Psychotherapy and Social Change: Mick Cooper on Counseling, Pluralism, and Progressive Politics

Mick Cooper is a leading voice in contemporary counseling psychology, known for his work at the intersection of psychotherapy and social change. A Professor of Counseling Psychology at the University of Roehampton in the UK, Dr. Cooper is both a researcher and a practicing therapist, exploring how psychotherapeutic principles can contribute to broader political and societal transformation.

As a co-developer of the pluralistic approach to therapy, Dr. Cooper has been instrumental in advancing a model that prioritizes shared decision-making, client preferences, and integrative therapeutic practice. He serves as Acting Director of the Centre for Research in Psychological Wellbeing (CREW) and is an active member of the Therapy and Social Change Network (TaSC). His research focuses on humanistic and existential therapies, client engagement, and the role of psychotherapy in fostering personal and collective agency.

Dr. Cooper’s latest book, Psychology at the Heart of Social Change: Developing a Progressive Vision for Society, examines how psychological theory and practice can be leveraged to create a more equitable world.

In this interview, he speaks with Mad in America’s Javier Rizo about the intersections of therapy and politics, the importance of pluralism in mental health care, and the future of counseling psychology as a force for progressive change.

 

The transcript below has been edited for length and clarity. Listen to the audio of the interview here.

Javier Rizo: I’d love to explore the different areas of your work. Some people might see them as quite distinct, but I’d be curious to hear about your journey—how you became interested in these different areas and how you see them as connected.

Mick Cooper: Like many people involved with Mad in America, I come from a progressive background. My parents were both politically active, engaged in issues of social justice and the broader question of how to create a fairer, more equitable society—one where rights and freedoms aren’t reserved for the privileged few. That foundation was deeply influential as I was growing up, even as my own politics evolved over time.

When I went to university, I knew I wanted to do something that contributed to society. I was drawn to psychology and eventually moved into the world of counseling and counseling psychology. But even as I worked with people one-on-one, those social justice concerns remained integral to my practice.

I was particularly drawn to person-centered and humanistic approaches, especially person-centered therapy, because of its emphasis on the value of the client’s voice. It challenges the idea that the clinician is the sole authority and instead prioritizes listening to clients and taking their perspectives seriously. Rather than a hierarchical model, it assumes that people have the capacity to address their own problems when given the right conditions. My work on relational depth and the development of person-centered and existential therapies has been rooted in this idea of a more collaborative, non-hierarchical relationship—one that centers the client’s voice and experience.

In both my practice and my writing, I’ve tried to articulate these social justice elements. But beyond that, I’ve also grappled with the larger question: How can psychology contribute to addressing the profound inequalities and marginalization we see in the world? That question became particularly urgent for me during a period of personal reflection, when I asked myself what I truly wanted to say while I still had the opportunity. I realized that my deepest passion is exploring how psychology, therapy, and counseling can contribute to a more socially just, caring, and cooperative world.

That commitment remains central to my work. While most of my research focuses on mental health treatment, psychiatric institutions, and psychotherapy, I’m also deeply concerned about the broader state of the world. I read the news every day—wildfires in the U.S., conflicts in the Middle East and Ukraine, poverty in the UK and beyond, and the staggering wealth inequality between a small elite and the millions struggling to get by. The question that drives me is: How can the work we do in the therapeutic field contribute to addressing these challenges?

My latest book, Psychology at the Heart of Social Change, is an attempt to articulate ways in which psychological discourse and practice—particularly within the humanistic tradition, where I’ve always been most involved—can make a meaningful contribution. Thinkers like Carl Rogers have long suggested that psychology has a role to play in fostering social transformation. Of course, therapy alone isn’t enough. Economic and political changes are also crucial. But I believe psychotherapy has something valuable to offer, and I hope we’ll discuss that further.

Ultimately, I see my work as a continuous thread—bringing social justice concerns into the therapeutic world, and then considering how the therapeutic world can, in turn, contribute to broader social justice efforts. Many people in psychology, psychiatry, and therapy care deeply about these issues, but the demands of daily clinical work can sometimes make it difficult to engage with them on a larger scale. As my career begins to wind down—or perhaps not—I feel a strong urgency to contribute something meaningful before it’s all over.

 

Javier Rizo: You’re talking about the role psychology and psychotherapy can play in progressive politics, and I’m curious about your own journey. How did you first get involved in humanistic psychology? It’s an interesting field—both mainstream in some ways and marginalized in others. How did you find your place in it?

