The trend toward describing, researching, teaching, practicing, and regulating psychotherapy in the terms of the medical model (simplified by the equation: diagnosis plus prescriptive treatment = cure or symptom amelioration) began long ago. George Albee (2000) suggested that psychology made a Faustian deal with the medical model over fifty years ago. The deal was sealed, he asserted, at the famed Boulder conference in 1949, where psychology’s bible of training was developed with a fatal flaw:
[The fatal flaw]…was the uncritical acceptance of the medical model, the organic explanation of mental disorders, with psychiatric hegemony, medical concepts, and language (Albee, 2000, p. 247).
Later, in the 1970’s, with the passing of freedom of choice legislation guaranteeing parity with psychiatrists, psychologists (and later others) learned to collect from third-party payers using only a psychiatric diagnosis for reimbursement. Thereafter, drowning any possibilities for other psychosocial systems of understanding human challenges, the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), the leading source of research funding for psychotherapy, decided to apply the same methodology used in drug research to evaluate psychotherapy (Goldfried & Wolfe, 1996)—the randomized clinical trial (RCT) requiring both diagnosis and manualized treatments. Diagnosis reached its pinnacle. Now both reimbursement and research funding depended on it. Funding for studies not related to specific treatments for specific disorders precipitously dropped as both research and psychotherapy itself became more and more medicalized, and dependent on diagnosis, manualization, and RCTs for credibility.
Diagnosis is the beginning point, the foundation of the both the medical model’s simple equation as well as the RCT. Unlike with medical treatments, diagnosis is an ill-advised starting point for psychotherapy. Diagnosis simply lacks reliability. In an interview, Robert Spitzer, the architect of the DSM III, admitted:
“To say that we’ve solved the reliability problem is just not true…It’s been improved. But if you’re in a situation with a general clinician it’s certainly not very good. There’s still a real problem, and it’s not clear how to solve the problem” (Spiegel, 2005, p. 63).
In addition to underwhelming reliability, psychiatric diagnosis lacks validity. Allen Frances, lead editor of the fourth edition of the DSM, recently confessed, “there is no definition of a mental disorder. It’s bullshit. I mean, you just can’t define it” (Greenberg, 2010, p. 1). Psychiatric diagnoses fail the most basic definition of validity—they lack empirical standards to distinguish the hypothesized pathological states from normal human variation or other disorders. Consequently, diagnosis always begs numerous, unanswered questions concerning cultural expectations and the role that power, privilege, gender, and race play in the identifying, cataloguing, and addressing client distress. The result is a set of murky over-inclusive criteria, often disadvantaging those who are racially or ethnically different, for an ever growing list of disorders (Duncan et al., 2004).
Finally and particularly germane to practitioners, diagnosis tells little about a person that is relevant to therapeutic change. Diagnosis in mental health is not correlated with outcome or length of stay (Brown et al., 1999; Wampold & Brown, 2005), and given the dodo verdict (see below) cannot provide reliable guidance to clinicians or clients regarding the best approach to resolving a problem. Diagnosis does not address what is most relevant to the helping process, namely the impact of the “disorder” in the client’s life and what can be done about it. Diagnosis also does not cover the range of reasons for which people seek therapy—relational, situational, and quality of life related, not symptom oriented. Nevertheless, the DSM, in spite of a long history of detailed critique (Carson, 1997; Duncan et al., 2004; Kirk & Kutchins, 1992), poor reliability and validity, and limited power to predict treatment outcome, lives on. It remains a fixed part of graduate training programs, a prominent feature of ESTs, and a prerequisite for funding in most mental health and substance abuse delivery systems—all engendering an illusion of scientific aura and clinical utility that far overreaches the DSM’s deeply flawed infrastructure.
Turning to the second part of the equation, that psychotherapists might possess the psychological equivalent of a “pill” for emotional distress resonates strongly with many, and is nothing if not seductive as it teases the desire to be helpful as possible to clients. A treatment for a specific “disorder,” from this perspective, is like a silver bullet, potent and transferable from research setting to clinical practice. Any therapist need only to load the silver bullet into any psychotherapy revolver and shoot the psychic werewolf stalking the client. Perhaps in its most unfortunate interpretation, clients are reduced to a diagnosis and therapists defined by a treatment technology—both interchangeable and insignificant to the procedure at hand
Consider the RCT. It was designed to compare the effects of a drug (an active compound) to a placebo (a therapeutically inert or inactive substance) for a specific illness. The basic assumption of the RCT is that the specific (unique) ingredients of different drugs (or psychotherapies) will produce different effects, superior over placebo, with different disorders. In effect, this assumption likens psychotherapy to a pill, with discernable unique ingredients that can be shown to have more potency than other active ingredients of other drugs.
There are three empirical arguments that cast doubt upon this assumption. First is the dodo bird verdict, which colorfully summarizes the robust finding that specific therapy approaches do not show specific effects or relative efficacy. In 1936, Saul Rosenzweig first invoked the dodo’s words from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, “Everybody has won and all must have prizes,” to illustrate his observation of the equivalent success of diverse psychotherapies. Almost 40 years later, Luborsky, Singer, and Luborsky (1975) empirically validated Rozenzweig’s conclusion in their now classic review of comparative clinical trials. The dodo bird verdict has since become the most replicated finding in the psychological literature, encompassing a broad array of research designs, problems, and clinical settings.
