Neuronarrative

Musings on the complicated business of thinking.

Would Don Draper be a Good Psychologist?

"Mad Men" is good TV, but might it also be good psychology?

You've probably been watching the latest season of the Emmy hoarding series "Mad Men" on AMC. If not, you've probably still heard a lot about the show's ineffable anti-hero, Don Draper. Draper may be the most memorable character in all of TV drama, chiefly because he's so hard to pin down. On one hand he's an ambitious go getter, on the other he's a meandering nihilist. He's both a hedonist and a traditionalist. He's forever making sure that his kingdom is in order, while also believing that the future is little more than a mirage.

Watching Draper in action, you get a sense that he's always two steps ahead of everyone else. Those he meets become transparent in seconds. Which makes me wonder -- what sort of psychologist would Don Draper be?

We can turn to a few of his quotes for an answer.

To a patient wrestling with the past, Draper might say:

"Nostalgia" literally means "the pain from an old wound." It's a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship, it's a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards... it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It's not called the wheel, it's called the carousel. It let's us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know we are loved.

To a patient who can't seem to move forward in life, Draper might say:

It's your life. You don't know how long it's gonna last, but you know it doesn't end well. You've gotta move forward... as soon as you can figure out what that means.

To a patient who desperately seeks affirmation, Draper might say:

Do you know what happiness is? Happiness is the smell of a new car. It's freedom from fear. It's a billboard on the side of a road that screams with reassurance that whatever you're doing is OK. You are OK.

To a patient who thinks he's predestined to failure, Draper might say:

I hate to break it to you, but there is no big lie. There is no system. The universe is indifferent.

To a patient who has difficulty communicating, Draper might say:

If you don't like what's being said, change the conversation.

To a patient who expresses fear about disclosing in therapy, Draper might say:

This never happened. It will shock you how much it never happened.

To a patient anxious about facing change, Draper might say:

Change is neither good nor bad, it simply is. It can be greeted with terror or joy, a tantrum that says, "I want it the way it was!" or a dance that says, "Look, there's something new!"

To a patient who thinks she can change her partner, Draper might say:

People tell you who they are but we ignore it - because we want them to be who we want them to be.

To a patient struggling with his identity, Draper might say:

When a man walks into a room, he brings his whole life with him. He has a million reasons for being anywhere, just ask him. If you listen, he'll tell you how he got there. How he forgot where he was going, and that he woke up. If you listen, he'll tell you about the time he thought he was an angel or dreamt of being perfect. And then he'll smile with wisdom, content that he realized the world isn't perfect. We're flawed, because we want so much more. We're ruined, because we get these things, and wish for what we had.

 

What do you think -- are the writers of "Mad Men" serving up useful psychological insights along with good drama?

 



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David DiSalvo is a science and technology writer working at the intersection of cognition and culture.

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