Testing the Deep Research feature of chatgpt to write a well researched essay on limitations of psychology

Joy Bose
23 min read3 days ago

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I tried to use the new “Deep Research” feature of ChatGPT to do some research on problems with the current state of psychology treatments which try to make the subject with mental health problems mainly functional in society, as opposed to more holistic approaches such as those advocated by RD Laing and Buddhist lojong mind training.

First, it asked me some pointed questions to know exactly what i wanted and what I had in mind, including the following: Do you want the paper to focus on specific psychological conditions (e.g., depression, anxiety, ADHD) or discuss limitations in a general sense? Should I explore criticisms from both scientific and philosophical perspectives? Would you like case studies or historical examples to illustrate the points? How in-depth should the comparison with Buddhist mind training and thinkers like R.D. Laing be? Should it be a major section or just a contrast? Do you prefer a formal academic tone or a more accessible, essay-like style?

Deep Research feature of ChatGPT

Once it understood what I was looking for, it searched the internet and even research papers, and finally constructed a nice article for lay audiences about the limitations of mainstream psychology treatments.

Below is the generated article.

Mainstream Mental Health Treatments: Quick Fixes and Their Limits

Mental health treatments today — from therapy techniques like mindfulness, CBT (cognitive-behavioral therapy), and exposure therapy to medical approaches like antidepressants and ADHD medications — often promise fast relief. They aim to reduce symptoms of depression, anxiety, or inattention so that people can function “normally” in daily life. But critics argue that many of these mainstream methods act more like quick fixes — band-aids on deep wounds — than true cures. They may restore basic functioning without addressing the root causes of a person’s suffering or fostering genuine well-being. This section explores the scientific critiques of these popular methods and the philosophical concerns about their focus on symptom relief over holistic healing.

Mindfulness: From Ancient Practice to “McMindfulness”

Mindfulness, originally a profound Buddhist practice, has been embraced in psychology for stress reduction and therapy. Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) and Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT) have shown moderate benefits for issues like anxiety and depression in clinical trials (Meditation programs for psychological stress and well-being: a systematic review and meta-analysis — PubMed). In fact, a major review of 47 studies found that mindfulness meditation can reduce anxiety and depression symptoms somewhat — but notably, it was no more effective than other active treatments like exercise or medication (Meditation programs for psychological stress and well-being: a systematic review and meta-analysis — PubMed). In other words, mindfulness helps, but it’s not a magical cure-all. And despite the hype, it often produces only small to moderate improvements in stress levels (Meditation programs for psychological stress and well-being: a systematic review and meta-analysis — PubMed).

Beyond the question of effectiveness, some experts worry about how mindfulness is used in the West. They point to the rise of “McMindfulness,” a term popularized by professor Ronald Purser to describe mindfulness training stripped of its deeper ethical and spiritual context (Ronald Purser On McMindfulness — Insight Timer Blog). In this critique, mindfulness has been “reduced…to a mere self-help technique,” packaged for quick stress relief (Ronald Purser On McMindfulness — Insight Timer Blog). Corporations and clinics sometimes promote mindfulness as a calm-me-down tool for workers and patients — a way to accept stress rather than question it. Purser argues that this commercialized mindfulness often serves a “neoliberal agenda” by encouraging individuals to cope quietly instead of challenging unhealthy social conditions (Ronald Purser On McMindfulness — Insight Timer Blog). In short, mindfulness classes might make you momentarily calmer in a chaotic workplace, but they won’t fix the fact that your workplace is chaotic. Critics fear this quick-fix mindset “deflects responsibility from society to the individual,” asking people to simply meditate away their distress rather than addressing its sources (McMindfulness: How Mindfulness Became the New Capitalist …).

