In this article, I suggest that the tendency on the part of men to endow female romantic partners with redemptive force, reflected in Jung’s notion of Anima, derives from a failure of socialization in puberty. Although culturally sanctioned, this misconstrues the potency of erotic relationships to reshape the psyche, substituting the confined ego project of redemption for the more open-ended one of spiritual emancipation; it also undermines erotic polarity and as such is largely self-defeating.
Continue reading “The Archetype of Woman as Redemptress: psychodynamic, literary and patriarchal aspects”
Tag: psychoanalysis
Affect displacement
In classical Freudian analysis, affect displacement (Affektverschiebung) occurs when the energy with which a particular drive or desire is endowed with a view to its realization, is displaced to an alternative object (an alternative purposive schema) under the action of the censoring activity of the superego.
Freud mainly considers sexual or aggressive drives and their unconscious repression, which results in observed behavior which draws on the energy associated with the taboo object for purposes which sedate or partially realize the drive while avoiding the taboo content. For example, the unconscious desire to kill the father may be expressed in sadistic behavior towards others in the environment where such behavior is more tolerated by social norms. Nevertheless, the Freudian schema would seem to operate wherever, and for whatever reason, drive gratification is unavailable, including in cases where the rationale for repression is conscious or, at least, represented to the consciousness in some form. This need not cover only supposed social taboos, but also complex ethical nexuses of the subject which draw energy from a variety of sources, some being drive repression but others including compassion, collaborative behavior or perceived self-interest. In other words, I may decline to do things based on grounds which I can rationalize to myself as being ethical, and that rationalization may indeed not be entirely without merit: on occasion it may even be fully merited; it is still the case that drives will seek gratification and that the affect will be displaced onto a cognitive schema which is available to the mind and in some way superficially resembles the censored course of action. When a given situation arises repeatedly, habitual pathways are formed in the mind which automatically direct the energy towards the displacement object. In clinically observed contexts this may lead to what is qualified as obsessive-compulsive behavior but in reality such behavior is a matter of degree and characterizes all of us.
The Freudian schema is simple to understand and, together with its extensions as I have suggested, seems to shed light on much observed behavior. Nevertheless, from my perspective there is also something deeply unsatisfying about it, for it offers no account of the origin of drives or of their legitimate role in our lives, encouraging us to treat psychic material as suspect and failing to recognize that the good life is unlivable on the basis of reason alone. Freud seems to view most instinctive activity as at best catastrophically naïve and at worst as decidedly sinister. This is why repression is not only justified from the standpoint of the reality principle, but often, he would seem to suggest, wise and desirable. Although he is often credited with killing the philosophical concept of the self, it seems to me that he does no more than displace the Cartesian body/mind dichotomy into the mind itself; descriptively, primary processes overdetermine behavior, yet normatively he would rather they did not. All he seeks to do is moderate the worst excesses of a repression which remains imperative and inevitable.
This Hobbesian account of drive formation needs, it seems to me, to be unmasked and to be challenged, since it matches in no particular the knowledge of the human psyche we have from anthropology or experimental psychology, never mind any spiritual insights we may have into the question. In short, if drives are to be mistrusted then their repression is likely to be advantageous in many instances. What we see, however, is that we frequently repress drives which should be trusted (or which at least should be interpreted and prompt some kind of action) simply because of an irrational or at least cowardly fear of their consequences. That we do so is an obvious consequence of (and at the same time the generative precondition for) what Foucault called the social construction of subjectivity.
In repressing drives, often we lose touch with our inner voice. When what we do is habitually conditioned to the prompting we receive, we dissipate the energy which sought to guide our steps and render ourselves insensitive to basic callings of our heart. In this way, we frustrate not only desires which we are perhaps well advised to reconsider; we frustrate our whole life’s purpose. We may, in fact, be well aware that what we are doing is only a poor substitute for what we really want; we do it regardless and we are continually dissatisfied with ourselves, sometimes truly burdened with shame or self-hatred. When the prospect of drive fulfilment becomes more manifest and we continue to deny it to ourselves, this tension may become unbearable. These are moments of existential crisis and of decisions which will have ramifications for many lifetimes. It seems to me that, however scary it may be to move your life into alignment with your soul’s purpose, the alternative is, or should be, more scary still.
Somatic climatology
In a previous post, I discussed John Sarno’s ideas on the psychological etiology of pain and other pathologies. In this context I would like to add some further hypotheses on how emotional repression affects the body and the felt sense.
The repression of emotions from consciousness does not merely prevent their expression in the neocortex. Emotions are naturally linked to the much more ancient endocrine system, which affects the body by means of hormones produced in the glands and vectored through the bloodstream and ultimately the extracellular matrix. The nervous and endocrine systems are interdependent, with response coordinated by the hypothalamus in the brain. The repression of emotions is a process which affects both the nervous system and certain key endocrine functions related to the evolutionarily adaptive response to the emotion in question. However, the body’s natural response to these locked emotions is not altogether disabled – they continue to produce effects in parts of the somatic and autonomic nervous systems as well as in parts of the endocrine system. The key point to understand is therefore that repression from consciousness is not equivalent to complete somatic disactivation. Repression by the ego is an imperfect dam, around which the stored emotions must find routes in order to maintain homeostasis. Because these routes do not provide for a full discharge of the emotions, however, the body is under constant tension.
We may consider that the primary emotional response is the alloplastic one – the one which is directed to changing the situation at the origin of the emotions being felt – and that it is this alloplastic response which is suppressed (if we are anything like our bonobo cousins, the repressed instinct may frequently be to have sex; this response does not change the external situation as such but rather its social expression, and could be termed mesoplastic or socioplastic). In its place, an autoplastic response is favored – the organism tries to change itself.
