
CHAPTER 2
On Treating the Whole Man *1
It has been my privilege and pleasure to be an
observer of the Profession now for some 45 years. It has been a most fascinating
occupation. Although I left Medicine officially in the year 1927, I did not
cease to be interested, and applied myself to keep up my reading. Some may be
surprised at the form which this reading took. I have made it my custom
throughout the years to read on Saturday nights the British Medical Journal.
Let me explain why I made this my practice. I used to prepare sermons on Fridays
and Saturdays. When I have thought over material in this way, my mind tends to
be over-active with it. So I had to find something which would divert my mind to
more leisurely pursuits; and I have revealed the method employed. It worked!
Let me add that I am not commending to you the practice of
reading the B.M.J. on a Saturday night, though I think it would do some
of you good. For, on the basis of my experience in staying with different
medical practitioners, I have noticed that not infrequently I see by the side of
the desks quite a pile of unopened copies of the British Medical Journal!
There is another medical publication that for some years I have read, and
which I would put into a different category. I did not read The Practitioner
on a Saturday night. I read it when I was at my best – not as a kind of mild
sedative, but as a stimulus. I am very happy to pay tribute to the Editor for
his monthly notes which I have found to be most stimulating and helpful. They
have often given me suggestions for sermons. *2
THREE ASPECTS OF RECENT CHANGE
I desire to speak now about the changes which have taken
place since the formation of this Fellowship twenty-five years ago. We have been
passing through one of the most extraordinary periods in the whole history of
the human race. This applies also to the practice of Medicine in common with so
much else in the national and world spheres. I was reading recently a remark by
Peter Drucker, the great American authority on business management. He had
explained that the change in the management and running of businesses during the
last twenty-five years has been quite astonishing. Up until that time the
greatest requisite in the top management in business had been experience. But
that is no longer the case. The greatest requirement now is knowledge. This, of
course, because of the extraordinary speed of technological development. So now
you do not look so much for experience and wisdom in your top men. You must look
for knowledge of the latest advances and developments in the application of
scientific methods to the conduct of business. Now it seems to me that this fact
in many ways has become true in Medicine also, and for very much the same
reasons.
Then, there is a second change. It is in the kind of problem
which is now confronting us. I would subscribe to the view put forward so
clearly in a recent book by Sir McFarlane Burnett, Genes, Dreams and Reality.
I think that he has established the case that the fundamental change which has
taken place in the last twenty-five years has been that (with the advent of
antibiotics and developments in this department) the diseases which attack men
from the outside now are under control. He gives as instances various types of
infection. These, he would claim, are more or less under control. The diseases
that are not under control, and which are going to constitute the main challenge
to medical men in the future are the internal and degenerative diseases. Most of
them are on the increase. They are such diseases as the various forms of
malignancy, coronary thrombosis, arteriosclerosis, raised blood pressure and the
like. In the future these will constitute the chief problem for medical men.
The third big factor is the advent of State Medicine. The
National Health Service has been clearly a revolutionary factor – particularly
in the realm of general practice. I have had occasion at a previous meeting of
this Fellowship to refer to that, and expressed some fears at the changes that
are taking place. I have become somewhat more alarmed about these. No longer –
speaking generally – can you be sure that a general practitioner will pay a
house visit. Everybody has to go to the surgery or to the clinic. At times it
seems to me to be very bad medicine. I happened to be staying with a doctor on
one occasion, when a phone call came in that a child was running a high fever.
There was at the time, I understood, a mild epidemic of measles in that area.
Nevertheless the doctor’s message was that they should bring this child up to
the clinic. The thought which occurred to me was, ‘What a good way of spreading
the epidemic of measles!’ Only today when I was talking about these matters to
some friends, one man broke in to the conversation with – ‘Ah, but, you must add
something to that. It is the impossibility of getting any medical attention at
the weekend!’ Such are some of the changes which have been taking place during
these last twenty-five years.
UNWELCOME TRENDS
As a result of such considerations I feel there are certain
dangers which face the Profession at the present time. The first is
professionalism. It has been an endemic disease, of course, within the
Profession for many years. The tendency is going to be greater.
There are a number of reasons, but one of the chief is the
great increase in technological knowledge which leads to an ever increasing
specialization. I regard this as a positive danger. As detailed knowledge
increases, specialization – and with it professionalism – is going to increase
also. A few days ago I was very interested by a striking article by Marshall
McLuhan, that extraordinary Canadian, who stimulates us so much at the present
time. He gave us a new definition of a ‘specialist’. I am sure that he was
thinking of no one here, and that it does not apply to either physicians or
surgeons! But he declared that a specialist is ‘one who never makes small
mistakes, while moving towards the grand fallacy’. I commend that definition. It
is a salutary reminder.