CBT and Behavior Therapies: Symptom-Focused Approaches

Among talk therapies, Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is king. It’s short-term, structured, and aims to quickly change negative thought patterns and behaviors. CBT’s popularity isn’t just due to good marketing — it does have a strong evidence base for many problems. But even CBT’s own proponents acknowledge some important limitations. One concern is that CBT can be too mechanistic, focusing on cookie-cutter techniques rather than the whole person ( Cognitive-Behavioral Therapies: Achievements and Challenges — PMC ). In standard CBT, patients learn to challenge “distorted” thoughts and practice new behaviors to relieve symptoms. This often works in the short run. However, critics note that CBT mostly targets current symptoms and issues, not their deep underlying causes. As Britain’s NHS summarizes, “while CBT addresses current problems and focuses on specific issues, it does not address the possible underlying causes of mental health conditions, such as an unhappy childhood.” (Overview — Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) — NHS) In other words, a CBT therapist might help someone manage panic attacks in the present, but the therapy might not delve into that person’s past trauma or longstanding loneliness that gave rise to anxiety. Once the brief course of CBT ends (often just a few weeks of sessions), the unresolved root issues could resurface.

Research also suggests that some of CBT’s trademark techniques may not be as crucial as once thought. For example, a landmark study in depression found that simply engaging in active behaviors (sometimes called behavioral activation) produced just as much improvement as the full CBT package that also included cognitive homework ( Cognitive-Behavioral Therapies: Achievements and Challenges — PMC ). In many cases, “stripped-down” behavioral strategies work as well as CBT with all the cognitive disputation ( Cognitive-Behavioral Therapies: Achievements and Challenges — PMC ). This raises a provocative question asked by CBT insiders: “Do we need to challenge thoughts in cognitive behavior therapy?” ( Cognitive-Behavioral Therapies: Achievements and Challenges — PMC ). Some researchers suspect that changing behavior and getting support may matter more than the specific thought exercises. CBT, for all its success, might not have pinpointed a unique secret sauce — it could be helping by basic supportive structure and behavioral change, not by its detailed cognitive theory.

Behavior therapy and related methods (like exposure therapy) share CBT’s emphasis on symptoms. They often excel at treating phobias, compulsions, and panic by gradually exposing patients to feared situations or by reinforcing desired behaviors. These methods can be very effective in what they aim to do — for instance, systematic exposure can greatly reduce irrational fears. The limitation is that the aim itself is narrow: overcome this one fear, stop that one compulsive ritual, etc. Exposure therapy in particular is sometimes described as a “gold standard” for anxiety disorders because it directly confronts the symptom (the fear) and over time weakens the conditioned fear response (Exposure Therapy for Anxiety Disorders — Psychiatric Times). But as a number of therapists admit, exposure is “difficult work” that can be distressing for patients ( Exposure Therapy: Benefits, Techniques & How It Works ). By design, it forces people to feel the very emotions they’ve been avoiding. If done improperly, it can backfire or see its effects fade ( Exposure Therapy: Benefits, Techniques & How It Works ). Many clinicians are hesitant to use exposure at all, worrying it “may exacerbate symptoms” or cause dropout ( Exposure Therapy: Benefits, Techniques & How It Works ). Even when it works, exposure therapy targets the specific fear or trauma memory rather than the person’s broader life context. For example, exposure might help a survivor not panic when thinking of a past assault (a valuable relief, no doubt), but it doesn’t automatically address the survivor’s deeper emotional healing or trust in relationships moving forward. In short, behavior-based techniques zero in on problem behaviors and fears to eliminate them, but they might leave larger questions of meaning, relationships, and identity untouched.

(Pills Medicine Medication — Free photo on Pixabay) Quick pharmaceutical fixes like antidepressant pills can reduce symptoms, but critics argue they often don’t resolve the deeper issues underlying conditions like depression (Initial severity and antidepressant benefits: a meta-analysis of data submitted to the Food and Drug Administration — PubMed) (Initial severity and antidepressant benefits: a meta-analysis of data submitted to the Food and Drug Administration — PubMed). Instead, medications sometimes act as short-term “band-aids” for distress.

