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On 11th July 1911, Winston Churchill had dinner with his cousin Ivor Guest and his wife Alice. Afterward, he told his wife Clementine, “Alice interested me a great deal in her talk about her doctor in Germany, who completely cured her depression. I think this man might be useful to me if my black dog returns.”
The phrase “Churchill’s black dog” would later become associated with him, even though, as biographer Andrew Roberts notes, Churchill only used it on this occasion. Over time, the phrase became an integral part of the Churchill myth. It presented him as not only a great leader but also one who triumphed over mental health struggles.
In the age of Covid-19, when mental health is a growing concern, Churchill’s black dog resonates more than ever. His experience is often framed as one of heroic self-medication—through drinking, painting, and, above all, relentless work.
Churchill’s black dog remains relevant today. I spoke with Fiona Millar, wife of Alistair Campbell, who has a profound understanding of the intersection between power and mental strife. Campbell, once Tony Blair’s right-hand man, suffered from depression, and Millar now runs a support group for those living with partners who face mental health challenges.
When I bring up Churchill’s black dog, Millar explains that mental health struggles are more common in top-tier politics than many realize. “If you look at our current politicians, you’ve got to feel that there’s something in their backgrounds that drives them to do it,” she says.
Churchill wasn’t the only high-ranking political figure to battle mental health issues. Tony Blair admitted in his memoirs that he turned to wine during stressful periods in office. And, of course, the infamous argument and wine spill in the Boris Johnson household before he became Prime Minister is widely known.
I ask Millar what pressures contribute to these challenges for figures like Churchill, Blair, and Johnson. “I think it’s just extremely high-pressure,” she explains. “It’s competitive and can be quite lonely. There are probably more problems than we know about; I have Labour MP friends who’ve had serious issues.”
Do we talk about mental health enough? “I think we’re beginning to,” Millar responds. “But Estelle Morris was a long time ago. She just said, ‘I can’t do it, and it’s not for me.’” She points to the double standard surrounding mental health, mentioning James Brokenshire MP, who stepped down from Cabinet after his cancer spread. “That’s interesting,” Millar says. “It’s okay to say that, but admitting you’re stepping down because you can’t function mentally is less accepted.”
Churchill’s black dog and his legacy loom large. His image—the bulldog fighting on—suggests that overcoming depression is possible. I mention how Boris Johnson frequently references Churchill. Millar responds, “I expect he [Johnson] probably thinks it’s all a ‘big girls’ game,’ or however he likes to phrase it.”
But Churchill lived in an era where work stress was expected to be handled with private stoicism. Today, we are beginning to truly understand the vastness of the mental health challenge.
Dr. Konrad Hitz, medical director at The Kusnacht Practice in Switzerland, believes the pressures Winston Churchill faced are still relevant for leaders today. “CEOs and business leaders face many of the same pressures as politicians,” he tells me. “Big decisions that affect people’s lives can create huge stress. This has only increased during the pandemic, with business closures and job losses.”
Hitz also mentions a study by the National Institute of Mental Health. It found that 72 percent of executives and entrepreneurs are affected by mental health issues, compared to 48 percent of non-entrepreneurs. “A psychological pandemic has been unleashed by the virus,” he says.
So, what can we learn from Churchill’s black dog depression? His biography shows coping strategies that may seem outdated now.
One such strategy was drinking. Churchill’s routine of drinking Pol Roger and wine at breakfast is well-known. There are instances where it affected his leadership. On July 6, 1944, Churchill drank heavily before a Defence Committee meeting. Anthony Eden, the foreign secretary at the time, later recalled: “It was a really ghastly Defence Committee meeting. Winston hadn’t read the paper and was perhaps rather tight…Altogether a deplorable evening.”
Hitz believes we should avoid Churchill’s example: “People are now better informed about the dangers of heavy drinking.” However, alcohol abuse has increased during the pandemic. A recent survey found that 17 million adults in the US now have an alcohol use disorder, with 10 percent of children living with a parent who drinks excessively.
