our purpose

The potential of MCP-inspired treatments is vast, warranting more extensive research than a private practice setting could provide. This is why our research department is vital to our mission and existence.

  • Advancing knowledge through research icon

    Advancing knowledge through research

    MCP generates testable insights into complex psychological phenomena, driving meaningful scientific inquiry and practical applications.

  • Integrating science and clinical practice icon

    Integrating science and practice

    Our Clinical and Non-Clinical Research Divisions work alongside education and treatment programs, developing new MCP-based therapies and deepening understanding of normal psychological functions.

  • Sharing research discoveries widely icon

    Sharing discoveries widely

    We extend impact beyond our practice by publishing, presenting at conferences, and leading seminars and public talks, ensuring new knowledge benefits both professionals and society.

our framework

Our framework is based on Message-Centered Psychology (MCP), a new comprehensive theory of emotions as instruments of interpersonal communication. The theory defines an emotion by the message sent rather than by how the emotion feels, and this sets it apart from the established schools.

The theory deepens our understanding of emotions and their role in human life. It gives both clients and clinicians a way to see what an emotion’s purpose is, and the work focuses on that purpose rather than on the relief of symptoms, which will follow from addressing the root issue. This new understanding has already opened the door to therapeutic approaches that prove their worth in our practice every day, including with problems that have resisted other treatments.

How It All Began

MCP was developed by our founder, Valery Fradkov, LCSW, ScD, over more than twenty years of clinical practice and research. Clinical psychology was not his first career: he spent over two decades as a physicist – at the Institute of Solid State Physics, at NASA Marshall Space Flight Center, and as a research professor at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. He came to the field by accident, when a psychiatrist friend, asked what he did for a living, handed him the DSM-IV instead of answering. Valery read it cover to cover in one sitting. What he found was a world of human experience described and classified in extraordinary detail, and wide open to the questions a physicist is trained to ask – about first principles, precise definitions, and models that deliver testable predictions. He was hooked.

The framework that evolved into MCP grew out of his need to understand psychological phenomena and clinical problems to a depth his training did not reach. Adjusting to the way psychologists think and speak proved harder than he expected. The last straw came when he asked his clinical supervisor how psychology defines anger, and she answered: “Haven’t you ever seen an angry man in your life?” He had to either abandon his way of thinking or apply it in a field where it had rarely been applied before. He chose the latter.

Message-Centered Psychology

MCP is a theory of feelings, emotions, and nonverbal communication. It defines feelings as internal calls to action, not just appraisals of your state or your environment: hunger does not describe an empty stomach – it tells you to eat. So anger, guilt, shame, and jealousy are not only negative feelings to be suppressed but also messages to be heard. Ignore them, and you will still act on them – without choosing how.

An emotion in MCP is a particular kind of feeling: the action to which it calls is to send an external message to another person or a group. These messages are sent through what MCP calls affect, a term extended beyond facial expression, posture, and tone of voice to any behavior, healthy or not, that can carry a message – persistent lateness, a symptom with no medical cause, one drink too many. Viewed this way, behavior that looked irrational turns out to have been logical all along.

That view changes the questions a therapist asks. MCP’s question is not what caused the problematic behavior, but what the behavior is here for: what the person is trying to achieve or prevent by it. Answers to the why question provide information, whereas answers to the what-for question point directly to the root of the problem and tell us where to look for the best intervention. The work that follows is not to suppress the behavior but to replace it with a better way to reach the goal it was serving badly. It can end suffering that has already lasted for years.

In the Therapy Room

MCP’s favorite question – what for – applies to diagnosis as well. A symptom is often an attempt to solve a life problem with the only tools the person knows. The attempt is not conscious, so neither the client nor the therapist can see the client’s purpose directly, and it has to be deduced from clues – small inconsistencies, an unexpected choice of word, avoidance of a topic. For instance, the panic attacks of one of our clients turned out to be her way of sending a message of disagreement. The attacks stopped once the message was clearly delivered in words. What presented as a disorder turned out not to be one: the symptoms were pointing somewhere else.

For all its power, MCP does not replace established therapies. Our clinicians also practice CBT, EMDR, IFS, existential, and Gestalt, among others, depending on each client’s needs. MCP has the most to offer where a symptom makes no sense on its own terms – phobias that return after being treated, bad habits that persist despite all attempts to quit, repeated angry outbursts, and arguments that start over nothing. In cases like these, the focus shifts from what is wrong with the person to what the unwanted behavior is for.

Read on for a closer look at MCP, illustrated with cases from practice.

what is message-centered psychology and why is it so promising?