Medication: Managing Symptoms Without Curing Causes

Perhaps the most prevalent quick fix in mainstream mental health is pharmacotherapy — in plain terms, medications. For depression and anxiety, doctors often prescribe SSRIs and other antidepressants; for ADHD, stimulant drugs like Ritalin or Adderall are common. These medications can be genuinely helpful for many people, but scientific reviews suggest their benefits are often modest — and come with trade-offs.

Take antidepressants: We used to hear that depression was caused by a “chemical imbalance” and popping a pill could correct serotonin levels like insulin for diabetes. This simple story has fallen apart in recent years. An exhaustive meta-analysis of clinical trial data (including unpublished FDA trials) found that for mild to moderate depression, newer antidepressants worked no better than placebo sugar pills (Initial severity and antidepressant benefits: a meta-analysis of data submitted to the Food and Drug Administration — PubMed) (Initial severity and antidepressant benefits: a meta-analysis of data submitted to the Food and Drug Administration — PubMed). Only in cases of very severe depression did the drug’s effect slightly exceed placebo, and even then the advantage was “relatively small” (Initial severity and antidepressant benefits: a meta-analysis of data submitted to the Food and Drug Administration — PubMed). In practical terms, this means many depressed people are taking medications that change brain chemistry without giving much more benefit than a placebo — raising tough questions about whether we are really treating the underlying illness. Some researchers, like Irving Kirsch, conclude that up to ~80% of the response to antidepressants may be due to placebo effect and expectancy (Antidepressants and the Placebo Effect — PMC). The drugs do help some individuals, but for most, they seem to act as expensive emotional crutches that mildly numb symptoms. Meanwhile, the underlying issues — whether it’s grief, trauma, loneliness, or life dissatisfaction — might remain unaddressed once the medication-induced numbness is in place.

Medication for ADHD follows a similar pattern. Stimulant drugs can quickly increase focus and reduce impulsivity; in the short term, many kids and adults see real improvement in their ability to sit still and get tasks done. But these gains may not translate into long-term better outcomes. A large 8-year follow-up study of children with ADHD found no difference in academics or behavior between those intensively treated with medication and those who got therapy or routine care — initial advantages of meds disappeared after a few years (The MTA at 8 years: prospective follow-up of children treated for combined-type ADHD in a multisite study — PubMed) (The MTA at 8 years: prospective follow-up of children treated for combined-type ADHD in a multisite study — PubMed). Essentially, the 14 months of optimized treatment didn’t change where the kids ended up 6–8 years later (The MTA at 8 years: prospective follow-up of children treated for combined-type ADHD in a multisite study — PubMed). Many of the medicated children still struggled significantly as teens despite symptom reduction during the treatment period (The MTA at 8 years: prospective follow-up of children treated for combined-type ADHD in a multisite study — PubMed). This suggests the drugs managed the behaviors but did not “cure” the ADHD or improve broader life skills long-term. Moreover, ADHD medications come with side effects: stimulants often blunt appetite, disrupt sleep, and can even stunt growth in some children (causing a slight reduction in height/weight over years) (Long-term effects of ADHD medication: What to know). They may also induce anxiety or an “emotional blunting” in certain individuals (Long-term effects of ADHD medication: What to know). Critics argue that heavy reliance on stimulants is a societal quick fix — instead of adapting classrooms and parenting to be more engaging for energetic kids, we medicate the kids to fit the environment. As some have put it, ADHD’s explosion in diagnoses and drug treatment reflects “the medicalisation of underperformance” or of normal youthful hyperactivity (Critical analysis of the concept of adult attention-deficit hyperactivity …). The medication makes the child more compliant and focused in the short run, but it sidesteps questions about whether the standard expectations on all kids are reasonable or healthy.

In summary, mainstream psychiatric drugs tend to mute symptoms — lifting mood a bit, easing anxiety, sharpening focus — but they often do not set the person on a path to true wellness. When the effect wears off, or the person stops taking the pill, the original problems frequently return, sometimes with a vengeance. Medications rarely tackle why the person was depressed, anxious, or unable to concentrate to begin with. They don’t teach new coping skills or help someone find meaning or heal relationships. This symptom-level approach is very much in line with our culture’s desire for fast solutions: if you’re suffering, take something to feel better now. But the deeper aches of the mind might need a different kind of remedy.

