Political Discourse and Projection of the Shadow

As I promised last week, here is the next in a series of essays that attempt to identify ways to dialogue creatively about the present political divide. I will make use of several perspectives over the next few weeks to help us excavate a deeper and hopefully more comprehensive understanding of this intractable issue. I begin with an “archetypal” perspective in this essay.

No theorist is ever completely “right.” Inevitably, gaps in understanding a theory will exist and some speculations will turn out to be flat out wrong. Given that disclaimer, I want to credit Carl Jung for shining a useful light onto much of human experience, both on the experience of the individual and on the nature of relationship, when he wrote about the archetypal nature of reality.

An archetype can be seen as a symbol that carries a more complete meaning for human experiences and interactions than is easily seen. An archetype always represents a kind of wholeness, at least theoretically. But in actual practice, we tend to notice only the parts of an experience that we like, and we ignore (meaning, remain unconscious of) the parts that we do not like and do not want to accept as belonging to our personal being or experience. (Of course, there are some people who always notice the bad parts and leave the more pleasant parts in the unconscious realm.) Either way, the wholeness of reality always includes that which is conscious and that which remains unconscious.

So, what does this archetypal perspective have to do with the political divide? The answer becomes evident when we look at what happens to the unconscious part of the archetypal experience. According to Jung’s understanding, the unconscious part (the part of the experience we don’t want to own) still belongs to our reality whether we accept it or not. Jung referred to those unconscious contents of the archetype as its shadow – or I could call it “our” individual or collective shadow. Because all parts of the archetype will necessarily manifest in some way eventually, we need to identify where and how the shadow shows itself. Jung demonstrated that we tend to “project” parts of ourselves and our experience that we do not “own” onto other people. Think of an old movie projector. The film is in the projector; the light shows through it, but the picture is seen out on the screen, perhaps quite far away from the projector. If we simply conclude that the picture exists “out there” we typically do not imagine that what we see actually comes from us. We human beings function as the “screens” for one another’s projections – at least for the ones that loosely resemble similar characteristics in ourselves.

Assuming that Jung’s archetypal theory is true enough, let’s look once again at Paul Krugman’s articulation of the “Two Moralities”(the full article can be found here)
He defines the political split in this way:

One side of American politics considers the modern welfare state – a private-enterprise economy, but one in which society’s winners are taxed to pay for a social safety net – morally superior to the capitalism red in tooth and claw we had before the New Deal. It’s only right, this side believes, for the affluent to help the less fortunate.
The other side believes that people have a right to keep what they earn, and that taxing them to support others, no matter how needy, amounts to theft. That’s what lies behind the modern right’s fondness for violent rhetoric: many activists on the right really do see taxes and regulation as tyrannical impositions on their liberty.

Now, here is where this process gets difficult. Our job is to see the shadow side of each of these statements and see how that shadow is then “projected” onto the other. (This does not mean that all statements have equal value, either practically or morally. It is only to say that conversation is more useful if we can see the potential short-comings of our own position and the potential benefits of the other. Without such an admission, there can be no conversation at all.) By the way, it is always easier to see our adversary’s shadow than it is to see our own.

When we look at the shadow side of Krugman’s first statement, we might see that the practice of “welfare” can deal with material needs without ever promoting the growth, healing, or motivation of the recipient. Welfare, as helpful as it might be, also brings with it the danger of fostering more dependency. When that shadow is projected, it looks like the position of the other side hurts the very people who need help. It can objectify them and inadvertently restrict their freedom.

The second statement has a shadow side, too. Whatever that side “earns” in an atmosphere of “freedom” has to come from somewhere, and often the laws that support that kind of earning give a disproportional advantage to those who already have money. Said differently, laws always help some people and restrict the freedom of others So, that side can accuse the other of restricting their freedom while ignoring how much their freedom restricts the freedom of others.

These shadow statements are just examples. We could find other manifestations of the shadow in each of the statements.

The archetypal perspective implies that the only power we have to bring more health and well being to our discourse comes from looking honestly at our own shadow side, dealing with those realities humbly, so we can see reality more fully. I believe, and archetype theory implies, that every good plan comes with a cost. Our ability to make good choices depends on keeping those costs in our conscious awareness. If, however, we remain unconscious of the costs, surely our adversaries will throw them in our collective faces, but not in a way that we can own and integrate them into our decisions.

