The problem with peer support

This post is inspired by a tweet from 

@Agnieszkasshoes, who wrote...

"Survivor bias is so potentially toxic through victim-blaming and gaslighting. 

For those of us lucky enough to have "pulled through" anything it's so easy to tell others "I got through so will you". Some people will never get through: that experience is completely valid."

This tweet hit home because I've recently been asked to help facilitate some peer support workshops at the local Recovery College. On the face of it, this might seem like a welcome initiative; people with lived experience of mental health difficulties working alongside others who are struggling with their mental health. Surely this has to be a good thing?  

Well. It certainly seems as though a lot of resources are being put into 'front line' mental health services. Up to a point I understand this, in the sense that if you catch people early and help them / give them the tools to help themselves, some of them might avoid having chronic problems or more severe mental health issues later. 

Alongside this, in my experience, secondary mental health services now seem especially keen to discharge people back to their GPs. 

In some areas, people are being referred to their local recovery college instead. I welcome the idea of people accessing mental health support and information within their community, but whether a recovery college is the right place for the most unwell, I remain unconvinced. Certainly being discharged into the hands of ineffectual or inappropriate services under the guise of 'promoting independence' is the ultimate kick in the teeth; a case of 'let's remove vital care and support, all the while telling you we are doing it for your own good, so you don't become dependent.' Not acceptable, surely. 

Meanwhile, a relative told me that his employer, a university, are training 'mental health first aiders' to help people who are struggling with their mental health. At first glance, this might seem like another good idea. Yet it can be little more than a token gesture if they are not willing to change the way they treat their staff. So many people are on short term, insecure contracts. There's a culture of presenteeism, of people working ridiculous hours. All of which contributes to stress and poor mental health. How about making organisational changes to address these issues, rather than training staff to pick up the pieces when people inevitably struggle? No? Thought not....! And is there any additional funding for already overstretched mental health services, where many of these people will inevitably mturn? Or, I'm starting to wonder, is that where the recovery college comes in? 

I feel that as peer support workers, we should resist the 'Survivor' narrative. For those of us fortunate enough to have regained a level of functioning where we are able to facilitate peer support groups, there's a huge temptation to use our own lived experience as an example. However, some people are never going to be 'better.' There will always be people who require ongoing support. What about these people? Where do they fit into the recovery jigsaw?

Some people call the obsession with overcoming our challenges as 'inspiration porn' and cite the example of the Paralympics being used as an inspirational example of what (some) disabled people can achieve. They point out that many disabled people cannot become athletes and cannot 'overcome' their challenges. Does this mean they've failed? Not tried hard enough? What does the survivor narrative offer them? Particularly when we have a spectacularly cruel government in power, who further oppress and victimise the most vulnerable by taking away basic financial support. 

We are, I fear, a long way from levelling the playing field when it comes to disability of any kind. We kid ourselves when we make token gestures and trivial adjustments that we are being inclusive, but that's bullshit. People still can't get around in the built environment, they still can't use public transport reliably or access vital services and hate crimes against disabled people have never been higher in number. 

I wonder whether our obsession with 'surviving' disability is really all about encouraging people to be as UNdisabled as possible, so as to make the abled feel more comfortable? I think that's why I feel so lukewarm about the recovery college, as well as certain methods of peer support. It's erasure of many mad people and disabled people's struggles and could be, if used inappropriately, incredibly toxic. 

How to break into the elite

This blog post has been a few days in the making because there were so many areas I wanted to write about. Apologies for its enormous length, I tried to be as brief as I could, but then I kept thinking of something else to write!  

The other night, I watched the excellent BBC documentary 'How to break into the elite.' I can't say I enjoyed it, because I was FURIOUS at the injustices shown, but it was very interesting. I wasn't particularly surprised by anything I saw, but to see how disadvantage plays out in people's lives and how blatant the discrimination (because that's what it is) can be, well that was shocking.

It's 'a truth universally acknowledged' (with apologies to Jane Austen) that there's a certain group of people who monopolise the top jobs in the majority of sectors. What I found depressing about the programme was the fact that the lovely young people featured were all bright and articulate and had already overcome significant disadvantage in getting to university in the first place. Then, upon graduation and with good degrees in the bag, they in theory had everything going for them, but still struggled to get their foot on the first rung of the ladder. In fact some of them weren't even aware of the location of the ladder! 

I thought it was excellent that the programme broached the subjects of the advantages of having the right connections and the importance of 'soft skills' and 'polish' - those qualities which young working class people  supposedly lack. The confidence, affability, the being 'one of us' stuff is so incredibly powerful and it keeps the door firmly closed to people who are not the same. I liked the comment at the end about the fallacy that a posh accent = intelligent (many of our politicians are testaments to this untruth!) 