Psychoanalysis: Depth vs. Expediency

One might think psychoanalysis — the classic Freudian “talking cure” — is the opposite of a quick fix. After all, traditional psychoanalysis can involve years of intensive sessions, delving into childhood memories, dreams, and the unconscious mind. Indeed, psychoanalysis was once criticized for not being quick or pragmatic enough, especially as therapies like CBT rose to prominence (Therapy wars: the revenge of Freud | Psychology | The Guardian). However, the reason psychoanalysis is worth mentioning here is to illustrate that even a very deep-delving approach can miss the mark in its own way. Freud’s method was holistic about the psyche (exploring fears, desires, formative experiences), but it still tended to focus narrowly on internal mental processes — often ignoring social, cultural, or biological factors. And importantly, modern science has not been kind to Freud’s grand theories. Many core Freudian ideas (like specific childhood complexes causing later neurosis) have “gained little empirical support,” and some have been flat-out refuted ( Is Psychoanalysis Still Relevant to Psychiatry? — PMC ). The evidence that long-term psychoanalysis produces better outcomes than shorter therapies is thin. Even leaders in the psychoanalytic field admit that “the evidence base for psychoanalytic therapy remains thin.” ( Is Psychoanalysis Still Relevant to Psychiatry? — PMC ) Decades of isolated case studies and theoretical writings did not amount to solid proof. Philosopher Karl Popper famously deemed classical psychoanalysis a pseudoscience because it made many unfalsifiable claims (every outcome could be rationalized within Freud’s framework) ( Is Psychoanalysis Still Relevant to Psychiatry? — PMC ).

In practice today, pure Freud-style analysis is rare; it’s been adapted into shorter psychodynamic therapies that borrow some ideas about exploring emotions and relationships. Those shorter therapies do have research support and can help people ( Is Psychoanalysis Still Relevant to Psychiatry? — PMC ). But they are a far cry from the original open-ended analysis. The reality is that psychoanalysis, as originally conceived, does not fit into a modern “get well quick” model — and so it has largely faded from mainstream use. Insurance companies and mental health systems favor treatments that show results in months, not years. Psychoanalysis might seek deeper understanding, but it’s often criticized for lacking rigor and being too slow to provide relief. From a philosophical angle, some also argue that classical analysis put too much emphasis on intra-psychic conflicts (like Oedipal urges or repressed memories) and blamed the individual’s psyche — much like other mainstream methods — while neglecting external factors like poverty, discrimination, or toxic relationships. In that sense, even psychoanalysis could end up adjusting a person to fit the status quo (by helping them accept their ingrained guilt or repression), rather than questioning the status quo itself.

The Philosophical Problem: Treating the Symptoms, Not the Soul

Looking across these mainstream approaches, a common thread appears: they define success by the reduction of visible symptoms and a return to functionality. If you’re too depressed to get out of bed, success means you can get up and go to work again. If you’re having panic attacks, success means they stop. If your child is bouncing off the walls in class, success means he now sits still and does his homework. These are not trivial goals — they can make the difference between misery and basic stability. Yet, from a philosophical and humanistic perspective, being “functional” in society is not the same as being well. A person might be back at work and no longer suicidal, but still feel empty and unfulfilled. A child might behave in school but feel deeply misunderstood or emotionally stifled. Mainstream psychology, critics say, often stops at the point of making someone operational, rather than fostering true wellness.

