NI, I'll take your gracious concession, and I'll make a few gracious concessions of my own:
You bring up a good point--as you've brought up in some form several times, with this:
Quote
I don't think the situation is all that common that physicists in practice promulgate false theories that are not discredited within a very short time. On the other hand, when my professor in college uses the briggs--whatever test on hapless students in a management course (this was 11 years ago) some time after the theory had been in use, it means that people in subsidiary disciplines don't get the message from reputable psychologists that it's no good.
In my psychopathology class--a course that pretty much everybody in clinical psychology endures the first semester of graduate school--my professor was one day discussing various theories on the etiology of some particular mental illness I can't remember. Some theories we chuckled at far more than others. He noted with some vexation that, well, "that's the thing about these theories. They don't seem to ever just go away!" Even though the bulk of the field doesn't take them seriously, they somehow linger on longer than they should. As much as I'll make the case that psychology
is scientific, that the majority of us
are employing testable, falsifiable, rigorous theory to our work, it also seems that every bit of junk my discipline has ever believed is
still believed by at least some
small group in the profession. There are
Jungians hanging around the halls of psychology in an amount--though very small--that dwarfs the number of chemists who subscribe to
phlogiston theory. We don't seem to be able to trash the junk as completely as other sciences can, and do. There are a couple of things to be said about this--some kind to my discipline, some not...
1)
Give us time! We're a young science. You can date psychology/psychiatry pretty much from
Charcot's establishment of "hysteria" as a mental illness in the middle-to-late 19th century. Psychotherapy as we know it began with Freud, a little over a hundred years ago. I might say that other sciences take a while to figure out and solidify their big theories--it was almost a century between Kepler's laws of planetary motion described elliptical orbits and Newton's universal gravitation finally explained them. Wholesale acceptance of this new astronomical system didn't occur overnight. Even widespread acceptance of evolution by natural selection didn't just smack the natural sciences in the face immediately after
Origin of Species, and why start there, anyway? Chuck's grandpa, Erasmus Darwin was talking about evolution in the late 18th century--there had been a rising scientific debate about the common descent of animals for a century by the time the big book we all know was published.
2)
Give us a break! Human behavior is maddeningly complex, and human beings are superbly difficult to study in ways that rocks, heavenly bodies, finches, and nucelotide base pairs are not. These parts of nature can be interrogated directly--you stick a ruler next to them, put them on a scale, make them make a bunch of copies of themselves inside a PCR tube. The mind, on the other hand, is not measurable (though the brain is beginning to be.) We have to look at the mind's activity in this world: behavior. And even then, there only have two ways of doing that: either I have to observe it, or I have to ask people about it (this is called "self-report"). And wouldn't you know it, behavior changes when you look at it. People forget, and lie, and are biased and silly when you ask them about it. And when we circumvent all of that self-report nonsense and watch behavior, how do we make sense of it? "Does that guy look angry to you? He's tapping his foot. Is he nervous or pissed?" What I'm talking about is the need to
code behavior--to operationalize a variable and then track it systematically. The complex research designs I've spent years learning about are, among other things, elaborate ways of getting around all of this insanity. These things aren't impossible to do, but they're really, really hard! Also, we're limited by technology, feasibility, and ethics in really studying psychological phenomena in the ways that would really tell us a lot. I can't forcibly separate twins at birth and assign them randomly to parents. If I could, I'd be able to tell you a hell of a lot more about this so-called "nature vs. nurture" thing. I can't follow someone around with a secret camera and watch all of their behavior 24/7. If I could, I wouldn't have to bother spending years developing reliable and valid self-report measures.
Look, I know that all scientists could sit around like the
Four Yorkshiremen and complain about how bad they have it. The astrophysicist might tell me that I'm lucky to have a research subject closer than a million light-years away. The evolutionary biologist would say that I'm lucky my subject hasn't been dead for fifty million years, and the biochemist might tell me that he'd love to not need a multimillion-dollar grant for equipment to examine his subject at all. All quite true. But hell, allow me a little bit of sentimentality: humans are nuts! They're unpredictable, and they do all sorts of insane things--accidentally and on purpose--when you try to study even the most basic stuff about their minds, thoughts, emotions, and behavior. The complexities of trying to investigate them with the scientific method are legion. It's doable, but it's a really crazy task. It's therefore a lot less straightforward to cart a theory out of the dumpster. There are simply more questions in this science than in others about the integrity and generalizability of research. We've got all of the standard questions, plus issues of sampling, coder bias, integrity of measures, a billion confounding variables, the meaningfulness of control and comparison groups, fair and valid operationalization of variables, the fidelity of intervention delivery and reception... I could go on. I can't show a Freudian my numbers and expect him to scratch his head and say, "well, damn--you're right." There are a thousand other questions he'll ask me first, many of which haven't yet been addressed by my empirical literature. (Nonetheless, I continue to hold that
it's still science, even if results aren't as clear-cut as I'd like them to be.)
3)
We can do better. We are doing better, I think--the neuroscience revolution is prompting a lot of people in my field to take a hard look at the hard-scientific rigor of their study (often because they want a piece of the sexy new neuroscience action.) The attitude of the cognitive-behaviorists over the last several decades--"hell yes you can test therapy outcomes; you can and you should!"--has broken some of the sacred bonds of the therapy room that, for much of clinical psychology's history, didn't allow in a lot of empirical investigation. Even the psychodynamic folks--whom I regard as fairly goofy anyway--want their own outcome studies now. The difficulty seems to be that, since a lot of the earlier theories frequently lack scientific rigor and falsifiability, how are we supposed to definitively prove them wrong? I don't think I can conclusively show a Freudian that classical Freudian psychodynamic theory is wrong any more than I can really "disprove" Christianity to a priest. Because
they're both religions.
Nonetheless, my discipline, and the professional guilds which oversee it--the
APA in particular--may be
lacking in a few things. As I said in my first post on this thread: there are plenty of people in psychology who need to be thrown off the boat. They don't do science, they aren't interested in science, and they don't deserve the title. I'm not alone in believing this. There is a parallel organization called the APS which tends to stick more rigorously to these values--although their
own historical information wouldn't let you know this, the organization was largely founded by people who were disgusted at the APA's unwillingness to enforce more scientific standards, and jumped ship. I could sit around and debate all day about whether it'd be more useful to form another club or advocate from within, the bottom line is that standards need to get better. Some of that push can and should come from inside the discipline. It enrages most of us to no end that Dr. Phil is allowed to present himself as some sort of mental health professional, and calls himself a psychologist just like I will. But then again, hey, Deepak Chopra's a "doctor," right?
So, there are my defenses and my concessions. Again, I was happy to have had the debate. Hopefully it has informed some others, or piqued some others' interest as well.
At this point, I'll say: whoever you are out there, if you want to chime in now, chime in!