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CHAPTER 2

Psychology as a Profession

ROBIN L. CAUTIN, DONALD K. FREEDHEIM, AND PATRICK H. DeLEON

WHAT DEFINES A PROFESSION? 32PIONEERING APPLICATIONS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL

SCIENCE 33THE BEGINNINGS OF THE NEW PROFESSION

OF PSYCHOLOGY 34WORLD WAR I AND THE GROWTH OF

PSYCHOLOGICAL PRACTICE 38THE 1920s: THE DECADE OF

POPULAR PSYCHOLOGY 39STRUGGLES FOR PROFESSIONAL IDENTITY 39POSTWAR GROWTH OF THE PRACTICE OF

PSYCHOLOGY 40

A “PROFESSIONAL” JOURNAL WITHIN APA 44TWO ASSOCIATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS 45THE CHANGING ECONOMIC CONTEXT OF THE

PSYCHOLOGY PROFESSION 45PSYCHOLOGY PRACTICE AND INTRADISCIPLINARY

TENSIONS 46PSYCHOLOGY PRACTICE AND INTERDISCIPLINARY

TENSIONS 49THE 21ST CENTURY 51REFERENCES 51

There was a profession of psychology long before therewas a science of psychology, even before the term psychol-ogist came into public use. In early 19th-century Amer-ica (as in centuries before, throughout the world), therewere practitioners who counseled people about their mar-riages, advised individuals about possible careers, aidedparents in the rearing of their children, advised companiesabout employee selection, and offered to cure a host ofpsychological illnesses through myriad treatments. Thesepractitioners worked under various labels, including phre-nologist, characterologist, spiritualist, graphologist, mentalhealer, physiognomist, mind reader, and psychologist.

To “get your head examined” was big business in19th-century America. Phrenologists, often using a systemmarketed by brothers Lorenzo and Orson Fowler, mea-sured skull shapes. Phrenology clinics advised busi-nesses and schools on hiring, helped lawyers to evaluateclients, and counseled individuals on marriage and voca-tions. Whether such individuals were “psychologists,” andwhether they represented a “profession,” are differentmatters entirely.

The authors would like to acknowledge the contributions ofLudy T. Benjamin, Jr. and Gary R. VandenBos, coauthors of thischapter in the first edition of History of Psychology .

WHAT DEFINES A PROFESSION?

Originally, there were three professions: law, medicine,and the clergy. These fields of endeavor were distinct from“trades” in that they required highly specialized education,created their own languages—generally not understood bythe populace at large—and developed their own standardsof practice, ethics, and so forth. In contrast to science,which traditionally published its newfound knowledge,the professions kept their knowledge to themselves. Forexample, the priests of the Mayans knew by their sophis-ticated astronomy when the eclipses of the sun and moonwould be, and used their predictive powers to ensure thatcitizens paid the appropriate taxes.

In time, the word profession was no longer used exclu-sively for the three original fields, but rather for any careerrequiring higher education; today one can hear the terms“profession” and “job” used almost interchangeably. Col-loquial usage of the term notwithstanding, the hallmarksof a profession are still commonly understood to be spe-cialized education, exchange of information (e.g., throughjournals, books, or seminars), accepted standards of prac-tice, and governmental certification and/or licensing. Howpsychologists achieved professional status is discussed in

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Pioneering Applications of Psychological Science 33

this chapter, as we explore historical developments, orga-nizational efforts, educational criteria, relations with otherprofessions, and brief histories of psychology’s major sub-specialties. More detailed histories of the specialties canbe found in the relevant chapters in this volume. Addition-ally, the role of professional organizations is presented inthe last chapter of the book.

PIONEERING APPLICATIONS OFPSYCHOLOGICAL SCIENCE

When the science of psychology began in America in thelast quarter of the 19th century, academicians found them-selves in competition with practitioners for the label ofpsychologist . The academics sought to draw boundariesbetween their discipline and the many pseudopsycholo-gies. The new psychological scientists “used their battleswith spiritualists [and phrenologists and others] to legit-imize psychology as a science and create a new rolefor themselves as guardians of the scientific worldview”(Coon, 1992, p. 143). Although American psychologistsof the late 19th century may have been housed withinthe academy, they were not bent on a pure science thatexcluded practical problems. Applications to real-worldissues emerged in the earliest days of the new laboratories.Not surprisingly, the first applications were in the fieldof education.

By 1892, the year in which he founded the Ameri-can Psychological Association (APA), Clark Universitypresident G. Stanley Hall (1844–1924) was the recog-nized leader of the child study movement in America,a national movement that was directed at educationalreform. Hall and his colleagues at Clark organized aresearch effort using schoolteachers, parents, and collegeeducators (including psychologists) to collect data on chil-dren, largely through the use of questionnaires, that wouldlead to a total understanding of the child. With this under-standing, teachers could be better trained, school curriculacould be better designed, and education could be bettersuited to individual student needs. Clark University servedas a clearinghouse for these studies, accumulating datafrom more than 190 different questionnaires. Various uni-versities with child study interests (such as Clark, StanfordUniversity, and the Universities of Illinois and Nebraska)held summer programs for schoolteachers, administra-tors, and educators in normal colleges (i.e., colleges inwhich teachers were trained) to dispense the new knowl-edge of the child and to describe the implications of this

knowledge for teacher training and school reform (David-son & Benjamin, 1987).

Although questionnaires were the principal researchtools of child study, various mental tests were also em-ployed. The mental tests were an outgrowth of the anthro-pometric tests developed by Francis Galton (1822–1911)in England in the 1880s and imported to America byJames McKeen Cattell (1860–1944). Cattell actuallycoined the term mental test in an 1890 article in which hedescribed a proposed program of research based on sen-sory, motor, and cognitive measures (Cattell, 1890; Sokal,1982b). A few years later he was confident enough in thevalidity of the measures to suggest that they had valuein school settings as “a useful indication of the progress,condition, and aptitudes of the pupil” and further, thatthese “tests might serve as a means of training and educa-tion” (Cattell, 1893, p. 257). By 1895, several Americanpsychology laboratories had adopted a similar mode oftesting and were using the tests as diagnostic instruments,principally of intellectual functioning. This was the startof a measurement of individual differences that woulddefine American psychology, particularly applied psy-chology, throughout the 20th century.

Another of the pioneers in applied psychology was aUniversity of Pennsylvania professor, Lightner Witmer(1867–1956), who in 1896 opened the first psychologyclinic in America, and perhaps in the world. In March ofthat year, a local schoolteacher brought a 14-year-old boyto see Witmer. The boy had difficulties with spelling, andthe teacher reasoned that if psychology was the scienceof mind, then it ought to be able to solve such problems.Witmer dealt with the boy’s problem successfully. Bythe summer, Witmer was seeing similar cases at theuniversity, which led to the opening of his clinic (Baker,1988). So enthused was he with this applied success thathe gave an address at the annual meeting of the APA thatDecember in which he spoke about using psychology tosolve learning difficulties in schoolchildren. He urged hiscolleagues to use their science to “throw light upon theproblems that confront humanity” (Witmer, 1897, p. 116).

The clinic grew slowly at first, with Witmer handlingmuch of the caseload himself—mostly schoolchildrenpresenting with learning and/or behavioral problems. In1907, he began editing and publishing a new journal,The Psychological Clinic, in which he described the casesand the diagnostic and treatment methods used. In thefirst issue of that journal, Witmer outlined a programof graduate training in a field he designated as “clinicalpsychology” (Witmer, 1907). Based on the work in his

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34 Psychology as a Profession

clinic and his promotional efforts on behalf of applyingpsychology to the remediation of learning and behavioralproblems, Witmer has generally been acknowledged asthe founder of clinical psychology and school psychologyin America (McReynolds, 1997).

In addition to schools and clinics, the new psychol-ogy also quickly found its way into the world of business.In the fall of 1895, Harlow Gale (1862–1945), a psy-chology instructor at the University of Minnesota, beganhis research on the psychology of advertising. He sent abrief questionnaire to approximately 200 businesses in theMinneapolis–St. Paul area asking them about their adver-tising practices. He wrote, “It is our aim to find the mentalprocesses which go on in the minds of the customers fromthe time they see an advertisement until they have pur-chased the article advertised” (Gale, 1900, p. 39). Gale dis-covered that the business community may not have been asinterested in psychology as he was in their field; only about20 businesses returned his questionnaire, a return rate of10%. In the next five years, however, a theoretical debateamong advertisers about the nature of consumer motiva-tion led the advertising community to make contact withpsychology, initially with Walter Dill Scott (1869–1955),who published books on the psychology of advertising in1903 and 1908. With his work, the field of industrial psy-chology was born (Benjamin, 2004). By 1915, many psy-chologists were employed full-time in advertising, sales,and human resources.

Thus, while many of the early academic psychologistsappeared content to remain in their laboratories, using theirnew scientific techniques to answer age-old questions ofmind, others were lured beyond the ivy-covered walls,motivated by a need for money or a curiosity about prob-lems in the world outside of the academy or by a need todemonstrate the value of the new science of psychologythrough application. It was the work of those pioneers thatmarked the beginning of the new profession of psychol-ogy, a profession that was to be grounded in science.

THE BEGINNINGS OF THE NEW PROFESSIONOF PSYCHOLOGY

It is doubtful that psychologists at the end of the 19th cen-tury envisioned anything like the profession of psychologythat would exist in the 1930s, much less the profession oftoday. Yet the earliest of American psychologists, such asWilliam James (1842–1910), G. Stanley Hall, and JamesMcKeen Cattell, clearly recognized the potential contri-butions of psychology through applied research. It was

perhaps only a small step, then, to move from appliedresearch to establishing a role for psychologists as con-sultants employed outside the university.

The beginning of the 20th century in America wasmarked by great social upheaval. American cities weregrowing rapidly and with them the factories that werehome to the new urban labor. Immigrants came to Amer-ica in ever greater numbers, seeking a better life. Childlabor laws and compulsory school attendance laws werepassed in tandem. These laws were meant to preventabuses of children in the workplace, but also to providean education needed for an urban workforce and to impartthe values of American society important to the meltingpot of fully acculturated citizens. There were movementsfor a national reform in education and for the right tovote for women. As manufacturing capacity exceededdemand, businesses looked beyond their regions to anational consumer base. Advertising became more impor-tant to create those broader markets. The types of jobsavailable expanded considerably as America moved froma largely agrarian/rural society to an industrial/urban one.Consequently, people sought to better understand the soci-etal and personal impact of one’s job, leading to a newfocus—arguably a more scientific one—on adjustment.