Three classic comparative clinical trials illustrate the dodo verdict. Ushering in the RCT in psychotherapy research was the Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program (TDCRP) (Elkin et al., 1989). The TDCRP randomly assigned 250 depressed participants to four different conditions: CBT, interpersonal therapy (IPT), antidepressants plus clinical management (IMI), and a pill placebo plus clinical management. The four conditions—including placebo—achieved about the same results, although both IPT and IMI surpassed placebo (but not the other treatments) on the recovery criterion. Project MATCH is the “largest and most statistically powerful clinical trial” in the history of alcohol and drug treatment (Project MATCH Research Group, 1997). Three widely divergent approaches were included: motivational enhancement therapy (MET), 12-Step facilitation (TSF), and CBT. The results revealed considerable improvement, but no differences in outcome emerged among the three approaches. Follow up ten years later (Tonigan et al, 2003) found no support for differential outcomes among the three therapies on percent days abstinent, drinks per drinking day, and total standard drink measures. In the Cannabis Youth Treatment (CYT) Study (Dennis et al., 2004), considered by many to be the largest and most methodologically sound investigation of adolescents to date, 600 adolescents were assigned either to treatment with MET plus CBT ( 5 or 12 sessions), family education and therapy, Adolescent Community Reinforcement Approach, or Multidimensional Family Therapy (MDFT). Comparisons between conditions found roughly equivalent significant pre-post treatment effects that were stable in terms of days of abstinence and percent in recovery by the end of the study.
Meta-analyses have yield similar results. A meta-analysis, designed specifically to test the dodo bird verdict (Wampold et al., 1997), included some 277 studies conducted from 1970 to 1995. This analysis verified that no approach has reliably demonstrated superiority over any other. At most, the effect size (ES) of treatment differences was a weak .2. “Why,” Wampold et al. ask, “[do] researchers persist in attempts to find treatment differences, when they know that these effects are small?” (p. 211).
The preponderance of the data, therefore, indicate a lack of specific effects and refute any claim of superiority when two or more bona fide treatments fully intended to be therapeutic are compared. If there are no specific technical operations that can be reliably shown to produce a specific effect, then prescriptive treatments in psychotherapy (i.e., mandating specific models and techniques for particular disorders) seems to make little sense.
The second argument shining a light on the specific ingredients assumption comes from component studies. Component studies, which dismantle approaches to tease out unique ingredients, have similarly found little evidence to support any specific effects of therapy. For example, a meta-analytic investigation of component studies (Ahn & Wampold, 2001) located 27 comparisons in the literature between 1970 and 1998 that tested an approach against that same approach without a specific component. The results revealed no differences. These studies have shown that it doesn’t matter what component you leave out—the approach still works as well as the treatment containing all of its parts.
A final empirical argument challenging the assumption comes from estimates regarding the impact of specific technique on outcome. After an extensive, but non-statistical analysis of decades of outcome research, Lambert (1986, 1992) suggests that model/technique factors account for about 15% of outcome variance. An even smaller role for specific technical operations of various psychotherapy approaches is proposed by Wampold (2001). His meta-analysis assigns only a 13% (derived from a .8 ES) contribution to the impact of therapy, both general and specific factors combined. Of that 13%, a mere 8% is portioned to the contribution of model effects. Of the total variance of change, only 1% can be assigned to specific technique. A consideration of Lambert’s and Wampold’s estimates of variance reveals that specific treatments do not account for 85% and 99%, respectively, of the variance of outcome. Other variables–the client, the therapist, and their relationship–account for far more of outcome variance. When taken in total–the equivalent results of comparative clinical trials and meta-analytic investigations, component studies, and analyses of the amount of variance attributed to specific effects –the evidence points in the same direction. There are no significant unique ingredients to therapy approaches and therefore little justification for basing psychotherapy on prescriptive or empirically supported treatments. Psychotherapy, therefore, has been shoehorned into the medical model.
But The Medical Model is not the Borg, nor am I Captain Picard fighting for the survival of therapists. Psychotherapy, however, is not a medical endeavor, it is a relational one. There is nothing wrong with the medical model. But it is not empirically supported nor an apt description of our work.
On another note, the last free webinar about my book, On Becoming a Better Therapist is coming up on January 21. Of course you can catch all the free webinars anytime here, but attending live allows you to ask that question you always wanted to ask or make a comment that occurred to you while you were reading the book. In any event, I hope you join me. Here is the info:
Dr. Barry Duncan – On Becoming a Better Therapist: Chapter Seven Discussion
On Becoming presents a five-step method of integrating outcome management with therapists’ long-term professional development. In this seventh of seven webinars corresponding to the seven chapters of the book, I present the fifth step to keep your development on the front burner, the Treasure Chest. I’ll also discuss the controversial issues of the day as they pertain to your identity as a therapist: managed care, evidence based practice, psychiatric drugs, and the medical model. We’ll begin with a 25 minute overview followed by your questions, comments, and reflections. My hope is that the book and these discussions will inspire you to rediscover purpose in your work and become a better therapist.
Friday, January 21, 2011, 6:00 to 7:30 PM
Reserve your Webinar seat now at: https://www2.gotomeeting.com/register/595664219