One could argue that much of modern mental health care serves the interests of social conformity and economic productivity. As psychologist R.D. Laing sharply observed, *“insanity — in a sense — could be a sane reaction to an insane society.” If that’s true, simply normalizing someone back into an “insane” environment might not be a victory at all. Laing and others in the anti-psychiatry movement pointed out that what we label as mental illness might be a meaningful response to unbearable circumstances (R.D. Laing: “Insanity is a sane response to an insane world.”) (R.D. Laing: “Insanity is a sane response to an insane world.”). For instance, if a teenager becomes severely anxious and depressed in a high-pressure, bullying school environment, is the real problem her brain chemistry or the toxic environment? A mainstream approach might medicate her anxiety so she can keep attending the same school — a quick fix that keeps her “functional” (in class, doing exams) but leaves the original cruelty or meaninglessness of her situation unaddressed. This is the heart of the philosophical concern: by focusing on fixing the individual’s immediate symptoms, we may implicitly validate or leave untouched the larger context that generated the distress. We treat the patient in isolation, often with the goal of getting them back to “normal” life as defined by society, rather than asking if maybe it’s normal life that needs changing.

Alternative Perspectives: Deeper Healing and Holistic Understanding

What would a more holistic or integrative approach to mental health look like? Two very different perspectives — one ancient Eastern, one modern Western — offer some clues. Buddhist mind training, especially the practice of Lojong in Tibetan Buddhism, and the radical views of R.D. Laing both challenge the mainstream model in fundamental ways. They shift the focus from quickly silencing symptoms to understanding and transforming the whole person’s experience of suffering.

(20,000+ Free Buddha Statue & Buddha Photos — Pixabay) Traditional Buddhist mind training methods, such as Lojong, teach practitioners to embrace and transform suffering rather than simply eliminate it. This contrasts sharply with Western therapies that aim primarily to remove discomfort (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs) (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs).

Buddhist Mind Training (Lojong)

In Tibetan Buddhist tradition, Lojong (literally “mind training”) is a set of practices and slogans designed to transform one’s mind and heart. The logic of Lojong is almost the inverse of a quick fix: instead of eliminating suffering as fast as possible, it teaches people to embrace suffering as a path to growth. For example, one Lojong teaching says, “Take happiness and suffering as the path.” Rather than seeing pain as meaningless or purely negative, practitioners learn to use difficulty as an opportunity to cultivate wisdom, compassion, and inner strength (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs) (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs). This doesn’t mean Buddhists enjoy suffering; rather, they recognize suffering is inevitable in life and seek to change their relationship to it. By “embracing pain and suffering, you can learn to see their roots, begin to work with them, and eventually let them go.” (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs) The ultimate goal is not just symptom relief, but a profound mental transformation leading to genuine peace of mind and even enlightenment.

How does this differ from mindfulness-as-used-in-therapy? The mindfulness taught in Lojong is embedded in a whole ethical and philosophical system. It comes with teachings on compassion for others, on seeing the ego as a source of problems, on patience, gratitude, and so on (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs). In essence, it’s holistic: it addresses who you are, how you relate to others, and your understanding of reality. “Dispel self-grasping to reduce suffering,” “develop patience and tolerance,” “practice contentment (not complacency),” say the Lojong instructions (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs). These are not quick or easy tasks — they are lifelong mind-training goals. The healing in Buddhism is aimed at nothing less than “complete mental well-being” and liberation from the causes of suffering (Lojong / Mind Training Reader’s Guide — Shambhala Pubs).

From a Lojong perspective, a person’s depression or anxiety might be approached as follows: rather than immediately trying to make those unpleasant feelings vanish, the practitioner would sit with them, observe them mindfully, and investigate their nature. They might reflect on how many others in the world feel similar pain, developing compassion for all who suffer. They may use specific contemplative slogans like “Drive all blames into one” (taking responsibility for one’s own reactions) or “Seeing confusion as the Buddha’s teaching” (treating difficult experiences as spiritual lessons). Over time, this practice can lead to a deep shift — the individual might find that their suffering has made them more empathetic, less ego-driven, and more awake to what truly matters. Importantly, the goal isn’t to become a productive worker or a “normal” person again; the goal is to become a wiser, more loving, and freer being. Any reduction in symptoms is a side benefit — and indeed, often the anxiety or despair does lessen as a result of this inner transformation, but it’s a gradual blossoming rather than a quick cut of the weeds.

