Today, history is a story of progress. Scientific and technological advances appear as evidence enough. Day by day, our reservoir of knowledge accumulates about biology, for instance—our bodies and our brains. New medications are patented, giving suffering individuals an opportunity to thrive. Such is modern science at its best; progress in the service of humanity.
But we have become mesmerized with the idea of progress. Our present understanding, we tell ourselves, has never been so clear and comprehensive. We invite humankind to board the ship sailing from darkness into the future. In a cloak of humility, we tell ourselves that we are standing on the shoulders of giants—that we have inherited the fruits of history. And we thank our predecessors for having have set the stage for us. But now that we have risen above them, they become "irrelevant."
Unfortunately, our obsession with scientific progress has given birth to something that threatens to strip psychology of the human soul—scientism. Scientism refers to the idealization of the scientific method, privileging it above all other ways of knowing. It is the unqualified romance with progress. Shattering sobriety shows the cruel ends to which technology can be put to use. Consider this past century. Darwinian genetics was socialized, oppressing minorities and the underclass. The Third Reich perverted technology for its ends. Einstein’s work turned into the disasters of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And today, the dominance of psychiatry nearly extinguishes the vitality of the “mentally ill.” The latest psychiatric “advances” discard a century’s work on Schizophrenia—work that understood and respected humans whole beings. Of course, technology is not the problem. It's how we use it. The trouble is advances in technology guarantee no corresponding advance in wisdom or how to use it responsibly.
Cultural historian Carl Schorske beautifully describes our grave and ubiquitous alienation from history.
"In most fields of intellectual activity, twentieth-century Europe has proudly asserted its independence of the past. As early as the eighteenth century, the word “modern” acquired something of the ring of a war cry, but then only as an antithesis of “ancient”—implying contrast with classical antiquity. In the last hundred years, however, “modern” has come to distinguish our perception of our lives and times from all that has gone before….The modern mind has been growing indifferent to history because history, conceived as a continuous nourishing tradition, has become useless to it."
Without history, without the past, we are left only with the present and the future. It would make sense that loss of history might cause one to cling tightly to faith in progress. In contrast, those who’ve found nourishment in history don't rely as much on the ebbs and flows of the present. Historical progress and decline become apparent. "Golden ages" ripe for great work become recognizable and relevant.
Within psychology, progressive trends elipse history; Schizophrenia is now understood almost exclusively in biological and genetic terms. The prime consideration is not how the patient is feeling, but whether they’ve taken their medicine. With due credit to science, medication helps reduce symptoms, improve hygiene, and daily functioning, but not without a price. Symptoms are seen as something to be marked off on a checklist. Their rich connection to the patient’s internal world is disregarded. It is very rare for a patient to be treated by someone who cares about their internal experience and how they make meaning of it. And figures of psychology who would have something worthwhile to say on the matter (e.g., Sullivan, Laing) are dismissed.
Good science knows its limits. Scientism doesn’t. Technological advances that are blind to the human question cannot be considered progress. True progress arrives when historical wisdom is held in tension with contemporary advances. Holding that tension optimizes the opportunity for judicious application. Many schizophrenic patients benefit tremendously from medication. But using drugs as a primary intervention is to throw out the lion share of what we have to work with. Intoxication with progress at the expense of history is our greatest danger, local and global.