The inappropriate and sustained nervous and endocrine response to repressed emotions is what gives rise to the pathologies discussed, and it is important to realize that this is not just a “trick of the mind” but rather that it takes place on a biochemical level which, while not fully autonomous, enjoys a degree of autonomy from the conscious functions which we tend to think of when we use the term “mind”. In reality, of course, it is our terminology and its intrinsic duality which is at fault, because the bodymind operates as an integrated system in which certain material may be withheld from consciousness, but the vast majority is unavailable to consciousness in the first place.
The same objection has to be raised in respect of a focus on pathological syndromes only. In fact, the repressed response does not produce candidate pathologies only, but directly influences the biochemical environment of the body, proprioception, and our mental somatic map. It is not only pain, allergy or disturbed bowel function which may be provoked by emotional circumstances, but more generally also our level of somatic energy, our self-perception and our sense of wellness: aspects which we may think of as an innate part of our personality, but in reality are no more so than these other more obvious disturbances.
This raises, from my perspective, the interesting question of how an undisturbed individual would experience the body and embodiment. If it was not immediately obvious to me that my pain had emotional causes, it was even less obvious that the same was true for my general sense of self, for my general sense of inhabiting the body I inhabit. If this experience can also be altered by an awareness of its etiology, then interesting times lie ahead.
I wish all my readers a happy 2013!
John Sarno’s work on the etiology and treatment of psychosomatic disorders
I have been troubled all my adult life by disorders termed, which generally meant dismissed as, psychosomatic. These are disorders for which no physical etiology can be found, although they may have observable physical manifestations. From a psychological point of view, they have also recently been classified as somatoform disorders. As such, I was very interested to discover recently John Sarno‘s work on the subject.
Sarno’s basic premise is that just as emotional conflict can give rise to neuroses, so it also can give rise to pain and other physical conditions. This linkage may be direct, with Sarno positing that localized pain is a result of ischemia ordered by the central nervous system. Such emotional conflicts may also, via mechanisms which are presumably diverse, but which Sarno does not elucidate, result in afflictions to which non-psychological factors also contribute, whether in terms of their etiology or their clinical development. A key feature of Sarno’s posited diagnosis of tension myositis syndrome (TMS) is the variability in its lifetime expression. As such, it is an umbrella diagnosis or metadiagnosis for a variety of syndromes which have in common a non-progressive character. For a fuller discussion, read his 2006 book The Divided Mind.
I suffered in my early teens from clinical depression and situational urinary incontinence. By my mid-teens, this was replaced by muscular fasciculations, which I was convinced for a long time had to be a manifestation of a degenerative condition. Muscular function remained mechanically and electrically normal however, and much later this was officially classified as “benign fasciculation syndrome” (although it has receded, I am not fully free of it to this day). I went on at college to develop chronic fatigue syndrome, which at one point resulted in my being almost unable to walk. I also suffered at that time from migraines and back pain, and peri-orbital migraine was a regular occurrence for many years afterwards. During all this time, there have been no notable biochemical abnormalities observed.
Now I have not been monitoring bodily symptoms against my emotional state for many years and so I cannot provide a full account; it has changed immensely for the better, but I have still had my share of annoying things, in particular abdominal pains, and six or seven years ago Achilles tendinitis. Around May last year I developed plantar fasciitis on the left foot; it took a year to heel but then almost immediately the right foot developed the same symptoms. It has been quite debilitating as strenuous effort has tended to worsen it. All this led me to seek effective relief from the pain in various ways, a subject to which I will return.
Sarno’s notion, therefore, is very appealing. Indeed, given the importance of physical complaints, so called “hysterical conversion“, in the early development of psychoanalysis, it is not quite clear why attention has mostly been subsequently restricted to behavioral neuroses, especially outside of the Reichian tradition. Even if the mechanisms remain obscure, it is attractive to view psychosomatic disorders as somatic forms or expressions of neurosis.
However, I suspect the brain is less involved in mediating this relationship than we think. Sarno claims that the pain is directly generated by the brain as a diversion from unwanted emotions which threaten to break through into consciousness. I fancy this is otherwise: the brain is involved, certainly, in the repression of emotions, and by preventing their expression it prevents their discharge. The bodily symptoms, however, do not necessarily require neurological involvement and may arise on the basis of pure biochemistry. This is illustrated by research on the role of myofibroblasts in the mechanic regulation of connective tissue (see here). To me, the idea that the brain is busy, like some cranky old Wizard of Oz, devising ways to present consciousness with ever-new diversions seems crude, and it is not required to explain Sarno’s clinical outcomes. Variation in the site of pain may have simple biomechanical explanations.
So Sarno’s work is pathbreaking and liberating, definitively contributing to a shift in understanding of psychosomatic disorders, but it nonetheless needs to be taken with the necessary pinch of salt. Sarno offers, in The Divided Mind, no epidemiological data to back up his claim that the syndrome chosen by the brain is a matter of fashion (in a Kuhnian perspective, it is of course much more plausible that it is the diagnosis and corresponding collection of statistics which is driven by fashion, rather than the patient’s symptoms, especially since many of these diagnoses are evidently imprecise). He also offers no evidence to back up the conjecture that local ischemia explains the pain or that this is cerebrally induced (and if so, how). Indeed, the locus of pain is not discussed either, and some statements suggest Sarno does not have a deep understanding of myofascial biochemistry.