Mick Cooper: As an undergraduate, I first encountered the work of Carl Rogers, the American psychologist who wrote primarily in the 1950s and 60s. Rogers was one of the founders of humanistic psychology, and his ideas represented a major departure from the expert-driven model that dominated psychology at the time. He emphasized the strengths, wisdom, and knowledge that clients themselves bring to therapy, developing what he initially called a non-directive approach in the 1940s, which later became client-centered therapy.

Rogers’ work wasn’t just about therapy—it extended into social change. In his later years, he became deeply involved in peace movements and mediation efforts, even bringing people with opposing views together in Northern Ireland to foster dialogue.

Reading his work as a student had a profound impact on me. What stood out was his challenge to professional authority and his insistence that clients are the experts on their own lives. His humility as a clinician was striking, and that humility became a central value for me. But what resonated just as deeply was his emphasis on authenticity—the idea that we often present a persona to the world that isn’t true to who we really are. Like many people in their early twenties, I read that and thought, Wow, that’s really true. On a personal level, it meant a great deal to me.

These ideas intertwined with my political background as well. One of Rogers’ core principles was unconditional positive regard—the belief that every person has intrinsic worth and should be accepted without judgment. This resonated with the progressive values I was raised with. But at the same time, I noticed a contradiction in the political discourse around me. My parents were quite radical in their politics, advocating for equality and fairness, yet I sometimes saw deep judgment toward those who held different views. Their vision of equality seemed to apply at an economic level, but not always at a psychological level. In Rogers’ work, I found what I saw as a deeper form of progressivism—one that valued people as equals not just in material terms, but in their humanity.

As you mentioned, Rogers occupies an interesting position in psychology—he’s both widely recognized and, in some ways, marginalized. Surveys of American psychologists have identified him as the most influential figure in the field, even more so than the developers of CBT. His ideas about the importance of the therapeutic relationship are now so embedded in the field that many therapists don’t even recognize them as uniquely person-centered anymore—they just see them as fundamental to good practice.

That said, psychotherapy research has moved beyond Rogers in some important ways. We now have a much better understanding of different methods and techniques that can help people. I believe Rogers would have welcomed that progress. He was never rigid in his thinking—he was always open to new insights.

However, in my experience, certain corners of the humanistic and existential therapy world have at times been quite dogmatic. Some practitioners seem to treat what Rogers or early existential therapists wrote in the 1950s as if it were set in stone. Ironically, the human growth movement—dedicated to the idea of change and development—has stagnated in some ways. Meanwhile, other approaches, like CBT and third-wave therapies such as Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) and Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), have continued to evolve. That’s one reason they’ve been so successful.

When we developed pluralistic therapy, we wanted to bring those humanistic principles into the 21st century. The core idea behind pluralism is that there are many effective ways to help people, and therapy should be tailored to each client’s specific wants and needs. Rather than prescribing a fixed set of techniques, we emphasize collaboration—talking with clients to understand what works best for them. This builds on Rogers’ client-centered principles, but in a more flexible, integrative way.

The pluralistic framework values a wide range of methods—from CBT to psychodynamic, existential, and humanistic approaches—recognizing that different clients need different things. And sometimes, that means using quite directive techniques. We’ve done research with young people in therapy, and many of them want direction and guidance. That preference should be respected rather than dismissed. Listening to what clients need and responding accordingly is at the heart of this approach.

 

Javier Rizo: You’ve really highlighted the aspects of psychotherapy—especially humanistic psychotherapy—that inspire you and connect with your political values. I wonder how other therapists have encountered the political potential of psychotherapy. Do they recognize it? Your book begins by discussing the neglect of psychology within progressive politics, but I wonder if the reverse is also true—has this political vision been overlooked even within humanistic psychology itself?

Mick Cooper: I think the U.S. is leading the way in this area. There’s been some outstanding work on multicultural and social justice competencies for decades now. When I speak with colleagues in the UK, I often encourage them to read the Multicultural and Social Justice Counseling Competencies developed by Ratts and colleagues in 2015. In the U.S., there are people in the counseling field who now talk about multicultural and social justice work as a “fourth” or even “fifth force” in psychology. It’s a hugely important movement.

The work of Mad in America also fits into this broader tradition, following in the footsteps of thinkers like R.D. Laing and others who have challenged the power structures of psychiatry. In the UK, colleagues like James Davies have taken a similarly political approach in their critiques of psychiatric systems and power imbalances.

However, in mainstream clinical and counseling psychology—and in psychotherapy more broadly—the political dimension often remains implicit. I do believe it’s there, though. You can see it in Rogers’ work, in the respect for clients, in the emphasis on the therapeutic alliance and the fundamentally collaborative nature of therapy. Most therapists I meet have an underlying progressivism in the way they work with clients. But translating that into a more explicit engagement with politics and social justice has been a slower process.

