Thursday, August 9, 2007 at 1:01am
Albert Ellis, icon of psychology
Column: Spiritual Psychology
On July 24, Albert Ellis, one of the leading theorists and practitioners of cognitive behavior therapy, died at age 93. Ellis was often introduced at American Psychological Association (APA) meetings as one of the most important and influential psychologists of the 20th century. Recognition of his importance has grown in recent years, with many textbooks rightfully including him on an equal par with great contributors to the mental health field like Freud, Jung and other notables.
From the earliest days of his career, after a brief flirtation with traditional techniques, he became a maverick outspoken critic of traditionalism and conventional sexual mores. Ellis was at the forefront of the sexual revolution, often promoting laissez-faire sexuality. He was the shock jock of sexuality. To taunt conventional sensibilities, he even wrote a guide on how to have an affair. Many dismissed him, calling him a kooky loose cannon.
Although he started out as a trained psychoanalyst, Ellis promptly turned on Freudian psychology with persistent and often brutal broadsides against psychoanalytic theory and practice — he called psychoanalytic treatment a waste of time. For Ellis, psychoanalysis epitomized "analysis, paralysis." He favored a more practical and direct approach to changing behavior. I recall one meeting years ago at an American Psychological Association convention when Ellis debated a traditional psychoanalyst. After the analyst presented, Ellis walked up to the podium, flashed his usual engaging smile, and announced, "That's the biggest crock of shit I ever heard." Classic Ellis — brusque, confrontational, no holds barred.
My association with Albert Ellis goes back more than 30 years, when I was a young psychologist and the psychology consultant for the Springer publishing company. At that time I launched a series on behavior therapy just when the discipline was beginning to take off, injecting tremendous excitement into the field. A leading behavioral psychologist, Cyril Franks, became the editor of the series. Cyril brought all the prominent behavior therapists, including Ellis, into the Springer orbit.
Ellis was not a social person in the sense of party-going or cocktail chitchat. He was all about business — specifically about the development of his own behaviorist brand: Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy (REBT). At convention parties — there were many in those days — he would drop in to renew contacts, discuss new books and new ideas, and present proposals to publishers for new projects. Even at receptions at his own Institute, Ellis wouldn't float around to talk to guests. He held court in his second floor office where people would drift in for an audience. But he liked to attend our Springer. Parties — they were the only ones where he lingered — sometimes for hours. His longtime companion, Janet Wolfe, who was also his partner in building the Ellis Institute for Rational Living, explained his fondness for Springer gatherings, which were sometimes held in Dr. Ursula Springer's New York City apartment. Janet said that Ursula, the company's president, admired Ellis and was solicitous and respectful of him — unlike many of his critics. A scholar herself, she was able to converse with Ellis on topics that interested them both, and he appreciated that.
Janet Wolfe also reminded me that Ellis welcomed what she called my annual "scream out" with him. She said that I was one of the few people who could sustain a lengthy conversation with Ellis. There was nothing ingenious about this. I figured out that the way to engage him was to talk about Ellis and REBT — and to challenge him provocatively. Many feared Ellis' "shooting from the hip" style. And if you were going to take him on, you'd better have your facts straight — you couldn't get away with vague references to "studies show." Ellis read extensively and had a near-photographic memory. But he welcomed and enjoyed rough repartee — he could take it as much as he liked to dish it out.
At one party I asked Ellis to rate the quality of his writing on a scale of 1 to 10. He was a prodigious writer — at his death, he had written or co-authored more than 75 books. One of his associates was quite stunned by my direct challenge to the "great man." But Ellis, as I had learned, loved challenges like this. He didn't miss a beat and said, "7." That was honest and accurate. Ellis was a good writer who wrote quickly and did only minimal revising. We called him "one-take Al." I then said to Ellis, to the even greater shock of his associate, "Did you ever think about doing revisions and rewrites to improve your writing up to a 9 or 10?" Ellis thought for a moment and said, "No, 7 is good enough, and I'd rather spend the time writing another book." Hard to argue with that.
At the annual APA convention in 1999, Ellis and I had a memorable dialogue on the subject of spirituality. Ellis disdained religion and spirituality. I was surprised that the Religion Division sponsored a session on REBT. A huge audience packed a large ballroom — Ellis was always a big draw. I was astonished that in his presentation he didn't deliver his usual assault on religion and spirituality. Afterward I approached him and said, "Albert, have you found God?" He answered, "If they want to use REBT and believe in that other crap, it's all right with me." He once gave me one of his new books and inscribed in it: "For Bernie — Who, I hope, is too bright to get really hooked on mystical claptrap! Cordial regards, Al Ellis."