R.D. Laing’s Integrative, Patient-Centered Vision

R.D. Laing, a Scottish psychiatrist active in the 1960s and 70s, became famous (and infamous) for challenging the very definitions of sanity and mental illness. He believed that modern psychiatry often misunderstood mental illness by viewing it solely as an individual pathology, divorced from context. Laing suggested that many so-called “mad” behaviors are actually understandable — even sane — reactions to an insane world (R.D. Laing: “Insanity is a sane response to an insane world.”) (R.D. Laing: “Insanity is a sane response to an insane world.”). For example, if a person is born into a brutally dysfunctional family or a society full of conflicting expectations, their withdrawal or bizarre speech might be a form of coping or protest, not a random brain disease. In Laing’s view, the person’s experience makes sense when you fully listen to it and see them in context. He famously said, “Madness need not be all breakdown. It may also be breakthrough. It is potentially liberation and renewal.” Instead of simply drugging a psychotic patient until their strange behavior stops, Laing advocated for engaging with the patient’s experience, almost like an ally on a journey. He even set up therapeutic communities (like Kingsley Hall in London) where people with schizophrenia could go through their “inner voyage” with minimal medication and without the usual hospital constraints.

Laing’s approach was deeply patient-centered and integrative. He drew on existential philosophy, seeing patients as people struggling with questions of identity, meaning, and authenticity (R.D. Laing: “Insanity is a sane response to an insane world.”). He also emphasized the impact of relationships — families, in particular, could contribute to mental breakdown. In his book Sanity, Madness and the Family, Laing highlighted how certain family interaction patterns might drive a sensitive individual into psychosis (though this particular point — blaming families — was controversial and not entirely supported by evidence) (My father, RD Laing: ‘he solved other people’s problems | Books). The key difference is that Laing did not view symptoms like hallucinations or extreme withdrawal as meaningless errors of brain chemistry. He saw them as symbols or expressions of real suffering that had to be understood, not just silenced. As one summary puts it, Laing argued that symptoms of mental illness are “meaningful responses to an external world” that is often irrational or oppressive (R.D. Laing: “Insanity is a sane response to an insane world.”). Where mainstream psychiatry would try to adjust the individual to fit society, Laing was not afraid to ask if maybe society itself was part of the problem. He thus held a radically different goal for therapy: not just to make the person behave normally, but to help them find a way to be true to themselves in an untrue world. If that meant questioning social norms, so be it.

In practice, what would a Laingian approach look like for, say, depression or anxiety? First, it would involve truly listening to the patient’s story without rushing to label or medicate. The therapist might explore the patient’s life context — Are they feeling alienated at work? Is their marriage devoid of genuine connection? Do they live in a culture that demands they suppress their true emotions? Rather than pathologize the sadness or panic, the therapist might validate it as an understandable human reaction to painful circumstances. Together, they might explore ways for the patient to change their life or environment, or to find personal meaning in their experience. Laing believed in a kind of authentic meeting between therapist and patient — a relationship of equals, not “doctor vs. sick person.” Healing, in this view, comes from finding meaning and wholeness, not from quickly eliminating symptoms. Laing would likely prefer a breakthrough (a deep realization or emotional catharsis that might look dramatic from the outside) over a superficial stabilization. His ideas encourage seeing the “whole person” (with all their social and spiritual dimensions) when treating mental illness.

Different Goals, Different Outcomes

The contrast between mainstream methods and these alternative perspectives is striking. Their goals differ: Mainstream therapies often aim to restore functionality and eliminate distress as fast as possible. Buddhist and Laingian approaches aim to foster personal growth, insight, and a healthy relationship with reality, which may initially be a slower and more challenging process. Their methodologies differ: A CBT session might teach thought-challenging skills for homework this week, whereas a Lojong practitioner might spend months meditating on compassion for all sentient beings. A psychiatrist might adjust a patient’s medication dose to suppress hearing voices, whereas an integrative therapist influenced by Laing might sit with the patient as they talk to their voices, trying to decode what those hallucinated voices represent in the patient’s life story. Most fundamentally, their view of human suffering differs: To the mainstream clinician, suffering is a sign something is wrong — a disorder to be fixed. To the Buddhist, suffering is an inescapable part of life that, when approached with wisdom, can be a teacher and a means to transcend the ego. To Laing, suffering (even extreme “madness”) can be a meaningful response — perhaps even a protest — against a broken context, and working through it could lead to a more genuine way of living.