The changes in America at the turn of the century vir-tually clamored for an applied social science to solve theproblems of the new society; psychologists both inside andoutside of university settings were ready to tackle thoseproblems. We will next examine some of the early practi-cal applications of psychology in business, in counseling,in education, and in clinical settings.

The Business Psychologist

At the beginning of the 20th century, American businesswas both changing America and being changed by theevolution of American society. With the “formation oflarge industrial empires came new management problemsand a growing problem with efficiency” (Napoli, 1981,p. 28). As efficiency became the watchword of new Amer-ican business, psychologists would take up the challengesof increasing productivity, improving personnel selection,providing job analyses, and improving worker morale.

Business psychology—later to be called industrial psy-chology in the 1920s, and then industrial–organizational(I-O) psychology in the 1960s—can be said to have origi-nated with Gale’s advertising study in 1895. But Gale didnot pursue that work. Instead, the first sustained programin business psychology was that of Walter Dill Scott, whopublished many articles on the psychology of advertising


The Beginnings of the New Profession of Psychology 35

in Mahin’s magazine, a leading journal in the advertisingfield. Scott also wrote about his advertising work in othermagazines, such as Atlantic Monthly , Business World ,Advertising World , and The Woman’s Herald , thus makingbusiness psychology known to a broad audience of poten-tial employers and consumers. Scott promoted the psy-chology of suggestion, arguing that successful advertisingsuggested a course of action: that is, buying the product.He wrote, “Man has been called the reasoning animal buthe could with greater truthfulness be called the creature ofsuggestion. He is reasonable, but he is to a greater extentsuggestible” (Scott, 1903, p. 59). In applying suggestionto advertising, Scott advocated two techniques: the directcommand (e.g., “Use Peterson’s Tooth Powder”) and thereturn coupon. Both techniques were thought to stimulatecompulsive obedience.

In the subsequent theoretical debates in the adver-tising community on the nature of consumer behavior,other approaches displaced Scott’s views (see Kuna, 1976,1979), but his work gave psychology considerable visibil-ity in the world of business and paved the way for manypsychologists who would follow in advertising, such asHarry Hollingworth, Daniel Starch, and John B. Watson.

Although business psychology can be said to havebegun in the field of advertising, it quickly branched intoother prominent areas. When increased emphasis on effi-ciency led to the “scientific management” of FrederickWinslow Taylor (1911), psychologists entered that arenaas well. Efficiency meant not only better managementand more effective advertising but also better training ofworkers, improved employee selection procedures, bet-ter ways to control employee performance, and betterunderstanding of human actions in work. Prominent inthese areas was Harvard psychologist Hugo Munsterberg(1863–1916), who argued in his book Psychology andIndustrial Efficiency (1913) that the key to workplace effi-ciency was matching job and worker and that successfulmatches generated satisfied employees, quality work, andhigh productivity. Munsterberg promoted psychology asthe science of human efficiency, noting that psychologyhad the tools to create the perfect match by identifying themental traits required for any job and assessing the mentaltraits of workers. That his ideas were well received by abroad public is evidenced by the fact that his book wasfor a time on the national list of best-sellers.

Psychologists began to develop mental tests to evaluateworkers and jobs (ship captains, trolley car operators,saleswomen), work that was to prove especially importantwhen they were asked to oversee the selection programfor the United States armed forces during World War I.

Business psychology had begun in the universities, but itspractice soon moved to business settings as psychologistsfound full-time employment, particularly as personnelofficers involved with selection, job analysis, and training.Such opportunities expanded considerably after WorldWar I, establishing the psychologist as a key player inthe world of business.

The Counseling Psychologist

With the proliferation of types of jobs around the turn ofthe 20th century, people had more occupational choicesthan ever before. Vocational counseling, which had beena part of the business of 19th-century phrenologists,became even more important. The most influential figurein the vocational guidance movement of the early 20thcentury was not a psychologist but an individual trainedin engineering and law, Frank Parsons (1854–1908). Hewrote his most important work in the waning days of hislife, a book published after he died, entitled Choosinga Vocation (1909). Parsons’s formula for successfulguidance involved: (a) a clear understanding of theindividual’s talents, limitations, and interests; (b) knowl-edge about diverse jobs including what was required forsuccess in those jobs; and (c) matching those two kindsof information for the best vocational guidance.

There were clear ties between Parsons’s approach andthe sort of matching between jobs and people that was thefocus of psychologists in personnel work in businesses.Parsons, as part of the progressive movement of the times,emphasized the reduction of human inefficiency—asreflected in the high turnover of workers—through theapplication of a careful program of career planning. Voca-tional guidance became a mantra of progressive reformersand soon found its way into the American mainstreamwith the formation of the National Vocational GuidanceAssociation in 1913.

Quickly, the vocational guidance counselor was inte-grated into elementary and secondary schools acrossAmerica, beginning a strong association between guidanceand education. It also made its way into industry throughpersonnel selection. Psychologists found the issues of per-son and career matching amenable to the new appliedscience of psychology and worked to develop reliable andvalid measures of individual traits and abilities for use inguidance and selection.

Guidance counseling became even more prominentin schools after the passage of the National VocationalEducation Act in 1917. Following the First World War,vocational guidance centers (or “clinics,” as they were



sometimes called) were increasingly established at col-leges and universities. For example, Witmer founded aseparate vocational guidance clinic at the University ofPennsylvania in 1920 that was headed by one of his doc-toral graduates, Morris Viteles (1898–1996), who wouldlater distinguish himself as an industrial psychologist.

In all of these vocational guidance centers and clinics,the key component of the arsenal of the guidance spe-cialists was mental tests, including interest tests that weredeveloped in the 1920s, and a growing number of aptitudeand ability tests that were used not only in guidance butalso for selection. This vocational role, both in person-nel work and in guidance, remained relatively stable untilafter the Second World War. (Baker & Joyce and KoppesBryan & Vinchur, this volume.)

The School Psychologist

We have already noted that the origins of school psychol-ogy lie in the psychological clinic of Lightner Witmer.Thomas Fagan (1992) wrote that:

School psychology was one of many child-saving servicesoriginating in the period of 1890 to 1920 . . . [I]t originated inresponse to compulsory schooling, which provided the stagefor development of separate special educational programs foratypical children. School psychology emerged in the middleof the child study movement. (p. 241)

The child study work of Hall focused attention on abroad spectrum of child behavior and education. Many ofHall’s master’s and doctoral students at Clark Universityworked in what could be described as school psychology,including three particularly influential pioneers: HenryHerbert Goddard (1866–1957), Lewis Terman (1877–1956), and Arnold Gesell (1880–1961).

Goddard was employed at the New Jersey TrainingSchool for Feebleminded Girls and Boys in Vinelandwhen he began his research on mental retardation, search-ing for better tools for intellectual assessment and formethods of effective education and training of mentallyhandicapped children. Goddard was frustrated in his workat Vineland using the measurement tools he had learned atClark University and from Cattell’s work. Whereas thosetools seemed appropriate for assessment of children ofnormal intelligence, they were not useful for the childrenat Vineland. In a 1908 trip to Europe, Goddard learnedof a new approach to intelligence testing developed byFrench psychologist Alfred Binet (1857–1911). Goddardtranslated the test for English language use; tested it onsamples of public schoolchildren, as well as the students

at the Vineland Training School; and published his ver-sion of the test in 1909. Its popularity as an instrument ofintellectual assessment spread rapidly, culminating in theversion published by Terman in 1916 that became knownas the Stanford–Binet Intelligence Test.

Goddard’s role in school psychology, and more broadlyin educational reform, cannot be overstated. He soughtto apply the science of psychology to the questions thenfacing public schools, particularly regarding the educabil-ity of children labeled subnormal in intelligence. Throughhis research efforts, his training workshops for teachers,and the prominence of his ideas in American education,Goddard was instrumental in promoting special educationopportunities in American schools (even though many ofthose efforts went beyond what he would have endorsed).More important for psychology, he established a place forpsychologists in the schools as diagnosticians of mentalcapacity, a role that was often synonymous with the labelof school psychologist in the 20th century (Zenderland,1998).

Terman, like Goddard, also focused on intellectualassessment. Although Terman conducted some research onmentally handicapped children (including some work pub-lished with Goddard using subjects at Vineland), his workwith children came to be more focused on gifted students,and he is arguably best known (beyond the Stanford–Binet) for the longitudinal studies of children identifiedas gifted, the “genius studies,” that began in California in1921. His revision of the Binet test was better psychome-trically than Goddard’s across all intellectual levels butespecially so in the higher ranges. Terman, like Goddard,enhanced the role of psychologist as assessor of intellec-tual functioning and as designer of curricula for special-needs children, particularly gifted children.

Gesell was the first person in the United States to holdthe title of “school psychologist,” according to Fagan(1992). He was hired by the Connecticut State Boardof Education in 1915 to evaluate schoolchildren andmake recommendations for those who needed specialtreatment. Gesell’s duties in the beginning of his workwere research oriented, but he later came to be consumedby a caseload of 502 schoolchildren (and his duties weresimilar to those of contemporary school psychologists).The significance of Gesell’s appointment was that thetitle “school psychologist” was associated “with servicesto exceptional children, especially the mentally deficient,and it associated the functions of that title as primarilydiagnostic testing for placement decisions in the newlycreated programs for the handicapped” (Fagan, 1987,p. 406). Although Gesell is perhaps the most prominent of


The Beginnings of the New Profession of Psychology 37

the early school psychologists, he was not the only personperforming those duties in 1915; schools were alreadyemploying teachers in intellectual assessment roles andin curriculum design for special children. Norma EstelleCutts (1892–1988) played such a role as early as 1914 inthe New Haven, Connecticut, schools after having workedwith Goddard for a year at Vineland (Fagan, 1989). Shewas one of many individuals whom Goddard influenced tobecome school psychologists, most of them women whoalready had teaching experience (Fagan, this volume).

