Scull – Asylums and care in the
community: The dilemmas of mental health policy
2) Samantha Peel – A short visual history
of the use of electricity in mental health
3) Jerome Wright – Building capacity and
increasing access to community mental health care
4) Carlos Estellita-Lins – Mental health,
indigenous suicide and shaminism in Brazil
5) Stephanie Charles & Poppy Nash – The
role of schools in promoting the mental wellbeing of young people in the UK
6) Soumitra Pathare, Jasmine Kalha, Titus
Joseph, Michelle Funk, Natalie Drew-Bold and Akwatu Khenti – QualityRights
Gujarat
7) Patricio V. Marquez and Timothy G. Evans
– Global burden of mental disorders: Is there a way forward?
8) Shekhar Saxena, Global mental health and
the World Health Organization
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