The Biopsychosocial Model: Why the Social Keeps Disappearing
- Sandra Zecevic
- Jul 26
- 2 min read
In 1977, George Engel proposed a model most of us trained on and few of us practice. Biopsychosocial. Biology, psychology, and society, held together as one system, none of them optional.
Fifty years later, the model is still on the syllabus. But in the consulting room, it's quietly become biopsychological. The social has gone missing, and nobody announced its departure.

When did the social disappear?
It happened gradually, one assessment form at a time, until "social history" became a single line item next to "employment status," rather than a third of the picture.
It happened, in part, because bio and psycho are easier to treat. A pill changes a brain. A thought record changes a belief. Neither one requires a landlord to fix damp, an employer to change a rota, or a government to fund childcare.
The social conditions people live inside — work, housing, community, access to nature, the politics of the moment — are harder to touch from a therapy chair. So instead of treating them, we've stopped mapping them. We ask about mood and sleep. We rarely ask what someone's week actually looks like, and who is asking anything of them in it.
Who does that serve?
An insurer can price a six-session course of CBT. It cannot price the cost of fixing a workplace. A pharmaceutical company can scale a medication to millions. It cannot scale a change to childcare policy. An employer would rather fund a wellbeing workshop than fund fewer hours. Every one of these actors has a reason to prefer a model where the problem, and the fix, sit inside the individual.
The individual has a reason to prefer it too. It's less frightening to believe you are broken and fixable than to believe your conditions are broken and largely out of your hands. A diagnosis, however unwelcome, is at least legible. It comes with a name, sometimes a community. "Your workplace is structurally unsustainable and you have limited power to change it" comes with none of that.
So we end up with a strange alliance: systems that benefit from not changing, and individuals who find it easier to be told they're the ones who need fixing. Both arrive at the same conclusion by different roads — look inward, not outward.
What a fuller assessment actually asks
A biopsychosocial assessment, done properly, doesn't stop at symptoms and beliefs. It asks what someone's week actually holds. Their work. Their housing. Their relationships and community. Their access to nature, rest, and time that isn't spoken for. The wider politics and economics shaping all of it.
None of this means medication or diagnosis are never right. Sometimes they are exactly right, and withholding them does harm. But the question worth asking first is whether the problem was ever only inside the person — or whether it was always going to look that way, given how rarely anyone asked about the conditions surrounding them.



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