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Ward 5 at Royal Waterloo Hospital: Unveiling the Grim Reality of the Sleep Room
In the 1960s, Ward 5 of London’s Royal Waterloo Hospital presented a starkly contrasting scene to the comforting image evoked by its name, “sleep room.” This area, far from being cozy, was a dim and stuffy space where up to six patients, predominantly young women struggling with conditions like schizophrenia, anorexia, or perceived youthful indiscipline, were confined to weeks or months of induced comatose states on drab mattresses. Under the supervision of psychiatrist William Sargant, these individuals underwent prolonged narcosis, insulin shock therapy, electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), and in some cases, lobotomy, treatments aimed, in Sargant’s perspective, to cleanse their minds and provide a remedy. Following these interventions, patients were left devoid of any memory of the procedures, illustrating Sargant’s extreme methods in mental health treatment.
Patient Testimonies: Experiencing “Barbaric Treatments” on Ward 5
Celia Imrie, who later gained prominence as an actor, was admitted to Ward 5 in 1966 at the age of 14. She likened her experience to “being in a prison camp,” asserting that her recovery owed nothing to Sargant and his “truly horrifying” and “barbaric treatments.” Sara (a pseudonym), admitted at 15, recalled the “hideous cocktail of drugs” that kept her in a zombie-like state. Linda Keith, known for her association with Jimi Hendrix and describing herself at the time as a “pleasure-seeking, music obsessed drug addict,” endured approximately 50 sessions of ECT on Ward 5. These treatments left her “hugely mentally incapacitated” and impaired her ability to read. She also recounted inappropriate advances from Sargant during consultations in his private practice.
Questions of Professional Conduct and Character
The extent of Sargant’s predatory sexual behavior remains uncertain, although at least one formal complaint was lodged with the General Medical Council. Jon Stock’s scathing portrayal of Sargant offers no mitigating perspectives. Stock depicts Sargant as a physically imposing figure, a “rugger man” who concealed his own mental health breakdown in his twenties. Sargant adopted a crudely mechanistic approach to psychiatry, disregarding therapy and Freudian psychoanalysis, which he termed “soft merchants,” in favor of chemical restraints and other severe interventions. Notably, in one of his publications, he advocated lobotomy as an alternative to divorce for unhappy wives. He actively sought publicity, making occasional appearances on the BBC, including a notable instance on the Third Programme with singer PJ Proby.
Colleagues, Clients, and Controversies
Despite the controversies, Sargant garnered respect from some colleagues, including physician and future foreign secretary David Owen, and ascended to the pinnacle of his profession. He maintained a private practice alongside his NHS commitments in London and at Belmont Hospital in Sutton. His 1957 book, “Battle for the Mind,” reportedly ghostwritten by Robert Graves, achieved bestseller status, and he boasted a distinguished clientele encompassing aristocrats, prominent ballerinas, and international royalty. Generous gifts and donations were frequent. It is said that during his tenure at the Priory, a “gorgeous Arabian princess” offered him a Rolls-Royce, sending five in various colors for his selection.
“Bill the Brain Slicer”: Skepticism and Criticism
Sargant contributed to the effort to destigmatize psychiatric facilities, aiming to dispel associations with outdated asylums. However, more critical colleagues nicknamed him “Bill the Brain Slicer,” viewing him as arrogant, bombastic, and narrowly focused. Psychiatrist R.D. Laing considered his methods a “regression to barbarism,” and Anthony Clare was also a vocal critic. The six female patients who shared their experiences in Stock’s book considered him a monster. Nurses assigned to the sleep room, tasked with administering medication (typically chlorpromazine) to patients four times daily, also held negative views, disliking the eerie atmosphere and “dark alchemy of drugs and electricity.” One nurse likened it to “something you’d expect in Hitler’s time.” Formal patient consent was not legally mandated until the Mental Health Act of 1983, and these women were repeatedly subjected to procedures without their agreement. The adverse effects were significant, including tremors, persistent fatigue, and substantial memory impairment. Yet, Stock asserts that Sargant regarded these as “an acceptable trade-off,” driven by a “furor therapeuticus – a rage to heal – that was more in his own interest than his patients.”
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Potential Links to Intelligence Agencies and Mind Control Programs
Beyond the dubious practices within the sleep room regime, Stock’s investigation explores Sargant’s potential connections to intelligence agencies such as MI5, MI6, and the CIA’s MKUltra mind control program. Sargant acquired substantial knowledge of brainwashing techniques while treating soldiers traumatized during World War II, expertise that reportedly attracted the interest of intelligence services. He also worked in the US and maintained close professional ties with Donald Ewen Cameron, another proponent of sleep-room practices who received CIA funding. Stock speculates on the nature of Sargant’s potential involvement, including possible LSD trials at Porton Down in collaboration with MI6. However, the evidence regarding these connections remains inconclusive due to a scarcity of definitive documentation, much of which remains classified. Compared to the detailed accounts of the sleep room treatments, this section appears less substantial, despite its extensive research. Claims such as, “he was unquestionably the sort of psychiatrist whom Porton Down – and MI6 – might have turned to,” fall short of conclusively establishing him as a willing operative in Cold War activities. Furthermore, the sensational chapter heading “She told me that Sargant killed … a patient,” based on an indirect and unsubstantiated account, seems somewhat exploitative.
Legacy and Lingering Discontent
Among the thousands of patients treated by Sargant, at least five reportedly died during narcosis. He also allegedly inflated recovery statistics and disregarded relapse occurrences. The six women whose narratives are featured in Stock’s book continue to be haunted by the procedures they underwent without their informed consent. Despite these controversies, the Royal College of Physicians website describes him as “the most important figure in postwar psychiatry … He gave his patients hope.” However, these women, along with numerous former nurses and doctors, would strongly disagree with such an assessment, highlighting the deeply divisive and unsettling nature of William Sargant’s legacy in psychiatry.