The Clinical Psychologist

At the beginning of the 20th century, psychopathology wasthe domain of psychiatry and, to a lesser extent, neurology.Psychiatry, arguably the oldest of the medical specialties(excluding surgery), originated with the superintendents ofmental asylums at the end of the 18th century. After ahalf-century of asylum management, the superintendentsformed an organization called the Association of Medi-cal Superintendents of American Institutions for the Insanein 1844 and in the same year began publication of theirjournal, The American Journal of Insanity . The organiza-tion’s name was later changed to the American Medico-Psychological Association in 1892, and in 1921 to theAmerican Psychiatric Association; the journal name waschanged as well in 1921 to the American Journal of Psy-chiatry (Grob, 1994). The abnormal mind was of interestto some, perhaps many, of the early psychologists, but thedomains of diagnosis and treatment seemed clearly withinthe boundaries of medicine, and few psychologists saw anyneed to venture there. That would soon change.

Origins of any field are rarely, if ever, unequivocal—and so it is with clinical psychology. We have already dis-cussed the contributions of Lightner Witmer with respectto school and clinical psychology. Not only did he estab-lish the first psychology clinic in 1896, but as early as1897 he had described a training program for psychol-ogists to work in a field that he had named “clinicalpsychology,” a field that would draw from the knowledgebase in medicine, education, and psychology (particularlychild psychology). An expanded description of this fieldand a rationale for its further development appeared in theinaugural issue of his journal, The Psychological Clinic(Witmer, 1907), a journal that largely published reportsof the cases seen in Witmer’s clinic.

Witmer was clearly interested in the difficulties thatchildren exhibited in the classroom, and believed thatpsychological science could offer solutions to behav-ioral problems of perception, learning, motivation, and

emotion. He championed the need for accurate diagnosisbased on psychological and medical tests—the latter wereperformed by associated physicians. Slowly, others beganto share his vision, and by 1914 there were psychologyclinics at 19 universities. Witmer’s focus was on children,and chiefly on problems that impeded learning. Otherssoon broadened the scope of clinical psychology. How-ever, these early clinical psychologists remained focusedon diagnosis and recommendations for treatment, withlimited roles in actual treatment until after World War II.

Psychotherapy , a book published in 1909 by HugoMunsterberg, represents an early psychology-based contri-bution to the clinical intervention literature. It was a non-Freudian textbook grounded in a theory of psychophysicalparallelism, which argued that all psychical processeshad a parallel brain process. His volume argued for thescientific study of the processes of psychotherapy andviewed psychotherapy as a clinical endeavor separate frompsychiatry.

Other influences came from physicians cognizant ofthe potential contributions of psychology. Morton Prince(1854–1929) was a neurologist interested in the problemsof psychopathology and one who recognized the impor-tance of psychology in the study and treatment of psycho-logical disorders. His most famous book, The Dissociationof a Personality (1908), was a lengthy and insightfuldescription of a case of multiple personality. His con-tributions to clinical psychology were considerable andinclude his founding of the Journal of Abnormal Psy-chology in 1906, which published the early work onexperimental psychopathology, and his establishment ofthe Psychological Clinic at Harvard University in 1926,which he housed in the Department of Philosophy (wherepsychology was located) rather than in Harvard’s medicalschool.

Another physician, William Healy (1869–1963), head-ed the Juvenile Psychopathic Institute, which opened inChicago in 1909. Healy had studied with William Jamesand had also been influenced by the work of Goddard atVineland. His institute was to be both a research facil-ity, investigating the causes of juvenile delinquency, anda treatment facility. He hired psychologist Grace Fernald(1879–1950) to work with him, and when she left, hereplaced her with another psychologist, Augusta Bron-ner (1881–1966), whom he would later marry. Both Fer-nald and Bronner used the title “clinical psychologist” andplayed important roles in research, diagnosis, and treat-ment. Other juvenile courts and corrections facilities beganto hire psychologists for similar roles (Levine & Levine,1992).



Other stimulants to the development of clinical psy-chology before World War I included the work on mentalassessment by Goddard and other advances in men-tal testing; the five addresses given by Sigmund Freud(1856–1939) at Clark University in 1909, which fosteredconsiderable interest in psychoanalysis in America butmore broadly in the nature of causation in mental ill-ness; the mental hygiene movement initiated around 1908by former mental patient Clifford Beers (1876–1943) andpsychiatrist Adolf Meyer (1866–1950), which sought tounderstand the early causes of mental illness and how con-ditions might be changed (in families and society) in orderto minimize psychological problems; and the popularity ofthe Emmanuel movement. The Emmanuel movement wasfounded by a Wundt doctoral student, Elwood Worcester(1862–1940), in his Boston church. It spread across theUnited States, emphasizing the alliance of medicine, reli-gion, and psychology in treating mental disorders, and wasultimately credited with the emergence of psychotherapyin America (Caplan, 1998).

All of these forces brought psychology into greater con-tact with issues of mental pathology and afforded new jobsfor psychologists, largely as mental testers. As the demandfor these diagnostic services grew, clinical psychologistspetitioned the APA in 1915 for a certification program forqualified psychologists in consulting roles, a measure thatwas seen as protecting the public and preserving the jobsof consulting psychologists. When the APA declined toprovide such certification, several psychologists, includingJ. E. Wallace Wallin (1876–1969) and Leta S. Holling-worth (1886–1939), formed a new organization in 1917called the American Association of Clinical Psychologists(AACP), arguably the first association of professional psy-chologists. The membership totaled only about 45 psychol-ogists in its first year—some in university settings, somein applied jobs—and was soon defunct. Although short-lived, the association was a clear harbinger of the com-ing importance of clinical psychology as one of the field’sapplied specialties (Routh, this volume).

WORLD WAR I AND THE GROWTHOF PSYCHOLOGICAL PRACTICE

The foundations for the modern practice of psychologywere well in place before the beginning of the First WorldWar. Psychologists could be found working in schools,businesses, hospitals, and social and clinical service agen-cies. The number of such individuals was still relatively

small, particularly in comparison to their colleagues incolleges and universities. Two world wars would dra-matically reverse that ratio. The first would promote therapid development of the practice specialties; the sec-ond would open the floodgates for psychological practice,including psychologists as independent practitioners ofpsychotherapy.

It can be argued that American psychologists wereunprepared for World War I. On April 6, 1917, two daysafter America’s entry into the war, much of the leadershipof American psychology—at least those located on theEast Coast—were attending the annual meeting of E. B.Titchener’s “experimentalists” at Harvard University (seeBoring, 1938, 1967). In attendance was Robert M. Yerkes(1876–1956), who was then president of the APA. Yerkeschaired a discussion about psychology’s role in the warthat led to an emergency meeting of the APA Council,called for the end of April. At that meeting, Yerkesestablished a dozen committees that were charged withpursuing various roles for psychologists within the wareffort. Only two of those really materialized. One involveda testing program of nearly two million military recruits,headed by Yerkes, which developed group intelligencetests, namely, the Army Alpha and Army Beta. Thesecond program was headed by Walter Dill Scott, whoused his experience in developing job selection tests toassess the job skills of more than three million militarypersonnel, a task accomplished by his staff’s developmentof more than 100 separate selection instruments in a littlemore than 12 months. After the war, Scott was awardedthe Distinguished Service Medal by the U.S. Army forthis monumentally successful program. He was the onlypsychologist to be so honored in World War I (Napoli,1981).

The exact number of American psychologists who par-ticipated in the war is not known, but the figure is likelybetween 250 and 300, counting those who served as con-sultants as well as those in uniform. Toward the end of thewar, some were stationed at the 40 U.S. Army hospitals,where their assignments brought them into direct contactwith issues of psychopathology. One example was HarryHollingworth (1880–1956), a faculty member on leavefrom Barnard College who, as a captain in the army, wasworking at the army hospital in Plattsburgh, New York,examining approximately 1,200 soldiers suffering from“shell shock” and other psychological disorders. Basedon those experiences, Hollingworth wrote a book entitledThe Psychology of Functional Neuroses (1920). AlthoughHollingworth was not led into clinical psychology by hiswartime experiences, other psychologists were.


Struggles for Professional Identity 39

A cataloging of all the activities of psychologists dur-ing the war is far beyond the scope of this chapter. Whatis important to emphasize, though, is that the war effortsby psychologists had important implications for the publicand for the discipline of psychology. The work of psychol-ogists, especially in selection, was seen by the governmentand the public as a program of considerable success.Such favorable press brought many consulting opportuni-ties to psychologists after the war, and psychologists werequick to take advantage of such applied opportunities. Forexample, Scott founded the Scott Company, a consultingfirm of psychologists based in Pittsburgh, to do contractwork for businesses and government agencies.

Further, the war work convinced psychologists of thevalue of their science, that is, that they had something sig-nificant to offer in the public sector that was grounded infact, not myth. This newly gained prominence for psychol-ogists, the public’s perception of the value of psychologyas demonstrated by success in the war work, the growingeconomic prosperity of America in the 1920s, and the rapidsocial changes in American society after the war were allfactors that led to the further development of the professionof psychology.

THE 1920s: THE DECADE OFPOPULAR PSYCHOLOGY

American historians have written of the public euphoriain the United States that followed World War I. Ameri-can forces had helped to win the war in Europe. Therewas general economic prosperity, and a growing belief inthe American dream that anything was possible, with hardwork. Writing for the American public in 1925, psycholo-gist John B. Watson (1878–1958) promoted this nurturisticoptimism:

Give me a dozen healthy infants, well-formed, and my ownspecified world to bring them up in and I’ll guarantee totake any one at random and train him to become any typeof specialist I might select—doctor, lawyer, artist, merchant-chief and, yes, even beggar-man and thief, regardless of histalents, penchants, tendencies, abilities, vocations, and raceof his ancestors.

—Watson, 1925, p. 82

Americans seemed delirious with the potential for psy-chology to improve their lives. The first popular psy-chology magazines (four of them) began publication inthe decade. Countless self-help books were published,and newspapers carried daily columns of psychological

advice. Touting the value of psychology for the public,journalist Albert Wiggam (1928) wrote:

Men and women never needed psychology so much as theyneed it to-day. . . . You cannot achieve these things [effective-ness and happiness] in the fullest measure without the newknowledge of your own mind and personality that the psy-chologists have given us. (p. 13)

Public demand for psychological services grew rapidly,and consequently, many individuals, with little or notraining in psychology, offered their services to the publicas psychologists.

Consulting psychologists were especially concernedabout such pseudopractitioners, and petitioned the APAto create a certification program to identify psycholo-gists qualified to consult with the public. Initially, theAPA balked at the idea, but it relented in 1924, when itestablished such a program. Four years later, after fewerthan 30 psychologists had received certification, the pro-gram was abandoned (Sokal, 1982a, 1982b). There was nomechanism for enforcement of such a program, and thepublic seemed incapable of making distinctions betweenqualified psychologists and unqualified ones, or at leastwas uninterested in doing so. Nevertheless, psychology ofall kinds prospered—and the professional opportunitiesin business, school, clinical, and counseling psychologygrew at a rapid rate.