Valery Fradkov, LCSW, ScD

Advanced Psychology Institute

A new client enters the room. She is a woman in her 30s, with fine, delicate features. She has a husband, who is a small business owner, and two teenage daughters. The atmosphere in the family is one of warmth and closeness.

A few months ago, her husband had a bad cold and was prescribed a cough syrup containing codeine. The syrup helped, and some was left over. Around this time, she also started to cough, and tried the syrup herself. Her cough was gone, but the syrup stayed: she liked it too much.

A nurse in a physician’s office, she had access to prescription blanks and learned to forge his signature. After six months, she got caught. She lost her job and her license, and faced legal issues. But the main problem was not all of that or even her addiction – it was her husband’s reaction. She had never seen him this angry. He said that she “stabbed him in the back with a knife” and that he couldn’t even look at her. He used the Russian word predatel’stvo – betrayal, in a register more severe than the English word carries. No matter how much she tried to apologize, nothing helped.

Since the issue was the husband’s anger, I assumed that there was something in this episode that the husband perceived as a threat to his decision-making power. I tried to put myself in his shoes: in my little kingdom, it’s my job to protect my girls from any harm – and suddenly I find out that for six months my wife was in trouble and didn’t tell me, preventing me from doing my job! It was not her decision to make. From his perspective, she had no right to keep him in the dark, hence his extreme anger: it was a clear message to her that this must never happen again.

I suggested she find a moment to tell her husband: “If I could go back to change only one thing, I would have told you right away.” She didn’t see how this might help, but followed my advice nevertheless.

When she came back a week later, her first words were: “Doctor, I don’t know what magic was in this stupid sentence, but after I said it, he cried, he hugged me, and I had my husband back.”

I told the story to a female colleague. Her reaction was: “Only a man could think of that!” – but she was wrong. It’s not me being a man. It’s me applying Message-Centered Psychology.

Questions Matter

A psychoanalyst asks: why? What is the cause of the client’s issues? She analyzes traumas and childhood experiences. Her eyes are turned to the past.

A cognitive-behavioral therapist asks: how? How do we fix the problem? He targets patterns that are here and now and works to rewire them.

An MCP clinician asks: what for? What is the purpose of the client’s behaviors, issues, symptoms? What is the client trying to achieve or prevent? And how can this be done in a healthier way? The MCP clinician’s focus is on the future.

All these perspectives are internally coherent, all producing results. Together, they form a triangle – a strong frame capable of carrying the weight of mental health.

Words Matter

We say feeling when we mean emotion. We say emotion when we mean affect. We say affect when we mean feeling. We know they must mean different things, and still use them interchangeably. Maybe it doesn’t matter – we are still able to understand each other. Or are we?

In 1981, Paul and Anne Kleinginna counted 92 different – even contradictory – definitions of emotion in peer-reviewed psychological texts. Nearly half a century later, little has changed; the term is often left undefined, as if self-evident. Unlike everyday language, terminology requires precision: one word – one meaning. When the terms are blurred, the reasoning built on them is blurred as well. The first task of MCP is to establish consistent terminology for the fuzzy realm of feelings and emotions.

MCP focuses specifically on emotions’ communicative function, deliberately setting aside their neurological and physiological aspects. The power of MCP stems from its intentional limitation, which is not its weakness but its strength. That is what makes MCP’s terminology precise and its models clear and effective.

Feelings, Emotions, and Affects

In MCP, we do not rely on intuition alone when it comes to terminology. Given the lack of consensus in existing definitions, we introduce our own – attempting to make them as unambiguous as possible.

We define a feeling as an internal call to action – a message to yourself, which tells you that an action is required: to eat, to hide, to fight. Different feelings call for different kinds of actions: where there is no need to act, there is no need to feel.

Some feelings call for a specific action: communication. We call these feelings emotions. Their internal message is a call for sending an external message to others. Each emotion sends its own message: respect says “I accept your right to make your own decisions,” and anger says “I am too strong for you to disrespect me.”

All emotions are feelings, but not all feelings are emotions: we can say “a feeling of anger” or “an emotion of anger,” but not “an emotion of hunger.”

Messages conveyed by emotions are nonverbal, delivered through observable behavior. In MCP, we call that behavior affect. Affect goes beyond body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice. Any behavior can be read as a message, whether we realize it or not. Persistent tardiness, for example, also sends a message.

Verbal or Nonverbal: Distinction

The focus of MCP is nonverbal communication through emotions. We need to distinguish it from verbal communication – beyond the familiar “one uses words and the other does not.”

