Episkevology

The road to hell is paved with good intentions

How psychology learned to serve power instead of people

There’s a particular kind of harm that doesn’t feel like violence at first.
It arrives dressed as care, concern, expertise, and “what’s best for you.” It speaks the language of help while quietly rearranging where the problem lives.

That’s the story of psychology as a profession.

Not because every practitioner is malicious, and not because the entire field is irredeemable—but because of one foundational choice:

Psychology decided that the problem lives inside the individual.

Once that decision is made, the rest is almost inevitable.

Any discipline that assimilates to serve power will eventually relocate the wound into the person. Once the wound is inside the person, the system can stay exactly as it is.

This chapter is about that road:
how psychology, often with the best of intentions, became a mechanism for misplacing the wound—and why that misplacement is a form of control.

I. The mislocated wound

Let’s start with the core distinction.

Psychology (as commonly practiced): “The problem is inside the individual.”
Episkevology (your frame): “The wound is in the field.”

A field can be a family, a culture, a workplace, a community, a nation, a history, a power structure. It’s the relational environment in which a person exists.

When a wound is field‑level—poverty, violence, oppression, exploitation, abandonment—but the framework insists on treating it as a personal defect, something breaks.

Not in the person.
In the mapping.

The person is then asked to “work on themselves” while the field remains unchanged. They are told to regulate, reframe, adjust, cope, and accept conditions that may, in fact, be intolerable.

This is the mislocated wound:
the pain is real, but its source is moved from the field into the person.

Once you see this, the history of psychology reads like a long series of attempts to help that repeatedly default to serving power instead.

II. Before psychology: controlling the “mad” body

Long before psychology became a formal discipline, societies had ways of dealing with people whose behavior, distress, or difference didn’t fit the norm.

Those ways were rarely about understanding.
They were about containment.

Asylums and confinement

In the 18th and 19th centuries, the rise of asylums in Europe and North America was framed as a humanitarian advance. Instead of chaining people in public or leaving them to wander, they would be housed, fed, and “cared for” in dedicated institutions.

But the function of these places was double:

Care: food, shelter, some form of attention.
Control: removal from society, loss of rights, confinement.

The wound—industrial upheaval, poverty, social dislocation, trauma—was in the field. The “solution” was to remove the person from that field and place them in an institution.

The problem was not framed as:

exploitative labor conditions
collapsing communities
lack of social support

It was framed as:

“madness”
“insanity”
“dangerousness”

The person became the site of the problem. The asylum became the mechanism of control.

Moral treatment and discipline

Later reforms introduced “moral treatment”: structured routines, work, religious observance, and calm environments. On paper, this was a gentler, more humane approach. In practice, it often meant training people to be orderly, obedient, and compliant within institutional life.

Again, the wound (a world in turmoil) stayed unexamined. The person was “treated” by being shaped to fit the institution.

The road to hell was already under construction:
good intentions, bad ontology.

III. Psychology marries eugenics: serving the racial state

When psychology began to formalize as a science in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, it did not emerge in a vacuum. It grew up alongside eugenics—the idea that societies could be improved by managing who gets to reproduce.

Psychology brought something powerful to that project:
measurement.

Intelligence testing and “feeblemindedness”

Early intelligence tests were not neutral tools. They were used to classify people as “fit” or “unfit,” “normal” or “defective,” often along lines of class, race, and nationality.

Immigrants, poor people, and those who didn’t match the cultural assumptions baked into the tests were disproportionately labeled “feebleminded” or “mentally defective.”

The wound—structural inequality, racism, xenophobia—was in the field.
Psychology helped relocate it into the bodies and minds of the marginalized.

Sterilization and “mental defect”

In multiple countries, psychological assessments were used to justify forced sterilization under eugenic laws. If a person was labeled “defective,” the state could prevent them from having children “for the good of society.”

The intention, as framed at the time, was often couched in benevolence:

“Prevent suffering.”
“Protect future generations.”
“Improve the human stock.”

