My time as a teenage psychiatric patient
Morrison's review of Stock's exposé of William Sargant and 1960s psychiatry reinforces my sense of good fortune, against all the odds at the time.
My relatively benign experience of psychiatric drugs was initially high doses of Largactil, which knocked me out, so were quickly reduced. But the 'dark alchemy of drugs and electricity' was all around, and my terror that I might be subjected to electroconvulsive therapy treatment and the dire post-treatment after-effects that I witnessed in my fellow inpatients never left me. That it was acceptable for a vulnerable adolescent to be subjected to this speaks itself for the barbarism of those with influence and power in mental health practice at the time.
Stock's calling out of the horrors is, I suspect, the tip of the iceberg. William Sargant is not alone in his being 'possessed' of self-interested furor therapeuticus – 'the rage to heal'. It's a universal driver that gives priceless energy and motivation, but needs vigilant and collaborative professional regulation to function safely – along with committed investment for child and adolescent mental health services as well as adult mental health services, whose waiting lists sadly lengthen every day.Alison Tudor HartLondon
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The Guardian
a day ago
- The Guardian
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I joined Physicians for Human Rights – Israel in order to fight for the health of the populations under Israeli control, together with many partners. When we began filming the documentary, five months had already passed since Israel's assault on Gaza began. At that point, thousands had been killed and widespread destruction had taken place. Still, I could not have dreamed that for the next year and a half we would continue to witness daily bombings, mass death – including thousands of children – millions displaced, starvation and the unprecedented decimation of Gaza's health system. Hospitals, schools, mosques, churches, universities and entire neighbourhoods have been wiped off the map. The scale of devastation is unlike anything I have seen elsewhere. This is not merely a humanitarian crisis, it is what many international legal scholars and human rights organisations have begun to describe as a genocide in progress. My personal story is inseparable from this struggle. Marwan, the brother of my sister-in-law, a paramedic, was killed in the line of duty on 7 October 2023. These past two weeks were even more tragic for his family: their tents in a camp in Gaza were bombed, killing 10 relatives, among them Abdullah, an eight-year-old boy full of life and dreams of becoming a doctor, murdered in his sleep. Little Marwan, seven years old, lay unconscious in a hospital for a week due to a severe head injury, but was denied proper treatment due to the severe shortage of medical staff and resources. Since that tragic day, more than 1,500 Palestinian medical personnel have been killed. Many have been detained, subjected to ongoing persecution and humiliation. Some have died by torture and neglect in Israeli detention facilities. All this takes place under deafening silence from the Israeli healthcare establishment and many of my fellow physicians, who too often choose silence over basic ethics and morality. Only very few voices were heard among some in the Israeli healthcare system against targeting their colleagues in Gazan hospitals. Amid all this, I try to speak with restraint, to choose my words carefully, out of fear and understanding that my voice might be seen as dangerous. Since 7 October, Palestinian staff in the Israeli healthcare system have faced persecution, slander and paralysis. Anti-Palestinian sentiment is surging, even among patients and colleagues. Slogans such as 'there are no innocents in Gaza' or 'burn Gaza to the ground' are neither rejected nor punished by the system. Any expression of sympathy for victims – women, children, innocent civilians – is seen as support for terror, and puts the speaker at risk of dismissal or disciplinary action. A fellow physician, a partner in our struggle, was recently fired for delivering a brief speech in which he criticised the crimes committed in Gaza. The silencing and persecution are only intensifying. 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The Guardian
3 days ago
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Texas sues New York official for refusing to take action against abortion provider
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Times
24-07-2025
- Times
Up all night with ravers, nuns and shiftworkers
Arifa Akbar is scared of the dark. Her British-Pakistani parents told her horrifying tales of creatures that appeared at night, stories 'of djinns capable of immense violence, of daayans with feet on backwards, disembowelling their victims with their bare hands'. She sleeps with a curtain open to let the light of the street lamps stream through the window and travels with a plug-in nightlight. As the Guardian's chief theatre critic Akbar often has to work late into the night. In Wolf Moon, her lyrical examination of the world between dusk and dawn, she acknowledges the ridiculousness of her night-time anxieties. 'But if there really is nothing to fear, why do I feel so viscerally afraid as the dark levitates towards me, everything and nothing thrumming inside it?' The book is part reporting, part memoir. Akbar writes about her father, who was a security guard, first on the railways and then at the Courtauld gallery in London, working night shifts in both jobs. 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At New Spitalfields Market in Leyton, east London, she watches hundreds of HGVs queue at midnight to unload fruit and vegetables — 'a lush, vegetative oasis within the city'. She spends the night at the Convent of Poor Clares in Ellesmere, Shropshire, rising with the nuns at midnight to sing matins and again for lauds at 6:30am. • 12 exceptional memoirs from the past 30 years to read next However, some people come alive at night. Akbar goes to Berghain, an LGBT nightclub in Berlin, and dances with a Brazilian trans woman who has been attending for 13 years and an Austrian postman who often stays in the club from Saturday through to Monday. Akbar feels transfigured in the club's darkness. 'I am no longer a responsible homeowner, journalist and carer of elderly parents,' she writes. 'I am no more or less than my silver-black dress and gold eyelashes.' She meets the poet and playwright Debris Stevenson who has been a raver for decades. 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I went on one of these tours once and a man in my group commented on which of the murdered women was the most attractive. These threats aren't just abstract to Akbar. Her sister Fauzia, whose death was the subject of her first book, Consumed, struggled as a teenager with compulsive eating. She would bribe Akbar and her brother to go to a supermarket at night to buy her food. In her twenties she fell into a depression and became homeless. • Read more book reviews and interviews — and see what's top of the Sunday Times Bestsellers List At her hungriest Fauzia would go through bins on the streets. After her death by undiagnosed tuberculosis Akbar's family agonised over how she had contracted the disease. They wondered if it happened in this dark and desperate time of her life. What might otherwise feel like a random collection of vignettes is threaded together by Akbar's grief for her sister and her anxiety for her father. Wolf Moon is a celebration of the exuberance of night-time and a moving portrait of the dangers of the dark. Wolf Moon: A Woman's Journey into the Night by Arifa Akbar (Sceptre £16.99 pp256). To order a copy go to Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members
