Freud, Rilke, and some rambling thoughts on choicePosted: March 3, 2012
“The poets and philosophers before me discovered the unconscious; what I discovered was the scientific method by which the unconscious can be studied.” – Sigmund Freud
In the last half of the 19th century, an Austrian doctor with a penchant for smoking cigars did something remarkable. He shocked the medical community by saying that most of our behaviors were not a matter of conscious choice but were a result of the unconscious, a vast reservoir of memories, repressed feelings, and desires that were the actual motives to our behaviors.
This did not sit well with the prevailing Victorian norms of the time. After the Enlightenment, Reason became the dominant modus operandi of the human soul. One, it seemed, used Reason to control all the contradictory passions and desires each person experiences.
However, where the Victorians saw Reason, Sigmund Freud saw repression. Freud’s great insight was to show that when Reason attempted to control or repress our real feelings and desires, such as sexuality, those repressed feelings would manifest themselves in other, oftentimes neurotic ways.[i] What societal norms did, Freud showed, was to breed conformity, often at the expense of the individual. In many ways, Freud’s insight was a big “fuck you” to the entire history of Western intellectual culture from Socrates on. (Nietzche’s discussions on Christian ethics and “slave-morality” were another “fuck you” to the establishment, and he was someone whom Freud admired greatly.)
I bring up Freud now because I have been thinking about the unconscious and repression and how they relate to my own experience working at a mental health clinic. There are the more obvious forms of repression, such as the gay man who represses his urges to win the favor of his parents but ends up slitting his wrists. But there are subtler versions of this story too. I have watched many young men, young men with curiosity and intelligence, ignore those impulses to fit into the gang culture of their neighborhood. Also, I have watched men and women who never wanted children, but who show they are “good fathers” or “good mothers” to the external world while secretly taking their angst and unhappiness out on them.
Of course, my own zeitgeist, the cultural class of educated Brooklyn, is fraught with its own perils. The beliefs and styles of my own group seem to have its own underlying rules, its own mores for what is acceptable and unacceptable. Fashion, politics, the books we read, the women we tend to date, all seem to have a strain of similarity and maybe, just maybe, a hint of conformity to it all. And I would be amiss to ignore the world of expectations laid out by our college-educated upbringings. The expectations to find work, get married, to make money, and more. (I am not sure there is a conservative Republican in this zeitgeist, but I would think that if there is, he would find it very hard to admit it to anyone.)
So what to do with all this? If our society directs us to do certain things almost as a matter of “fitting in,” where is there room for the individual? How can we be certain that we are doing anything of our own volition and not Mommy and Daddy’s desperate need to fill the own void in their lives with their children’s successes? In essence, is there a fucking choice in our lives? Or are we all just hashing and rehashing the cultural norms we live in, living with the belief that we are conscious and in control of what we do, but in actuality mindlessly and unconsciously living our everyday lives?
It is a rare thing for a man to think for himself. This is undoubtedly because it is extremely difficult. Freud was predictably pessimistic on man’s ability to think for himself as he saw no real, permanent solution to our problem of repression, as his only hope was that through therapy, one could become less repressed but never a fully, self-actualized human being who makes choices for one’s self. The reason is that repression is self-serving. It protects us from the knowledge of the chaos and fear that is all around us.
Ernest Becker, in his landmark book, Denial of Death, maybe said it best:
We cannot repeat too often the great lesson of Freudian psychology: that repression is normal self-protection and creative self-restriction—in a real sense, man’s natural substitute for instinct. (Otto) Rank has a perfect, key term for this natural human talent: he calls it “partialization” and very rightly sees that life is impossible without it. What we call the well-adjusted man has just this capacity to partialize the world for comfortable action.[ii]
I don’t doubt that Freud and others were mostly right here. In whatever we do, we will never be fully free from the expectations of our society. This is in part because our society provides us protection from the terror and panic of the natural world. In other words, humans gladly give up a part of their freedom for the safety and protection of the cultural norms.
The question I think then is whether there is any room for real choice in this viewpoint. I turn to one my favorites for some answers:
Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast…. be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.[iii]
Rilke starts with the assumption that man is alone, that despite all the distractions and trivialities that let us be “lords of our skull-sized kingdoms,” that no one can really know how “I” see the world or really understand what is going on in the depths of my being. However, instead of pessimism, Rilke sees this as the starting point of nosce te ipsum. In our solitude, we can maybe first start to be free of the cultural norms of our world, and first start to be self-aware.
This has its own hazards. Man is a social animal, and the “loner” is often a pejorative term in today’s world. And the loss of social outlets can create tremendous anxiety and loneliness for an individual. But it is in our solitude, Rilke argues, that we can first learn to understand our deepest desires and fears, it is here we can finally accept the finality and fragility of existence. And it is here, and only here, with self-awareness as the starting point, that a man can make choices that come from his deepest depths, aka the unconscious.
This is certainly difficult. It is easier to drown out sorrows and anxieties in alcohol and television. And many days, we will not have the energy to live like this and would gladly exchange self-awareness for a six-pack of beer and some football. But in my view, this is our only escape from living like a zombie, going through the motions of everyday life thinking you’re living freely but really slaves to the external circumstances around us. It is in this space of solitude and simple self-awareness that we can start to grow and make unsexy but honest choices for ourselves, not choices based on fear or ambition, but choices that come from our deepest desires.
To end, I wanted to leave you with a quote from a Rollo May in a book I recently read. It think it sums up the difficultly it takes to live one’s life in the way one sees fit:
It requires greater courage to preserve inner freedom, to move on in one’s inward journey into new realms, than to stand defiantly for outer freedom. It is often easier to play the martyr, as it is to be rash in battle. Strange as it sounds, steady, patient growth in freedom is probably the most difficult task of all, requiring the greatest courage. Thus if the term “hero” is used in this discussion at all, it must refer not to the special acts of outstanding persons, but to the heroic element potentially in every man… In any age courage is the simple virtue needed for a human being to traverse the rocky road from infancy to maturity of personality. But in an age of anxiety, an age of her morality and personal isolation, courage is a sine qua non. [iv]