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Dr Harold Mandel
Medical Heretic & Holistic Physician
I am a New York-based virtual holistic physician, medical journalist, and author dedicated to defending individual rights in healthcare. Drawing on my medical background, my work is defined by a lifelong commitment to medical advocacy—defending the individual against coercive systems of psychiatry and the corporate influences that sustain them.
Currently, I focus my professional efforts on four complementary pillars:
Clinical Advocacy: Through my virtual telehealth practice, I offer Holistic Lifestyle & Nutrition Coaching that nurtures good health in body, mind, and spirit. Rather than practicing traditional primary care medicine, I offer holistic wellness alternatives that prioritize the whole person over a diagnosis while supporting bodily autonomy and informed decision-making.
Journalistic Advocacy: As an independent reporter at MandelNews.com, I investigate and report on issues involving psychiatry, healthcare, and human rights. My goal is to encourage thoughtful discussion and ensure that human rights remain at the forefront of medical discourse.
Creative Advocacy: Through speculative fiction short stories, I explore questions of ethics, freedom, institutional power, and the resilience of the human spirit. These imaginative narratives invite readers to reflect on complex social and medical issues from new perspectives.
Children's Literature: I also write original children's short stories that celebrate kindness, curiosity, imagination, compassion, and a love of learning. These uplifting tales are designed to entertain young readers while encouraging positive values and creativity.
Children's Stories
Ernie the Porpoise: The Lost Baby Sea Turtle
Summer at the Atlantic City shore had become even more exciting for Reginald, Mary, Susan, and Tim. Every morning they hurried to the beach, hoping to spend another wonderful day with their best friend, Ernie the Porpoise. No two adventures were ever the same, and each day seemed to bring a new surprise.
One calm morning, the ocean was as
Summer at the Atlantic City shore had become even more exciting for Reginald, Mary, Susan, and Tim. Every morning they hurried to the beach, hoping to spend another wonderful day with their best friend, Ernie the Porpoise. No two adventures were ever the same, and each day seemed to bring a new surprise.
One calm morning, the ocean was as smooth as glass. Gentle waves rolled onto the sand while seagulls glided overhead. The four friends were searching for unusual seashells when Mary noticed something small moving near the edge of the water.
"Look!" she called. "What's that?"
The children hurried over and discovered a tiny baby sea turtle slowly crawling across the wet sand. Instead of heading toward the open ocean, the little turtle was moving in the wrong direction.
"I think it's lost," Susan said softly.
The baby turtle looked tired and confused. Every few moments it stopped, as though it wasn't sure where to go next.
Just then, a familiar whistle echoed from the water.
Ernie had arrived.
The friendly porpoise swam close to shore and seemed to notice the little turtle immediately. He gave a gentle whistle and nudged the water with his nose, as if encouraging the tiny traveler.
Reginald remembered reading that baby sea turtles needed to find the ocean quickly after hatching, but they should not be carried unless absolutely necessary. "Maybe we can help by keeping the path safe," he suggested.
The children carefully walked beside the little turtle without touching it. They gently shooed away curious seagulls and made sure no one accidentally stepped into its path. Whenever the turtle became confused, Ernie splashed just offshore, almost as if he were showing the way toward the waves.
Slowly, the tiny sea turtle continued its remarkable journey. Although it was small, it never gave up.
Finally, a gentle wave reached the turtle's tiny flippers.
Another wave lifted it a little farther.
Then, with one last determined paddle, the baby sea turtle disappeared into the sparkling Atlantic Ocean.
At that moment, Ernie leaped high into the air with a joyful splash, as though celebrating the little turtle's success.
"We did it!" Tim cheered.
"No," Mary smiled. "The little turtle did it. We just helped."
Susan watched the calm water with a smile. "Sometimes the smallest creatures can teach us the biggest lessons."
Reginald nodded. "And the best friends are always ready to help."
Ernie gave one cheerful whistle before swimming happily beside the gentle waves.
As the children waved goodbye, they knew they had witnessed something truly special—a tiny life beginning an incredible journey across the vast ocean.
They couldn't wait to discover what adventure tomorrow would bring.
The End
A Children's Short Story
Copyright © 2026 by Dr. Harold Mandel.
