Kingsley Hall was an experimental household in London’s East End associated with R. D. Laing and the Philadelphia Association between 1965 and 1970. It attempted to create a setting in which people could live through severe distress with support outside the usual organisation of psychiatric hospital life. Its history contains ambition, conflict, individual achievement, and unresolved questions about evidence.

What kind of place was it?

The Philadelphia Association, co-founded by Laing in 1965, established the community household at Kingsley Hall that year. The project brought together people experiencing distress and others interested in its possibilities. It sought to loosen the usual division between professional staff and patients. Historical accounts describe a household outside the structures of an NHS or private hospital, with no conventional programme of required treatment. [1] [2]

That organisational difference is central to understanding the experiment. “A place to live” and “a hospital providing treatment” create different expectations about authority, responsibility, admission, daily life, and the meaning of unusual behaviour. Much of the debate about Kingsley Hall concerns what could be gained or lost through changing those expectations.

Gandhi and a group of people beside a newly planted tree outside Kingsley Hall.
Gandhi planting a tree outside Kingsley Hall on 3 December 1931. This photograph shows the building’s earlier community history, more than three decades before Laing’s household opened in 1965. Image source and rights: Unknown photographer; GandhiServe via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

Laing’s proposed change of setting

In “Metanoia: Some Experiences at Kingsley Hall, London,” Laing presents two hypotheses. He proposes that an experience diagnosed as acute schizophrenia might itself be a resource called upon when other possibilities seem exhausted, and that changing its setting might alter its course and meaning. His chosen term, metanoia, refers to a change of mind. [3]

Laing frames his proposal as a hypothesis: a breakdown

may itself be a resource a human being calls upon when all else seems impossible.

R. D. Laing — “Metanoia: Some Experiences at Kingsley Hall, London”, publisher selection, PDF p. 6 (excerpt) [3]

Laing argues that the social response to an episode can become part of what the person experiences as persecution or misunderstanding. He asks what might happen in a household organised to accompany the experience rather than immediately arrest it. These are statements of his experimental rationale. They do not establish that every psychotic episode is a healing journey, or demonstrate the effectiveness of the household. [3]

The question about setting can be considered independently of the most expansive version of the hypothesis. A person’s surroundings and relationships matter to their experience of distress. The additional claim that a particular kind of breakdown is intrinsically transformative requires its own justification.

Mary Barnes and the danger of a single story

Mary Barnes became the best-known participant associated with the household. Her account with Joseph Berke helped shape its public reputation. Adrian Chapman’s study emphasises differences between Barnes’s spiritual understanding, Berke’s psychoanalytic account, and Laing’s wider ideas. Barnes also developed as an artist. Her life should therefore be approached as more than an illustration of somebody else’s theory. [4]

The methodological difficulty is straightforward. A vivid individual story can reveal experiences that an aggregate measure misses. It cannot establish how representative those experiences were. The same applies to an account of harm or disappointment. Each deserves attention, while a judgement about the household as a whole requires a wider range of evidence.

It is also important to distinguish the different voices within a shared narrative. A resident’s explanation of what mattered, a helper’s interpretation, and a historian’s reconstruction may overlap without being identical. Preserving those differences makes the history more informative.

A household with competing experiences

Chapman’s archival research broadens the history beyond Barnes by examining accounts written by other residents and visitors. It presents Kingsley Hall as a social, spiritual, artistic, and countercultural experiment as well as a psychiatric one. It also identifies conflicts within the household and tensions with its surroundings. [2]

The effort to reduce formal hierarchy raises questions that remain relevant to communal projects. Who makes decisions when there is no clear staff structure? Who carries responsibility when one person’s needs dominate shared life? How can a resident challenge a charismatic founder? How are consent, privacy, practical support, and the interests of other residents negotiated?

These questions are an analytical framework for evaluating the project, not claims that every possible failure occurred there. Removing a formal role does not by itself remove influence, dependence, or differences in power. A historical assessment must investigate how those relationships actually worked.