STRUGGLES FOR PROFESSIONAL IDENTITY

As early as 1915, consulting psychologists had petitionedthe APA to recognize the growth of applied psychologyby committing some program time at the annual meetingfor discussion of professional issues. But APA leadershiphad balked, affirming that the APA’s sole stated objectivewas the advancement of psychology as a science.

When the AACP was founded in 1917, there was con-cern within the APA that the group would lead to a rupturein organized psychology. In negotiations between the twogroups, the AACP agreed to dissolve in 1919 and reor-ganize as the clinical section of the APA. The clinicalsection identified three goals: “promoting better work-ing relationships within clinical and within allied fields,developing professional standards for practitioners, andencouraging research and publication on topics in clinicalpsychology” (Napoli, 1981, p. 26).

Two years later, in 1921, the APA created a sec-ond section on consulting psychology, and the short-lived certification program would stem from the efforts of



this group. The consulting/clinical psychologists recom-mended two additional APA sections, one on educationalpsychology and the other on industrial psychology, butthose two requests were denied.

As the professional opportunities for psychologistsgrew and as problems in professional practice occurred,these psychologists made additional requests of the APA.They called on the APA to develop a code of professionalethics. They sought help in protecting the label “psy-chologist.” They called for changes in graduate trainingthat included additional applied psychology experiences,including internships (which had begun as early as 1908but were still uncommon; see Routh, 2000). And theyasked that psychology departments hire more faculty whohad significant practical experience. Except for some min-imal gestures toward the applied group, the APA largelyignored those requests that were important for the pro-fessionalization of psychology, reminding the group of itsmantra that the APA was a scientific association.

Throughout the 1920s, more than a dozen applied psy-chology groups were formed, most of them state asso-ciations. The largest of those was the New York StateAssociation of Consulting Psychologists, which began in1921. By 1930, it was clear to the professional psycholo-gists that the APA was not going to support their efforts.In that year, New York University psychologist Doug-las Fryer led a reorganization of the New York group,renamed it the Association of Consulting Psychologists(ACP), and extended its geographic boundaries for mem-bership to include the entire United States. The ACP, thus,became the first “national” association for professionalpsychologists. In 1933, the ACP published its code of pro-fessional ethics, the first such document for psychologists.In 1937, it began publication of the Journal of Consult-ing Psychology , arguably the first professional psychologyjournal.

The ACP worked to establish itself as the national asso-ciation for professional psychologists; nevertheless, it wasdominated by New York psychologists. In 1935, a planwas initiated to broaden the ACP membership by creat-ing a federation of societies. All the existing state associa-tions were invited to join, as well as the clinical sectionof the APA. Eventually, the federation plan was aban-doned, and it was decided to create a wholly new organi-zation, the American Association for Applied Psychology(AAAP), which began in 1938. Both the ACP and theclinical section of the APA disbanded and became part ofAAAP. The ACP journal was continued by the AAAP asits official organ.

The AAAP began with four sections: clinical, con-sulting, educational, and industrial psychology. Fryer

served as the first president of AAAP and was followedin later years by such important applied psychologistsas Walter Van Dyke Bingham (1880–1952) and CarlRogers (1902–1987). The AAAP’s success was mani-fested largely through its sections in which psychologistswith similar needs could work together on issues of com-mon concern. Each section wrote its own bylaws, electedits own officers, created its own committees, and plannedits own program at the annual meeting of the AAAP.

Even though most of the AAAP members retainedtheir memberships in the older APA, many identified morestrongly with the new organization than with APA becauseAAAP provided the professional identity, the collegialrelations, and the professional assistance that APA hadbeen unwilling to offer (Benjamin, 1997, p. 728).

Although the AAAP was quite successful in servingthe needs of professional psychologists, the organizationlasted only slightly more than seven years. Its demise hadnothing to do with the service it was providing for thegrowing profession of psychology. With the United Statesat war in 1942, there was federal government pressure onthe various psychological organizations to come togetherwith one voice for the national good. Negotiations amongseveral groups (including the Society for the PsychologicalStudy of Social Issues, or SPSSI, and the PsychometricSociety), principally steered by the two heavyweights, theAPA and the AAAP, led to the establishment of a “new”American Psychological Association.

The new APA began with 18 charter divisions, a modelborrowed from the sectional structure of the AAAP; anew journal that was intended to be a journal of “pro-fessional psychology,” American Psychologist (Benjamin,1996); and a new central office in Washington, DC (Cap-shew, 1999). The new APA also had a new statementof objectives, which read: “to advance psychology as ascience, as a profession, and as a means of promotinghuman welfare” (Wolfle, 1946/1997, p. 721). The “profes-sional” goal had come, of course, from the AAAP, and the“human welfare” goal from the SPSSI. The APA lookedand sounded like a new kind of organization, one that hadfinally acknowledged the presence of the profession ofpsychology. However, professional psychologists wouldsoon learn that they had little real support (or power)within the new association. It would be almost 30 yearsbefore that situation changed in any dramatic way.

POSTWAR GROWTH OF THE PRACTICEOF PSYCHOLOGY

Although American psychologists were caught napping bythe First World War, they did not repeat this mistake for


Postwar Growth of the Practice of Psychology 41

the second one. Both the APA and the AAAP had com-mittees in place by 1939 to plan for psychology’s roleshould the United States enter the war. As noted earlier,in the first war, psychologists worked largely in two areas:examination of recruits and personnel selection. However,in the Second World War, the involvement of psychol-ogists was substantially more diverse—and it includedrecruitment, selection, training, equipment design, pro-paganda, surveying attitudes in the United States andabroad, examining and testing prisoners of war, moralestudies, intelligence work, and personality studies, includ-ing an analysis of Adolf Hitler (Capshew, 1999; Hoffman,1992). The verdict on psychologists’ performance in thewar was an incredibly favorable one. The legacy of thatperformance was a growth in scientific and professionalopportunities for psychologists unprecedented in psychol-ogy’s history. The profession benefited particularly, andno group benefited more than clinical psychology.

Clinical Psychology

Early in the war, the federal government began planningto meet the mental health needs of returning veterans,which were judged to be substantial. Perhaps the govern-ment hoped to avoid the hard feelings among veterans thathad occurred as a result of their poor treatment followingthe First World War—feelings that had led to a massivemarch on Washington, DC. It was evident in 1942 thatpsychiatrists were too few in number to provide the neces-sary clinical services, so the federal government mandatedthat the United States Public Health Service (USPHS) andthe Veterans Administration (VA) significantly expand thepool of mental health professionals. That translated intoincreasing the availability of clinical psychologists.

The USPHS and VA worked with the new APA toexpand doctoral training programs in clinical psychologyand to identify programs of acceptable quality. The lattergoal led to the formation of the APA’s accreditation pro-gram for clinical psychology programs in 1946 and onefor counseling psychology programs in 1952. The formergoal initiated a series of meetings with department headswhose doctoral psychology programs had extant clinicalpsychology programs or who were interested in devel-oping such programs. The USPHS promised funding touniversity graduate programs to support clinical psychol-ogy students, and the VA promised funding for practicaand internship training (Moore, 1992). Because the GI billhad been altered to include benefits for graduate study,money was also available from that program to supportdoctoral training for veterans, and many chose to pursueadvanced study in psychology, with much of that interestdirected toward clinical psychology.

Although an accreditation process was already in placewithin the APA as of 1946, there was no agreed-uponmodel for clinical training. Discussions of such modelsdated to the 1890s and a proposal from Witmer. In 1918and 1919, the APA’s clinical section proffered curriculumand training proposals in a series of articles in the Journalof Applied Psychology , and additional proposals were cir-culated by the ACP and by the AAAP. As a leader in theAAAP, clinical psychologist David Shakow (1901–1981)was the key figure in drafting a model curriculum forclinical training (see Cautin, 2006). He developed a pro-posal for the AAAP in 1941 that shaped all subsequentdiscussions, leading to the report of the Committee onTraining in Clinical Psychology (CTCP), an APA com-mittee founded in 1946 with Shakow as chair and fundedby the VA and the USPHS. The committee’s formidablecharge was to (a) formulate a recommended program fortraining in clinical psychology; (b) formulate standards forinstitutions giving training in clinical psychology, includ-ing both universities and internship and other practicefacilities; (c) study and visit institutions giving instruc-tion in clinical psychology and make a detailed report oneach institution (Baker & Benjamin, 2000, p. 244).

Shakow and his committee published their report in1947 (APA, 1947). Two years later, it became the frame-work for the most famous report in the history of profes-sional training in psychology, the “Boulder Report.” Thatreport was the result of the joint work of 73 individu-als from psychology and related fields who came togetherin Boulder, Colorado, for two weeks in the summer of1949 to produce a model of clinical training in psychologythat became known as the “Boulder model” or “scientist–practitioner model” (Raimy, 1950). The architects of thismodel argued that it was both possible and desirable totrain clinical psychologists as competent practitioners andscientists, a view that continues to be debated today.

Not only was there a new formal model for clinicaltraining, but there was also a new model for the clinicalpsychologist as practitioner, one that involved training as apsychotherapist, a role for psychologists that was stronglysupported by the federal government. Clinical psycholo-gists would break from their tradition in psychometricsto focus on the delivery of psychotherapy. In 1948, thefederal government established the National Institute ofMental Health, which gave further impetus to both thetraining in and practice of clinical psychology (Vanden-Bos, Cummings, & DeLeon, 1992).

The turf disputes with psychiatry had been minor skir-mishes before the war, but bigger battles were about tobreak out as psychologists began to be true competitors topsychiatrists. As the number of psychologists who worked



as practitioners grew, the pressures for certification,licensing, and even insurance reimbursement for clientsagain surfaced within the profession. In 1945, Connecticutbecame the first state to enact a psychologist certificationlaw. Over the next 30 years, professional psychologistsworked state by state to persuade state legislatures toestablish psychology licensing boards. These efforts werelargely the responsibility of state psychological associa-tions, although by 1970 the APA began providing somecoordination and consultation. In the mid-1950s, the Boardof Professional Affairs was created by the APA, withthe mission to establish standards for professional prac-tice, foster the application of psychological knowledge,and maintain satisfactory relations with other professions(APA, 1957).

