Why Name That Loon?

This is really two questions.

One, why call this blog “Name That Loon”?

"I can name that loon in six notes ..."

Long ago it became apparent that one of the most important questions I wanted psychotherapy to answer would always be unanswerable. I wanted to know what diagnosis would explain my older sister, and, as time went on, I also came to want labels for my mother, my father, and my brother as well . They were complicated people, and there are essential problems with trying to diagnose anyone based only on the memories of someone else, especially someone like me, who cannot be regarded as disinterested.

This does not keep me from trying.

But in looking for those answers, I became interested in the practices of diagnosis.

The second question is more general: Why bother with the taxonomy of mental illness?

Naming is a powerful magic. It identifies, but also shapes; it specifies, but also creates the categories. It can reveal a thing’s true nature, or be abused to conceal it. When we declare that one set of thoughts and actions is mental illness and another is not, we invoke – we call forth – attitudes, expectations, excuses, consequences, possibilities. What is the purpose of assigning diagnostic labels to people whose behavior telegraphs thinking that is untethered from reality or incompatible with the social expectations of others? How does the aberration change if we give it a name? What do we get from applying these names – and what do we lose? How meaningful are these names? How useful? Why do we want them so much?

Ask not for whom the loon wails …