I think part of the reason for that is practical—therapists are focused on their work, their clients, making a living. There hasn’t always been the time or space to extend those values into a broader political conversation.

That’s one of the reasons we set up the Therapy and Social Change Network (TaSC) in the UK. There’s been a lot of interest in it—people have really engaged. We’ve had great discussions online and even organized a conference when the war in Ukraine began, raising money to support Ukrainian psychologists. Many people in the field want to contribute to this kind of work. I haven’t encountered much resistance to it.

That said, there are some small groups—especially in the UK—who push back against these ideas, framing them as “wokeism gone mad.” Their argument is that therapy should simply provide a neutral space for clients, not engage with politics. They’ll ask, “Why are you bringing politics into therapy? Why would you tell clients how to vote?” But I think those perspectives are fairly marginal. There have been a few books written from that viewpoint, but I don’t sense much energy behind them.

Overall, I believe the field is moving in the direction of greater awareness and engagement with social justice issues. The challenge is finding the resources and time to fully integrate that awareness into practice. Training is a key issue—bringing these discussions into the education of therapists, counselors, and psychologists.

Professional bodies are already on board with this shift. The British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (BACP) has developed strong competencies and guidelines on these issues. The UK Council for Psychotherapy (UKCP) recently held a conference focused on politics and social justice. And within the British Psychological Society (BPS), the new chair has been very active in pushing these conversations forward. It feels like an open door—many people are eager to explore these links between therapy and social change. The question is how to do it in practice.

One area where the U.S. has been doing important work is around broaching in therapy—the idea that a therapist might explicitly invite discussion of a client’s identity. For example, saying something like, “This is a space where we can talk about your experiences as a Black person, as a woman, as someone who is gay.” The intention is to signal that these conversations are welcome and important.

But I think the next step in this work is to explore its complexities. When is broaching helpful, and when might it not be? When does it create space for a client, and when might it feel imposing or unnecessary? These are the kinds of nuanced discussions we need to have, and they require time—time to reflect, time to study, and time to evolve our approaches.

 

Javier Rizo: Yeah, historically, psychotherapy hasn’t really been a discipline that explicitly grapples with the political dimension…

Mick Cooper: I’d push back on that a little. If you look at figures like Alfred Adler, Wilhelm Reich, and Eric Berne—who developed transactional analysis—you’ll see that many early psychologists and psychotherapists were quite progressive. Adler’s work, for instance, was deeply rooted in social justice and the question of how to build a more equitable society.

There’s actually a long history of engagement with these issues. The journal Psychotherapy and Politics International has been running for many years. And of course, there’s the work you’re doing, what Mad in America does, and the legacy of people like R.D. Laing, who wove together psychology, psychiatry, and politics in profound ways.

That said, I agree that this hasn’t always been the mainstream thrust of psychotherapy. But there are significant movements—liberation psychology, community psychology, and other emerging fields—that are explicitly working at the intersection of therapy and social justice.

So, while there’s still a lot of work to be done, I actually feel quite optimistic about this area. And I don’t feel optimistic about much these days—but on this, I do.

 

Javier Rizo: You’re right—there have always been strands of this thinking within the field, even going back to its beginnings. I can imagine Freud would have had something to say about this as well. We’ve been discussing psychotherapy as a discipline, but I’d love to hear more about the specific principles that you see as applicable to progressive social change. Given your framing of the “world on fire,” how do you think some of the practices we use as therapists could actually be implemented in the real world?

Mick Cooper: Earlier, I mentioned unconditional positive regard, but I think the phrase radical acceptance captures it even more deeply. One of the most important things we can take from psychotherapy is its understanding of how to relate to others—not just on an individual level, but on a broader social and political scale. A politics rooted in radical acceptance isn’t about shaming, criticizing, or putting others down—it’s about valuing people.

One of the ways we can implement this is through social and emotional learning programs, which are already well-supported by research. If we were to roll them out more widely, children from a young age would learn to listen, empathize, and understand not only their own emotions but also those of others. This would help them grow into adults who can engage in dialogue, work through conflicts, and interact in cooperative, caring ways.

That’s not to say radical acceptance means condoning harmful behaviors. It’s not about saying racism, homophobia, or violence are acceptable. Rather, it’s about recognizing the fundamental humanity in each person. Very few people do harm simply for the sake of being bad. People certainly engage in destructive, self-destructive, and antisocial behaviors, but as therapists, we understand that these often stem from unmet needs—frustrations, traumas, or deep-seated struggles.

