Curr Psychol
MENAECHMUS
I do if I’ve paid my bills—(angrily) May all the powers above
blast you, you inquisitive ass!
PSYCHIATRIST
(
backing away) Now the man
is beginning to manifest
insanity—those final words are proof!
The psychiatrist’s questions are all in line with Hippocratic medicine, but no matter
the answer, Menaechmus cannot win. His gestures, perplexity, irritation, frustration,
and especially his anger—all are taken as symptomatic of an abnormal mental
condition. Yet even his cooperation and compliance are, too. Compare Rosenhan
(
1973a
):
One tacit characteristic of psychiatric diagnosis is that it locates the sources of
aberration within the individual and only rarely within the complex of stimuli
that surrounds him. Consequently, behaviors that are stimulated by the envi-
ronment are commonly misattributed to the patient’s disorder. (p. 251)
As we see, despite observing clear evidence to the contrary (v. 927, “Well,
well…”), it never occurs to Plautus’ psychiatrist to conclude there is nothing medi-
cally (bodily) wrong with his patient. Rosenhan (
1973a
):
[P]hysicians operate with a strong bias toward what statisticians call the Type 2
error. This is to say that physicians are more inclined to call a healthy person
sick (a false positive, Type 2) than a sick person healthy (a false negative, Type
1). (p. 252)
So it is in Menaechmi, as we see in the final line quoted above (931). Despite his
initial caution, Plautus’ psychiatrist is ultimately more inclined to call a healthy
person sick than a sick person healthy. The Type 2 error bolsters his belief that he
can cure Menaechmus, and it dictates the therapy he now goes on to prescribe—
namely, involuntary commitment and a course of psychotropic drugs (946–50):
FATHER-IN-LAW
For God’s sake, doctor, whatever you’re going to do, hurry up
and do it! Don’t you see the man is insane?
PSYCHIATRIST
(
aside to
FATHER-IN-LAW
) Do you know what you had best do?
Have him delivered to my place…. There I’ll treat him as I deem best. (to
MENAECHMUS
) I’ll have you drink hellebore for some twenty days.
Hellebore was the Prozac of antiquity, and the doctor’s decision to administer it
bears comparison with a bombshell revelation Rosenhan makes about the treatment
he and his pseudopatients received while hospitalized (
1973a
):
All told, the pseudopatients were administered nearly 2100 [psychotropic] pills,
including Elavil, Stelazine, Compazine, and Thorazine. (p. 256)
The decision to have Menaechmus involuntarily committed and treated with this
kind of drug completes the psychiatrist’s diagnosis.
The audience is surely convulsing with laughter by this point in the play, but lest
we miss the horror of what has just transpired—a medical diagnosis tantamount to
schizophrenia, followed by coercive commitment and drugging, all in the name of
Curr Psychol
“therapy”—Menaechmus suddenly caps the scene by breaking the dramatic illusion,
much as his brother, Sosicles, had broken the dramatic illusion earlier at 831–2
(quoted above in §4). At v. 962 he turns directly to us and asks a question:
an illi perperam insanire me aiunt, ipsi insaniunt?
Can it be that those who wrongly say I’m insane are really insane themselves?
I do not think this is a genuine rhetorical question. It rather invites serious moral
reflection and discussion—if not right now, in the middle of a performance, and if not
ever aloud and publicly, with others, then certainly it is an invitation to self-dialogue.
Moreover, it is of a piece with the conclusion along similar lines that Rosenhan drew
from his own experiment:
It is clear that we cannot distinguish the sane from the insane in psychiatric
hospitals. The hospital itself imposes a special environment in which the
meaning of behavior can easily be misunderstood.
Conclusions
“Can it be that those who wrongly say I’m insane are really insane themselves?”
Menaechmus’ capping question highlights not one but two ethical reflections on the
nature of madness. On the one hand, with the word perperam (“wrongly”) it
challenges the validity of psychiatric diagnoses. It calls attention to the social context
in which such judgments are made, and dramatically demonstrates that special
environments can be imposed on individuals in which the meaning of behavior can
easily be misunderstood. On the other hand, with the words ipsi insaniunt (“are really
insane themselves”) it points the way to a more sweeping criticism of the medical
model of mental illness itself, and especially how that model relates to power and
coercion. Let us consider each reflection separately.
(1) In retrospect we can see how the first reflection was encoded in the play from
the beginning and how it worked as the action developed. The creative genius of
the Greek comedian whose play Plautus adapted as Menaechmi and who
devised the two scenes examined above, was twofold:
ï Firstly, he hit on the very same idea of using “pseudopatients” as a means of
testing the validity of psychiatric diagnoses that Rosenhan did two millennia
later. The comedian made a malingerer feign auditory hallucinations, and no
more, to gain admission to a medical “ward.” Upon admission, the malin-
gerer dropped the ruse, but even so a psychiatrist failed to correctly diagnose
him as free of (bodily) disease.
ï The comedian’s second stroke of genius lay in realizing that a plain old comedy
of errors could be adapted to the purpose of dramatizing the “laboratory condi-
tions” of his experiment. Mistaken identity was one of the commonest themes in
Greek New Comedy. We know of thirteen comedies titled Twins or Identicals in
which it probably featured (Didymoi by Alexis, Anaxandrides, Antiphanes,
Aristophon, Euphron, and Xenarchus, Didymai by Antiphanes and Menander,
and Homoioi by Alexis, Antiphanes, Ephippus, Metrodorus, and Posidippus),