Depression's good side?

Our culture has an interesting relationship with depression. Some pundits lament what they see as the overmedication of America. Eric Wilson wrote a book called Against Happiness, in which he talks about a vital need for sorrow as part of the human condition which we medicate away at our own peril. I have heard some people in religious communities refer to depression as a product of selfish thinking, a lack of faith, or simply a "trial" we must walk through. Depression has become the malady du jour for artists, writers, and thinkers. Somehow we think that the darkness that some people descend into holds important insights into the human condition. If they had not fallen into darkness, what would become of their works of genius? Sometimes I think it is an unwritten rule that only dark, depressing novels (paintings, songs, movies, et cetera) can be taken seriously as real art that has something to say.

Peter D. Kramer is a clinical professor of psychiatry at Brown University and author of several books on depression. I stumbled across a 2005 article he wrote for the New York Times magazine called There's Nothing Deep About Depression, in which he examines more closely this odd sort of reverence we seem to hold for the depressed state. Here is a little excerpt:

Audiences seemed to be aware of the medical perspective, even to endorse it -- but not to have adopted it as a habit of mind. To underscore this inconsistency, I began to pose a test question: We say that depression is a disease. Does that mean that we want to eradicate it as we have eradicated smallpox, so that no human being need ever suffer depression again? I made it clear that mere sadness was not at issue. Take major depression, however you define it. Are you content to be rid of that condition?

Always, the response was hedged: aren't we meant to be depressed? Are we talking about changing human nature?

I took those protective worries as expressions of what depression is to us. Asked whether we are content to eradicate arthritis, no one says, ''Well, the end-stage deformation, yes, but let's hang on to tennis elbow, housemaid's knee and the early stages of rheumatoid disease.'' Multiple sclerosis, acne, schizophrenia, psoriasis, bulimia, malaria -- there is no other disease we consider preserving. But eradicating depression calls out the caveats.

I have a bit of experience with depression, both personally and with family members. It isn't, so far as I've been able to tell, a mysterious fount of inspiration, but, rather, a debilitating disease. I sometimes wonder if, in our enchantment with the dazzlingly depressing in various art forms, we have mistaken despair for realism, sickness for courage, and darkness for insight. I suspect our fascination with the thoughts of the deeply depressed is just the most socially acceptable form of voyeurism available outside of reality TV.

Now, I don't deny sorrow a place in our lives. There is certainly a difference--however disputed the line may be--between clinical depression and sadness. Neither do I suggest we only allow happy endings (although I admit to being inordantly fond of them). Life can be brutal and horrific. Denying that suffering exists does nothing to alleviate it. But perhaps it is time to recognize that depression is not a higher state, a nirvana from which to bring back gems of truth, a normal thing for those of an "artistic temperament." Depression is a sickness every bit as real and every bit as dangerous as hypertension or diabetes, and I think we ought to take it seriously enough to separate it from the complex, brilliant creativity sometimes found in those who suffer from it.