Classics Revisited, Commentary

I wrote Trauma and Recovery in the hope that it would reach a wide audience: activists and academics, trauma survivors and those who care for them. This hope has been realized in ways I could not have imagined. In the fifteen years since the book was first published, it has touched readers in many walks of life and many parts of the world (it has been translated into sixteen languages). I am grateful to WSQ for choosing Trauma and Recovery (T&R) as a “classic,” and to the colleagues who have offered their thoughtful critique and appreciation.

In the early days of the second wave, a little pamphlet circulated called Women: The Longest Revolution. Juliet Mitchell’s (1966) long-term historical perspective offered some comfort to those of us who felt continually frustrated by the intransigence of patriarchal institutions and the slow pace of change. I tried to incorporate that historical perspective into the writing of T&R. As Leigh Gilmore points out, a historical critique is central to the book’s feminist project. When I was delving into the past of what would now be called the trauma field, one of the biggest puzzles was to figure out why, in the late nineteenth century, “hysteria” became the focus of so much public attention. Why did eminent men of science suddenly find it interesting to pay attention to women patients who previously, if they were noticed at all, had been the object of general scorn? I remember the excitement I felt when it all fell into place: the study of hysteria was part of a political movement! Jean-Martin Charcot, founding father of the scientific study of hysteria, was also a founding father of the Third Republic in France. His Tuesday Lectures, in which patients with hysteria were displayed to an enthralled Parisian audience, were political theater, the purpose of which was to demonstrate the triumph of scientific rationalism over religious superstition. A fierce anticlericalism and a sincere faith in the tenets of the Enlightenment fueled this political movement.

By the early twentieth century, once secular democracy was securely established in France, the study of hysteria disappeared from the public stage as quickly as it had appeared. There was no longer any compelling reason to listen to women with hysteria, especially since as soon as anyone paid them the slightest attention they began to talk about things like incest and rape. Soon these patients once again became the object of general scorn—until the women’s movement of the late twentieth century.

Elizabeth Schneider also calls attention to what she calls the “macro” level of analysis in T&R. She speaks of her own moment of excitement when she saw the link between violence against women and other forms of political violence. Suddenly the women’s movement could speak in the language of human rights. This fundamental insight has been a creative source in Schneider’s own work and in the work of activists around the world.

Jenna Appelbaum proposes to revive the kind of scientific inquiry that was practiced in the early days of the women’s liberation movement. She argues that a disinterested stance of open curiosity does not preclude moral engagement and empathy with one’s subjects. She calls for a new model of qualitative trauma research that would allow investigators to recognize and embrace their role as witnesses to the trauma story. I would add that there is no reason why quantitative research can not fulfill this mandate equally well. At the Victims of Violence Program, where I work, we study treatment outcome using both qualitative (interview) and quantitative measures.

Finally, there are many ways in which I could take issue with Susan Suleiman’s portrayal of contemporary controversies in the trauma field. I will limit myself to two comments. First, despite Suleiman’s assertions to the contrary, there is no serious scientific dispute about the fact that trauma can have a profound effect on memory. Traumatic memory disturbances are widely recognized in both clinical and research literature. In fact, the DSM-IV lists “inability to recall an important aspect of the trauma” (American Psychiatric Association 1994...