Published by Mandel Publishing.
All rights reserved.
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Daily Holistic Pulse
Love & Affection, Good Nutrition, and Exercise: The Three Pillars of Healthy Childhood Development
Children grow best in environments where emotional warmth, nourishing foods, and active movement are part of everyday life. Love and affection form the emotional foundation of healthy development. When children feel secure, valued, and supported, their brains develop stronger pathways for emotional regulation, learning, and resilience. Af
Children grow best in environments where emotional warmth, nourishing foods, and active movement are part of everyday life. Love and affection form the emotional foundation of healthy development. When children feel secure, valued, and supported, their brains develop stronger pathways for emotional regulation, learning, and resilience. Affectionate interactions release oxytocin, a calming hormone that strengthens bonding and helps children build confidence as they explore the world. A child who feels loved is better equipped to handle stress, form healthy relationships, and develop a stable sense of self.
Nutrition is equally essential, providing the physical building blocks for growth and cognitive development. A balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean proteins, and healthy fats fuels the brain and body. Nutrient‑dense foods support memory, focus, and emotional stability while strengthening the immune system and promoting steady physical growth. When children receive proper nutrition, they have the energy and mental clarity needed to learn, play, and thrive. Poor nutrition, on the other hand, can impair learning, weaken immunity, and contribute to mood instability.
Exercise completes the trio of vital developmental supports. Movement strengthens the heart, muscles, and bones, but its benefits extend far beyond physical health. Regular activity boosts mood through endorphin release, sharpens cognitive function, and improves sleep—an essential component of healthy development. Active play also teaches children cooperation, communication, and problem‑solving. Whether running, biking, dancing, or simply playing outdoors, exercise helps children build confidence and develop lifelong habits that support well‑being.
These three pillars—love and affection, good nutrition, and exercise—work together in powerful synergy. Emotional security encourages healthy eating habits and active play. Good nutrition fuels the energy needed for movement and supports emotional balance. Exercise strengthens both body and mind, making children more receptive to learning and connection. When all three are present, children flourish physically, mentally, and emotionally.
A child who is loved, well‑nourished, and physically active is not just growing—they are thriving.
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Speculative Fiction Short Story
The Diagnostic Room
Timothy was eleven, and he built constellations out of broken clocks.
In his room above the garage — the one his parents called “the guest suite” so friends wouldn’t ask why their son didn’t sleep in the house — he’d take apart old alarm clocks from Goodwill and wire the gears to hang from fishing line. At night, with his desk lamp off, th
Timothy was eleven, and he built constellations out of broken clocks.
In his room above the garage — the one his parents called “the guest suite” so friends wouldn’t ask why their son didn’t sleep in the house — he’d take apart old alarm clocks from Goodwill and wire the gears to hang from fishing line. At night, with his desk lamp off, the brass caught the moonlight. He told his sister, Maya, that each one was a star that forgot how to burn. She was seven, and she believed him.
His future wasn’t just promising. It was obvious. He tested three grades ahead in math. His science fair project on tidal friction won state. The letter from the prep academy in Boston was already on the kitchen counter, folded under a stack of unopened bills. Full scholarship. Boarding. September.
That’s when the house got loud.
His father, Richard, managed hedge funds. His mother, Diane, chaired the hospital board. They fought in the language of people who paid others to clean up blood: quiet, precise, devastating. Broken glass was for the staff to find in the morning. The only thing that echoed was Maya crying, and Timothy putting his headphones on and building another star.
So they found a different problem.
September 4th. Intake.
“Timothy has trouble regulating,” Diane told Dr. Keller. The office had a sand tray and a framed photo of the doctor with a senator. “He isolates. He’s obsessive. He doesn’t connect with us.”
Timothy sat on the leather couch with his hands folded. He’d been told to be polite. “I connect fine with Maya,” he said. “And with Mr. Ellis at school. He lets me use the lab.”
Dr. Keller smiled without her eyes. “Mr. Ellis wrote us. He’s concerned about your… preoccupations. And the incident with the scissors.”
There was no incident. Timothy had cut fishing line. But Mrs. Albright, his homeroom teacher, had written it up after Diane called her. Mrs. Albright’s husband was trying to get on Richard’s golf committee.
