Our volunteer David has written about the impact media reporting on mental health can have on people who are experiencing mental health problems. It’s an incredibly insightful piece written in the wake of the tragic death of MP Jo Cox.
As someone with a history of my own mental health problems, the murder of Jo Cox, and the subsequent reporting in the press, stirred up a lot of different emotions. It’s raised questions in my mind about the continuing stigma around mental health and the way society looks at those with mental health problems as separate and different. However, in order to be able to talk about the stigma surrounding mental health and the problems that can arise when we rush to make judgements based on someone’s mental health, I first need to explain how the attack itself made me feel.
I was absolutely stunned by the attack on Jo Cox. I spent most of that afternoon reading every report on the attack I could find and closely following the story on twitter and elsewhere. I remember reading a two-word tweet “oh god” and realising she must have died. I just couldn’t understand how this could have happened. When I eventually ventured out of the house, I felt like I was stepping into a different place than the one I’d known before.
I didn’t know this woman, so why did her murder affect me so deeply? It took me a while to process the reasons, but I now think there were several reasons this had such an impact.
Firstly, this is something new. As far as I’m aware, never before in this country has a politician been murdered by someone shouting far-right slogans. I’m frightened this could be the start of something larger. The ease with which this murder was achieved, and the impact that it has had, makes copy-cat killings seem like a very real and terrifying possibility.
Secondly, the attack was on a woman. I’m not sure if this is a sexist attitude to take, but, for me, this aspect of the attack does make it feel worse. Perhaps it’s because there’s so much violence against women by men and this event underlines the potential danger that a young woman on her own frequently faces.
Thirdly, Jo Cox was an MP. It is perhaps an obvious point, but an MP’s job is to speak on behalf of others. When we say “an MP represents her constituents” we mean that in a literal sense, but, especially in this instance, there is a figurative part of that statement as well. To my mind, the attack on Jo Cox was clearly an attack on the people she represented.
Finally, she was a mother. I lost my dad when I was 11 years old. I’m now a father myself. The loss that Jo Cox’s husband and two young children have experienced is heart-breaking.
For me, these different aspects of the attack all contributed to a strong feeling of dread and loss. A feeling that we had all entered a new and frightening world.
However, from some of the headlines I read in the papers the next day, it became clear that not everyone was experiencing the same response.
Some dribs and drabs of information about the alleged killer made their way out almost immediately. We heard from a couple of sources that he repeatedly shouted “Britain First” or some variation of the same whilst he carried out the murder. Although details were absent, we also heard from a couple of different sources that he had a history of mental health problems. Of course, we now know that the killer considers himself a political activist and it seems that he at least intended this as a political attack, however for some journalists, particularly in the beginning, the issue of his mental health became the focus. In many articles and discussions, the alleged killer was described as a “loner with a history of mental illness”.
In these types of articles, possible political motivations were mentioned, but these were balanced with suggestions from family members that the alleged killer was a-political. On the other hand, the possibility that the attack was in some way due to mental health problems was front and centre and essentially treated as an unquestioned fact.
I may be wrong, but I think I understand why some people responded in this way. I suspect this type of response is closely tied to the dread I felt myself. It’s quite easy to push that dread away if you can blame the whole incident on mental health. If you “other” the attacker; place him outside of normal society as a separate entity — an aberration which has no connection to the rest of us — then there is no larger pattern to worry about. You don’t need to consider the broader picture which may have given rise to this terrible situation and can comfortably dismiss the attack as an isolated incident. You don’t need to feel that dread.
As I say, I think I understand this sort of response, but I’m not sure everyone understands the effect that this sort of response can have on people like myself who have a history of mental health problems.
I was diagnosed with schizophrenia when I was 19. With the support of friends and family, I’ve been lucky enough to recover from the illness and I now volunteer with the See Me campaign to speak out against the stigma around mental health.
Stigma is a complicated issue. For me, much of the stigma I experienced was self-imposed. I didn’t tell people about my mental health history for fear of how they might react. I was worried that if I was open about my mental health I would be excluded or treated with suspicion. Many people have the same self-stigmatising approach to their own mental health history and one of the hardest parts of stigma is the feeling that you are different; the belief you won’t be accepted.
For those with schizophrenia in particular, there is often a worry that people associate your illness with violence and danger. Of course in reality people with schizophrenia are far more likely to be harmed by other people than other people are to be harmed by them, but it is still a big scary diagnosis. Even these days, when I tell people I have a history of mental health problems, I still sometimes avoid using the dreaded s-word for fear of negative reactions based on a misunderstanding of what that diagnosis actually means.
In that context, I hope it’s possible to understand why the “othering” that we’ve seen in the press can be upsetting for someone like myself. Explicitly using someone’s mental health history to place them outside of society is troubling. Presenting the tiny clues that we have about Thomas Mair’s mental health problems as conclusive proof that he was a “crazed loner” is offensive. This type of reporting makes me, and many people like me, feel that we are still seen as outsiders — not really part of society and not to be trusted.
Now it may turn out that this man’s mental health was a large factor in the attack, but it will be his legal team, not the tabloid press, that will need to establish that defence. Until we know for certain that mental health issues form part of the explanation for this dreadful event, we should reserve judgement. When we leap to the unwarranted conclusion that this attack was somehow due to mental illness, we not only increase the sense that those with mental health are not part of society in the same way as everyone else, we also needlessly associate mental illness with violence and danger. We know next to nothing about Thomas Mair. Let’s take the time to try and understand the circumstances that lead to this attack rather than jumping to conclusions and taking the easy answer of blaming this horrific murder on his mental health.
Whether it’s depression, OCD, schizophrenia or another condition, around 1 in 4 people are likely to experience a mental health problem at some time this year. Although people with a history of mental health problems do often experience stigma and discrimination, we are not in fact separate or different from everyone else but very much part of society. There is a real danger that the sort of language and reporting we’ve seen in this case will increase stigma and discrimination by encouraging suspicion of those with mental health conditions. So my plea for the future is to ask everyone to commit to ending the stigma around mental health. Let’s make sure we are open to cries for help and recognise that opening up about mental health problems is not an easy thing to do at the best of times. Let’s not treat someone differently or avoid them just because they have a mental health diagnosis. They are still the same person you know but are unwell. Let’s think of mental health as another aspect of physical health. Let’s avoid making judgements on the basis of a mental health diagnosis. Let’s not make people feel different because they have a mental health problem. Let’s challenge stigmatising behaviour whenever we see it.