In MCP, we hold – and our observations support – that every act of communication contains two channels, serving two different goals: one conveys knowledge, the other evokes feelings, not necessarily in equal proportion. For example, a lecture on quantum mechanics is primarily knowledge-oriented. Yet if the delivery evokes boredom, the knowledge may never be received. A blind-date conversation, by contrast, is primarily feeling-oriented, although factual information may also be exchanged. Building on this functional distinction, we define the two components by their intended effects: verbal communication aims to change what we know; nonverbal, how we feel.

By this definition, not all verbal communication uses words: knowledge is delivered through technical drawings, schematics, maps, and formulas. By the same token, music and poetry are functionally nonverbal, even though they can be written down with notes and words, because their primary aim is to evoke emotions. Sometimes communication only pretends to be verbal – as in greetings, verbal fights, or small talk, where the goal is to exchange emotional signals rather than knowledge: everybody already knows what the weather is and who won the game.

Verbal and Nonverbal: Interplay

Although it is commonly assumed that what we feel depends on what we say, MCP predicts – and observations confirm – that, counterintuitively, the rational meaning of words has little influence on how we feel. Maybe this is because our capacity to feel evolved hundreds of millions of years before our capacity to speak. It is not what is said but how.

Consider the following situation. A husband comes home and says to his wife, “We need a new car.” Imagine how different he would feel if she replied, “Are you crazy? Where do we get the money?” rather than, “This is such a great idea, our car is old and unreliable. Let’s think where we get the money.” And yet the factual content is identical: they cannot afford a new car.

If we focus solely on what is said, the how can take on a life of its own, escalating arguments or sending emotional signals that foster false hopes or misguided expectations. This dynamic extends into the clinic – for example, CBT protocols may fall short if the nonverbal dimension of the cognitive interventions is overlooked.

The Map of Emotionland

What we need is a map that tells us which feeling signals what. With this knowledge, we can figure out the best way to act on the feeling, instead of watching ourselves repeat the same unhealthy patterns – automatic, ingrained, and never chosen. MCP gives us a way to build this map. Instead of trying to guess what external message each emotion implies, MCP follows another approach: we analyze which messages are generally necessary in a society and then try to associate those messages with known emotions.

All socialization starts with communication needed to coordinate behavior. The repertoire of necessary messages depends on a society’s level of coordination: the higher the level, the greater the need. More complex societal needs do not cancel simpler ones, and therefore a more developed society still retains old messages along with new ones that serve its advanced needs. That is why we share many emotions with other social animals: we can read the emotions of our pets, and they unmistakably read ours.

Since emotions stem from a need to interact with others, we built a set of models of social interactions, starting with the simplest ones and adding complexity as we go. The goal is to identify necessary messages and pair them with known emotions, staying as close as possible to our intuitive understanding. In MCP, we start with the simplest model of society, where all participants are identical. This doesn’t mean we claim such societies exist – although a school of fish or a herd of sheep come close. The model is a deliberate simplification, like frictionless motion in physics: it sets aside everything irrelevant to the problem at hand. Our analysis focuses on what the individuals have in common rather than what makes them different.

The next level of complexity comes from adding a second uniform group, which brings new types of interaction both inside the groups and between them. Then we add more groups and arrange them in a hierarchy. And the last model is the closest to contemporary life in developed countries: a network, where each individual participates in multiple hierarchies simultaneously. We have mapped the messages essential for the functioning of such structures to a number of known emotions including joy and fear, remorse and shame, guilt and anger, pride and envy, and many more.

Detective Work

When a client presents a problem, talks about their feelings, or blames themselves or others, the therapist is trained to form a clinical understanding based on that. And yet, are we ever truly aware of our own motives? All too often, neither the client nor the clinician knows the client’s real motivations and needs.

To figure this out, we need to rely on subtle clues: unexpected words, sudden changes of topic, incongruent body language and facial expressions – everything that might hint at what is going on beneath the surface. These clues are as informative as the content of the client’s story, if not more so. Here again, the how may tell us more than the what.

To interpret these clues, we rely on models and methods provided by MCP. To be a good detective, you need the right tools.

The client is a 16-year-old boy.

“I am very good at communicating with adults and children, but with peers, especially girls, I feel terrible. I behave stupidly. My voice disappears – I think I talk, but nobody can hear me. My palms get sweaty…”

“Can you hide it?”

“Obviously not!”

“What message do you think people get from this behavior?”

He thought for a long time.

“I think, maybe, that I am nervous about talking to them?”

That was my opening.

“If you send this message anyway, why don’t you try to send it in words? Maybe then you won’t have to do it with your body, at the cost of all this suffering.”

It took him a few weeks to muster his courage, but when he eventually tried, it worked.