Psychologists struggled for equality not only in statelegislatures but also with insurance companies and em-ployers. Employer-paid health insurance had emerged asan employee benefit during World War II. During the1950s and 1960s, labor unions sought to achieve suchcoverage and to expand it, and to include psychotherapyservices. After years of urging by practitioners, in 1963,the APA created an ad hoc Committee on Insurance andRelated Social Developments intended to lobby insuranceindustry officials to reimburse patients for psychologists’services, and at parity with coverage for psychiatric ser-vices. Leonard Small, Rogers Wright, Milton Theaman,and Nicholas Cummings were central in this undertaking.The committee also created model “freedom-of-choice”legislation, meant to be proposed to legislatures by indi-vidual state psychological associations (Cummings, 1979).The language of this model legislation specifically stipu-lated parity between reimbursement for equivalent psy-chological and psychiatric services in those places wherepsychiatric services were already covered.

Later, professional psychologists would additionallyuse the courts in their struggle for equality. For example, alawsuit filed by the APA against the American Psychoan-alytic Institute established the right of psychologists to betrained in psychoanalytic centers controlled by the insti-tute (DeAngelis, 1989). The APA Practice Directorate,which was formed in the early 1990s by combining theOffice of Professional Practice and the Office of Profes-sional Affairs, evaluates, selects, and supports litigationthat furthers the independent practice of psychology. Thedirectorate’s efforts are partly funded by a yearly specialassessment to all members who engage in practice activ-ities. Divisions of the APA in which at least 50% of itsmembers contribute to the assessment are identified as“practice divisions.”

Efforts outside of the APA also contributed to thedevelopment of standards for practitioners. The AmericanBoard of Examiners in Professional Psychology (ABEPP)was created in 1947 “to award diplomas for advancedcompetency in the field” (Riess, 1992, p. 769). Later,the term Examiners was omitted, and currently 13 sep-arate specialty boards exist under the aegis of the parentorganization.

Following the conference in Boulder, several other con-ferences were held to establish training guidelines for aclinical and other professional subspecialties (see Cohen,1992), but the 1973 Vail Conference affirmed the grow-ing number of doctor of psychology (PsyD) programsin universities and in freestanding professional schools(Korman, 1974). The history of the establishment of pro-fessional schools and the PsyD degree has been welldocumented by Peterson (1992) and Stricker and Cum-mings (1992). As of March 2011, there were 81 schoolsthat were regionally accredited to offer doctorate degreesin clinical psychology, 63 of which were also accreditedby APA. Professional schools now graduate over 50% ofnew doctorates in clinical psychology.

Counseling Psychology

As a profession, counseling psychology changed consid-erably following the war. Vocational guidance remained aduty, but that work would soon shift primarily to guidancecounselors within secondary schools (Super, 1955). At thesame time, the selection duties that had occupied many invocational guidance became more exclusively the prop-erty of industrial psychologists. In place of these activities,“psychotherapy” came to counseling psychology, initiallythrough the writings and teachings of Carl Rogers, whotrained many counseling psychologists after the war in“nondirective” counseling and therapy techniques.

The 1950s proved to be a decade of crisis for counsel-ing psychologists. It was a crisis of identity, or at least roleconfusion. Counseling psychologists who previously gar-nered most of their identity as vocational counselors hadbeen called on in increasing numbers to provide a rangeof services to military veterans in both hospital settingsand community service centers. Rehabilitation took on abroader meaning, and in addition to vocational planning,counselors were working on general issues of adjustmentwith service personnel who sought integration into thegeneral society. Likewise, the role of student personnelworkers in higher education began to focus more broadlyon student adjustment.

Several clear markers heralded changes for the coun-seling profession in the 1950s. “Counseling psychology”


Postwar Growth of the Practice of Psychology 43

became the appellation of choice at the NorthwesternConference of 1951, a meeting specifically organized toexplore changes in the field and to make plans for thefuture. Out of that conference came several initiatives thataffected Division 17, the APA, and the VA.

In 1952, Division 17 changed its name from “Coun-seling and Guidance” to “Counseling Psychology.” TheVA established two new psychological job descriptions:counseling psychologist (vocational) and counseling psy-chologist. In that same year, the APA began accreditingdoctoral programs in counseling psychology, partly inresponse to a doctoral training curriculum recommendedby a Division 17 committee (APA, 1952). The final identi-fying characteristic of a true profession was added in 1954with the establishment of a new publication, the Journalof Counseling Psychology .

It might seem that counseling psychology had arrivedas a profession. Counseling psychologists had an orga-nizational home, a journal, doctoral training programs,and jobs. There were, however, continued difficulties indefining the field that led to a Division 17 Committeeon Definition report in 1956 (APA, 1956) and a “crisis”report on counseling psychology as a profession, writtenin 1960. This latter report was initiated by the APA’sEducation and Training (E&T) Board, which appointed athree-person committee to prepare a report on the status ofcounseling psychology as a professional specialty (Berg,Pepinsky, & Shoben, 1980).

The leadership of Division 17 was not pleased with theunilateral actions of the E&T Board. When the E&T reportappeared, the division commissioned its own three-personcommittee, which drafted a much more optimistic reporton the status of counseling psychology, arguing that theprofession was thriving, even if graduate programs werenot. This 1961 report found that

The rate of growth of counseling psychology has been normaldespite limited financial support for the development of grad-uate programs and the support of graduate students. . . . Thesocial demand for well prepared counseling psychologists isgreat and continues to increase. The Division of CounselingPsychology has a deep professional obligation to meet thissocial need.

—Tyler, Tiedeman, & Wrenn, 1980, p. 124

Part of the dissatisfaction within counseling psychol-ogy was caused by its comparison with clinical psychol-ogy, a profession that was growing at a fantastic rate.By that yardstick, any field would have looked to be introuble. There was concern from many in counseling thatthe field should clearly distinguish itself from clinical psy-chology, whereas others suggested merging the training of

the two fields while maintaining differences in the natureof practice.

Traditional work in vocational guidance had been mod-ified by the experiences of counseling psychologists inthe VA and work with students in higher education. Whatemerged was a new specialty area that had as its focus theadjustment of the individual to the demands of everydaylife, whether those demands were vocational, educational,or interpersonal. The emphasis on developmental pro-cesses of average individuals facing day-to-day life wasseen as a clear contrast to the emphasis on psychopathol-ogy that was the strong suit of the clinical psychologist.

Industrial Psychology

Other practice specialties also benefited from psycholo-gists’ record of accomplishment during the war. HistorianDonald Napoli (1981) wrote this about the postwar growthof industrial psychology:

The military had given psychologists a chance to prove theeffectiveness of selection, classification, and aptitude testing,and psychologists met the challenge successfully. Civilianemployers also offered new opportunities, which grew largelyfrom the labor shortage produced by wartime mobilization.Business managers, beset by high rates of absenteeism andjob turnover, took unprecedented interest in hiring the rightworker and keeping him contented on the job. Managementturned to psychologists . . . and the amount of psychologicaltesting quickly increased. Surveys show that in 1939 only14% of businesses were using such tests; in 1947 the pro-portion rose to 50%, and in 1952, 75%. (p. 138)

Another area of substantial development for the indus-trial psychologist that grew out of the wartime work wasthe field of human factors or engineering psychology.The military, in particular, continued to employ psychol-ogists in its research on human–machine interactions, butindustry began to employ psychologists to design irons,telephones, arc welders, vending machines, chemicalrefineries, and the like. Human factors remained an impor-tant part of industrial psychology into the 1960s but grad-ually separated from it, a transition begun in the late 1950swhen APA’s Division 21 (Engineering Psychology) andthe Human Factors Society were founded. It was ulti-mately subsumed by psychologists interested in applyingsocial psychological theories to the problems of organi-zations, leading to the growth of the “O” half of the I-Opsychologist.

Prior to the war, most industrial psychologists served asconsultants to businesses, thus working part-time as pro-fessionals. After the war, however, that pattern changed



dramatically. Businesses offered full-time employmentopportunities, and consequently graduate programs beganto train I-O practitioners to fill those jobs.

School Psychology

Unlike other practice specialties, the Second World Warhad much less impact on the practice of school psychol-ogy. Such practice has always been more circumscribed,as the label would imply. Furthermore, whereas the doc-toral degree has been assumed to be the minimal level oftraining necessary for professional practice in the otherthree specialties, historically most school psychologistshave practiced with a master’s degree or specialty cre-dential. Additionally, in the first half of the 20th century,school psychologists came from many different educa-tional backgrounds, sometimes with little actual trainingin psychology.

Fagan (1990) has divided the history of school psy-chology into “Hybrid years” (1890–1969) and “Thor-oughbred years” (1970 to present). The Hybrid yearsdescribe a period when school psychology was “a blend ofmany kinds of educational and psychological practitionersloosely mobilized around a dominant role of psychoedu-cational assessment for special class placement” (p. 913).That role still exists in the Thoroughbred years, but thepractitioner is more narrowly defined as a school psychol-ogist, typically someone who has a master’s or doctoraldegree in school psychology from a nationally accreditedprogram.

The first master’s degree training program for schoolpsychologists was initiated at New York University in1928, and the first doctoral training program at the Uni-versity of Illinois in 1953. The APA did not begin accred-iting doctoral programs in school psychology until 1971,and accredits only at the doctoral level. Master’s degreeprograms are accredited by the National Association ofSchool Psychologists (NASP), an organization founded in1969.

Like the other practice specialties, there have been sig-nificant postwar changes for school psychologists as they,too, have struggled to find their identity as a profession(see the report of the Thayer Conference; Cutts, 1955).Still, the Thoroughbred years have been ones of tremen-dous growth in training and practice for the field. Psycho-logical services in the schools have increased dramaticallysince the 1970s, in part stimulated by America’s babyboom, but also by federal legislation on education, par-ticularly laws on special education such as the landmarkPublic Law 94–142, enacted in 1974, which mandatededucation for all children regardless of handicap.

A “PROFESSIONAL” JOURNAL WITHIN APA

When the new APA was formed in 1946, a “profes-sional” journal was established, American Psychologist(AP). Initially, many articles on professional training andprofessional job opportunities were published in AP. After10 years, AP was serving a broader, association-wide role,and the statement about “the professional journal” of psy-chology was quietly removed in 1957.

