It's been a crazy busy couple of weeks, with the beginning of the Fall term here. All the while, though, I've continued to think of this blog, and what I can share, in the context of memory, trauma, PTSD, and history. I wonder sometimes why - or, really, how - I ended up interested in the aspects of trauma and PTSD in the historical context. I also wonder whether there is validity in even looking for trauma and PTSD in the distant past. After all, the field of Psychiatry itself didn't have acknowledged existence and status as a legitimate field of study until the 20th century, and PTSD was - and is still - a conglomeration of symptoms, behaviours, labels, interpretations and so on. I've mentioned previously a work by Allan Young, and the inventing of PTSD, in which he points to a long process of the construction of the label "Post-traumatic Stress Disorder", as individuals across several fields and disciplines wrestled with the assortment of symptoms, behaviours and illnesses which seemed to be connected together. Young points out that in the construction of this label, the process of construction was interwoven with the writing and editing of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (the DSM), in its revisions and publication. One very critical point he - and others - have made is that PTSD itself may be largely, if not only, and 'invention'; the result of a process of determining 1) whether various discrete symptoms were in fact neurologically/ mentally/ physiologically and definitely connected, and 2) if they were, was there in fact a single malady/ syndrome at work, which could be labelled in such a way as to acknowledge the reality of the syndrome and the multiplicity of symptoms/manifestations within it. It may well be, he and others have pointed out, that PTSD is really a label which is the product of invention, based on a perceived harmony throughout and between an assortment of symptoms. The symptoms range widely: hyper-alertness, anxiety, depression, flashbacks, intrusive memories, nightmares, heart palpitations, rapid breathing, isolation of oneself, feelings of detachment and 'numbing', inability to remember aspects of the traumatic events (s), sense of a limited future, hyper-irritability,difficulty concentrating. Taken each on their own, these symptoms may well appear in contexts completely apart from anything psycho-physiological, and may well not indicate any mental disorder or syndrome. An individual experiencing many or most of these symptoms concurrently, though, is considered a candidate for the diagnosis of PTSD. Each individual symptom may be purely a product of something solely physiological - a disease, for example, such as high blood pressure, or of straightforward (though by no means painless or 'simple') depression. When symptoms in this list manifest within the a single person, within a set period of time, are debilitating, impede 'normal' functioning, and are within a context of the experience of a traumatic event (whether recent or in the past), psychiatrists note the potential for a diagnosis of PTSD. Young argues for a reconsideration of the existence of this label, in light of the history of the label alone. There is no doubt that persons experiencing any of these symptoms - or many of them - is really experiencing these, Young points out. The essential question, then, is whether they belong altogether in a single diagnostic entity, such as PTSD. Is it the case that the medical and psychiatric professions applied a label because of the practical 'necessity' for acknowledging inter-connectedness between these various symptoms and behaviours? Was it the case that the impetus for categorization and defining, behind the construction of the DSM and its revised publication processes, drove experts to see connectedness where in fact there was little, none, or only very slight physiological similarity or connection? The forces behind the editing and revising, and republication of the DSM, in the 20th century, were very strong. Not least of these forces was the drive - in the context of the post-Korean and post-Vietnam periods - to provide for politicians, the military administration, and the Veterans Administration in the U.S. a readily accessible label to be applied diagnostically for veterans where there was a claim for financial compensations and medical benefits. When I began my own research, into British history (early modern period), my very first interests revolved around matters of conscience, and honour, among English males involved in the English Civil Wars. Actually, that's not quite true - my very first interest was in discovering why men did NOT fight in these wars (1642-1646, 1648). I wanted to really KNOW what men were thinking when they decided to remain neutral in the conflicts. This led me into efforts to understand the 17th century definitions of honour and conscience - since these were clearly critical aspects in the decision of neutrality. A tangential area of research emerged in this process, the understanding of the nature of 'fear' for these men, particularly fear in the face of brutalities of war, and death. Some fears were handled by men with the seeking out of evidence of providence, even predestination, at work. Some fears were dealt with in the context of apocalyptic perspectives: the Second Coming/ Apocalypse was clearly upon us --> I am a good Protestant ----> faith will save me ---> the Bible offers evidence of the terror of the Apocalyptic battles, but I am saved ---> therefore, even though my death be terrible, I will see paradise. There is no doubt among historians studying early modern Europe and England that there was a sense of a not-far-off Apocalypse. It was in my study of such perceptions that I began to consider the impact of fear, brutalities of war, and catastrophic events on European - really English - society. What did men actually, and really, THINK when they experienced in every immediate and personal sense the shocks, the brutalities, the violence of war and death? Was it true that they were secure from mental disorders that we see today, by virtue of, well, their 'virtue'? Was their security in faith, their perceptions of personal honour and a right conscience enough to guard them from what we today consider PTSD? I didn't - and still don't think so, at least not entirely. Perhaps I'm underestimating the significance and thoroughness of the role played by the type of personal religiosity and faith which appears to have prevailed throughout early modern society. Perhaps the faith, piety, belief, or whatever else we might call it, of men at that time - in England, in the 1600s - was truly of such a different kind that it really did protect most males from the malady of PTSD (should we still, after all, acknowledge the legitimacy of that label). The question remains - and it's a difficult one: is/was PTSD a real syndrome, in its entirety? Is/ was it ONLY a product of the pressures of the 20th century (political, medical, military, and editorial)? If I am searching for 'it' in the past, it would be helpful to know if PTSD is 'real'. A.

