A very unusual week in Tasmania

Nostradamus

Once a person suffering from clinical depression first considers suicide, it is important to note that it then becomes an internal mechanism of calculation – how to do it, where and when. Those who are able to grasp the potential effects on family and friends can usually pull back from the brink. Others can think of nothing but their own self – it is a remarkably self-centred, self-absorbed state of mind frightening in its obsession with death. It is as if the mind has a series of signs saying “no way out” or “no exit,” and these signs can be visible and audible. An individual feels alone, no matter how many people are around – it is a palpable manifestation of alienation or estrangement from oneself and the environment. It is not a logical frame of mind but extraordinarily potent – the sufferer’s communication is internal and incessant, a chattering in the brain which excludes the intervention of others. Again from personal experience, my mind is/was wonderfully inventive. I will not relate the number of methods I considered when suicidal, mainly because I don’t want to give anybody else ideas and secondly, some would logically involve an innocent third party being involved. It is absolutely amazing that a mind can cycle through so many death thoughts and coldly and rationally make decisions about methods. One could possibly say the more intelligent the person, the greater level of sophistication, cleverness and even cunning seep into the calculations. And the dedicated individual will methodically plot the time, place and means of killing him/herself. Success is a pyrrhic victory.

WITH the agreement of our esteemed editor, I had a column planned for this week on the social aspects of three human vices in the form of smoking, drinking and gambling. As usual, the best laid plans went out of the window and for a specific reason. There is little doubt that the news of the past few days in Tasmania at least, has turned on l’affaire de Paula Wriedt, Minister for Tourism and Economic Development and her consensual relationship with a former parliamentary driver. Although it commanded front-page attention for a couple of days, it gradually slipped back through the pages of the Mercury, so that by Friday 8 July, mention of the affair was back on page 11 although we got a late kicker with State line on ABC-TV. In writing about this subject, I will be attempting to be as objective as possible as I do not know any of the parties involved and also, I have a certain interest in aspects of the events in terms of how they were reported and I wish to avoid prurience at all costs.

At the outset, it must be said that the full facts of the situation are known only to those involved; presumably friends and confidants, Premier David Bartlett and Peter Barker QC for the other party David Chaffey. That is as good a reason as any not to engage in speculation. By the end of the week, it was evident that in both political and human terms, the Premier has performed admirably, keeping the leaders of the opposition parties, Will Hodgman and Nick McKim in the loop and to be perfectly fair, The Mercury showed more restraint and consideration in its reporting than the Great Northern Rag, which presumably benefitted from a leak, as has happened so often in the past. In the public interest, The Mercury also supplied the phone number for Lifeline – an organization that I support regularly and encourage anyone with spare cash to follow, not that many have spare cash these days. I am always heartened by the reports that show per capita that Tasmanians are the most generous in the nation when it comes to charitable donations.

Make no mistake about it; politics is a nasty, brutal, cruel and often highly personal business. I have been close enough to government at both federal and state level to know that politicians in this country earn very little respect in general terms from the public and yet I still hold the view that to serve as a representative of the electorate (or the people, if you fancy little dash of marxism) is a noble calling. Being a parliamentary representative at every level is a responsibility and a privilege. Human nature being what it is, politicians are all too frequently human, not mechanoid or different. Our expectations of them differ very widely and since the dismissal of the Whitlam government in 1975, when polarization became the norm, politics assumed a much sharper edge. It was about that time that conviviality across the House of Representatives virtually ceased in favour of hurled insults and imprecations. And it has stayed the same since: we have Keating-haters, Howard-haters and in the fullness of time no doubt we will have Rudd-haters. And the animosities are there for all to see in each political party, framed by factional alignment, tribal loyalties or personal dislike. Take a look at the federal Liberal party as an example. These attitudes resonate in the broader community and it is hardly surprising when TV has turned coverage of Federal Parliament and Question Time in particular into a stage for actors and there are certainly more hams among the participants for a decent number of sandwiches.

There is no doubt that respect for office-holders in this country is far less than in most Western democracies. However many people hate President Bush, and plenty do, there is still respect for the office itself. Our three local political leaders are avid fans of The West Wing and as the credits rolled, it was insightful to see how many former political advisers and insiders had contributed to the success of the program. Australians generally accord far less respect to our leaders and when it comes to the average working politician, not necessarily a minister or leader, any pay rise is seen as too much. I have always tended to the view that if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys and a better comparator for politicians is that of responsibilities in private corporations and compare executive salaries.