What would count as success?

The answer depends partly on the claim being made. A resident might value being heard, developing a friendship, producing art, or finding a place in which they were not primarily treated as a patient. A clinical evaluation might ask about distress, everyday functioning, hospital use, physical health, and sustained change over time. A social history might investigate whether the household made another form of living imaginable.

His related proposal in The Politics of Experience envisages guidance

by people who have been there and back again.

R. D. Laing — The Politics of Experience, p. 106 (excerpt) [5]

These forms of evidence can inform one another, but they are not interchangeable. A powerful testimony does not supply an outcome rate. An outcome measure does not exhaust the meaning of someone’s life. A credible assessment states the question first and then asks whether the available evidence can answer it.

In the material considered here, the evidence is predominantly historical, interpretive, and testimonial. It supports an account of ideas, events, and lived experiences. It does not justify a numerical claim about the household’s effectiveness, or a general claim that its approach outperformed other care.

Kingsley Hall and the later households

Kingsley Hall’s period as this experimental household ended in 1970, but the Philadelphia Association’s residential work continued in other settings. Michael Guy Thompson’s account of living at Portland Road during the 1970s describes a later household through the idea of friendship. It is evidence about that subsequent setting, with its own relationships and circumstances. [2] [6]

Keeping these settings distinct avoids turning several decades of varied practice into a single “Laing method.” Continuities of purpose can coexist with differences in organisation, participants, and day-to-day life. The story is more precise when each account is located in its particular household and period.

Its place in the history of psychiatry

Kingsley Hall made a practical challenge to the assumption that an institutional patient role was the only available basis for responding to severe distress. It also exposed the difficulty of turning an ethical aspiration into a sustainable shared arrangement. Those two aspects should be examined together.

Its history is most useful when it sharpens questions about power, hospitality, responsibility, and evidence. It cannot settle contemporary treatment decisions by analogy alone. The possibility of learning from an experiment does not depend on treating its founder as infallible or its residents as examples of a single predetermined story.

For the ideas behind the project, see Laing’s approach to psychotherapy and the overview of his work. For the experience of threatened identity that informs his earlier writing, see ontological insecurity.

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References and source notes

Book page numbers refer to the editions listed below. PDF page numbers are identified explicitly. Interpretive examples are labelled in the text.

  1. University of Glasgow Archives & Special Collections. R. D. Laing Collection. Collection description, consulted 14 October 2026.Cited: collection description. Online source
  2. Chapman, Adrian (2021; first online 2020). “Dwelling in Strangeness: Accounts of the Kingsley Hall Community, London (1965–1970), Established by R. D. Laing.” Journal of Medical Humanities, 42, 471–494. DOI: 10.1007/s10912-020-09656-0. The associated correction, DOI: 10.1007/s10912-021-09685-3, corrects Keith Musgrove’s surname.Cited: pp. 471–473; pp. 471–473; thematic analysis; title and introduction. Online source
  3. Laing, R. D. (1968). “Metanoia: Some Experiences at Kingsley Hall, London.” Recherches, no. 8. References identify PDF pages 6–12 of the publisher’s mixed-contributor selection, rather than the numbering of a different reprint.Cited: publisher selection, PDF p. 6; publisher selection, PDF pp. 7–8. Online source
  4. Chapman, Adrian (2020; first online 2018). “May all Be Shattered into God”: Mary Barnes and Her Journey through Madness in Kingsley Hall. Journal of Medical Humanities, 41, 207–228. DOI: 10.1007/s10912-018-9517-1.Cited: pp. 207–208 and subsequent analysis. Online source
  5. Laing, R. D. (1967). The Politics of Experience and The Bird of Paradise. Penguin Books, 1970 reprint.Cited: p. 106.
  6. Thompson, Michael Guy (2018). “Sanity and Friendship: The Therapeutic Element of Residential Living.” Journal of Humanistic Psychology. Online-first version, 12 pages. DOI: 10.1177/0022167818770328.Cited: abstract and opening discussion. Online source