Technological advance and development is obviously raising a
number of problems which must concern any medical man who has any kind of
religion, and particularly the Christian religion. I mean that there is a point
at which your experimentation should stop. We must remind ourselves of the
second part of the Great Commandment that you should love your neighbour as
yourself. Is there not a danger perhaps of our forgetting that in the interest
of science and the acquisition of new knowledge? The poor patient is the one who
tends to be forgotten. What right have we to use another human being for the
sake of ‘the advancement of Medicine’? Would we ourselves submit always to the
procedure which is sometimes applied to a particular patient? Presumably it is
never done without the consent of the patient. Is every patient in some
situations capable of giving his consent? Does he know enough?
OVERLOOKING THE PATIENT
Too many practitioners know more about some detail in the
anatomy or pathology of a person than they do about the person himself. While we
may talk more of, and pay lip service to, the concept of ‘the whole man’ and
‘the complete patient’, we must be very careful that in fact and in practice we
do not forget him. It is something which we need continually to bear in mind.
The patient, the total patient and all that happens to him, is rarely being
fully remembered in contemporary practice. Let me quote McFarlane Burnett again.
He says, ‘An important part of the technological and social crisis of our time
is this. The social problems of drug addiction and the more subtle influences of
the need of alcohol, tobacco, sedatives, tranquillizers, and the rest, to make
intolerable situations acceptable, are tolerated instead of making an effort to
change them.’ I think that is a very profound remark. Our tendency is to
tolerate, just to make these things - these intolerable situations - acceptable
without any real thought of radical attempts to change them.
MORAL RESPONSIBILITY
Then, thirdly, there is the question of our attitude to
immorality and crime. It is important in the following way. You will notice that
it is the medical man who is generally called in as the arbiter in these
matters. He is regarded as the authority, for example, on the question of
‘diminished responsibility’ and similar matters. At this point the doctor is
regarded as the man who can speak with a special authority.
In the past, of course, a kind of general wisdom was deemed,
and seemed, to be sufficient. The experienced medical practitioner was a wise
old man. Everybody went to him and consulted him. He was a friend of the family
and knew everyone. But does his successor still know them? It is at such
points that our recent developments may be dangerous. It could be argued that
one man is as good as another so long as the infective organism has been
accurately identified. I suppose that one man is also as good as another in
prescribing an antibiotic so long as it is handled with due care. But the point
here is that with those diseases which we have mentioned as now increasingly
prevalent, it is important to know your patient. You must ascertain the family
history and the more you know about him and his background environment
the better you will be able to treat him. But now another idea is with us. It
would seem that you need not even see the patient. Or a doctor may go to a
patient whom he has never seen before because he is doing duty this particular
weekend. The matter to be dealt with is not so much a patient as the technical
point of the particular organism. As for the prescription, I suppose that the
computers will soon be doing that for us. The point of our present interest is –
where does good medicine come in?
What is it, therefore, that at this point the doctor needs?
Clearly he must have a true view of man. At this juncture mere knowledge of
medicine is not enough. He must know what man – the whole man – really is. He
must know the meaning and nature of life. He must have clear views about death.
These are bare essentials. But how are these essentials to be obtained? That is
the vital question. And I would not hesitate to assert that it is only a man who
is a Christian who conforms to this ideal and who possesses this knowledge.
THE BANKRUPTCY OF HUMANISM AND FREUDIANISM
For general wisdom is no longer enough. It has gone out of
fashion, it is not now accepted. It is outmoded. Humanism and moralism are
obviously failing completely. It is not difficult to see why. According to the
teaching of humanism each man is his own authority, his own standard in the
matter of morals. The case against the humanists has been stated perhaps most
perfectly by the late Bertrand Russell, who admitted that he could see no sense
nor meaning in life whatsoever. That is inevitably the final position of a
humanist. But I feel that humanism and moralism fail supremely at the point
where they virtually leave it all to me to solve my own problems. All they seem
able to do is to show me the folly of doing certain things, and conversely to
commend to me certain other more rational courses of action.
But man’s real problem is not that he suffers from lack of
knowledge. Man is not only an intellect. There are the ultimate problems. To
give good advice does not necessarily touch the real problem at all. I would
suggest that the contemporary modern world is showing this very plainly.
What, then, of psychology and psychiatry – Freudianism in
particular? I would say of Freudianism and, indeed, also of learning therapy and
certain other views of psychology – that they share equally in the general
hopelessness. I would quote Freud to establish my point here. The following is
what he once wrote – ‘In all that follows I take up the standpoint that the
tendency to aggression is an innate, independent, instinctual disposition in
man. The natural instinct of aggression in man - the hostility of each against
all and all against the one - opposes the programme of civilisation.’ But, then,
we would ask, where is there any help? There is none at all. It is a state of
complete hopelessness, for he declares, ‘Man, being what he is, instinctively
opposes the programme of civilisation!’ In the same context he goes on to say
that the instinct of aggression is derived from the death instinct, ‘the
death wish’, which he says ‘we have already found alongside Eros sharing his
rule on the earth’. Well, surely, that is complete bankruptcy.