I would reliably get Albert going by saying, "I know you don't like spirituality, but in fact, you are America's leading Buddhist psychologist." I went on to explain that rationality, if it were genuine rationality, would have to be a process that is outside the ego and personal experience. Otherwise, if rationality were colored by the ego and the distortions of personal experience — which Ellis wrote about extensively — it would be a case of enlisting the thief to catch the thief. But if rationality is outside personal experience, then it is transpersonal and in the spiritual domain. I suggested that the religious and spiritual psychologists and counselors have caught on to that, which would explain why they have embraced REBT. For a minute I was sure I had Ellis cornered. He thought for a long time and then fired back, "You are never totally outside of personal experience." An interesting theoretical point for an extensive debate. I didn't pursue it further at that time, but suggested that if you are not outside personal experience, you cannot be truly rational. A few years later Ellis dropped "rational" in favor of "functional." I always wondered if our conversation influenced that change.
There was a playful side to Albert. At one of the Springer APA parties he entertained the group by singing some of his "rational songs." His lyrics, as in "Whine Whine Whine," "Demandingness," "I am Just a Love Slob," just to name a few, were set to familiar popular old tunes. Not only are these songs amusing and entertaining, they express the major themes of REBT. I suggested to Albert and Janet that they should make a recording of these songs, and I even offered to produce it with my good friend Neil Walters, who was a superb keyboard player. They said it was a good idea and might do it later — that they were currently too tied up with other projects. About six months later, Janet called and said they were "ready." "Ready for what?" I asked. "To cut the record," she said. Then I remembered. "OK, when and where do you want to do it?" "This Thursday at the Institute," she said. "I agreed. Then I asked, "What time?" "Midnight," she replied. "Why midnight? Does Albert turn into Dracula at midnight and then go for the jugular veins of other theorists?" She explained that Albert's last patient was at 11 p.m. So Neil and I showed up at the appointed hour and cut the record, which is still available at the Institute.
On a professional level Albert was generous. Years ago, when I was president of the Brooklyn Psychological Association, Albert schlepped out to speak at Brooklyn College for a $50 honorarium — he would have done it for nothing. He was also supportive of anyone who wanted to set up an REBT program, center, or group practice. He would offer training sessions, give his stamp of approval and make personal appearances to give a boost to the practice. If you had a credible idea for a book on REBT, he would gladly join forces, providing ideas and guidance and then taking a backseat as the second author.
On a personal level, though, Albert was not always a nice person. His sharp, aggressive manner could be intimidating and insensitive. His philosophy, "Do what you damn please as long as you don't hurt anyone," was frequently self-serving and did hurt others. His treatment of Janet Wolfe, his longtime companion and associate who contributed so much to building the Institute, was shabby when their relationship unraveled a few years ago.
Although Albert was all about work, I hesitate to describe him as a workaholic. All his areas of work excited and energized him. He hated leisure, and that surely put a strain on his personal relationships. He would travel to faraway places like India on a moment's notice to do a seminar, training session or formal presentation. Afterward he would promptly get on a plane and fly home. When I once suggested that there were fascinating sights and refreshing opportunities for R&R in India and elsewhere, he said, "What am I going to do, sit on a goddamn beach?"
Toward the end, he was ironically the victim of abusive treatment from his world-renowned Institute. In a dispute that hit the front page of newspapers, in 2005 the Institute administration tried to exile Ellis. He eventually won in court and remained in his upper-floor apartment until the end.
Despite the fact that I'm critical of REBT in my forthcoming book, "Escape Your Own Prison: Why we Need Spirituality and Psychology to be Truly Free," I will miss Albert Ellis. The field of psychology will as well. He was the rare one who kept his adversaries on their toes and forced all of us to think more clearly and critically. And his intelligence, honesty and commitment to his patients and psychology were boundless.
— — —
Bernard Starr, Ph.D., formerly professor of developmental and educational psychology at the City University of New York, now teaches psychology and leads the Spiritual Forum at Marymount Manhattan College. In addition to his work in radio, he is a longtime contributor of commentary and opinion articles to numerous major publications. He is also the main United Nations representative for the Institute of Global Education that founded the Mucherla Global School in Mucherla, India. His book "Escape Your Own Prison: Why We Need Spirituality and Psychology to be Truly Free" will be published by Rowman and Littlefield in October 2007. His email address is {email OmniCns@aol.com}OmniCns@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Bernard Starr.