Yet recent events have shown in somewhat stark detail, what can and does happen among our parliamentary representatives. Any parliament is a hot-house, removed to a greater or lesser extent from the electorate. The geographic location of Canberra and the tyranny of distant travel from far-flung states add to stress, especially personal relationships. An old Canberra hand once told me that such was the nature of politics in the national capital that you never knew whose shoes were under whose beds at night. Many people gripe that the only time they see a politician is when the election is in the offing, yet as I have said before, our representatives earn every last cent and political office has never been to my liking. We can all point to hacks, cynics and time-servers in every party but in Tasmania more than any other state, given the Hare-Clark system, any politician wishing to be re-elected has to work the electorate.

The personal and private lives of politicians are very often illusory, as they tend to be scrutinized publicly. In standing firmly behind Minister Wriedt and holding the line at a difficult time, the Premier showed great character: in short, “Jed did good,” with apologies for lapsing into an Americanism. It is beyond my sphere of competence and knowledge to address the affair and I willingly leave throwing fertilizer at the fan to pond life and bottom feeders, who we all know make the most out of the misery of others. Interestingly, Mercury blogs have shown a great deal of support for Ms Wriedt; a certain amount of self-righteousness and a glimmer of understanding about the nature of clinical depression, mixed with ignorance. And if I am critical of the media and the ABC and The Mercury in particular, it is only to say that there is a tendency to harp on the fact that the hapless Minister had suffered from post-natal depression in the past, more of which later. Tie a tin-can on a dog’s tail and it is never forgotten, according to my grandmother. And for those few who have asserted that the suicide attempt was anything less than a serious attempt i.e. an act, I reserve my contempt.

I can speak with some authority on marriage breakdowns, concomitant amicable separations turning nasty, especially when custody and maintenance involve the parties concerned in the most wonderful of Lionel Murphy’s creations, the Family Court. It would also be possible for me to write a rather lengthy and interesting book on depression and suicide, having been visited by both in my time. And in this context, I might say that I have little or no time for Jeff Kennett as a politician and Victorian Premier but his work for Beyond Blue has been exemplary.

For historic reasons, probably quite primal, admission of depression has been typically seen as part of the female condition, more so than in the male of the species. We now know that it is a complex set of feelings and is rightly described as an illness and treated as such. The stereotypical big, tough Aussie male is a cruel parody or an elaborate hoax. Depression does not discriminate and it affects both men and women with equal viciousness. I am sufficiently cynical to believe that the only reason that it is now slightly more acceptable to talk about depression is that so much working time and therefore money is lost to the economy.

Those “days lost to sickness” in company reports and couched in econo-speak very often hide not merely days but all too frequently, months and years. Behind the lost working days are broken lives and spirits and those for whom life has become hell on Earth. And a small but significant number take the ultimate step of Selbsmord (literally self-murder/killing) or as we know it – suicide. I am using certain German phrases because it was once the major language of psychiatry. There is also a saying in that language upon which to ponder – Sterben ist leicht, Leben ist hart, quite simply dying is easy, living is hard: never were truer words spoken. German was the language of the early giants of psychiatry and there can be some difficulty translating some of their language into English in a precise form.

Throughout recorded history, members of the human race have been described as mad or insane because of certain behavioural patterns. There are the good, the bad and the bad and mad and all those in between. The Bible mentions mental disorders discursively and descriptively throughout as to the documents of early Greek and Roman civilizations. Over the centuries, the rise of mental institutions has been well documented and quite often inmates did not really belong in such places. Medical diagnoses were sufficiently vague as to make it very easy for persons of power or the unscrupulous to have people who either displeased them or were in some way inconvenient locked away under fairly horrific conditions. And then of course there have been disgraceful, if not criminal experiments on the brains of the mentally ill, as well as some treatments which remain legal but are not totally convincing in terms of outcomes.

These days, diagnoses of mental illness are largely based on The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV) a handbook for mental health professionals that lists different categories of mental disorders and the criteria for diagnosing them, according to the publishing organization the American Psychiatric Association. It is used in the United States and in varying degrees around the world, by clinicians, researchers, psychiatric drug regulation agencies, health insurance companies, pharmaceutical companies and policy makers. Naturally psychiatry and counselling are big business in the US. Many years ago, while conducting research I read with a somewhat jaundiced eye the fact within California over 75% of counsellors (we would call them psychiatrists) consulted their fellows with professional problems. Perhaps that was California and as we all know, there is a phenomenon known as “California weird.”

