Probably the Most Unsatisfactory Conclusion Ever

For my last (*tear*) blog post I'm still attempting to reconcile the questions that have come up in this journey to rectify the insanity plea, a journey that has certainly created more questions than answers for me. I will first address questions based on the "do justice and love mercy" commandment and then try (mostly likely poorly) to pull it all together into something satisfactory.

The first issue, to me, relates directly to the idea that we are to "not judge, lest we be judged." Who are we to allocate responsibility for something so heinous? How are we to judge whether Hinckley had control over his actions or not? I personally struggle with this one; I have a difficult time telling people who are not my religion or who have rejected Christian values that they are going to hell (or at least not to heaven). I may not share their beliefs, but I don't feel right assigning responsibility to them. Similarly, the juries in these cases certainly did not condone the defendant's actions, but neither did they want to condemn a fellow human being. Insanity is an easy defense, but certainly one irrational decision does not make a person insane (which seems to be the idea in a lot of the cases we've discussed). Maybe some good, rational people simply don't make the right choices. Is this satisfactory? Not particularly. Is there any way to be completely OK with judging a fellow human being? Not particularly, but it may be a part of our reality that we have to accept until the consummation.

The next problem is along the same lines as the first, but it has more to do with the "mercy" side of this equation. It is difficult to judge a fellow human being, yes, but isn't it also wrong to NOT judge a fellow human being who has done wrong? Yes, it is difficult to not identify with the defendant and feel compelled to forgive him but at what point should we cast aside our feelings of empathy and acknowledge that a person has done wrong? Again I feel that there is no easy answer. Jesus tells us to "give to Caesar what is Caesar and to God what is God's." From this statement, the best solution seems to be the one that complies with the law as well as God's teachings. So, how would you respond if put in the situations of the jurors in these cases? How would you work within the framework of the law to come up with an ethically and morally responsible solution to the problem?

Of course, it is difficult to put myself in the juror's shoes. I don't know all the evidence, the nuances, and the details of any of the cases. Perhaps I would have judged them insane or incompetent just by the way they looked at me. Perhaps the pull of sympathy would have been too great for me to make any kind of judgement (in the moment I almost always tend on the side of mercy). Perhaps I would have seen (as I do see) some of the defendants as irrational, immature children who have violent tendencies and deserve consequences for acting upon them. I have spent eight blog posts attempting to use the book, my own outside knowledge, and my Christian beliefs to come up with an ethical conclusion to these cases and the fact is: I can only do so much. And that, I believe, is the problem with these kinds of cases--not the insanity plea itself, not the legal proceedings--but the fact that we cannot know everything about what goes on in a person's mind when he commits a crime. This is one of the intensely beautiful and insanely frustrating parts about psychology. God has formulated our brains and minds in such a way that parts of yourself are only between you and Him. We cannot explain all your actions--we can only explain what to do with them. The function of the law is to judge actions, but it is near impossible to separate people from what they do (to quote Dumbledore, "It is our choices that make us who we are," right?).

I can give hard-and-fast diagnoses to some of these clients, I can judge them morally responsible, or I can throw up my hands in frustration but in all these cases there is a jumping off point. There is always a gray area that we must wade through in an attempt to fully understand a case. As Christians, I think the only way we can reconcile this is to allow God to inform our decisions in these cases and have faith that they are as ethical and correct as possible. I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing my thoughts on this with you and I hope you all have a simply fabulous Thanksgiving/Christmas season!

Happy trails,

Kelsey

James Grigson aka "Doctor Death," "The Hanging Psychiatrist," and "The Doctor of Doom"

If you have read some of my other posts on this blog, you know that I get offended by the author of this book. Frequently. He has a lot of animosity toward psychology, and it shows in sarcastic quotes like, "Because life is hard, society has designated mental health practitioners as the experts on all of life's problems." Then I read this chapter, about a psychiatrist called the "Hanging Psychiatrist." James Grigson, a Dallas boy, certified by the American Board of Neurology (and a graduate of Baylor! Although the book might mean Baylor Medical School, it's not too clear about that...), has recommended the death penalty for about 60 criminals on the grounds that the defendant is a sociopath, incurable and likely to commit violent acts again.

Sounds reasonable, right? I mean, criminals who commit violent acts surely have some sort of mental illness? Isn't it likely that sociopathy could be a good explanation? And furthermore, couldn't a psychiatrist give some insight on how likely it would be for a criminal to commit more violent acts? Well, for one thing, the APA had dropped sociopathy from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) 10 years ago when Dr. Grigson was investigated. In addition, an APA task force concluded that psychiatrists were not capable of making conclusive judgments about the likelihood for a person to commit more violent acts. The APA also limited the power of psychiatric testimony, which had become common in Texas and other states and, as Grigson's example choice, may not give the best grounds for tough decisions like the death penalty.

This interesting chapter brings up two ethical ideas. One is the importance of honesty and citing your sources. Earlier this week in discussion board we talked about how we are "consumers of information." A lot of us have the unfortunate tendency to take everything we say at face value, especially facts about science or medicine. This makes sense...science can be difficult to understand (I had a D in chemistry to prove that last year). Not many of us own a copy of a DSM or even a basic biology textbook. Although we should always fact check when we can and take any information we get with a grain of salt, this also means that "experts" have a duty to present the facts and back them up. Throwing out a lot of technical jargon and a diagnosis that "sounds right" to me does a great disservice to whatever field you are an expert in and, in the case of James Grigson, puts someone's life in your hands. Grigson had the power to persuade or dissuade juries with one use of a technical term and a reasonable prediction. It is a responsibility that cannot be taken lightly.

The other ethical issue is interesting and a little more complicated. In this chapter, Winslade offers ab explanation of why Grigson used the diagnosis sociopath when he knew it was no longer used: "Grigson's use of the sociopath diagnosis as well as his willingness to be very certain about his judgements of future mental illness are...closely related to the idea of mental illness as sin than to the idea of mental illness as disease."

Is mental illness sin? Or, rather, are the things people do as a consequence of mental illness sin? Are the two things mutually exclusive? This blog has been more about how things should go in court with insanity pleas, but I think this has been an underlying issue in all of it. Usually when I make this argument (especially about cold-blooded killers like Charles Manson) I ask...Is a rabid dog a sinner (just assume for a minute that most dogs have higher functionality)? I think most people would say no, but what about the mostly stable guy with episodes of intense anxiety who beats someone in a fit of rage...before he snaps out of it? Is sin only a function of how much remorse you are capable of feeling?

Finally, along those lines, the author brings up a point about homosexuality. Homosexuality actually used to be in the DSM as a mental disorder but was taken out because of all the ambiguities surrounding it. Is homosexuality a mental disorder? If so, can it be cured? Is homosexuality a sin? Or both? Or neither?

I'm asking far more questions than I'm answering but I think that's the point for this case. One thing that has always fascinated me (and annoyed me) is the fact that, no matter how much psychology tries to categorize people and disorders (and really anything that can be boiled down to statistics and labels) this task is simply impossible. People are not categories. They are moral beings with selfish desires and mood swings and disordered, sometimes pathological thinking. They may be diagnosed with a well-established mental disorder but it may look completely different form the person who has the same disorder. They may be empathetic or have a difficult time relating to people. They may kill and walk away without remorse or let their acts weigh on their consciousness forever. The fact is...we don't know. People aren't one or the other and in the case of psychological diagnostics this tends to raise more questions than answers.

~Kelsey