From the earliest days of his career, after a brief flirtation with traditional techniques, he became a maverick outspoken critic of traditionalism and conventional sexual mores. Ellis was at the forefront of the sexual revolution, often promoting laissez-faire sexuality. He was the shock jock of sexuality. To taunt conventional sensibilities, he even wrote a guide on how to have an affair. Many dismissed him, calling him a kooky loose cannon.
Although he started out as a trained psychoanalyst, Ellis promptly turned on Freudian psychology with persistent and often brutal broadsides against psychoanalytic theory and practice — he called psychoanalytic treatment a waste of time. For Ellis, psychoanalysis epitomized "analysis, paralysis." He favored a more practical and direct approach to changing behavior. I recall one meeting years ago at an American Psychological Association convention when Ellis debated a traditional psychoanalyst. After the analyst presented, Ellis walked up to the podium, flashed his usual engaging smile, and announced, "That's the biggest crock of shit I ever heard." Classic Ellis — brusque, confrontational, no holds barred.
My association with Albert Ellis goes back more than 30 years, when I was a young psychologist and the psychology consultant for the Springer publishing company. At that time I launched a series on behavior therapy just when the discipline was beginning to take off, injecting tremendous excitement into the field. A leading behavioral psychologist, Cyril Franks, became the editor of the series. Cyril brought all the prominent behavior therapists, including Ellis, into the Springer orbit.
Ellis was not a social person in the sense of party-going or cocktail chitchat. He was all about business — specifically about the development of his own behaviorist brand: Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy (REBT). At convention parties — there were many in those days — he would drop in to renew contacts, discuss new books and new ideas, and present proposals to publishers for new projects. Even at receptions at his own Institute, Ellis wouldn't float around to talk to guests. He held court in his second floor office where people would drift in for an audience. But he liked to attend our Springer. Parties — they were the only ones where he lingered — sometimes for hours. His longtime companion, Janet Wolfe, who was also his partner in building the Ellis Institute for Rational Living, explained his fondness for Springer gatherings, which were sometimes held in Dr. Ursula Springer's New York City apartment. Janet said that Ursula, the company's president, admired Ellis and was solicitous and respectful of him — unlike many of his critics. A scholar herself, she was able to converse with Ellis on topics that interested them both, and he appreciated that.
Janet Wolfe also reminded me that Ellis welcomed what she called my annual "scream out" with him. She said that I was one of the few people who could sustain a lengthy conversation with Ellis. There was nothing ingenious about this. I figured out that the way to engage him was to talk about Ellis and REBT — and to challenge him provocatively. Many feared Ellis' "shooting from the hip" style. And if you were going to take him on, you'd better have your facts straight — you couldn't get away with vague references to "studies show." Ellis read extensively and had a near-photographic memory. But he welcomed and enjoyed rough repartee — he could take it as much as he liked to dish it out.
At one party I asked Ellis to rate the quality of his writing on a scale of 1 to 10. He was a prodigious writer — at his death, he had written or co-authored more than 75 books. One of his associates was quite stunned by my direct challenge to the "great man." But Ellis, as I had learned, loved challenges like this. He didn't miss a beat and said, "7." That was honest and accurate. Ellis was a good writer who wrote quickly and did only minimal revising. We called him "one-take Al." I then said to Ellis, to the even greater shock of his associate, "Did you ever think about doing revisions and rewrites to improve your writing up to a 9 or 10?" Ellis thought for a moment and said, "No, 7 is good enough, and I'd rather spend the time writing another book." Hard to argue with that.
At the annual APA convention in 1999, Ellis and I had a memorable dialogue on the subject of spirituality. Ellis disdained religion and spirituality. I was surprised that the Religion Division sponsored a session on REBT. A huge audience packed a large ballroom — Ellis was always a big draw. I was astonished that in his presentation he didn't deliver his usual assault on religion and spirituality. Afterward I approached him and said, "Albert, have you found God?" He answered, "If they want to use REBT and believe in that other crap, it's all right with me." He once gave me one of his new books and inscribed in it: "For Bernie — Who, I hope, is too bright to get really hooked on mystical claptrap! Cordial regards, Al Ellis."