Radical acceptance means recognizing that, at the core, human beings are striving for the same fundamental things—connection, self-worth, meaning, pleasure. We don’t have an inherent evil inside us. And if we start from that understanding, we can develop ways of engaging with each other that move us toward cooperation rather than division. That’s the foundation for creating a world where more people can get more of what they need, more of the time.

One of the ideas I explore in my book is Game Theory, which teaches us about the power of cooperation. We live in a world where cooperation isn’t optional—it’s essential. Climate change is a perfect example. We exist in an interconnected system where one nation’s decisions on fossil fuels don’t just affect them—they impact everyone. Without global cooperation, we end up in destructive cycles.

This is where psychology can help—by fostering a politics of understanding rather than a politics of blame. It’s about moving away from demonization and toward collaboration. And at the core of that shift is developing a mindset of radical acceptance—recognizing the humanity and intrinsic value of others.

Of course, that’s easier said than done. One of the biggest challenges is holding onto radical acceptance while feeling anger, fury, or grief about injustice. When we see harm being done, it’s difficult to still recognize the humanity of those responsible.

In Psychology at the Heart of Social Change, I wrote with progressives in mind. My argument is that a progressive politics rooted in blame—one that operates from a stance of we’re right, you’re wrong—is ultimately self-defeating. If we want to build a world based on respect, empathy, and understanding, we have to take the first step. And that’s incredibly hard. I struggle with it myself. But I also believe it’s a pathway to hope and possibility—and right now, we desperately need both.

When you look at psychological theories and research, there’s remarkable consensus about what human beings fundamentally need. Across different models, relatedness and connection emerge as core human needs.

People thrive when they have meaningful relationships. Studies show that those with strong, intimate connections experience lower levels of depression and anxiety, and even have better physical health. The impact of good relationships is profound.

But often, our ways of seeking connection are indirect or self-defeating. We compete with others, try to prove we’re better, or push people away out of fear. In therapy, much of the work is helping people untangle these patterns—helping them understand what they truly want and guiding them toward healthier, more effective ways of getting there.

For instance, someone may deeply crave intimacy but also fear being hurt, perhaps due to past relationships. So, they keep people at a distance, avoid vulnerability, and suppress their emotions. As a therapist, you recognize why they’re protecting themselves—it makes sense. But you also invite them to consider other possibilities. Maybe they can try letting someone in, just a little. Maybe they can take small steps toward trust. Therapy provides a space for people to explore these choices in a way that feels safe.

This same principle applies to society at large. If relational needs are so central to well-being, then we have to ask: What can we do as a society to cultivate meaningful human connection?

Of course, relational needs aren’t the only needs we have—people also need autonomy, freedom, and self-esteem. But one of the things I discuss in my book is the idea of synergies—situations where different people’s needs can be met together rather than in opposition.

Relational needs, in particular, have incredible synergy. Unlike individualistic pursuits—where one person’s success might come at another’s expense—connection is something that can be mutually reinforcing. The more one person feels close to another, the more the other person feels close as well. Love, care, and deep relationships create a ripple effect of fulfillment.

In writing my book, I found myself coming back again and again to relationality. The idea of relational depth—that profound, meaningful connection between people—holds enormous promise, not just for individuals but for society as a whole.

If we could build a society that prioritized relational and communal needs over individualistic ones—if we could shift away from the relentless pursuit of self-esteem and competition—we might create a world where more people have more of their needs met. There is so much untapped potential in relationality.

That, for me, is the real hope.

 

Javier Rizo: I hear you that relationality is central to this vision of a more egalitarian society. But I can’t help thinking about the challenges of doing this kind of relational work, especially when people have deep material and ideological investments in undermining others’ well-being for their own gain. This happens in so many areas—take climate change, for example. How do we motivate people to engage in dialogue when there’s such a vested interest in not having that dialogue? How do we even get people to that point?

Mick Cooper: A colleague of mine, Kirk Schneider, who works in the existential-humanistic field in the U.S., has been developing these kinds of dialogues—bringing together people from very different positions to actually talk to each other. I think that kind of work is really important.

But how do you do it? I think one major reason people avoid dialogue is that they don’t believe they’ll be truly heard. They anticipate being shamed, dismissed, or disrespected. If, from a progressive standpoint, we can embody a more empathic stance—conveying a genuine willingness to listen—it might encourage more people to engage.