I would say that the same applies to many of the
non-Christian religions of the world. They are ultimately pessimistic and,
similarly, offer no real hope. Now this is where the Christian faith seems to me
to be absolutely unique. It offers the only hope both for the physician and for
the patient. On what grounds can I make such a statement? It is because of its
authority. Perhaps the greatest need in the world at the moment is that of
true authority. It is the key to what is lacking. Every man is doing that which
is right in his own eyes. Authority in all forms is being flouted. It is hated.
Where are we to find the necessary authority! Time does not permit, but it would
be easy to demonstrate that there is no authoritative view of life other than
that which you will find in the Bible. The Bible never said that the world would
of itself get better and better. No! It was philosophy which said that, and also
the pseudo-science of Charles Darwin and T. H. Huxley. The Bible constantly
affirms that men would remain what they are until they are willing to come under
the Christian influence.
It is widely suggested today that there is no such thing as
sin, and that everything may be explained away in medical terms. Such a fallacy
will endanger the very foundations of the whole of our society and of life
throughout the world. We must realistically face the fact that there is positive
evil in men. There are some men with whom there is nothing wrong medically, but
they are evil and they delight in doing evil. For example, they will do anything
for the sake of money and what it can purchase. We must be prepared to assert
these things. We must not allow false notions to gain further currency and to
ruin the whole of life.
THE RESULTS
Turning to the future, when you come to consider the question
of hope, what hope is there for man? It is here, it seems to me, that is seen
the unique message of the Christian faith. It is not merely good advice, it is
not mere morality or ethics, nor is it simply a higher view of life. It is a
doctrine that gives due place to the real nature and state of mankind. To use
biblical terminology, it declares that a man can be ‘born again’, that there can
be a radical change in a man’s soul. He can become a new man. It is amazing, but
it is true. History has its endless examples of it – its striking examples. It
is not confined to an élite class – it happens amongst the common people. Here
is hope for the drug addict, the alcoholic, or any kind of individual who has
become an utter slave to some particular kind of sin. It has its dynamic – it is
‘the power of God unto salvation’. This is something which is wholly relevant to
our calling. As we face the unknown future, we can see the kind of problem which
is going to arise and to arise increasingly. And I argue that this will become a
part of medicine. For we are dealing with a ‘whole
man’.
I remember some forty-eight years ago, my old chief, Lord
Horder, asked me one afternoon whether I would do something for him during his
summer vacation. It proved to be this. He had at the time a card index of his
patients which was classified solely under their surnames. He was constantly
called upon to give a lecture or an address. His problem was that when he wanted
to refer to cases he had to rely on his memory. As it happened he had a
prodigious memory and he could remember not only the particular cases but often
their names, and look the details up on the cards. But he felt that as he was
now in his early fifties his memory might fail him. The request was that I would
go through his entire system of card indices and make a new supplementary card
index beginning with the diseases and passing to the names. In future, when
asked to lecture he would refer to the disease references and from the names to
the patients’ records.
I did this for him. It was one of the best bits of education
that I ever received. But what appalled me – and what astounded me – was this.
Even in this practice (and he was very often a consultant to a consultant) the
diagnosis in well over 50% of his cases was ‘eats too much’, ‘drinks too much’,
‘dances too much’, ‘does not get enough sleep’, or ‘is unhappy at home’. He was
usually right! I remember raising with him my views about this whole question
when I was spending a weekend with him at his home near Petersfield. After I had
mentioned it, we argued for the whole of the weekend! My contention was that we
should be treating all these people. ‘Ah,’ said Horder, ‘that is where you are
wrong! If these people like to pay us our fees for more or less doing nothing,
then let them do so. We can then concentrate on the 35% or so of real Medicine.’
But my contention was that to treat these other people was ‘real Medicine’ also.
All of them were really sick. They certainly were not well! They have gone to
the doctor – perhaps to more than one – in quest of help.
It was – I know – an elementary anticipation of what today is
known as psychosomatic medicine. But I am seriously suggesting that this
situation will in the future become increasingly true. Medical men must realize
that more and more they will have on their hands the whole
person to deal with. The various types of new antibiotics and the
installation of computers will no doubt be doing a good deal for doctors. But I
cannot quite envisage a day when the computer will replace the surgeon. It will
clearly never replace the physician! This is an absolute certainty. So the great
call to us is that we should become whole men ourselves and thereby be in
a position to deal with ‘the whole man’ when patients come to us. Let us really
understand what is basically wrong. Let us go beyond what technical medicine and
the most modern therapy can offer and point men to the Way, the only way in
which they can become whole men.
*1 Part of an address given at the
Quarter-centenary Dinner of the Christian Medical Fellowship held at the Royal
College of Physicians of London on Friday, January 21st, 1972.
*2 The Editor of The
Practitioner was present on this occasion.


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