But the structure was clear:

Power defined what counted as “defect.”
Psychology provided the language and tools.
The bodies of the vulnerable carried the consequences.

Again, the wound (racism, classism, fear of difference) stayed in the field.
The pathology was placed in the person.

IV. Lobotomy, shock, and the medicalization of control

As the 20th century progressed, psychology and psychiatry increasingly intertwined with medicine. The brain became the new frontier.

The question shifted from “What’s wrong with this person?” to “What’s wrong with their brain?”
The field remained largely invisible.

Lobotomy as “miracle cure”

In the 1930s and 1940s, lobotomy was hailed in some circles as a breakthrough treatment for severe mental distress. It was presented as a compassionate last resort for people considered “untreatable.”

In practice, lobotomies were often performed on:

institutionalized patients
women labeled “hysterical” or “difficult”
people whose behavior was disruptive to families or institutions

The wound—overcrowded institutions, lack of support, social abandonment—was in the field.
The “solution” was to alter the person’s brain so they would be easier to manage.

Shock and somatic interventions

Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) and other somatic treatments were also used in ways that blurred the line between care and control. Consent was often limited or absent. The goal was frequently to reduce visible distress and disruptive behavior, not to address the conditions that produced them.

Again, the pattern holds:

The field is intolerable.
The person is altered to tolerate it—or to be less disruptive within it.

The road to hell:
“relief of suffering” on the surface, structural obedience underneath.

V. The DSM and the politics of normality

If eugenics and lobotomy show psychology’s entanglement with state power, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) shows its entanglement with cultural norms.

The DSM is often presented as a neutral catalog of mental disorders. In reality, it is a living document that reflects the values, assumptions, and power dynamics of the time in which it is written.

Pathologizing homosexuality

One of the clearest examples:
For decades, homosexuality was listed as a mental disorder in the DSM. It was not removed until 1973, after sustained activism and internal debate.

During the years it was pathologized, psychology and psychiatry were used to:

justify discrimination
attempt “conversion” or “treatment”
frame queer identity as illness

The wound—homophobia, moral panic, rigid gender norms—was in the field.
The pathology was placed in queer people.

When the DSM changed, nothing about queer people changed.
What changed was the frame.

This is the clearest proof that diagnosis is not just about science; it’s about power deciding what counts as “normal.”

Adjustment and maladaptation

Even beyond specific diagnoses, the language of “adjustment” and “maladaptation” carries an implicit message:

Healthy = well‑adapted to existing conditions.
Unhealthy = struggling to adapt.

If the conditions themselves are unjust, exploitative, or dehumanizing, then “adjustment” becomes a kind of enforced complicity.

The wound (injustice) is in the field.
The person who cannot comfortably adapt is labeled disordered.

VI. Psychology in service of industry, war, and productivity

Psychology didn’t just serve the state in hospitals and clinics. It also became deeply embedded in workplaces, militaries, and corporations.

Industry and efficiency

Industrial and organizational psychology emerged to help businesses select workers, increase productivity, and reduce turnover. On the surface, this looks neutral—even helpful.

But the underlying message is often:

The job is fixed.
The conditions are fixed.
The person must be selected, shaped, or coached to fit.

If you can’t tolerate the pace, the pressure, the precarity, the surveillance—you are the problem. You are “not a good fit,” “not resilient enough,” “not adaptable.”

The wound—exploitative labor structures—is in the field.
Psychology helps individuals adjust to it.

War, propaganda, and interrogation

Psychological expertise has also been used in:

propaganda and morale campaigns
selection and training of soldiers
interrogation and “enhanced” techniques

Again, the pattern is not “psychology is evil,” but “psychology is available to whoever holds power.”

The discipline’s tools—understanding motivation, fear, persuasion, stress—can be used to support people or to pressure them. The ontology (“the individual is the unit of analysis”) makes it easy to focus on manipulating persons rather than questioning systems.