Sarno follows the usual path of airbrushing Reich out of the history of psychoanalysis, although it should be obvious that Reich was the first to look at the body and mind as a whole. However, his major error is to follow Freud’s mistrust of the id and misplaced trust in the superego. Freud, as we know, viewed repression as in many ways akin to a virtue upon which civilization depended. Sarno also paints a picture of the “childish, primitive” unconscious as the enemy within, even referring to it, with patent ideological bias, as the “dregs of evolution”, contrasting it to the “ethical and moral” conscious mind, a view hardly conducive to integration and well-being, and one which even Freud would have struggled to maintain (Nietzsche of course having demolished it comprehensively). His negative views of the moral quality of children are particularly depressing in their Calvinist overtones.
Several of Sarno’s statements in relation to brain neurology seem completely wrong: for example he attributes “rational, civilized” behavior to the neocortex, labeling it “that part of the human brain that has been added in the process of evolution”, even though the neocortex developed in the first mammals. The attempted equation between brain structures and Freud’s threefold division of the mind is presented as fact, whereas it is not a notion entertained by any mainstream psychoanalyst or neurologist. Indeed, Sarno oscillates gaily between the unconscious/preconscious/conscious model and the id/ego/superego model as if they were the same thing.
All this aside, this is a book which opened my mind to what now seems like an obvious fact but has long gone unnoticed, namely that the mind does not simply affect the body in vague, unspecified ways but perhaps in very specific ways where a direct link can be drawn between emotional circumstances and pain. It is pretty clear now to me what the circumstances were which led to both episodes of plantar fasciitis, and I am inclined to agree with Sarno that this knowledge is immensely emancipatory.
Guru
A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook a query about whether a gentleman called Sadhguru (whose site is here) was or was not an authentic spiritual teacher.
Trying to distinguish true from false teachers is, for reasons I will suggest below, a particular obsession of ours, around which considerable emotion is generated. But really we should be forewarned. If there were true and false teachers, then there would be truth and falsehood, good and bad, and these things there are not. Truth is situated not only beyond good and evil but also beyond truth and falsehood; truth in the non-dual sense does not tolerate or recognize a world in which teachers are true or false, any more than it tolerates or recognizes one in which they are good or bad, right or wrong. This is all a conceit of the mind. Yet we play it, again, and again. This game of the mind closes us to the heart, the only organ with which we can see and understand.
Now, personally, when I am trying to figure out whether a teacher has really “got it” and is saying and teaching something of general value to the human race (and not only to themselves, which is not my concern), I have a golden rule – what they say about sex. Mostly they ignore it, which is not a great sign. However, in this video, Sadhguru is asked a question and in his reply he portrays the sexual instinct, not as bad, but as essentially unimportant and a distraction.
This is objectively not the case. Whatever realms sexuality may or may not open us to – and many of us instinctively sense its relationship to the divine – it is in any case the locus of mankind’s fundamental neuroses. It cannot be worked around or ignored – it needs to be healed. That is, it perhaps can be worked around, but this is no shortcut, it is a very, very long detour. One can well imagine how Osho would have answered; but perhaps even more tellingly one cannot imagine that, in Rajneeshpuram, this question would ever have been asked. It was clear to Osho and I believe it was clear in practice that human sexuality should be unleashed, and that whatever mess one might make of it (provided it did not lead to unwanted pregnancies or disease) was in any case better, and resulted in more learning and personal growth, than the alternative.
Several of the others on the discussion thread, in tending to defend Sadhguru, displayed, to my mind, two fundamental mistakes. Firstly, they used their mind to try to assess whether what Sadhguru was saying was or was not, or could or could not be construed as, compatible with other teachings, such as those of Osho, with which they were familiar and tended to identify. To me this question is entirely unimportant and not very informative. What I say is very compatible, I believe at least, with what Osho said; I feel I know his mind and it is as if we are one mind. And yet, people are not queueing up to follow me, nor I think should they (yet 😉 ). Osho has simply realized, embodied, things that I have not, and these things are transmitted from heart to heart; what he says is just background music to this language of the heart. The relevance of what he says is a sign of his connectedness to the universe, but it is neither necessary nor sufficient, and it could deceive. Secondly, and this underlines the folly of the approach via the mind, my companions seemed unduly concerned to be inclusive; not to exclude Sadhguru, or anyone else, from the circle of qualified teachers, always to give them the benefit of the doubt, to avoid choosing. This should show us that the mind is not the neutral arbiter we imagine it to be. It is at least as concerned to avoid disrupting the ego as it is to uncover truth.
So my very rapid working hypothesis on Sadhguru is that, whilst he may be worth listening to and may have many qualities, he is not pushing his followers on the issues they need to be pushed on and they are not getting the answers they look for and need.
But how do I feel, making this judgement? If I am honest, it provides a certain gratification, but, though I stand by it, it is not very pleasant to really become aware of. In it I find shades at least of anger and destruction, triumphalism and revenge. And yet he seems like a nice guy whom I might well find good company and could in the worst case simply ignore. Perhaps he is indeed a con artist. But it is not my protestations or any views of mine at all which are going to determine whether or not people seek him out or how they feel about what they find.
My joy in judgment and the sense of victory it gives me are primal emotions which serve primal survival needs. These needs, however, are objectively absent here. I find myself hating that he may be loved, admired, respected and resenting my own, uninvited feeling of inferiority. By labelling him a false teacher I foreclose the possibility I might learn anything from him, which gives me nothing. Ultimately, I condemn him for not fulfilling a role he has never asked to play: that of a father figure in whose hands my childish insecurities would dissolve into boundless love and reassurance; and I envy him for having access to love which seems denied to me.
Seen in this light, the sense of victory masks a profound inner defeat. I have essentially said to him, as I have said to my father, “Fuck you, I can stand on my own two feet.” This attitude of defiance, this unresolved Oedipus complex, while it may have been necessary for ego-survival, has become so etched into my behavior patterns that it forecloses ever receiving that which my inner child and my soul desire. And that is very sad, and very lonely.
