Jung Minds

Prompted by a discussion about Carl Jung on an online book chat group to which I belong, I retrieved The Portable Jung from one of my bookshelves this week for a revisit. The content is thoughtful, erudite, intelligent, and insightful. I can see, however, why Freud grew frustrated with Jung and broke with him. (Freud tended to take philosophical differences personally.) In the section on Synchronicity, for example, Jung shows himself far too ready to credit claims regarding ESP, astrology, and other paranormal phenomena without questioning whether anything might be flawed about the researchers’ methods or data. It’s hard not to visualize the more skeptical and materialistic Sigmund rolling his eyes.

 
Jung’s notion of the collective unconscious is less flaky in own writings than is often portrayed by others. It is little more than an acknowledgement that human beings are not born as blank slates (as was asserted by many academics of the time – and our own time for that matter) but that there is such a thing as evolved human nature. Evolutionary psychologists say the same thing in a more straightforward way. Jung’s exploration of myth and mythic symbolism impressed Joseph Campbell (deservedly so) and inspired him to write the intro to this anthology. It is likely however that Jung’s writings about the “shadow self” have had the most lasting cultural impact.
 
The shadow is the part of our personality that we don’t like to acknowledge. It consists largely of those thoughts, lusts, motivations, and desires that violate social norms and (more importantly) our personal ethos. It also consists of positive traits that we have trained ourselves to keep hidden; for example, if our assertiveness was punished when we were children, we may habitually suppress it later in life. To the extent that certain personality traits harm one’s self-image, they may be repressed or (worse) projected onto others. This is not identical to Freud’s description of the unconscious, since some of this is in fact conscious: that’s why the person feels uncomfortable about these traits and tries to deny them. Yet, Jung argued that we all have cruelty and destructiveness (and worse) in our natures. To become psychically whole and healthy we must acknowledge the shadow and integrate it into who we are. This doesn’t mean we should give into destructive impulses; it just means we do ourselves no favor by denying their existence. Unlike the groundhog, seeing one’s own shadow clearly can lead, so to speak, to an early spring. Jung writes,
 
“By not being aware of having a shadow, you declare a part of your personality to be non-existent… If you get rid of qualities you don’t like by denying them, you become more and more unaware of what you are, you declare yourself more and more non-existent, and your devils will grow fatter and fatter.”
 
Besides, there is nothing praiseworthy or good about any action or inaction if it isn’t a choice – if you have no other option. Jung was a fan of Friedrich Nietzsche in his youth, and one of Nietzsche’s lines was, “I laugh at those who think themselves good because they have no claws.” If you don’t have the capacity to do harm, then it’s not a big achievement to refrain from causing it. If you do have the capacity (including the capacity to enjoy it) then ethical decisions become possible. All that matters in the realm of ethics is what you do when you have a choice, not what you think or feel.
 
The notion of the shadow has entered pop culture. Jeff Lindsay literally refers to the “shadow” of the main character in his Dexter novels (which were adapted to a long-running TV series), but that example is too easy: too on the money. Let’s look instead at a slightly less obvious example: the old cult TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A character named Angel in the show is a vampire that has had his soul returned to him: a soul in the context of the show is a moral compass. Vampires in the show are normally soulless and are therefore psychopaths. They do what they like without guilt or moral twinge. But, as in real life, there are psychopaths and psychopaths. Not all psychopaths are serial killers. Most are law-abiding, not because they care at all about the law or about ethics or about anyone else’s wellbeing, but as a rational choice: they personally just don’t get enough jollies from crime to balance the likely penalties. One can be a psychopath and not a sadist, which is to say one can be nonchalant about causing pain without actually enjoying it. Angel berates himself for all the twisted evil sadistic things he did while soulless. Why? Because he knows the sadism was there in his own human character before he ever became a vampire. Losing his soul just removed his inhibitions against expressing it, but it was there. His whole character arc in this show (and then his own spin-off) consists of re-integrating his shadow self without turning to evil deeds again.
 
I don’t think I’m at much risk of becoming a vampire despite having encountered my fair share of bloodsuckers in life. Also, I gave up most shadow boxing some years ago, though it was a hobby for a while. But then again my claws are not as sharp as they used to be. I still recommend in a general way taking Carl’s advice to befriend the shadow side of oneself. But don’t let it operate the chain saw.

 

Peggy Lee – Me and My Shadow