I would reliably get Albert going by saying, "I know you don't like spirituality, but in fact, you are America's leading Buddhist psychologist." I went on to explain that rationality, if it were genuine rationality, would have to be a process that is outside the ego and personal experience. Otherwise, if rationality were colored by the ego and the distortions of personal experience — which Ellis wrote about extensively — it would be a case of enlisting the thief to catch the thief. But if rationality is outside personal experience, then it is transpersonal and in the spiritual domain. I suggested that the religious and spiritual psychologists and counselors have caught on to that, which would explain why they have embraced REBT. For a minute I was sure I had Ellis cornered. He thought for a long time and then fired back, "You are never totally outside of personal experience." An interesting theoretical point for an extensive debate. I didn't pursue it further at that time, but suggested that if you are not outside personal experience, you cannot be truly rational. A few years later Ellis dropped "rational" in favor of "functional." I always wondered if our conversation influenced that change.
There was a playful side to Albert. At one of the Springer APA parties he entertained the group by singing some of his "rational songs." His lyrics, as in "Whine Whine Whine," "Demandingness," "I am Just a Love Slob," just to name a few, were set to familiar popular old tunes. Not only are these songs amusing and entertaining, they express the major themes of REBT. I suggested to Albert and Janet that they should make a recording of these songs, and I even offered to produce it with my good friend Neil Walters, who was a superb keyboard player. They said it was a good idea and might do it later — that they were currently too tied up with other projects. About six months later, Janet called and said they were "ready." "Ready for what?" I asked. "To cut the record," she said. Then I remembered. "OK, when and where do you want to do it?" "This Thursday at the Institute," she said. "I agreed. Then I asked, "What time?" "Midnight," she replied. "Why midnight? Does Albert turn into Dracula at midnight and then go for the jugular veins of other theorists?" She explained that Albert's last patient was at 11 p.m. So Neil and I showed up at the appointed hour and cut the record, which is still available at the Institute.
On a professional level Albert was generous. Years ago, when I was president of the Brooklyn Psychological Association, Albert schlepped out to speak at Brooklyn College for a $50 honorarium — he would have done it for nothing. He was also supportive of anyone who wanted to set up an REBT program, center, or group practice. He would offer training sessions, give his stamp of approval and make personal appearances to give a boost to the practice. If you had a credible idea for a book on REBT, he would gladly join forces, providing ideas and guidance and then taking a backseat as the second author.
On a personal level, though, Albert was not always a nice person. His sharp, aggressive manner could be intimidating and insensitive. His philosophy, "Do what you damn please as long as you don't hurt anyone," was frequently self-serving and did hurt others. His treatment of Janet Wolfe, his longtime companion and associate who contributed so much to building the Institute, was shabby when their relationship unraveled a few years ago.
Although Albert was all about work, I hesitate to describe him as a workaholic. All his areas of work excited and energized him. He hated leisure, and that surely put a strain on his personal relationships. He would travel to faraway places like India on a moment's notice to do a seminar, training session or formal presentation. Afterward he would promptly get on a plane and fly home. When I once suggested that there were fascinating sights and refreshing opportunities for R&R in India and elsewhere, he said, "What am I going to do, sit on a goddamn beach?"
Toward the end, he was ironically the victim of abusive treatment from his world-renowned Institute. In a dispute that hit the front page of newspapers, in 2005 the Institute administration tried to exile Ellis. He eventually won in court and remained in his upper-floor apartment until the end.
Despite the fact that I'm critical of REBT in my forthcoming book, "Escape Your Own Prison: Why we Need Spirituality and Psychology to be Truly Free," I will miss Albert Ellis. The field of psychology will as well. He was the rare one who kept his adversaries on their toes and forced all of us to think more clearly and critically. And his intelligence, honesty and commitment to his patients and psychology were boundless.
— — —
Bernard Starr, Ph.D., formerly professor of developmental and educational psychology at the City University of New York, now teaches psychology and leads the Spiritual Forum at Marymount Manhattan College. In addition to his work in radio, he is a longtime contributor of commentary and opinion articles to numerous major publications. He is also the main United Nations representative for the Institute of Global Education that founded the Mucherla Global School in Mucherla, India. His book "Escape Your Own Prison: Why We Need Spirituality and Psychology to be Truly Free" will be published by Rowman and Littlefield in October 2007. His email address is {email OmniCns@aol.com}OmniCns@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Bernard Starr.