It is exactly the same thing I do on a daily basis when I foreclose possibilities which come across my path to learn and love, out of a misplaced fear of displacement and manipulation. Even if those I encounter may not come into consideration as gurus. This is because I approach no-one as myself a whole being. Onto each and everyone I project a paternal role, hoping desperately they may meet some unmet childhood need of mine, and being eternally disappointed. Disappointment becomes a lifestyle; it even becomes a solace.
Humankind’s search for a guru is always a search to meet unmet childish needs. This is why, in the search for guru, we are always disappointed. There is no guru unless and until we are guru ourselves; and then all is guru. Thus the quality of the other, their state of enlightenment, is in reality irrelevant. What we call enlightenment is only a quality of awareness, not the essence of being, and it is with the essence of being that we must first come into contact. It may help to be in contact with someone who is aware of that essence of being within themselves; I do not deny it. Yet the surrender we need is a surrender only to ourselves. The false guru is the one who will allow you to believe he (or she) is true; that he or she really corresponds to your childish impulses. In such a relationship, as in any relationship founded on such a presupposition, you will become trapped. If a teacher is desirous to help you, he will never allow you to believe that he is “true”.
This means that another’s discernment can never substitute for your own. So much confusion stems from lack of awareness of this fundamental law! I may be right about Sadhguru, or I may be wrong, but you should not listen to me, or to anyone else, because it is not possible, even for an enlightened person, to answer this question other than directly to your heart, and by inviting you to examine yourself what you would have liked him to advise you on. Essentially, either I do not know, or I can not tell. Whether I am right does not help you to be right; not unless I can become you and this I cannot do through the mind. You must remain open to the essence of being wherever you find it, and you find it everywhere, accepting that the unmet childish needs will always remain unmet, but also understanding that there is no need any longer to meet them, and therefore remaining vulnerable, never judging with the ego-backlash of the mind which hates all, but weighing wisdom with the heart, which loves all. Then you will no longer seek guru, but it will have come to you.
Electra
Ich glaube, ich war schön: wenn ich die Lampe ausblies vor meinem Spiegel, fühlt ich es mit keuschem Schauer. Ich fühlt’ es, wie der dünne Strahl des Mondes in meines Körpers weisser Nacktheit badete so wie in einem Weiher, und mein Haar war solches Haar, vor dem die Männer zittern, dies Haar, versträhnt, beschmutzt, erniedrigt, verstehst du’s, Bruder? Ich habe alles, was ich war, hingeben müssen. Meine Scham hab’ ich geopfert, die Scham, die süsser als Alles ist, die Scham, die wie der Silberdunst, der milchige des Monds, um jedes Weib herum ist und das Grässliche von ihr und ihrer Seele weghält, Verstehst du’s, Bruder! diese süssen Schauder hab’ ich dem Vater opfern müssen. Meinst du, wenn ich an meinem Leib mich freute, drangen seine Seufzer, drang nicht sein Stöhnen an mein Bette? Eifersüchtig sind die Toten: und er schickte mir den Hass, den hohläugigen Hass als Bräutigam. So bin ich eine Prophetin immerfort gewesen und habe nichts hervorgebracht aus mir und meinem Leib als Flüche und Verzweiflung.
(Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s libretto for Richard Strauss’s Elektra)
Let me share with you a painting.
This was done, unprompted of course, by my six-year-old daughter; the little bird on the left is her, the big one on the right, me; and the heart represents what hearts represent.
In sharing this with you, I want to make two points, which, in fact, are really only one point from two perspectives.
But first a brief discursus.
Carl Gustav Jung’s invention of the Electra complex earned him, as we know, Freud’s opprobrium. Freud was unwilling to contemplate a symmetric process on the part of the girl child to the male Oedipus complex which forms such a basic plank of his theory of male psychosexual development. The reason for this appears to have been that the initial infantile oral attachment is to the mother; in the male child, this attachment needs to be broken so that the object of sexual attraction is sought outside the family unit; for the female child the problem is not posed in these terms because the female/female bond to the mother remains. The female child thus would not form any infantile presexual bond and therefore not need to break this bond. As sexual development progresses, objects of attachment can only be sought in the outside world.
The Freudian account, I guess, is by now thoroughly unconvincing to any clinical psychoanalyst, who knows from repeated experience the importance of fixation on the father figure as a source of female neurosis.
In an earlier post, I reflected that Sex at Dawn, due to its deconstruction of the elemental nature of the nuclear family group, might anyway require a reevaluation of the Oedipus and Electra complexes. On reflection, Sex at Dawn does not really imply anything for Freud’s theory: the biological mother has an archetypal role and status in any society. However, I believe psychoanalysts have not awaited the findings of paleoanthropology to start to criticize both Freud’s and Jung’s accounts as reflecting contingent social circumstances rather than universal truths. As such, at the very least the intensity of the psychic conflict alluded to may be primarily a consequence of the poverty of adult social relations, whether male or female, to which children in industrial societies have access. If the mother or father fails or is absent, the available social tissue is insufficient to take up the slack. This would not have characterized pre-industrial, much less pre-agricultural societies, in which the absence of one or other parent is likely in any event to have been a common scenario and therefore one to which the human psyche presumably developed resilience.
Whatever its theoretical basis, however, descriptively the Electra complex seems to have been highly relevant in the environment in which psychoanalytic theory was born. Its clinical relevance probably explains why it is the only concept developed by Jung which made it into mainstream clinical practice. Post-structuralist, feminist and Marxist readings of fairy tales and dowry practices tell a similar story: whether or not the role of the father figure is to any degree biologically programmed, it is certainly to an extraordinary degree culturally reinforced. Jung was neither wrong to see in the neurosis with which Sabina Spielrein presented the shadow of her violent yet charming father, nor to identify a cultural pattern attested from the earliest literate societies (sex-negative patriarchy struck back when Stalin closed Spielrein’s experimental kindergarten in Moscow in 1926 on charges of sexual perversion and Hitler’s troops shot her for her Jewish origins in Rostov on Don in 1942)(1).