I did not intend to make light of the psychiatric and psychological professions but there are good and bad practitioners of both. Being a unit and some field training short of the necessary qualifications for being able to practice as a psychologist, I am much more sceptical about them than psychiatrists and clinical psychologists. I have majored in all the social sciences except anthropology and have criticized several approaches used. Psychology as it was taught in the 1970s was “all rats and stats,” which reduced the human condition to a statistical analysis. And on closer examination and reading, it was only too clear that the great theorists in the field have feet of clay.

My top qualifications for commenting on depression and suicide are that I have experience with both with friends and family members suffering from both conditions. In addition, over a period of years I suffered from severe clinical depression. During that time I was suicidal and engaged in active planning for the act. I was very nearly successful on my last attempt, when a phenomenon occurred, which now makes me view suicide as the ultimate selfish act, largely because of the legacy it leaves in the form of scars on the psyche of those nearest and dearest to the departed. Little did I think when I was wading through the definitive work on suicide, that one day I would contemplate it myself and then on a succession of occasions. Then again, with my academic qualifications, my employers thought it good idea to have me be trained as a counsellor. I received that training and it served me in good stead when dealing with a large staff but not with my own problems!

This column is not about me but I am seeking to convey to the reader something of the nature of the condition that Minister Paula Wriedt has experienced. Let me say without any equivocation that unless a person has experienced clinical depression, as defined by specialist, then they have much less insight into the cognitive processes involved. In a sense, Beyond Blue as the name for a support organization is a good choice – it grabs the imagination but clinical depression is beyond grey and black. As I mentioned earlier, it does not discriminate and many famous people have been sufferers: in this context I am always reminded of the graphic description of Winston Churchill’s grappling with “the black dog.” That has a resonance with me because during my very first bout of clinical depression, I actually saw a black dog, a Labrador to be precise. And as it was walking through my kitchen it appeared real but in my small flat, pets were not allowed and the doors were locked.

A lot of my depression was linked with physical pain – chronic pain syndrome – with a multi-causal origin. For those who have not experienced the deep and profound depression that is diagnosed as chronic, there are many books that can be read by survivors that are worth a look. My depression was black – try to imagine a state of mind where everything appears black – a colour to describe a sense. You become so self absorbed and inward-looking that outside events or conversations either bounce off or are integrated into the mind that churns ceaselessly and relentlessly and can see nothing bright, beautiful or beyond the immediacy of the moment. I often refer to the state as black fog. I am not going to detail my battles but suffice to say that people with clinical depression are never cured. At present there is no “cure” in strict definitional terms but there are a multiplicity of treatments, which include therapies and drugs. Good treatment can indeed restore a person to being a functioning and productive human being with normal feelings but somewhere in the hindbrain lurks the knowledge that it could happen again. I occasionally get blue, not black, and I have worked out a strategy which appears to work in my case: I tell myself “it will pass, as it has done in the past.” I lie low and engage in dissociative behaviour and I don’t feel it necessary to elaborate.

Suicide is not a necessary corollary of clinical depression. However, the vast majority of those who suffer deep and profound depression, toy with the idea and some go further. Within the past five years, a male friend of one of my daughters hanged himself from a door after an argument with his live-in girlfriend. It was one of those swiftly-made decisions for which there was no turning back. One year later, to the day, his father who was a friend of mine hanged himself. Both father and son had been talented carpenters and cabinet-makers but while the son used the door, my friend used a beam in his garage in a very professional self-execution. His decision to end his life, according to his wife, rested on two problems: the death of his son and the manner thereof and the fact that two knee replacements and poor physiotherapy had left him depressed and feeling totally inadequate. I am quite sure that any psychiatrist, counsellor, physician or ordinary family members can relate similar tales. It was not long ago that there was a virtual epidemic of teen suicide in Australia. Mercifully this seems to have been addressed but I clearly remember a Federal MP from a rural electorate on the Big Island telling me about the number of tractor accidents on farms, which on close examination by coroners and police proved to be a deliberate act, in order that the insurance company saved the farm for the survivor. It is no coincidence that there is a legal requirement for stability and anti-roll technology on tractors and other farm machinery.