Without MCP, I would have focused on his symptoms – those of social anxiety – and taught him to slow his breath, tame his thoughts, and script his small talk. With MCP, I looked for the message behind them.

“Doctor, I need you to remove my phobia using hypnosis.”

“What is your phobia?” I asked.

“I am afraid to drive after an accident.”

“Oh, I hope you were not seriously hurt?”

“No, nobody was hurt. It was a fender-bender at the red light, the car didn’t even need a repair.”

Well, I think, this doesn’t sound like a phobia-causing trauma. So, I tell her:

“I can take away your phobia, but I am afraid it may hurt you more than help.”

“Hurt? How?” she asked.

“Well, the phobia is there for a reason. It may be protecting you. If we take it away, something else may replace it – something even worse. Let’s talk first. You live in New Jersey, people don’t walk here. How do you get around without a car?”

“My husband drives me around.”

Now we are getting somewhere. I have a hypothesis: her “phobia” is a message to her husband that she wants to be closer to him, have him around, spend more time together – something along those lines. So I asked her about her life and her relationship with her husband. By the end of the session, we had settled on what seemed to be the root of her problem, and we brainstormed alternative ways to achieve her goals in the relationship. We never even touched the phobia again, but it was “magically” gone that same day. I learned that the next day – when she drove to my office to cancel her next appointment.

I am afraid many of my colleagues would focus on treating her phobia. A distinctive feature of MCP is looking at the behavior as a potential message.

The client is a student who cannot prepare for a final because her dog is dying from cancer, and she cannot think of anything else. She is a long-time client, and, since she was familiar with our way of thinking, I asked her a question that a new client would most likely not understand and might even find offensive:

“If your inability to focus is read as a message, what do you think this message could be?”

After a long pause, she said tentatively:

“That I have a heart?”

That gave me a way in.

“Why don’t you start telling everybody who matters to you how terrible the situation is and how devastated you are? Maybe if you send this message in words, you won’t have to send it with your body.”

She passed her final – no antidepressants, no tranquilizers.

A functional alcoholic with thirty years “in the field” wants to break the cycle. He tried rehab, tried to recognize and avoid triggers, tried therapy, and yet here he is. I told him upfront that we will not talk about his drinking patterns, triggers, and relaxation techniques. We will go straight to the root.

He tells me about his wife, his son, his mother, his business, and his lack of close friends. I listen, my attention on two things: what message his drinking may be sending, and to whom. Soon, the pieces began to fall into place: he feels he is not in control of his life, that his wife and mother make all decisions for him. From time to time he gets drunk into oblivion. And when he is drunk – no more Mr. Nice Guy. Even I got a taste of it: when drunk, he would call me at night and leave horrifying voicemails – complaining, for example, that the Nazis did not finish their job exterminating “you people.” When he was sober, I didn’t see a trace of antisemitism in him; drunk, he reached for whatever would hurt me most. Words like these are hard not to take personally, but his message was not the one on the surface. He was just showing me – and the rest of the world – his no-more-Mr.-Nice-Guy-ness.

The next morning, he feels guilty and the cycle of dominance (theirs) and submission (his) continues.

Since his drinking looked like an unsuccessful attempt to rebel, we started working on how to deal with controlling and manipulative people, confronting them without confrontation. We worked on his assertiveness and his ability to recognize manipulative blame for the ruse it is, disarming the manipulator without apologizing or becoming defensive. Since he was the only breadwinner in the family, I helped him see the decision-making power he could have. With time, he felt less and less like a controlled child and more like a respected leader who makes decisions, benevolently delegating some of them to his wife.

Three months later, he said he had not even realized he had gone two weeks without a drink (I already knew – there had been no nasty late-night voicemail messages). Not because he was controlling his impulses – he simply forgot. He didn’t feel like drinking. A month later, he had friends over (he now had friends!), and they had a bottle of wine – but he didn’t fall off the wagon afterward. Doesn’t this make the unquestionable dogma “once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic” questionable?

I tried the same approach with other clients struggling with addictions. The results were similar, but only when I could figure out both the message and its addressee.

Conclusion

MCP is young, yet it already shows remarkable clinical promise. With our collaborative approach, more than one clinician can work with the same client, allowing us to combine MCP with psychiatric care, crisis intervention, and other therapeutic approaches. We have learned how to help clients struggling with a wide variety of issues, including uncontrolled anger, excessive guilt, social anxiety, depression, prolonged grief, personality disorders, addictions, burnout, and emotional difficulties related to learning disabilities.

Of course, MCP cannot address every problem, and we are working to define the boundaries of its use. A mature approach knows its limits, and we are still discovering ours.

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