I would like, therefore, to bear witness in this way to the astonishing delicacy of the love between father and daughter. In our emotionally devastated world, each generation is still borne anew with all its potential for love. The emotional desert in which we all live certainly contributes in a major way to the semiotic charge of the relationship and its frequently unhappy course. And yet, we instinctively sense that we are in the presence of something deeply sacred – in many men’s experience perhaps uniquely and unbearably so.
In sharing the painting with you, I want to say something to women, and to fathers.
To women, I hope it shows you that, whatever has been your personal history, your love for your father has been a precious part of who you are as a human being. In all likelihood he was an inept, if not appalling guardian of the treasure entrusted to him. The treasure, however, is yours, and remains.
And to fathers of daughters (though frankly, it is really very similar with sons): please wake up and cherish this tender miracle which lights your days. In doing so, remember that we are the servants of our children, and not they of us.
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Notes:
(1) Jung’s proximate source seems not to have been Sophocles, however, but Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Strauss’s librettist whose words are cited at the top of this article.
Sex, pain, and the death instinct, revisited
As I mentioned in a previous post, I have been reading a book by Joachim Bauer entitled Warum ich fuehle, was du fuehlst (“Why I feel what you feel”), which is basically a mixture of science and conjecture about the function of the human mirror neuron system. It turns out that the same neurons fire when we perform an act ourselves and when we see it performed by someone else, and this, it is argued, lies at the basis of our ability to experience empathy and to intuitively read the emotional state and intentions of the other.
A leitmotiv of the book is the idea that social interaction performs an essential role in neurobiological development. Famously, though probably apocryphally, Frederick II is said to have conducted an experiment whereby children were raised without hearing human language; deprived of this stimulus, they are said to have died. Perhaps more believably, controversial experiments on macaque monkeys have shown that, deprived of social contact, they develop psychosis. This conclusion is not new, but it appears we are starting to uncover some of its neurobiological foundation.
Controlled scientific experiments cited by Bauer in the book show that social exclusion can generate pain in the same centers that register physical pain. We have for some time known that the perception of physical pain is not a simple function of external stimulus, but also factors in, and fundamentally, psychological aspects – what that pain means, or is thought or feared to mean, to the perceiver. Now further we know, and this is backed up in a 2005 paper by Naomi Eisenberger and Matthew Liebermann, entitled Why It Hurts to Be Left Out, that purely social factors can induce pain which is similar in all respects to “physiological” pain (indeed, it is physiological pain).
Interjecting a couple of points of my own here: firstly, pain is something we are wired to avoid. Indeed, we avoid it instinctively, even if we are consciously prepared to confront it knowing it has certain benefits (or more accurately, is a by-product of processes which have such benefits). The greater the pain we experience, the more we privilege its avoidance over any rational assessment of the benefits to ourselves of enduring it. Secondly, what is already true for physiogenic pain is true, of course, a fortiori for psychogenic pain (or perhaps I should call it “sociogenic pain”), namely the pain we actually experience is a function of our psychological state at the moment of the stimulus. There are common features, perhaps, but there is no standard human response to life events which modify our social constellation such as bereavement, loss of ones job, retirement and so on. Just as touch, which might otherwise procure pleasure, will feel painful when applied at a point where we have open wounds, so also the same life event will be experienced by some even pleasurably whereas it might have the most excruciating effect on others. In medicine this is called hyperalgesia.
Indeed, this is true to such an extent that it leads to a necessary qualitative distinction in any discussion of psychogenic versus physiogenic pain. Certain life events, such as bereavement, are probably universally painful in at least some degree, and therefore comparable to fractures, burns, stings and so on. In other words they signal to us a real and universal need to bring the healing resources of the body to bear on the wound inflicted. The vast majority of situations and events which cause psychogenic pain, however, are not like this at all – our reaction to them is intensely personal and someone else’s reaction to the same events could be totally different.
As I am in the business of giving personal development suggestions in this blog, and not just describing things, allow me then to say that it is extremely important to make this distinction. There are many things in the world in relation to which vast swathes of the population are in a neurotic state. It is thus statistically common to observe a similar reaction to these things in many people. Nonetheless, this does not make these things natural or inevitable sources of pain. They may even be natural sources of pleasure.
This is likely the case in many instances where many people – men and women – experience sexual jealousy. There are many grounds to suspect that observing ones partner and other people one loves being sexually intimate with others, or to learn about it or hear of it, is in fact naturally pleasurable, and was experienced as such in our Urwelt. Just to cite a few: there is the vicarious experience of pleasure which I mentioned before; the social bonds which it creates to the new sexual partner; the prospect of half-siblings improving the life chances of ones own offspring; the prospect of ones own enhanced sexual gratification as a result; and so on. Perhaps most convincingly, there are people who enjoy it. There are not many who enjoy objective sources of physical pain.
Nonetheless, many people experience this as pain. What to do? It is easy enough to say that one should stick out the pain and eventually it will die down and be replaced by pleasure. However, as any sufferer from chronic pain will tell you, this is not even necessarily true, much less is it a sufficient motivation to endure a potentially long and painful journey to a seemingly uncertain destination.
I do not have a simple answer either, but I think some reflection on what causes this hyperalgesia may point the way. Already when it is understood that the person suffering from jealousy experiences physical pain, it becomes clearer than it might otherwise have been that their reaction to this experience is, to a significant degree, outside of their control. Anger or recriminations in relation to it are pointless. Indeed, worse than pointless – such a reaction invites the sufferer to feel guilty, deny their pain, or submit to the other, refreezing and reinforcing the factors which led to the experience of jealousy in the first place.