Personally, I feel very strongly that we ('we' as in people of working class origin) should NOT have to ape the demeanour, values, speech patterns and social graces of the upper middle classes in order to 'get on.' Why can we not succeed on our own terms?! It has made me  furious in the past, when I've been considered 'thick,' just because I speak with a northern accent. 

I thought what Matthew Wright said about having been ousted from certain programmes and replaced by a (relatively privileged) person of colour in the name of diversity was interesting. In selecting instead a privately / Oxbridge educated black or brown person, the media company might be able to blow their diversity trumpet, but the working class voice has been excluded. I suppose that shows the ways in which race / class / gender / (dis)ability etc all intersect. Which could (and probably should!) be the subject of another documentary. 

Another thing that makes me angry is the dismissal of working class folks' achievements. It's a form of erasure and I believe it occurs partly because of my earlier point, because people of working class origin are expected to ape the behaviour and demeanour of the upper middle classes in order to 'get on.' I'd go as far as to say that the skills, abilities and achievements of working class people end up being 'colonised' because in order to make progress in the workplace, the person has to shed their very 'working classness,' so they end up being assimilated into the middle class.

As you may recall, part of my PhD work was around the problems of perceived credibility in doing research when you yourself have a mental health difficulty. Particularly around issues of objectivity / subjectivity. This extended to involving people with mental illness in conducting research (ie not as research participants, but through my attempts to involve others with mental health difficulties as co-researchers of equal standing). I was looking into the way we ('we' being those of us with mental illness) are traditionally seen as being poor and unreliable narrators of our own experiences, with doubt being cast on our capacity as knowers (epistemic injustice).  

Having an interest in this kind of thing led me to consider the relationship between social class and the perceived credibility of the knower. I was initially thinking about it in relation to politics and Boris Johnson and other 'born to rule' types, but it also applies to other areas of life. Specifically in relation to the elites programme, I was thinking that the applicants for the various jobs were seen as less credible and capable, thanks to the way they spoke, dressed and conducted / carried themselves. They were epistemically wronged. 

If you think about the olden days, the rigid class system used to (both formally and informally, I suspect) dictate the way working class people spoke to their 'betters.'  A working class person speaking to a 'gentleman' in too familiar a way would be given extremely short shrift; it was expected that they would demonstrate the appropriate level of deference. Thankfully the days of overt deference are behind us (I think? Though perhaps not when you consider the way we are expected to treat the royal family...) However I'd argue that its legacy lives long and prospers.

I was thinking about the relationship between stereotypes and epistemological power, on the grounds that stereotypes of historically less powerful groups, such as women, black people and working class people invariably involve an association with negative attributes, such as illogicality, lack of intelligence, evolutionary inferiority, lack of ‘breeding,’ lack of moral fibre and so on. Conversely, it's not hard to imagine someone growing up with social prejudices overwhelmingly in their favour. Imagine that they are from an elite family and that their education and entire upbringing are subtly geared to installing the message of superiority. A posh accent and a confident air will help to mark them out as epistemically authoritative. With this, they receive what I'll call a  'credibility bonus.' This will no doubt be advantageous in bringing them lucrative employment and a certain (perceived) automatic high status in social relationships.  

It seems to me that in order to be taken seriously, ie to be considered epistemically authoritative, we (whether we be people of working class origin, women, people from minority ethic groups, gay and trans people, disabled people, people with mental illness, not to mention those who belong to more than one of these disadvantaged groups) are expected to play by the rules set by those in the 'higher status' group. We are expected to 'pass' as one of 'them.' The better we are at passing, the more likely we are to be allowed entry to 'the club.' It's a sad reality therefore, that in order to get on, we must eschew much of what makes us 'us.' People of working class origin who go against the grain and refuse to attempt to 'pass' are probably fairly rare. I'd imagine that many seek success in alternative ways. Someone very close to me is an exception to this as he's an academic who has remained close to his roots, but it might be that promotion to the upper echelons of academia will be hard to come by.

I have definitely, subconsciously, attempted to 'pass' at certain times during my career. Not particularly successfully, I might add! I might have been enthusiastic and hard working, but I was also unpolished. In later life, once I had retrained, I realised I wanted to advance for who I was. I hope that one day, this will still be possible for me.

The class system is very much alive and kicking in this country. The people at the top, whether they be politicians, bosses or whatever, are afforded a credibility they frequently ill deserve, while those of us from working class backgrounds are still seen as having limited authority or credibility, regardless of ability, education and so on. The elites programme demonstrated clearly how class advantages operate at the beginning of a person's career and produced statistics which showed that the pay and status differential persists over time.

It's a sorry state of affairs and puts paid to any notion of meritocracy.