It would be 12 more years before practitioners wonback a “professional” journal from the APA. In 1966,Donald K. Freedheim was asked by George W. Albee,then president of the Division of Clinical Psychology(12) to edit the newsletter of the division, which was amimeographed publication. A magazine-like format with anew logo was developed. The format lent itself to havingpictures, which enhanced the readability of the publica-tion but also helped to identify authors at conventions.With this new professional-looking publication, the editorinvited contributions from members of other service divi-sions (e.g., school, industrial, counseling), as they werelikewise facing issues of standards of practice, training,and licensing that were of concern to the clinical mem-bers. Submissions from across the spectrum of profes-sional fields in psychology grew, and there were clearlyimportant issues that all the specialties shared.

The APA had a fine stable of scientific journals atthe time but no publication that was appropriate for thesorts of material important to the practicing community—policy issues, case histories, training and internship oppor-tunities, and so forth. It was apparent that a truly pro-fessional practice–oriented journal was needed. The APAhad just received a large grant from the National ScienceFoundation to develop new, innovative publications onan experimental basis. “The Clinical Psychologist” wasabout to be transformed into an “experimental publica-tion” called Professional Psychology (PP), with an edito-rial board made up of members from across subspecialtyfields. The inaugural issue, fall 1969, contained “The Clin-ical Psychologist,” and the cover of the journal retainedthe logo that had been developed for the newsletter. By thesecond issue of the quarterly, “The Clinical Psychologist”was pulled out to be published separately.

The transition from newsletter to journal was notalways smooth. “The Clinical Psychologist” had carriedbook reviews, but none of the APA journals did. AllAPA-published reviews were in Contemporary Psychol-ogy (CP). The PP editor believed it important to retainreviews for both the convenience of the readership and theclear fact that few practice-oriented publications would be


The Changing Economic Context of the Psychology Profession 45

reviewed in CP. After much discussion, the review sectionwas allowed in the new journal, a major exception on thepart of the APA Publications and Communications (P&C)Board. A similar, though less crucial, matter came upregarding authors’ pictures, which had seldom appearedin APA journals, except in American Psychologist . Notonly were pictures retained in Professional Psychology ,but they also started appearing in other APA journals,beginning with Contemporary Psychology . After a year ofexperimental status, with submissions growing monthly,the quarterly was made an “official” APA publication—and the editor was invited to serve on the Council ofEditors.

In 1983, the title of the journal expanded to ProfessionalPsychology: Research and Practice. Professional Psychol-ogy is currently published six times a year. During the edi-torial term of Patrick H. DeLeon (1995–2000), with GaryR. VandenBos serving as the managing editor, Profes-sional Psychology made an even greater effort to addressthe interests of the practice community. After conduct-ing three reader surveys during the first year, PP readersaffirmed that they wanted articles that “provide practicaladvice and concrete suggestions that could be implementedin everyday practice settings, rather than merely placingthe new findings within the context of the existing pub-lished literature (and then commenting upon needed futureresearch)” (DeLeon & VandenBos, 2000, p. 595).

Professional Psychology’s coverage included managedcare, prescription privileges for psychologists, telehealthcare, expanding roles for psychologists within the pub-lic policy (including legislative and administrative) arena,and behavioral health-service delivery within primarycare, and many of these issues exhibit growing saliencefor the profession and for the public. In 2007, Trainingand Education in Professional Psychology, a PP “spin-off”journal, was established by the APA. In 2009, PP was themost-subscribed APA journal.

TWO ASSOCIATIONAL DEVELOPMENTS

Two associational developments in the 1970s and 1980swould expand the reach of psychology into the area of pub-lic policy and would enable graduate students in the fieldto assume a more formalized role within APA governance,respectively.

APA Congressional Science Fellowship Program

Historically, professional psychology had not concerneditself with broad public policy or public health issues

(DeLeon, VandenBos, Sammons, & Frank, 1998), but inthe 1970s and 1980s, an APA initiative worked to broadenthe reach of the field into areas of public policy.

In 1974, Pam Flattau served as the first APA Con-gressional Science Fellow, under a program establishedin conjunction with the American Association for theAdvancement of Science (AAAS). Nearly 40 years later,over 150 psychologists have served on Capitol Hill or inthe administration as APA Fellows, Robert Wood John-son Health Policy Fellows, or in other similar nationalprograms. These Fellows have included individuals fromalmost every psychological specialty area, including sev-eral who also possessed degrees in law (Fowler, 1996).

APAGS

Prior to the late 1980s, graduate students in psychologyhad had a limited voice in professional organizations. In1988, the APA Council of Representatives formally estab-lished the American Psychological Association of Grad-uate Students (APAGS). Over the years, psychology hascontinued to be an extremely popular undergraduate major.By 2009, total APA membership (including affiliates) hadgrown to 152,661, with the APAGS members represent-ing approximately one third of total APA membership. AnAPAGS representative attends the open portions of theAPA board of directors meetings (and another individual isseated on the floor of the Council of Representatives as anonvoting member). Several divisions, state associations,and council caucuses provide the APAGS with a votingseat on their boards of directors.

THE CHANGING ECONOMIC CONTEXTOF THE PSYCHOLOGY PROFESSION

The economic principles of supply and demand, alongwith the industrialization of health care, provide a frame-work for understanding important aspects of the psychol-ogy profession (Cummings, 2007). Economic principlesdictate that if a unit of labor (i.e., provision of psychother-apeutic services) is in short supply, its price increases,and where there is an overabundance, its price decreases.Thus, for example, as Cummings (2007) noted, the higherincome of master’s-level nurse practitioners compared topracticing doctoral-level psychologists can be attributed to

the fact that there is a shortage of nurses and a glut ofpsychotherapists, most of the latter at a master’s level whoare willing to work for less, competing effectively against



doctoral psychologists, forcing them to accept reimbursementschedules suppressed by the horde of lower-paid psychother-apists. (p. 164)

Not coincidentally, the dawn of the professional psy-chologist during the Second World War took place amid a“seller’s market”—that is, the public’s insatiable demandfor psychological services combined with a shortage oftrained psychotherapists. Moreover, at this time, third-party payment for psychotherapy did not exist, and assuch a free market of checks and balances worked tomaintain a relatively efficient market with respect to thedoctor–patient relationship (Cummings, 2007).

Further complicating the supply-and-demand relation-ship is the long-recognized fact that providers have tradi-tionally controlled both the supply and demand sides ofthe health care equation. That is, the provider determineswhat treatment is needed and how long it should last. Andwhen the government subsidized the training of mentalhealth service providers (i.e., psychologists, psychiatrists,and social workers) following WWII, it intended to causea drop in costs as the supply of providers increased. Butthis did not occur, as providers engaged, albeit unwit-tingly, in what economists term demand creation, thusnullifying the effects of supply and demand (see Cum-mings, 2007).

In the 1980s, with the emergence of managed care,health care became industrialized; it would never againbe the cottage industry it once was (Cummings, 2007).A dwindling economic base and industrialized healthcare are realities for the profession of psychology,and together they create a lens through which manycurrent controversies and tensions—intradisciplinary andinterdisciplinary—must be understood. An importantcorollary to the growth of managed care has been theintensifying call for accountability, as mental healthcare costs increase and payers want assurances that theirinvestments are paying off. Moreover, as Bickman (1999)noted, “a major effect of managed care was the directattack on the clinician’s autonomy or ability to decidewhat care a client should receive. . . . Clinicians were ata great disadvantage because they had few data about theeffectiveness of the services they delivered” (p. 966). Sucheconomic and societal pressures have provided additionalmotivation to demonstrate empirically the differentialeffectiveness of various treatments (see also Salzer, 1999).The meaning and relevance of the results of such empiri-cal studies, including the precise definition of “evidence”(Tanenbaum, 2005), have been sources of intradisci-plinary tension within the profession of psychology,particularly within clinical psychology. These tensions

reflect a long-standing divide within clinical psychology,often referred to as the scientist–practitioner gap.

PSYCHOLOGY PRACTICE ANDINTRADISCIPLINARY TENSIONS

The scientist-practitioner gap reflects long-standing intra-disciplinary tensions rooted in epistemological differ-ences. Strengthened by social and economic forces, thesetensions are manifest by ongoing controversies regardingthe most appropriate treatments and training models, aswell as in numerous attempts to narrow the scientist-practitioner gap.

The Scientist–Practitioner Gap

The scientist–practitioner gap refers to differing stancesamong psychologists regarding the core on which clinicalpractice should be based, resulting in intradisciplinary ten-sions. With greater emphasis on the need for empiricallysupported treatment approaches, there has been disagree-ment over how best to interpret and utilize psychotherapyresearch (Lilienfeld, Lynn, Namy, & Woolf, 2009). Thedivide between science and practice greatly increased inthe 1980s and early 1990s, in response to the recoveredmemory controversy, during which disagreements sur-faced over the validity of what came to be known as“recovered memories,” or long-forgotten memories thatresurface during or following psychotherapy (Cautin,2011a). Many psychologists tended to regard these memo-ries as likely inaccurate and perhaps unwittingly generatedby well-intentioned clinicians.

The recovered memory controversy was not an isolatedincident. The roots of the scientist–practitioner gap reachback to practitioners’ early struggles to find organizationalsupport, and to the epistemological differences revealedthrough the discipline’s struggles with psychoanalysis (seeHornstein, 1992). Although both academic psychologyand psychoanalysis each considered their own endeav-ors scientific, each possessed different epistemologies thatrendered them seemingly incompatible: whereas academicpsychology derives its knowledge from laboratory studies,psychoanalysis relies instead on the clinician’s experienceand subjective interpretation. As much as the academicpsychologist wanted to eschew discussions of psychoanal-ysis, the public’s fascination with Freud and his ideasmade such discussion unavoidable. Consequently, manyacademic psychologists co-opted psychoanalytic concepts


Psychology Practice and Intradisciplinary Tensions 47

and terms, and ultimately translated these ideas intobehaviorist language (Hornstein, 1992).

In many ways, the Boulder model of training in clin-ical psychology represented an ecumenical call for theintegration of science and practice. But the model’s inten-tion notwithstanding, these intradisciplinary tensions con-tinued throughout the 20th century and persist today.Rooted in long-standing epistemological differences andpropelled by changing economic and societal pressures,they are visible today in wrangling over the most appro-priate treatments, the most suitable model of training,and in persistent efforts to bridge, or at least narrow, thescientist–practitioner gap.