Jealousy is felt as alienation – a withdrawal behind the defenses of the ego and a loss of the sense of contact with the world, a sense which was clearly tenuous to begin with. Alienation in childhood becomes self-fulfilling prophecy in adulthood. The cycle can only be broken by showing empathy and connection – not by withdrawing it and leaving yet another victim abandoned carelessly on life’s highway.
And this really brings me back to the essentiality of social contact, of touch and of sexual expression also. It appears that there is nothing in humanity’s basic repertoire of interaction which is merely “nice to have”, which we can ignore or neglect without fear of consequences. The idea of freedom without community – cultivated the world over as a spiritual value – is in fact a nonsense, or at best something which is only possible on the basis of a very strong foundation of community in the past.
Bauer tells familiar stories and some less so. That the passage into retirement is an explanatory variable for mortality rates. How couples seem so often to die in close proximity to each other. But also of how persons condemned for their crimes by the community to expulsion, voluntarily take on themselves the duty to die. The biological stress engendered by social exclusion is a self-destruction program, eerily like (though Bauer does not make the connection), Freud’s posited death instinct (Reich’s response to which I discussed here). And I guess this makes some sense, both because there does, after all, appear to be such an instinct in the animal kingdom* (though this certainly does not mean that Freud’s treatment of it was correct) and because it is something that many character types may intuitively understand – not only masochists.
Persons experiencing jealousy have an injured sense of connection to the world, such that they need to hold on to symbols of that connection and turn particular people (often partners, but also kids) into such symbols. They respond to perceived threats to those symbols – perceived through a magnifying lens of paranoia – with self-destructive behavior, just like those on whom the tribal shaman has pronounced a curse.
All too often, fearful of the intensity of this reaction – which is truly akin to a reaction to a life-threatening situation – and burdened anyway with their own sense of shame and guilt, their partners will apologize, try to reassure, try to salvage the fragile trust which existed, or seemed to, before. It is in the nature of things that this is not possible. This type of connection to the world is too tenuous and artificial to be anything more than a band-aid on a gaping wound. What the jealous partner needs in such moments is empathy, grounding, and connection – not desperate attempts to re-become a shattered symbol, but the shattering of the symbolic and its replacement by the real.
Genies do not go back into bottles. In such moments we can meet as demons to each other, or both decide to meet as humans. Almost everything in life that generates emotional pain has great potential for healing, but it is a potential which almost always goes unexploited because the insecurities are not just on one side, but on both. When we decide to meet as vulnerable, hurting beings it may just be that we finally realize we are not, and cannot be, alone.
Notes
* Illustrated at cellular level by the process of apoptosis, and also observed in many cases of post-traumatic stress disorder where the underlying monotrauma results from a direct human agent.
“Sex at Dawn” – a review
I have just finished reading Chris Ryan and Cacilda Jetha’s Sex at Dawn. The book is such a revelation that it is hard to know where to start. This is not only one of those books that will change your life. It’s going to change a whole lot else too.
The experience one has reading it is much akin to the one I had five years ago when I attended my first tantra workshop. A whole load of stuff that previously existed as isolated islands, unconnected, suppressed or misunderstood, suddenly falls into place – in this case not only things I have felt inside, but numerous aspects of the contemporary world as well. Reading the book launches me into filling in many of the gaps it leaves open, as well – something I will no doubt be doing over the next series of posts.
For those who don’t know, the books central thesis is that humankind evolved as a group-living, cooperative species in which sexuality was shared and played an important social role in building and maintaining group ties.
I am totally convinced. Not just by their breadth of argument, though it is impressive. Above all, it just. makes. sense.
There are enough summaries of the book elsewhere, from every conceivable viewpoint, so I won’t attempt another (though I would advise you to read it yourself). In this post, I want to try to qualify the book and give a preliminary assessment of its importance.
Although basing itself widely on earlier work and despite its conversational tone – which heaps ridicule on conventional thought – this is a book which is likely to be as fundamental to humankind’s self-understanding as was Darwin’s On The Origin of Species. In a way, it is a completion of Darwin’s thought. The voyage of self-discovery on which Darwin launched our species has now come into port; and whilst there is surely much still to be discovered and said and plenty of meat to put on the bones, the essential features of that destination are now known.
Coming to terms with them under the conditions of modern life is going to be more of a challenge. In the first place, Ryan’s and Jetha’s conclusions are going to be subject to a bitter rearguard action. Far too many vested interests, many of them household names, are going to find it difficult to climb down from the positions they have taken; and especially when assailed with so little pity. Such vested interests are not only in academia of course, but across the spectrum of society. It looks to me like we are in for the last, and I fear not universally peaceful act in the culture wars which started with Copernicus and Galileo.
It’s time to take sides in those culture wars, or as the authors challenge us in their closing chapter, very aptly, to “come out”. If you recognize yourself as a member of the species they describe, now is the time to say it. Subgroups defined on the basis of sexual orientation or preferences have fought numerous partial wars in the past (and go on, of course, doing so today). Now, though, we have an overarching label for all these struggles: human being. We should, and will likely need to, combine our forces.