Memory

What is your earliest memory? Why do you remember it, or -perhaps it's more accurate to ask HOW you remember this particular thing/event/time over the many other things/events/ times that also fill your life? Memories, and remembering play an enormous role in our brain map, and this is - for me - just so fascinating. As a historian, I 'work' with memories all the time. Just a thought - or several - rambling around in my head today.

That's It: Apocalyptic film, dramatic events, 9/11 and the at...

That's It: Apocalyptic film, dramatic events, 9/11 and the at...: I've been reading various works on PTSD, over the past few years, and doing so slowly (when I've got the time and the inclination or...

Apocalyptic film, dramatic events, 9/11 and the attraction of dire events

I've been reading various works on PTSD, over the past few years, and doing so slowly (when I've got the time and the inclination or enthusiasm). There are so many theories and perspectives on PTSD, or - rather - on trauma, and its connection to events. One fascinating aspect of understanding trauma/ traumatic events and their impact on and within individuals and societies at large is the near mesmerization and fascination experienced by some individuals and at times (seemingly) entire societies when encountering truly brutal/ shocking/ traumatic events on social media, in film, on the news networks. I wonder if this fascination explains as well the great popularity of reality television. My guess is that it probably does. Anyway, I can point to my own experience in this area. On Spetember 11, 2001, I watched television, after my husband tracked me down at the university, and pulled me out of class to relay urgent messages from my mother. My mother had been attempting to contact me, once she herself had been contacted by some of my siblings, who advised her to turn on her television to catch the news feeds on the attack on the World Trade Centres and the Pentagon. She had reached my husband, who then went to inform me. I'll explain here, some of the backdrop of her urgent need to connect with me: I live in western Canada, the only one of ten kids in my family to move out of the U.S. The remainder of my family live in Ohio, wight he exception of two brothers living in the Pacific Northwest. I have always been concerned about my family's well-being, especially as I live so far from them. The events of 9/11 added to my anxieties about their welfare, as I - along with many in North America, and likely elsewhere - sensed that the events of that day were likely a harbinger of things to come. While I watched the televised coverage of the World Trade towers burning, people jumping or falling from windows high in the towers, the collapse of the towers, the attack on the Pentagon, and all subsequent events, I felt complete dismay, great grief, and shock. I as well thought that I was observing events that were cataclysmic, in the scope of U.S. history,if not the history of the western world. As a historian, I have been trained to think of events such as those of that day as having far-flung, long-lasting and unknowable legacies, as well as long-past origins and critical factors going back decades at least. I found my senses keyed up, 'hyper', and I could not - it seemed - stop my thoughts from replaying the televised images, nor could I stop my fascination with all that was going on. I recall watching hours of television afterward, and really having to try hard to pull myself away from the news feeds. I used the internet as well, watching possibly hundreds of personal cellphone and camera videos that had been posted by individuals present in New Yrok city, and in Washington, and in Pennsylvania. I asked my family members, in the year afterward, of their specific recollections of all that had happened, how they felt, what they did, and so on. I know at various points I found myself having nightmares of being in New York, at the World Trade Centre, as the planes hit the buildings, as the buildings collapsed. My husband observed several times that I really needed to stop watching coverage, and stop dwelling on the events. Since 2001, I've occasionally (more often in the years immediately following 9/11, far less now) searched online for videos from the events, photographs, and documentaries. I think there are at least two reasons for this fascination on my part: one is that I am a historian who happens also to be acutely interested in historical crises/ trauma/ survival. The second is that I am somehow 'comforted' by the invigoration that results from revisiting the neurological and cognitive (?) pathways created by my own traumatic experiences, without actually visiting those very private traumas of my own life. I can look and observe the traumatic events of - say - 9/11, without having ever been very personally and literally THERE, in New York, in Washington, in Pennsylvania, or even in the U.S. In one monograph I have read, quite recently, by Allan Young, he discussed and summarized several theories of trauma, and memory. In some of his summaries, as well as in other contemporary sources, mention has been made of this phenomena among people who have PTSD: this clear fascination with, and near-obsessive-like attraction toward dire and shocking events. It is -in my own perspective - as if PTSD sufferers cannot help but be drawn to observe, to watch, to feel the sensations brought by sudden catastrophic events - televised, in Hollywood film, on Facebook, or YouTube. Are PTSD sufferers ghouls? What is going on? One theory is that once one experiences traumatic events, and develops PTSD (and I do understand that this is an artificially all-encompassing label for a wide range of sensations/emotions/neurological circumstances), one's mind/brain 'needs' to replay the sensations of hyper-alertness/ foreboding/ catastrophic-awareness and even excitement. There is no stopping that very innate, very fundamental drive or attraction toward this replay. I'm going to read more on this, since I don't quite 'get' this yet, and don't want to even try to explain this all here. Those researchers who have posited this theory have explanations which are complex, understandably so, and I don't want to set out an explanation here without understanding it better myself. More later!