Empirically Supported Treatments (ESTs)

Prior to the 1990s there were no specific guidelines forpractitioners when choosing among myriad psychologicaltreatments for various psychological problems. Since theearly 1990s, however, clinical psychologists have formednumerous task forces to address this shortfall. Theseefforts have been inspired by the mismatch between thegrowing body of scientific research on psychotherapy andthe nominal impact it has had on actual clinical prac-tice (Herbert, 2003). Further, there has been an increasingdemand for clinicians to provide interventions that aresubstantiated by research (Nathan, 2004). In 1993, forexample, the Division (now Society) of Clinical Psychol-ogy (Division 12 of the APA), under the leadership ofthen-president David Barlow, convened the Task Forceon Promotion and Dissemination of Psychological Pro-cedures, which was charged with “considering issues inthe dissemination of psychological treatments of knownefficacy” (Chambless & Ollendick, 2001). Its first report(Task Force, 1995), delineated selection criteria for ESTsand a preliminary list of treatments that met these crite-ria; subsequent reports expanded this list (1996, 1998).In 1999, the Task Force became a standing committeeof Division 12, the Committee on Science and Practice,whose task it remains to continually evaluate the efficacyand effectiveness of psychological interventions (Chamb-less & Ollendick, 2001). The committee continues to iden-tify, develop, and disseminate information about ESTs,and to ensure the training of clinicians in these treatments(Calhoun, Moras, Pilkonis, & Rehm, 1998; Sanderson,2003), providing for the psychological community whatcould arguably be called its first formalized standard ofcare (Sanderson, 2003).

But the effort to identify ESTs has generated fiercedebate. Critics of the EST movement maintain that it: (a)

disenfranchises therapeutic approaches that are nondirec-tive and not symptom focused (Bohart, O’Hara, & Leitner,1998; Fensterheim & Raw, 1996; Messer & Wampold,2002; (b) is misguided because nonspecific factors, asopposed to particular techniques, are largely responsiblefor therapeutic gains (Elkins, 2007; Garfield, 1998); (c)minimizes the importance of patient and therapist vari-ables in therapeutic outcomes (Garfield, 1998); (d) min-imizes the key role of clinical judgment (Levant, 2004;Peterson, 2004); and (e) relies on overly restrictivemethodological criteria, including an overly narrow defi-nition of evidence, and relies on treatment manuals, bothof which severely restrict the generalizability of results toactual clinical settings (Albon & Marci, 2004; Goldfried &Eubanks-Carter, 2004; Seligman & Levant, 1998). More-over, some critics possess a principled opposition to thevery notion of ESTs. Some of this philosophical opposi-tion is based on the notion that “lists of ESTs reflect apolitical or theoretical bias more than they reflect treat-ments that work” (see Woody, Weisz, & McLean, 2005,p. 11), while some is based on the view that the ESTmovement is “an erosion of their autonomy as profes-sionals due to pressure to conduct ESTs,” which is seen as“too rigid and objectifying rather than humanizing clients”(p. 11).

Even among those sympathetic to the EST movement,some have criticized the overall effort in terms of thesoundness of the science on which it is based. For example,while affirming the important role the EST movement canplay in bridging the scientist–practitioner gap, Herbert(2003) urges substantial changes in the procedures usedfor identifying ESTs, including eschewing the use of theno-treatment baseline as a basis for comparison, establish-ing procedures for removing treatments from the list, anddetermining clear guidelines for differentiating treatmentprocedures.

In the face of claims regarding the disenfranchise-ment of nondirective therapies and the potential inhibi-tion of innovation of new psychotherapeutic interventions,Nathan (2004) insists, “the positives of evidence-basedpractice for professional psychology far outweigh thenegatives” (p. 217). Most importantly, Nathan explains,such practice guidelines reduce the chances that well-intentioned therapists will inadvertently harm patients intheir effort to help them (see Lilienfeld, 2007). He furthercontends that:

From the perspective of the marketplace as it interacts withpublic policy, it also appears to be the case that professionalswhose assessment and treatment methods are based largely on



empirical evidence are likely to enjoy greater public accep-tance and public support, with one result likely being eventualparity in reimbursement for professional psychologists andanother being greater public openness to the expansion ofprofessional psychology practice, including prescription priv-ileges. (p. 218)

Regardless of one’s views on the issues, the debate re-garding the wisdom of the EST movement and the widen-ing of the scientist–practitioner gap continue unabated(e.g., Stewart & Chambless, 2007), carrying with themsignificant implications for the field, including for theissue of training.

A New Training Model and Accreditation System

The tensions in clinical psychology, engendered by thegrowing scientist–practitioner gap, are also reflected in theongoing emergence of alternative training models. Sincethe inception of modern clinical psychology in the mid-20th century, the scientist–practitioner model of training(Raimy, 1950)—with its explicit call for the integrationof science and practice—has been the dominant trainingparadigm (Norcross, Karpiak, & Santoro, 2005). But theBoulder model was not without its critics; and alterna-tive models soon emerged, first in the late 1960s with thescholar–practitioner model, with the ascendance of theprofessional school movement, and most recently inthe mid-1990s, with the creation of the Academy of Psy-chological Clinical Science (APCS) and the clinical sci-entist model of training.

According to McFall (2002), the Boulder model oftraining

fostered an illusion of unity among doctoral training pro-grams. In reality, the model provided an umbrella underwhich programs that varied widely in their commitmentto integration and in their relative emphasis on scientificresearch and clinical practice were treated as legitimate andequivalent. All illusions were shattered, however, once theprofessional schools dared to offer professional-only train-ing [in accordance with the scholar–practitioner model oftraining]. (p. 664)

Reflecting the divisive nature of the field of clinicalpsychology, the newly founded APCS proposed a thirdalternative training model—clinical science—in whichresearch is of prime importance (McFall, 2006). Accord-ing to the APCS’s mission statement:

“Clinical science” is defined as a psychological sciencedirected at the promotion of adaptive functioning; at theassessment, understanding, amelioration, and prevention ofhuman problems in behavior, affect, cognition, or health;

and at the application of knowledge in ways consistent withscientific evidence.

—McFall, 2006, p. 35

The discussion of appropriate training models is notsimply academic, for different models yield different out-comes (McFall, 2006). Indeed, even proponents of theprofessional school movement have voiced concerns aboutits quality control (Peterson, 1996, 2003).

The question of quality control bears direct relevanceto the issue of accreditation. Most clinical psychologytraining programs, regardless of the model to which theysubscribe, are APA accredited. In the view of Baker,McFall, & Shoham (2008), the APA accreditation sys-tem is ineffectual because “it will not be a lever to hoistthe quality of clinical training programs, and it certainlyhas not prevented a slide in quality” (p. 85). It has beencriticized for the very fact that heterogeneous programsare awarded the same stamp of approval, rendering itimpossible “to differentiate between clinicians who weretrained scientifically and those who were not” (p. 86).To attempt such differentiation, in 2007 the APCS inau-gurated the Psychological Clinical Science AccreditationSystem (PCSAS), which “brand[ed] a new type of clinicalpsychology, one that is designated as psychological clini-cal science” (p. 87). The PCSAS awarded its first accred-itation to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaignin November 2009 (“New Accreditation System,” 2010).

The new accreditation system proposed by the PCSAShas elicited much criticism and protest from within thepsychological community. Steven Breckler and CynthiaBelar of the APA, for example, maintained that contraryto Baker et al. (2008), the APA accreditation criteria assert“education and training in the scientific foundations ofpsychological practice, including training in empiricallysupported procedures, is critical regardless of trainingmodel” (Breckler & Belar, 2010). Others sympatheticto the rationale behind the new accreditation systemnevertheless argue that such a change would work atcross-purposes, serving to widen rather than narrow thescientist–practitioner gap: “The proposed new accredita-tion system would overemphasize scientific productionwithin doctoral programs with a minimal emphasis onclinical training in much the same way that the currentsystem often overemphasizes clinical training with min-imal emphasis on science” (Gardner, 2010). Cautioningthat the proposed new system would exclude virtuallyall PsyD programs from achieving accreditation, Gardneradvised that “any new accreditation system (or modifi-cation of the current system) should focus on correctingthe science–practice divide that has resulted in a dearth


Psychology Practice and Interdisciplinary Tensions 49

of scientifically informed practitioners of professionalpsychology, and not on the establishment of what wouldessentially be accredited doctoral programs of research”(Gardner, 2010).

Current Efforts to Bridge the Gap

Aware of the need to address this intradisciplinary divide,many psychologists continue to work to bridge the gap.Two current projects are worth mentioning in this regard,each designed to address the challenges inherent in trans-lating psychotherapy research into practice (DeAngelis,2010). Division 12 (Clinical Psychology) of the APA,under the leadership of its president, Marvin Goldfried, isadministering an online survey in which practitioners areasked to relate problems they have faced practicing empir-ically supported treatments. A committee of Division 12will then collate the findings and circulate them to theclinical psychology community, researchers and practi-tioners. According to Thomas Ollendick of Virginia Tech,“the survey could be the start of a trend toward more accu-rately understanding and addressing practitioner concerns”(DeAngelis, 2010, p. 42).

Another project, known as the Pennsylvania Psycho-logical Association Practice Research Network (PPA-PRN), seeks to actively involve private practitioners inthe design and execution of studies on psychotherapy pro-cess research (Borkovec, Echemendia, Ragusea, & Ruiz,2001). In one of its recent studies (Castonguay et al.,2010), almost 1,500 therapeutic events, described andrated independently by actual clients and their therapistsas being either helpful or hindering, were gathered andthen coded by three independent observers. Findings indi-cated that among the most helpful interventions were thosethat increased clients’ self-awareness. According to LouisCastonguay, current chair of the PPA-PRN, “Many ther-apists were pleased with the fact that they were able touse data from client reports to immediately improve ontheir work” (as cited in DeAngelis, 2010, p. 42). The suc-cess of such unifying efforts has important implicationsfor professional psychology as a whole; particularly giventhe increased call for accountability by external sourcesand the desire to influence health-care policy and practice(Barlow, 2004).