What else is new? Closest to the epicenter, is the need to reevaluate love and its associated emotions. I want to say more on this in a future article because it is where I find the book most liberating and hopeful. Then, of course, there is the need to reevaluate and reimagine social institutions suited to the “sexual exiles” we now know we are (to use a term coined by Stephen Snyder, featured in an earlier post). This is already an agenda of unimaginable breadth – but it does not stop there. As an economist (yes, I am in reality an economist), I find an enormous set of related challenges in the need to reassess the fundamental and highly useful simplifying assumptions of mainstream economics regarding so-called “rational” behavior. Of course, this is not an entirely new agenda; but it is lent a great deal new weight by these insights into a model of human nature quite at odds, at least within a defined sphere, with neoclassical assumptions. The use of the term “households” to define the basic unit of consumption was already a (reluctant and awkward) concession to the commonsense understanding that there existed individuals within the boundaries of the welfare-maximizing economic unit other than its (presumably) titular head, whose welfare was part of the objective function that this “head” would endeavor to maximize (we are not told with what discount factor). Now, I think, we know that we are capable of being cynical – but not wired for it. Whatever the exact form is that such “wiring” takes. (This is a matter I have frankly no understanding of – if anyone can enlighten me).
In fact it is difficult to conceive of any area of the social sciences which will not now have to question its basic assumptions – from anthropology to (even) psychoanalysis: how do Oedipus and Elektra complexes look once we redefine the family unit?. (A problem with the standard discourse of psychoanalysis which has always, of course, been quite a challenge to adequately theorize).
What Ryan and Jetha have achieved is what is correctly known as a paradigm shift. The course which human history is about to take has been set out by the seminal philosopher of science Thomas Kuhn. It will not be easy and it may not be nice: but there is no turning back until, eventually, the fact of our polyamorous ancestry is as much a part of our mental universe as the theory of evolution itself.
It’s my hope, of course, that in the inevitable onslaughts which will follow, the fundamentally beautiful human insights which follow from the book’s findings will not be lost from view. This is no crude defence of marginal sexual lifestyles. We are all a part of it, and all estranged from our core natures by no fault of our own. This calls for courage and conviction, but also empathy and compassion. Something, it turns out, we as a species are actually quite capable of.
Reich’s economic model of psychosomatics (2 – the biological core)
Following his discovery of the link between sexual repression and character, Reich inquired into the nature of the mechanism underlying this link. His starting point was the observation that there existed, even if they were hard to codify, characteristic postures and facial expressions which allowed the most unlearned observer to decipher the character disposition of his interlocutor. Reich hypothesized that these resulted from, in the main, hypertonicity of certain functional muscle groups. Almost all muscles display in equilibrium or at rest a natural level of contraction called tonus. When this equilibrium is disturbed by a constant perception of threat, muscles become pathologically hypertonic. The attitude habitually assumed, be it of aggression, mistrust, helplessness etc, then becomes anchored in the muscular economy with attendent effects (though Reich does not discuss this) on skeletal development as well. Reich contends that the somatic and psychic expression of neurosis are functionally identical and mutually reinforcing. The somatic expression he calls the “biological core” of the neurosis. It is similarly this pattern of muscular spasticity which disrupts the orgastic response.
Reich goes on to make his central conjecture, laid out in Function of the Orgasm, that the natural orgasm serves a purpose of discharging vital energy and thereby regulating the energy economy of the body; this is thus a direct somatic parallel to Freud’s libido theory. Disturbances of the orgastic function compel the organism to regulate its energy economy otherwise, whether by reduced energy production (lethargy) or by other, imperfect mechanisms such as compulsive behaviors which only kick in when the tension has reached an unbearable level and then only partly resolve it.
The hypothesis of the “functional identity” of the neurosis and its somatic expression allows Reich to complement then-existing psychoanalytic techniques with a body-oriented approach and, he claims, achieve more consistent results, more rapidly, as well as penetrate some types of neurosis which were less amenable to traditional methods. His espoused technique advocates alternating opportunistically between addressing psychic and somatic blockages. This he called “vegetotherapy” in an allusion to its effects on the vegetative, or what we would now call the autonomic (i.e. involuntary) nervous system. How he did this in practice seems to be less well documented, perhaps because his discovery of the biological core of psychic neuroses leads him into more speculative areas of inquiry and the period of his interest in psychosomatic therapy is as a result relatively condensed, leaving methodology to be developed by others.
This new period in Reich’s life is underscored by a realization that sexual repression has not only somatic effects with psychic correlates – neuroses – but also that these primary somatic effects have in the long term direct secondary chronic effects at the somatic level in the form of illnesses such as cancer, dementia and rheumatic arthritis. This takes the hygienic challenge a long way from treated self-reported actual neuroses with anecdotal curiosities in turn-of-the-century Vienna to treating major plagues of contemporary civilization, both psychic and somatic.
Part 3: Reich’s legacy
Reich’s economic model of psychosomatics (1 – from Freud’s libido theory to character analysis)
Although the work of Wilhelm Reich in relation to what he called sex-economy lies at the root of many contemporary approaches to psychotherapy and personal development, it is widely misrepresented, caricaturized and misunderstood and a summary of it for the educated layman is, to my knowledge at least, difficult to come by. I am often asked to explain Reich’s thought which has very much influenced my own, and so I thought fit to attempt such a summary. In this and the next article, I propose to set out how he arrived at, and the basis for, the character-analytic approach to psychotherapy and his later vegetotherapy which aimed at directly working on what he called the “biological core” of neurosis. In a subsequent article, I would like to offer a review of his theories in the light of current knowledge, and particularly in what one would hope could be described as a somewhat more accommodating social environment than prevailed at the time of his work. (UPDATE: since I wrote this article, a very good overview of Reich’s life and work has been written by Jason Louv, see here. My own treatment is a bit more technical.)
Reich’s developments of psychotherapy all draw root in Freud’s early work. Subsequent developments of Freud’s psychoanalysis, which Reich viewed as a capitulation to social conservatism, took their work in different directions. They share, nonetheless, a substantial common bedrock, and Reich remained deeply admirative of Freud’s labors even when he disagreed with him on fundamental matters.