None of this is to entirely dismiss mainstream psychology and psychiatry — their techniques do help millions to function better and find relief. The critique is that we too often stop at “good enough” — medicated, manageable, mundane — and fail to support people in achieving full, flourishing mental health. A depressed person may want not only to stop feeling suicidal, but to find a reason to live; not only to show up at work, but to feel truly alive and authentic. Mainstream treatments sometimes fall short on that deeper level. They reflect a broader cultural impatience for results and a discomfort with the messy, lengthy process of soul-searching healing.

The philosophical challenge going forward is how to integrate the strengths of both approaches. Can we combine the scientific rigor and short-term efficacy of mainstream methods with the holistic, depth-oriented focus of approaches like Buddhist mind training or Laing’s patient-centered therapy? For example, there is growing interest in therapies that incorporate mindfulness and address values and meaning (like ACT — Acceptance and Commitment Therapy), or in programs that involve family and social interventions alongside individual treatment. The ideal would be treatments that relieve immediate suffering and guide people toward understanding themselves on a deeper level. As the saying goes, “pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” Mainstream psychology often tries to make pain optional (through quick relief), whereas Buddhism and Laing remind us that sometimes we must face pain to transform our suffering.

In an accessible sense, we can think of it this way: If your house’s fire alarm keeps blaring (symptom), a quick fix is to remove the batteries so it stops ringing (symptom gone). You can sleep now, but if there’s an actual fire smoldering, you’re in trouble. The alternative approach is to check for fire — maybe it’s just burnt toast (minor life problem) or maybe the wiring is faulty and the whole house is at risk (major trauma or life crisis). Addressing that underlying issue is harder and takes time, but ultimately it’s what leads to safety and peace. Mainstream methods sometimes silence the alarms without fully checking the house. Buddhist and Laingian perspectives urge us to investigate the smoke and flames of our suffering, even if it’s a daunting process, so that we can truly overcome it and find lasting well-being.

Toward a More Holistic Mental Health

In conclusion, examining the limitations of mainstream psychology techniques reveals that while they excel at short-term symptom reduction and helping people get by, they often don’t aim for (or achieve) deep healing of the whole person. Techniques like CBT, mindfulness exercises, EMDR, exposure therapy, and medications can be incredibly useful tools — but they should perhaps be seen as the beginning of recovery, not the end. Philosophers and psychologists alike caution that becoming “functional” is not the same as becoming fulfilled. Holistic approaches such as Buddhist mind training and R.D. Laing’s existential psychiatry challenge us to broaden our view: to treat sufferers not as broken machines needing a quick repair, but as human beings on a journey, whose pain has context and meaning that deserve attention.

A balanced mental health care system might take the edge off acute suffering with judicious quick interventions, and then guide individuals toward longer-term growth. This could mean, for instance, using medication or CBT to help a severely depressed person get out of crisis, but also engaging them in therapy or community support that explores their life narrative, relationships, and sense of purpose. It could mean teaching mindfulness for stress management, but alongside the ethical teachings of compassion and self-kindness that give mindfulness its heart. Ultimately, the message from these critiques is that mental health is not just about removing what is bad, but cultivating what is good in a person’s life — meaning, connection, and the capacity to handle life’s inevitable ups and downs. By combining the scientific insights of mainstream psychology with the wisdom and holistic focus of alternative perspectives, we can hope to not only make people functional, but truly well.

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Joy Bose
Joy Bose

Written by Joy Bose

Working as a software developer in machine learning projects. Interested in the intersection between technology, machine learning, society and well being.

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