Addressing Social Exclusion
| Pages | 3-4 |
| DOI | https://doi.org/10.1108/13619322200100022 |
| Date | 01 September 2001 |
| Published date | 01 September 2001 |
| Author | David Crepaz‐Keay |
| Subject Matter | Health & social care |
with a serious look at money.
But that would be too simple. So instead I’ll start
with you. Imagine for a moment that you are away
from work for a month. You return and nothing has
changed, except now you have a diagnosis of schizo-
phrenia. You have no idea who else knows, but you
know people do.
How will this affect your work? Many people have
lost their jobs as a result of a diagnosis. Some directly,
but for others the process has been slow and painful
and goes something like this...
Your behaviour is re-evaluated as that of a schizo-
phrenic. Now, any disagreement you have, or any
opinion you hold, will be undermined as the view of a
schizophrenic. If you express this concern, it becomes a
manifestation of your paranoia. You may find yourself
relieved of some of your duties that someone else
thinks you’re no longer up to.
Now try to apply for one of those credit cards
you’re invited to apply for every week. Or the loan, or
the income protection policy, or the private health
insurance. All the things one takes for granted are now
much more difficult.
Even if you had all of these before you got your
diagnosis, their value will have diminished. Assume
that you lose your job, not a completely impossible
scenario. Now you’re about to find out how much use
your income protection policy is worth. You are about
to enter the murky world of small print and policy
exemptions. Payment protection on loans and credit
cards? Same story.
Lost your job? Finances in a mess? How’s your
relationship? If that fails as well, what do you think
your chances of getting custody of any children are?
Unless your ex also has a diagnosis of schizophrenia,
you’re probably better off buying a lottery ticket.
Your life will have changed. Not because of any
underlying condition, but because of the application of
a label. And a very sticky one at that. What I described
above is not my story, or indeed any one story. Rather
it is an illustration of what people take for granted, the
very stuff of social inclusion and how fragile it can be.
ver recent years, social inclusion has
climbed the political, media and dinner party agenda
from a fringe branch of communism to an agenda-
topping sine qua non. Addressing social exclusion has
become one of the key components of any activity
which local authority and voluntary organisations wish
to highlight as an indicator of progressive attitudes.
Even the sleepy backwater of the mental health
industry has taken the agenda and adopted it as its
own. In truth, this is merely the sector catching up
with what the survivor movement has been campaign-
ing about for at least the 15 years since the formation
of Survivors Speak Out, and probably rather longer,
but more of that later.
In mental health, possibly more than in any other
case, social exclusion is largely a product of percep-
tion. It is my view that three-quarters of the social
exclusion experienced by people with a psychiatric
diagnosis is a direct result of the diagnosis itself, and
has rather less to do with any underlying condition;
again, more of that later.
Sitting on the 7.25 Metropolitan Line train from
Chesham, I do not feel socially excluded, nor can I see
any evidence that any of my fellow passengers are
being excluded. I find it hard to imagine any of them
giving two hoots about my six psychiatric diagnoses, or
indeed anyone else’s (unless they are unwise enough
to engage in a conversation about it – talking is
frowned upon east of Harrow on the Hill). It should be
no surprise, however, that social exclusion is not an
issue for us here. Although it is reasonable to suppose
that, if this were a random sample of the population, a
high proportion of these people have had some experi-
ence of mental health problems, there could be few
better indicators of social inclusion than commuting
from the Chilterns. The commuterland address, the
job in London, the annual Travelcard, the attire – all
clearly mark one as a member of the herd. And as
membership doesn’t come cheap, we ought to start the
analysis of social exclusion by psychiatric diagnosis
O
The Mental Health Review Volume 6 Issue 3 September 2001 ©Pavilion Publishing (Brighton) 2001 3
Addressing Social Exclusion
David Crepaz-Keay
Deputy Director
Mental Health Media
A personal perspective
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