Corporate wellness and resilience culture

In contemporary settings, this shows up as:

resilience training
stress management workshops
mindset coaching
“wellness” programs

These can be genuinely helpful on an individual level. But structurally, they often function as:

“We will not change the conditions that are burning you out.
We will teach you how to burn more slowly.”

The wound (overwork, precarity, lack of control) is in the field.
The person is taught to self‑regulate to remain functional within it.

VII. The mislocated wound mechanism

By now, the pattern is clear enough to name as a mechanism.

Step 1: Locate the problem inside the person

Diagnosis
Label
Trait
Disorder
“Issue”

The language may be compassionate, but the direction is always inward.

Step 2: Assign responsibility to the person

“You need to work on yourself.”
“You need better coping skills.”
“You need to change your thinking.”
“You need to regulate your emotions.”

Again, none of this is inherently wrong. People do have agency. But when the wound is not actually inside them, this becomes misdirection.

Step 3: Leave the field untouched

Family dynamics remain unexamined.
Workplace structures remain unchanged.
Cultural norms remain unquestioned.
Power relations remain intact.

The system is absolved by omission.

Step 4: Call this “help”

Because the intention is often sincere, the person is expected to be grateful:

“We’re here for you.”
“We’re giving you tools.”
“We’re supporting your growth.”

If they don’t improve under unchanged conditions, the blame loops back:

“You’re resistant.”
“You’re not committed.”
“You’re sabotaging yourself.”

This is the second wound:
not just being hurt by the field, but being told the hurt is yours to fix alone.

VIII. Why this feels abusive (even when no one means harm)

This is why so many people have a visceral fear of psychology, even if they can’t articulate it.

It’s not just the stigma.
It’s the power asymmetry.

When a profession has:

the authority to define what is “normal”
the language to label what is “disordered”
the backing of institutions, courts, schools, and employers

…and it consistently locates the problem inside the person, it becomes incredibly easy to weaponize—even unintentionally.

You can:

silence dissent by calling it “anger issues”
dismiss legitimate fear as “paranoia”
frame protest as “oppositional behavior”
interpret trauma responses as “personality disorders”

The person loses the right to point at the field.
The field remains unexamined.

This is what you mean when you say:

“Psychology serves the masters.
The placement of the pathology is a mechanism of control.”

It’s not a conspiracy.
It’s a structural consequence of the original choice:
“The problem is inside the individual.”

IX. Episkevology: relocating the wound

Episkevology starts somewhere else.

It begins with:

“The wound is in the field, not the person.”

This doesn’t mean individuals have no agency or responsibility. It means:

Distress is a signal of field incoherence.
Reactions are responses to conditions.
Adaptations are often intelligent, even if costly.
The person is not the origin of the harm.

When you relocate the wound:

The person’s experience becomes intelligible, not pathological.
Shame begins to loosen, because the story changes.
The focus shifts from “fix yourself” to “understand the field.”
Healing becomes about coherence, not compliance.

Episkevology doesn’t deny that people suffer.
It refuses to misplace the source of that suffering.

It doesn’t say, “You’re fine, it’s all society.”
It says, “You make sense, given the field you’re in.”

That shift alone is often enough to create the “healing AF” coherence effect you described—not because someone has treated you, but because the map finally matches the terrain.

X. The road to hell, revisited

If we look back across this history, the pattern is brutally consistent:

Asylums:
Intention: protect and care.
Effect: confinement and erasure.
Eugenics:
Intention: improve society, reduce suffering.
Effect: racial violence, sterilization, exclusion.
Lobotomy and shock:
Intention: relieve unbearable distress.
Effect: control, silencing, permanent harm.
DSM and diagnosis:
Intention: standardize care, reduce stigma.
Effect: pathologize difference, enforce norms.
Industrial and corporate psychology:
Intention: help people succeed at work.
Effect: normalize exploitation, individualize burnout.