As is well-known, the various phases of Freud’s thought never resulted in a single synthesis and different strands within it remained in tension with each other. Freud thus never arrived at an integrated theory of psychic functioning. Reich took his lead from Freud’s libido theory of neurosis; neurosis was thus the result of a binding of sexual energy as a result of developmental factors in childhood. Freud never elucidated how this binding took place or how psychoanalysis was precisely supposed to work in order to dissolve the binding and thus resolve neurosis, but he developed different models of psychodynamics, in each case essentially of a mental nature. The blocking factors in neurosis were thus mental representations and the prescribed route to their dissolution ultimately also mental, although it proceeded from the unconscious, which for Freud could not be directly observed.
Reich’s own approach is quite at ease with Freud’s model of the three stages of consciousness, being the system unconscious, the system preconscious and the system conscious. According to this model, drives which arise in the unconscious undergo a sort of filtering process in order to arrive at the level of consciousness, during which their associations and objects change more or less radically. Thus, for example, the infantile desire to suck, if insufficiently satisfied in infancy, persists in the unconscious and is satiated, though never ultimately satisfied, through ersatz means which could involve actual sucking (thumb, lollipop), other oral actions (obesity and bulimia), fixation with oral sexuality, or other forms of clinging behavior not immediately oral in their manifestation. In order to achieve satisfaction of these ersatz or secondary drives, individuals would develop typical strategems which are in a direct line of descent from those they employed successfully in childhood – all essentially manipulative, solliciting one or other emotion on the part of the caregiver which would then elicit the desired response. Some would focus on solliciting pity, others fear, still others admiration, or benevolence through humor, or distraction, etc. Whilst Freud did not feel he had a social mission and confined himself to the therapy of those cases who presented themselves for treatment, it is easy enough to see how the learning process in early childhood coupled with certain not immediately definable characteristics of the child would lead to characteristic dispositions in adulthood, a starting-point for Reich’s work.
Reich’s interest in character was at first prompted, however, by considerations of methodology. Freud and many of his close collaborators had never taken a systematic interest in determining and assessing what worked in the therapeutic context. It was supposed that individuals needed to “cooperate” in the therapy. If they failed to do so, there was no alternative approach available. Reich realized, however, that the fact of cooperation or of failure to cooperate was endogenous to the therapeutic setting. It itself needed to be interpreted and worked through. The manifestation of resistance was evidence that one was reaching carefully repressed material. To dismiss a patient for refusal to cooperate was to admit defeat, perhaps at the moment when one was closest to achieving a breakthrough.
Reich started with a layman’s concept of personality, but soon progressed it to a developmental model in which typical frustrations of infantile libido led to a freezing of certain character responses, which were then overlaid on each other. In the therapeutic setting, the therapist would work backwards through these layers, to arrive at, and liberate, the earliest material.
Reich also noted that all patients presented with actual disturbances of “natural” genital sexuality. These disturbances were of various sorts but fundamentally there were only a limited number of variables. Decreased or absent pleasure in the genital act could be due to (i) diminished sensitivity of the genital apparatus itself, (ii) its failure to respond to conventional stimuli or at all or (iii) a failure of genital response to (sufficiently) engage adjacent muscles involved in the natural orgastic response. Persons with diminished sensitivity were often, in the male, erectively potent or, in the female, highly flirtatious, but derived little pleasure from the sexual act. Reich saw this as an instrumentalisation of sexuality in the service of a secondary drive. Persons with erectile dysfunction or vaginismus were disinterested in sexuality or conventional sexuality because it conflicted with defense mechanisms they had developed. Persons, finally, with a flat orgastic response curve (premature ejaculation in the male, muted or no orgasm in the female) encountered during the process of sexual arousal psychological obstacles which made full sexual expression impossible. This typology of genital response, Reich was able to correlate, albeit loosely, with the stages in the development of the libido posited by Freud as well as with contemporary character. Frustration prior to the oral stage led to a withdrawal of sexual interest and to schizoid character. Frustration at the oral stage led to oral fixation and a lack of autonomy, expressed as sexual passivity and a capacity for surrender but a diminished response. Frustration at the anal stage led to rigidity and inability to surrender, whilst frustration at the genital stage expressed itself as individuals with strong seductive powers and sexually active, but reporting a lack of pleasure in the sexual act and as seeking it for secondary, narcissistic purposes. In Reich’s view, the vast majority of people presented with some form of neurosis and it had both character and genital expression.
Reich’s approach felt little need for Freud’s later ego theory, but remained compatible with it. In addition to his methodological work, Reich’s greatest breakthrough was his solution of the problem of masochism, discussed at length in Character Analysis. Freud had posited a primary masochism, fruit of a biological drive he termed the death instinct (Todestrieb). For Reich this had no parallel in the animal kingdom and was unacceptable. He derived masochism as a secondary drive when the pleasure principle was frustrated by overwhelming violence to which the individual as a small child was powerless to respond. The frustrated drive first sought an outlet in sadism, turning this sadism against itself when it was further repressed. Constant juxtaposition of pleasure and punishment led to a state where they became psychically interlinked. Reich pointed out that no-one took pleasure in actual pain, only in the expectation of it. Pent-up energy which could not be channeled into pleasurable activity led to tension and anesthesia and the need for more extreme stimuli to break through to the core of the sexual drive.
Whilst Freud brokered a peace with society and seems to have viewed sublimation of sexual drives as in some degree necessary to civilization, Reich presents an uncompromising faith in the natural order reminiscent of Rousseau and Nietzsche; for him it is axiomatic that to recover the natural functioning of the human organism is the one and only path to happiness. Natural man is capable, for Reich, of the highest moral qualities and it is his sexual repression that brings evil and suffering into the world.