“Your parents love you very much,” Dr. Keller said. “We just want to help you succeed.”
The diagnosis took forty minutes. Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder. Generalized Anxiety. Provisional: Obsessive-Compulsive Traits.
Timothy asked what “provisional” meant. No one answered.
October. School.
His IEP meeting had eight adults and no Timothy. The school psychologist, who’d met him twice, said his “clock project” was a manifestation of control issues stemming from “home instability.” She didn’t look at Diane when she said “instability.”
Mr. Ellis stopped letting him use the lab. “Liability,” he said, not meeting Timothy’s eyes. “Doctor’s orders.” The prep academy called to “discuss support needs.” Then they called to “rescind the offer pending further evaluation.”
Maya started sleeping in his room. “Mommy says you’re sick,” she whispered. “Are you going away?”
“No,” Timothy said. “Stars don’t go away. They just get covered up.”
November. Medication.
“Just to take the edge off,” Dr. Keller said. “So you can focus. So you don’t have to feel so much.”
The first pill made the world feel wrapped in wet cotton. The second made him sleep through dinner. The third made Maya cry because he didn’t look up when she showed him a drawing.
“See?” Diane told Richard. “He’s stabilizing.”
His grades dropped. The clock constellations stopped. He couldn’t hold the gears steady — his hands shook. The school flagged the grade drop as “evidence of disease progression.”
Dr. Keller increased the dose.
When Timothy told the school nurse the pills made him feel “like I’m drowning and no one sees,” she wrote “suicidal ideation” in his file. He was pulled from class in front of everyone.
Mrs. Albright called Diane immediately. “We’re all so worried. You’re so brave to get him help.”
December. The Hospital.
It was voluntary, Diane signed. Timothy was eleven.
The intake form said: “Patient presents as flat affect. Parents report escalating opposition and internalized aggression.”
He didn’t speak for the first three days. Not because he was oppositional. Because the new drug gave him akathisia — a crawling, electric need to move that has no word for an eleven-year-old. When he paced, they charted “agitation.” When he sat still and endured it, they charted “catatonia.”
On day four, a nurse named Ray asked him what he used to like.
“Stars,” Timothy said. It was the first word in days.
Ray didn’t write it down.
Diane and Richard visited once. They brought Maya. Maya brought a drawing of a clock with a smile.
“Doctors say you’ll be home soon if you work the program,” Diane said. “We just want our son back.”
Timothy looked at her. The cotton was thicker now. “You have Maya,” he said.
Richard put a hand on Diane’s shoulder. “See what we’re dealing with?” he told Dr. Keller later.
January. The Update.
The discharge summary was five pages. It added Bipolar II and recommended a special therapeutic school. “Prognosis guarded due to family system dynamics,” it said, which meant: the kid isn’t getting better, so blame the kid.
The therapeutic school cost $90,000 a year. Richard’s firm had it written off as a medical expense. Diane told the board she was “taking a leave to focus on family health.”
Maya wasn’t allowed to visit the new school. “Too dysregulating for him,” Dr. Keller said.
Timothy stopped asking about home.
In March, Mr. Ellis retired. He sent one letter. It was returned to sender: “Patient not at this address.”
In the therapeutic school, there were no clocks. Nothing with gears. Nothing sharp. Nothing that could be made into a star.
Timothy learned the rules. He took the pills. He said “I feel safer” in group. He stopped correcting the staff when they called him “buddy.”
He was twelve.
He used to be a constellation.
Now he was a case number.
And the house above the garage was very, very quiet.
Because the problem had been solved.
Every Timothy deserves to be seen before he’s diagnosed. Every Maya deserves a brother, not a case file.
Fiction by Dr Harold Mandel
DrHaroldMandel.org
The Psychiatric Counter-Narrative
THE CHILD PSYCHIATRY REGIME: A STATE-PROTECTED SYSTEM FAILING CHILDREN
Child psychiatry is not a science-based safeguard. It is a coercive institution masquerading as healthcare. Under the banner of protection, it imposes psychiatric labels instead of individualized care, forces medication instead of understanding, and inflicts lasting psychological, social, and physical damage on vulnerable children.