PSYCHOLOGY PRACTICE ANDINTERDISCIPLINARY TENSIONS

Traditionally, the scope of activity for the profes-sional psychologist was to a large extent restricted to

psychometric work, while psychotherapy was consideredthe exclusive domain of the psychiatrist (Cautin, 2011b).But, increasingly, encouraged by the support of thefederal government following WWII, practicing psychol-ogists pushed the boundaries of their field, conductingpsychotherapy and entering into private practice. Infact, although it was not the intention of the framersof the Boulder model (Raimy, 1950), psychotherapyincreasingly became the chief activity of the professionalpsychologist over the ensuing decades (Garfield, 1981).Not surprisingly, this trend was accompanied by increas-ingly bitter tensions between psychology and psychiatry(see Buchanan, 2003). Psychology’s hard-won indicatorsof professionalism—including licensure; certification;and, later, freedom-of-choice legislation—were achievedwith the goal of ensuring greater professional status, legalrecognition, and economic viability for the field. Thiswas crucial to psychologists in the face of psychiatry’sopposition and concomitant legal efforts to retain its priordominion over the practice of psychotherapy.

Along with changes in the economics of the profession,the field of psychology continues to encounter interdisci-plinary tensions as professional boundaries are challenged.Relevant to this discussion are two potentially significantdevelopments: psychologists’ efforts to gain prescriptiveprivileges (known as the RxP agenda), and the increasingnumber of nonmedical and master’s-level mental healthpractitioners.

Prescriptive Authority (RxP) Agenda

The quest for psychology’s prescriptive authority (RxP),or the right for licensed psychologists to administer andprescribe medications in the service of their patients, datesback to the 1970s, when the APA board of directorshad appointed a special committee to review the issue.Its recommendation was to not pursue prescription priv-ileges, largely owing to the fact that the field was thriv-ing (DeLeon, Sammons, & Fox, 2000). The pursuit ofprescriptive privileges was reignited in November 1984,when Senator Daniel K. Inouye addressed the annualmeeting of the Hawaii Psychological Association. He sug-gested that a new legislative agenda—prescription privi-leges for psychologists—would fit nicely into the themeof their convention, “Psychology in the 80s: TranscendingTraditional Boundaries.” In response to his challenge, theexecutive committee of the Hawaii Psychological Asso-ciation agreed to pursue such legislation, although therewas little enthusiasm for the proposal within the psycho-logical community and fierce opposition within the localpsychiatric community (DeLeon, Fox, & Graham, 1991).



In 1989, the APA Board of Professional Affairs (BPA)held a special retreat to discuss the issue of prescriptionprivileges, and consequently recommended that a feasibil-ity study be conducted to explore the issue. The BPA fur-ther recommended that the issue of prescription privilegesbe made the APA’s highest priority. At the APA annualconvention in Boston in 1990, the motion to establish anad hoc Task Force on Psychopharmacology was approvedby a vote of 118 to 2. This task force was charged withexploring the advisability and feasibility of such privilegesand with determining what training would be entailed. Inits 1992 report to APA Council, the task force concludedthat practitioners with combined training in psychophar-macology and psychosocial treatments could be viewed asa new form of health care professional, one expected tobring to health care delivery the best of both psychologicaland pharmacological knowledge (Smyer et al., 1993). Asothers have noted (e.g., Fox et al., 2009), conflicts and con-troversies notwithstanding (see Stuart & Heiby, 2007), thesubsequent decade witnessed significant progress in estab-lishing a solid base for psychology’s pursuit of prescriptiveprivileges, both within the APA and in the public domain.

Relevant here is the historical connection between theAPA and the Department of Defense (DoD), which initi-ated a congressionally mandated psychopharmacology fel-lowship training program in the early 1990s, pursuant tothe fiscal year 1989 appropriations bill for the Departmentof Defense (P.L. 100–463) (U.S. Department of Defense,1988). In June 1994, the program graduated the first twoof what would ultimately be 10 psychologists, and thesubsequent success of the program suggested that pro-fessional psychologists could be trained to provide high-quality and patient-centered psychopharmacological care(Newman, Phelps, Sammons, Dunivin, & Cullen, 2000).

At its August 1995 meeting, the APA Council of Rep-resentatives formally endorsed prescriptive privileges forappropriately trained psychologists, calling for the devel-opment of model legislation and a model training curricu-lum, both of which were endorsed the following year. Thetraining curriculum consisted of a minimum of 300 didac-tic contact hours in five core content areas, and supervisedmedical treatment of at least 100 patients in both out-patient and inpatient settings (Newman et al., 2000) In1997, the APAGS adopted a “resolution of support” for theAPA position regarding psychology’s prescriptive author-ity, and during that same year the APA Council authorizedthe APA College of Professional Psychology to developan examination in psychopharmacology for use by stateand provincial licensing boards. By 2009, about 208 psy-chologists had taken the exam following the prescribed

program. The Association of State and Provincial Psy-chology Boards (ASPPB) has no formal position regardingprescriptive authority, but it has developed guidelines forits membership to consider as their legislatures enact RxPbills (ASPPB, 2001; Newman et al., 2000). At its August2009 meeting, the Council updated its model licensingand training standards, pursuant to the recommendationsof a joint Board of Educational Affairs–Committee forthe Advancement of Professional Practice (BEA-CAPP)task force. The Council approved as a measure of qual-ity assurance the establishment of an APA designationprogram, which would serve as a mechanism for identify-ing psychopharmacological training programs that meetAPA guidelines. As of 2010, such training programsexist at Alliant International University, Fairleigh Dickin-son University, New Mexico State University, and NovaSoutheastern University; approximately 1,500 psycholo-gists have completed the prescribed training. In recentyears, several training programs have been established thatfocus on the training of psychologists already in practice,including the Prescribing Psychologists Register, whichincreasingly utilizes distance learning and intensive train-ing modules. As of fall 2010, 276 graduates have beenadmitted to take the psychopharmacology licensing exam,which historically has a passing rate of about 71%.

At the same time that the prescriptive authority move-ment has gained momentum, including the APA’s incor-poration of the American Society for the Advancementof Pharmacotherapy as its 55th Division (Stuart & Heiby,2007), arguments have been leveled against the move-ment. Among the many criticisms raised, opponentscite the increasing use of psychotropic medication andthe simultaneous decreasing utilization of psychotherapy.They argue against an overreliance on psychotropic med-ications, and maintain that such an expansion of psychol-ogists’ practice may lead to a decrease in time devotedto psychotherapy. Moreover, others argue that psycholo-gists, owing to “relative deficits in training and experiencerelated to managing medications . . . are likely to be morevulnerable to lawsuits when inevitable adverse outcomesoccur” (Stuart & Heiby, 2007, p. 26). And still others warnagainst the negative ramifications such privileges wouldhave for the field of psychology as a whole (e.g., Albee,2005).

Internal and external resistance notwithstanding,there have been slow and steady legislative advance-ments at the state level with respect to the prescriptiveauthority (DeLeon, Robinson-Kurpius, & Sexton, 2001;DeLeon & Wiggins, 1996; Fox et al., 2009). Currently,two states—New Mexico (in 2002) and Louisiana (in


References 51

2004)—have achieved prescriptive authority, and passageof such legislation in some other states has been close. InFebruary 2010, for example, both houses of the Oregonlegislature passed relevant the statutes, but the Oregongovernor vetoed them 2 months later. While no compre-hensive bill has yet passed, in 2001 the U.S. territory ofGuam passed legislation authorizing appropriately trainedpsychologists to prescribe in the context of a collabora-tive practice arrangement with a physician. Accordingto Fox et al. (2009):

The prescription privileges movement has reached a tippingpoint—the story is no longer about the 10 psychologiststraining to prescribe by the DoD PsychopharmacologicalDemonstration Project. The story is now about the psychol-ogists prescribing in the civilian sector, whose numbers con-tinue to grow and will likely exceed 100 in the near future.(p. 265)

Indeed, over the years approximately 37 state associationshave established task forces to coordinate RxP activities,with 24 states having introduced relevant legislation since1985.

Master’s-Level Practitioners

Another source of tension—both intradisciplinary andinterdisciplinary—stems from the ever-increasing num-ber of master’s-level psychotherapists, including psychol-ogists, social workers, licensed professional counselors,and marriage and family therapists, who are availableto meet the increasing demand for mental health ser-vices (Robiner, 2006). Moreover, managed care net-works employ far more master’s-level practitioners thandoctoral-level ones, and since the former are willing towork for less money, reimbursement schedules are setaccordingly (Cummings & O’Donohue, 2008). Indeed,research indicates that master’s-level psychologists arejust as effective as their doctoral-level counterparts. Nev-ertheless, many psychologists continue to argue for thesuperior competence of psychologists trained at the doc-toral level. How the field of psychology manages therealities of the dynamic mental health workforce willhave significant implications for the future of professionalpsychology—in terms of defining roles and responsibil-ities, developing training models, and interdisciplinarycollaboration.

THE 21ST CENTURY

Unquestionably, the psychological practice environmentwill continue to evolve dramatically throughout the 21st

century. The specifics of change are, of course, unpre-dictable, but certainly the expanding role of computer andtelecommunications technology in the delivery of clinicalservices is under way. In 2001, the Institute of Medicine,which has served as a highly respected health policy“think tank” for administrations and the Congress sinceits inception in 1970, reported:

Health care delivery has been relatively untouched by the rev-olution in information technology that has been transformingnearly every other aspect of society. The majority of patientand clinician encounters take place for purposes of exchang-ing clinical information. . . . Yet it is estimated that only asmall fraction of physicians offer e-mail interaction, a sim-ple and convenient tool for efficient communication, to theirpatients.

—Institute of Medicine, 2001, p. 15

But the past decade has witnessed an upsurge inthe systematic investigation and clinical use of technol-ogy in the delivery of clinical services (Jerome et al.,2000). Although some negative attitudes toward “tele-health” exist within the field (e.g., Reese & Stone,2005), increasingly researchers and practitioners alikeare exploring ways in which access to mental healthservices—including assessment, diagnosis, intervention,and supervision—can be improved. Kazdin and Blase(2011) argue that in addition to the prevailing individ-ual psychotherapy model, additional models of servicedelivery are needed in order to reduce rates and costs asso-ciated with mental illness, broadly defined. Among severalmodels delineated, they illustrate how technology conferson the public opportunities to reduce the burden of men-tal illness by increasing dramatically the ability to reachindividuals in need. Web-based interventions, telephone-administered psychotherapy, and particular smartphoneapplications are examples cited by Kazdin and Blase toillustrate the burgeoning use of technologies in expand-ing access to mental health services. Given today’s real-ities of managed care (Cummings & O’Donohue, 2008),ever-advancing technology, and a growing need for psy-chological services (Kazdin & Blase, 2011), professionalpsychology will likely need to engage strategically andwith recognition of other disciplines, in order to ensurethe viability of its future.

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