I completely understand that some perspectives are deeply offensive, and that there are times when people don’t want to hear them. But at the same time, responses like cancel culture, however understandable, can push people into a defensive stance where they feel there’s no space for conversation. And when people feel shut out of dialogue, they’re even less likely to listen.

At the end of the day—and this might be a controversial thing to say—the Musks and the Trumps of the world, however horrifying their behaviors may be, are still human beings. They have needs for connection, for self-esteem, for material security—but also for being heard. That doesn’t excuse their actions, but it does mean that if progressives want to lead change, we need to think about how to create a culture where even people like them might feel there’s space to engage, rather than feeling they’ll be instantly condemned.

Public discourse, especially on platforms like Twitter/X, is so steeped in shame and antagonism. And shame pushes people apart. The more people feel shamed, the more they dig in, the less they listen.

Of course, none of this is easy, and I wish there were a simple solution. I feel desperate for one, especially given how urgent these issues are. Climate change, for instance—the latest data on rising global temperatures is absolutely terrifying. The urgency is real. But if that urgency fuels even more blame, criticism, and division, I worry that it will only be counterproductive.

That doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be clear boundaries, clear demands, and clear expectations. But I think these need to exist alongside a broader cultural shift—one that fosters empathy, understanding, and a willingness to engage. If we want to create a compassionate world, we can’t do it through means that are unempathetic or unkind. That only breeds more discord, more antagonism. If the goal is a more cooperative, compassionate world, then the path we take to get there has to reflect those values as well.

 

Javier Rizo: I’m thinking about what you’re saying in terms of changing the nature of political discourse. Do you have a sense of the social conditions necessary to actually get people to that point? There’s so much conflict—especially in contexts like class struggle, where labor unions are in direct confrontation with employers. How do you get people in power to even want to come to the table in the first place? Where does your vision fit within the present and the future?

Mick Cooper: It really is difficult. I think part of the way in is engaging with that fear. In conflicts where mediation has worked—like in Northern Ireland—it wasn’t just about military solutions. It was about bringing people together to talk about their needs, to articulate what their communities want, and to find solutions that meet the needs of both groups. If people believe there’s no chance they’ll be heard, they’re less likely to engage in dialogue at all.

Political strategies and pressures are absolutely necessary—many people are working on that front. But alongside those efforts, if we can also create ways for people to listen to one another and develop deeper mutual understanding, then over time, we may be able to foster a culture where these kinds of conflicts become less frequent and less intractable.

 

Javier Rizo: Yeah, the hope is to instill these values—really inviting the other in, really trying to understand. It’s clear to me how psychotherapy embodies that in practice, and I hope more people can engage with these principles, whether by experiencing them in their own therapy or carrying them into their lives. And for therapists, maybe that means becoming more engaged in social work.

I really want to thank you for taking the time to talk with me today and for sharing your thoughts on connecting psychotherapy and social justice. For those who are interested—whether they’re therapists, clients, or just people curious about these ideas—what are some ways they can engage more with your work?

Mick Cooper: Thanks, Javier. Well, there’s the Therapy and Social Change Network (TaSC)—we hold seminars and discussions, and we have links with similar work in the U.S. I’d really encourage people to look at the multicultural and social justice competencies developed in the States, which have been a major effort to integrate social justice concerns into therapy. Of course, there’s also Mad in America and other organizations that raise important questions about power structures in psychiatry—those are great starting points for exploring these issues.

Another important figure is Michael Lerner in the U.S., who, like me, has been thinking about radical acceptance in politics. In the UK, we’re seeing more groups emerging and more people engaging in these conversations, though it’s still in very early stages.

Some of the questions you’re asking—like how to bring people in power to the table—really highlight how much work remains to be done. The honest truth is, I wish I had a better answer. But I think part of building a more emotionally literate politics means being able to acknowledge when we don’t have easy answers. Instead of pretending certainty, we need spaces to think together about how to move forward.

Right now, we’re not at the stage where there are well-established groups with clear agendas on these questions—we’re still in the formative phases. I wish we were further along, but the reality is, we can’t rush it. A culture of radical acceptance won’t emerge through force, self-criticism, or frustration that things aren’t moving fast enough. It’s just like in therapy—self-acceptance doesn’t come by beating yourself into it. It often happens slowly, in layers, in waves. And sometimes the first step is accepting that you don’t accept yourself yet.

The same applies to this broader movement. We’re at the beginning stages, and that’s okay. I’d really encourage people to visit the TaSC website, see what’s happening, and consider getting involved. We desperately need more people stepping into leadership roles, engaging with these questions, and bringing psychological insights into the larger social justice conversation.

 

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