Historians now argue that Churchill’s alcoholism may have been exaggerated—by him and others. Andrew Roberts, Churchill’s biographer, offers a correction: “Churchill loved alcohol, drank steadily, and had a hardy constitution. He was rarely affected by it.”
But drinking wasn’t Churchill’s only coping mechanism. Today, there’s more recognition of his accomplishments as an artist. His ‘daubs,’ as he called them, played a big role in easing stress and perhaps even fighting the black dog of depression.
Susan M. Coles, an arts educator, has long advocated for more arts in the National Curriculum. She emphasizes the benefits of painting for Churchill: “Art was an escape for him,” she says. “Making art lets you step off life’s treadmill. It engages both the hands and the mind, which is invaluable for busy people.” Coles believes this was especially true for Churchill. “His role was so pivotal, and art became his escape. By painting, he reconnected with nature, which helped lift his spirit and cope with the mental strain of leadership—just like managing his black dog.”
At The Kusnacht Practice, Hitz agrees with Coles’ assessment but also highlights other options available at the clinic. “We encourage patients to explore hobbies that help them relax, like exercise, reading, cooking, music, and art therapies such as painting and sculpture,” he says. “These activities, when combined with other therapies, can be very beneficial. If a patient finds a passion, like painting, it can be a powerful tool in recovery.”
Despite this, Churchill’s main remedy remained work. His back-breaking schedule defined his life, even during the 1930s, often seen as his time in the political wilderness. Roberts notes, “In 1930, he gave sixty-one major speeches, forty-eight in 1931, twenty-eight in 1932, and so on, totaling hundreds of speeches and articles.” This relentless work rate reveals how Churchill pushed his way to the premiership through sheer determination.
For Alistair Campbell, work was also an escape from his black dog depression. Millar shares how she always found it remarkable how charming and amusing her husband could be at work, while he reserved his low moods for her at home. Before Campbell took his Downing Street role, he informed Blair of his condition. “He told Blair, ‘You just need to be aware that this has happened,’” Millar recalls. “Blair responded, ‘That’s fine, I’m totally aware of it.’” Millar continues, “For Alistair, work helped him manage his mental health. He worked phenomenally hard and was very productive. That benefited the government, but it was never good for his family.”
This brings to mind Clementine Churchill, who carried the burden of Winston Churchill’s exceptional life while managing his black dog depression. When I speak with Lord Dennis Stevenson, the former chair of HBOS and co-author of the report Thriving at Work, he shares his own experience. “Some people can cope. I’ve run large companies and major non-profits, and no one knew. But it felt like walking through glue,” he says.
Hitz sees many workaholic cases at The Kusnacht Practice, often intertwined with other behaviors and dependencies. “During the pandemic, work-life balances have been challenged. With our leadership treatment programs, we aim to reset this balance, encouraging routines and clear lines between work and free time.”
The conversation around Churchill reflects how far we’ve come in understanding mental health. Roberts clarifies that people have exaggerated the image of Churchill as a depressive. This should caution us against mislabeling in a field where definitions are still evolving.
Despite this, Churchill certainly had his low points. Studying his life reveals a highly resourceful, intelligent, and gifted individual who had to find his own way when the Black Dog appeared.
What can we conclude from Churchill’s life? Hitz quotes Churchill: “Success is not final, failure is not fatal, it is the courage to continue that counts. If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Hitz notes that this message is just as relevant today as we recover from our global crisis. Millar stresses the need to create support networks in communities, echoing her online group for partners of those with mental health struggles. Dennis Stevenson agrees, stating that mental health no longer needs political intervention, as momentum on the issue grows.
Stevenson also offers advice: “At first, I was bad at externalizing problems. But as I got older, I learned to articulate them.”
Stevenson’s words remind me of Macbeth’s encounter with the witches, where they describe something as “a thing without a name.” This highlights the power of naming. Churchill, a master of words, understood this when he spoke of his black dog. As we now tackle mental health, we can learn much from his struggles.