Once a person suffering from clinical depression first considers suicide, it is important to note that it then becomes an internal mechanism of calculation – how to do it, where and when. Those who are able to grasp the potential effects on family and friends can usually pull back from the brink. Others can think of nothing but their own self – it is a remarkably self-centred, self-absorbed state of mind frightening in its obsession with death. It is as if the mind has a series of signs saying “no way out” or “no exit,” and these signs can be visible and audible. An individual feels alone, no matter how many people are around – it is a palpable manifestation of alienation or estrangement from oneself and the environment. It is not a logical frame of mind but extraordinarily potent – the sufferer’s communication is internal and incessant, a chattering in the brain which excludes the intervention of others. Again from personal experience, my mind is/was wonderfully inventive. I will not relate the number of methods I considered when suicidal, mainly because I don’t want to give anybody else ideas and secondly, some would logically involve an innocent third party being involved. It is absolutely amazing that a mind can cycle through so many death thoughts and coldly and rationally make decisions about methods. One could possibly say the more intelligent the person, the greater level of sophistication, cleverness and even cunning seep into the calculations. And the dedicated individual will methodically plot the time, place and means of killing him/herself. Success is a pyrrhic victory.

A few of the more irritating comments made about Paula Wriedt and depression display a great deal of ignorance. One even suggested that it was merely diagnosed by a doctor as though that was insignificant. It is a medical and statistical fact that women suffering from post-natal depression have a predisposition to depression. In this case, we have been talking about a public figure, a female MP and Minister who has been pretty successful and according to the Premier, very much part of the Ministry, once she has recovered. All politicians have shown remarkable solidarity in their reaction to the Minister’s illness, although there was a slightly discordant note in the reporting by ABC radio of comments made by Michelle O’Byrne on the need for Ms. Wriedt to announce her future plans. The ABC report did not truly reflect Ms. O’Byrne’s actual words. (http://abc.com.au/news/stories/2008/08/07/2328033.htm?site=hobart) The Premier, once again, has made it abundantly clear that he is prepared to cut Ms. Wriedt the necessary slack, even though that puts an added burden on the depleted stocks of his ministers. To my mind that reinforces the case for a larger Parliament while paying tribute to parliamentary solidarity. I do not find the arguments of former Premier Michael Field particularly compelling – his generally acknowledge that the size of Parliament is a problem and there is only a limited amount of fiddling that can be done with the Upper House, despite the talent available there.

Many people have paid tribute to the exemplary behaviour of the Premier in being full and open in discussing this matter and I would not like to be critical in any way because I think the praise is entirely justified. It must also be said that Sue Neales op-ed piece in the Saturday Mercury of 9 August is a definitive and beautifully-written account of the issues at stake, in delineating the very necessary distinction between public interest, the privacy of the individual and the role of the media. It has been reproduced in the Tasmanian Times and I commend it to all readers of this column.

Lastly, a few points need to be taken into account. Firstly, as I indicated earlier there is no cure for clinical depression but treatments are remarkably effective and there is as the Premier has said no reason why Ms. Wriedt cannot return to the Ministry. Secondly, there are other parties involved and while the relationship between the Minister and her driver was consensual, the wife or former wife of Mr. Chaffey obviously suffered a considerable amount of personal distress. Launching an account of the affair on the Internet is the act of an angry person lashing out in seeking revenge but despite that, it is difficult not to feel a degree of sympathy for a person left with children and the target of the anger, as usual he is “the other woman.” As for the driver himself, I would willingly concede that he could suffer some discrimination at work and the sensible tactic would be to seek a position elsewhere. You don’t have to be one of the boys to imagine the tenor of some remarks that could be made: “Lucky so-and-so, he got a leg over the Minister” would very likely be among the mildest of comments. It is entirely likely that he and his wife should receive counselling but I do not wish to buy into the argument concerning court cases and compensation.

As of writing, I have not seen any government response to the very sensible suggestions made by Nick McKim about in-house counselling for MPs. The federal public service and large corporations either employ counsellors or have a referral system in place. Much earlier, I referred to Parliament as a veritable hot-house and we can say politically perhaps that some bloom, while others wilt. Does it make them anything of a lesser human being? The answer must be firmly in the negative because no-one, even those most secure persons in themselves can suddenly face problems that result in depression and suicidal ideation. It is part of our humanity that this occurs and while I’m reluctant to use the term victim, preferring sufferer, it deserves understanding and respect, to say nothing of increased funding.

In a political and human sense, this has been a tragic week in the life of the State. Any doubters about the capacity of Jed Bartlett to handle matters with sensitivity should be silenced, although I will notice in passing that he has yet to deal with the problems of the rural community and they include the human dimension. Jed, you did good, very good.