Psychia
Child psychiatry is not a science-based safeguard. It is a coercive institution masquerading as healthcare. Under the banner of protection, it imposes psychiatric labels instead of individualized care, forces medication instead of understanding, and inflicts lasting psychological, social, and physical damage on vulnerable children.
Psychiatric diagnosis destroys futures. A label branded onto a child dictates how they are seen for life. These diagnoses lack biological markers. They are subjective judgments built on cultural bias and behavioral interpretation, not medical fact. Once applied, the label infects every record — school files, medical charts, insurance databases. Teachers stop seeing a child and see a disorder. Clinicians filter every emotion through the diagnosis. The child ceases to be a developing human and becomes a lifelong patient defined by symptoms.
Parents are often complicit, weaponizing psychiatry against their own children. The regime depends on parental cooperation to function. Some parents actively seek psychiatric labels to explain away difficult parenting, to gain disability payments, to excuse abuse, or to offload responsibility for family dysfunction. Others are manipulated into consent, but many embrace the diagnosis because it reframes their child's distress as a medical defect rather than a reaction to home environment. They authorize drugging, sign off on institutionalization, and enforce compliance at home. The child is trapped between state power and parental betrayal. In these cases, psychiatry becomes a tool for parents to pathologize defiance, suppress personality, and enforce obedience under the cover of “treatment.” The child has no advocate — the very adults tasked with protection become enforcers of the regime.
Medication is chemical restraint during brain development. The mass drugging of children is indefensible. Powerful psychoactive drugs are pushed onto developing brains despite clear evidence of long-term harm and no certainty of long-term benefit. The damage is documented: obesity, metabolic disease, emotional numbness, cognitive impairment, irreversible movement disorders, and brutal withdrawal syndromes. This is not treatment. It is experimentation. These drugs are deployed first, before trauma work, family support, or educational solutions are even attempted — often at the urging of parents who want behavior controlled, not understood.
Psychiatric labeling creates stigma that cripples children. A diagnosis rewrites a child’s identity. It teaches teachers to lower expectations, peers to ostracize, and parents to pathologize normal struggle. Children internalize the message that they are broken, defective, permanently damaged. When parents adopt the label, they stop parenting and start managing a “patient.” Resilience is replaced with a medicalized identity that erases talent, strength, and potential for growth. The stigma is not a side effect. It is the system working as designed.
The regime wields unchecked power over children who cannot defend themselves. Psychiatric institutions exercise extraordinary authority: forced hospitalization, involuntary drugging, control over education and family life. Children have no legal autonomy. Professional discretion operates with near-zero accountability. When parents align with the institution instead of the child, the imbalance becomes total. Errors, abuse, and coercion are systemic, not accidental. The breach of trust — from both doctors and parents — causes profound, lifelong harm.
This model medicalizes childhood to avoid addressing real causes. The system prioritizes symptom suppression over understanding trauma, family conflict, poverty, school failure, and social stress. Normal developmental variation is rebranded as mental illness. Distress rooted in a chaotic or abusive home is reduced to a brain defect, giving complicit parents a medical alibi. This is not medicine. It is institutional and parental convenience replacing human understanding.
Incremental reform is insufficient. The system must be dismantled and rebuilt. Demand full transparency in every diagnosis. Impose strict prohibitions on psychiatric drugging of minors without exhaustive non-drug interventions first. Mandate trauma-informed, non-coercive care as the default. Guarantee informed consent with real authority for both parents and children — and create independent advocates for children when parental interests conflict with the child’s. Establish oversight with power to halt psychiatric interventions involving children, especially where parental motives are suspect. Fund family support, counseling, educational accommodations, and community services that choose collaboration over coercion and understanding over medication.
Every child must be approached as a unique human being, not a diagnostic code. Emotional suffering and behavioral struggles require compassion and individualized support, not lifelong labels and drugs administered with parental approval. The power child psychiatry holds — and the power it grants to parents over their children — is too great to escape relentless public scrutiny, rigorous independent evaluation, and absolute protection of children's rights and dignity. Any system that allows parents to outsource parenting to psychiatry, and allows psychiatry to exploit that complicity, has forfeited society's trust.
MandelNews.com
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