Jung once wrote that the most important thing anyone could do to promote world peace was for each individual to deal with the personal shadow. This approach requires us to have some appropriate humility, but perhaps the gain in community health turns out to make it a good deal for all.

We find lots of resistance to looking at the shadow side or our own position, perhaps because so much energy goes into vilifying the adversary’s shadow and denying the value of the adversary’s stated position. If winning the next election and remaining in power is the only value driving the process, the possibility of identifying and integrating the shadow is practically impossible. It is even more impossible if each side is waiting for the other to make the first overture towards wholeness.

I don’t know how to foster the archetypal perspective in current political discourse, but we can all start with ourselves. We’re not talking about nuclear disarmament here, but the stakes are almost as high. Let’s get to work. Withdraw those projections and integrate them into your wholeness.

You may think there are shadowy implications in this essay, but it represents the way I see things.
How about you?

Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Community of Promise

Healthy Community and the Political Divide

Any culture (ours included) sets the stage for what people learn to expect from their communities. In our culture, we hear about the importance of volunteerism, civic duty, charitable giving, and patriotism all the time. What we don’t hear enough about (in my not so humble opinion) is relationship. I have come to believe that our most common (and not sufficiently explored) cultural value is individualism, and, further, that even all our talk about community ultimately rests on the spirit of (rugged?) individualism. I understand individualism to mean that individuals shouldn’t need anyone, and we certainly shouldn’t have to worry about the well being of anyone beyond our own small group (if even that far). It could be argued that our individualism has brought us to the extreme political divide that has hamstrung our political process. Even the groups with which we affiliate are energized by the spirit of individualism in the sense that only one group can be “right” or “powerful,” so the strategy for survival necessarily devolves into the elimination of “the other.” Clearly, such a strategy leaves no room for relationship. Even compromise is not about relationship. Compromise is a political strategy designed to get the best possible deal for “our side.” That the other side might get something out of the process of compromise is simply a distasteful political reality – a necessary loss, if you will. In no way does political compromise imply any concern for the well being of the other side.

Upon that foundation, I plan to write a series of essays on the foundational issues in our culture, beginning with the existing political divide. I found Paul Krugman’s editorial, “A Tale of Two Moralities,” published on January 13, 2011 to be a useful entry point. (click here for the full article)
He defines the political split in this way:

One side of American politics considers the modern welfare state – a private-enterprise economy, but one in which society’s winners are taxed to pay for a social safety net – morally superior to the capitalism red in tooth and claw we had before the New Deal. It’s only right, this side believes, for the affluent to help the less fortunate.
The other side believes that people have a right to keep what they earn, and that taxing them to support others, no matter how needy, amounts to theft. That’s what lies behind the modern right’s fondness for violent rhetoric: many activists on the right really do see taxes and regulation as tyrannical impositions on their liberty.

It seems to me he has described the divide clearly and succinctly. If we continue the discussion at that level, however, there can be no resolution because the positions appear to be mutually exclusive. All that is left, then, is a political tug of war between pretty even sides where the slightest majority translates into winner takes all.
If we move down a level and look at the foundational ideas underneath the divide, we might find some possible ways through the apparent stand-off. The interplay between individualism and relationship as mentioned above can be useful. Along with that, several other perspectives could help us. So over the next couple of months, I will write at least some of my posts on the issue of the American Political Divide. I will look at the foundational issues from perspectives like The Archetype Theory of Carl Jung (particularly with reference to the projection of the shadow onto one’s adversaries), Moral Development Theory, Practical Theology, and Family Systems Theory.
If you think this sounds too academic, dry, and yes, boring, I will try to connect each of these perspectives with human experiences that you can relate to. My purpose is empowerment, not simply academic interest.
Remember, this blog’s purpose is to address issues related to healthy community. I hope to identify some useful and manageable approaches to our current political and cultural dilemmas. I plan to learn a lot and I hope you will join me.

Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Community of Promise

Rhetoric, Abuse, and Community

I’ve been reading a lot in the last few days as politicians, pundits, and most of the rest of us try to make sense of the senseless shootings in Tuscon last Saturday. Writers from the “left” vilify the incendiary language of the “far right” (including their talk-radio spokespersons). Writers from the right vilify the “left’s” exploitation of the tragedy for political ends.

You can probably guess how easy it would be for me to jump on the bandwagon, and fueled by my own political leanings and perspectives, add my angry reactions to the boiling pot of public discourse. I would have no trouble finding enough angry energy to sharpen my words and aim them at what I perceive as the vulnerable places in my adversaries. While such an approach might feel satisfying in some personal way, I choose to address the issue from a very different foundation.

No, I’m not going to say that all sides are equally to blame and that everyone should just cool the rhetoric – at least while we are still grieving. Rather, I want to challenge the very idea of rhetoric’s practical persuasive purpose – to “induce belief or action” in others. The operative word here is “induce.” Let’s remember that induction is not designed to help people connect with their deepest values so that their behavior expresses their integrity. Nor does it invite people into a conversation or dialogue to help them learn, grow, or explore the depth of truth collaboratively.

No, induction’s purpose is to replace “your” integrity with “my” idea of what you should believe and how you should behave. Induction is the exercise of power over others so that their beliefs and actions will conform to the standard I (the powerful one) set for you. As I see it, rhetoric (as it is commonly employed), persuasion, and induction are fundamentally abusive and violent!

Do you think I’m overstating the case? Perhaps so, but not according to my general definition of abuse: “treating persons as objects.” It’s not hard to see plenty of that going on around us all the time, in families, schools, churches, businesses, the media, and certainly in the political arena. Words like “democrat,” “republican,” “liberal,” “conservative,” and particularly, “enemy,” and “terrorist” are used as “object designators,” not as terms of respect between persons. And we could add “consumer” and “potential vote” to the list of objectifying terms.

In my counseling practice I have learned that not only can people be taught to think of themselves as objects, but, it seems to me, most people in our culture are taught to see themselves as objects. If what I have said is accurate, then rhetoric helps create objects and it helps support a system where abusive treatment is the coin of the realm.

I suppose you are wondering what the connection is between the uses and purposes of rhetoric and my stated objective to write about community in this blog.

Consider this: communities cannot be made up of objects; they can only be populated by people! Persons! Souls! And to use more overtly theological language, communities are populated by unique expressions of the divine image! It troubles me deeply that our culture has made people into objects and has made corporations into people.

What do you think our so-called communities would look like if we saw others (and our own selves, for that matter) as persons, not objects? Perhaps this is our generation’s most challenging task:

to believe in the inherent worth of persons (whether we like their politics or not);
to respect persons (whether we think they deserve our respect or not);
to look for divinity in everyone we encounter (including enemies and other “despicable types”);
and to use our “power” in the service of a healthy whole rather than objectifying and abusing people with it. (See Bernard Loomer’s article, “Two Conceptions of Power”)

As I see it, healthy spirituality attends respectfully to connection and mutuality while rhetoric, persuasion, and induction are fundamentally violent because they are objectifying. There is no question in my mind that our culture teaches us to solve our problems either by overt violence or by more subtle induction. It is no surprise to me when overt violence bursts out of a culture that teaches violent communication.

If you’re interested in pursuing this idea further, I recommend the book “Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life” by Marshall Rosenberg. A lot of work is needed to create healthier communities. Using more life-affirming language in place of rhetoric can only help.

This is how I see it, what about you?

Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Community of Promise

Compassion and Community

I have been writing in this blog about community from a variety of perspectives. It is a complex, broad, and interesting topic. While community can be examined as a sociological phenomenon or as simply a practical survival technique, it is so much more than that. Any explorations into the foundations and motivations for community demonstrate both its complexity and its elegance. Such deep reflection on community unavoidably exposes its theological dimensions and moves the discussion beyond socio­economic principles like the generally practiced belief that individuals, acting in their own self-interest, will somehow create a fair and just society for everyone.

That approach reminds me of the scientific understanding of matter that held sway during the Enlightenment: small but discrete billiard balls that interact with each other according to the laws of motion and that combine with one another according to strict chemical laws. From Einstein on, modern science, including nuclear physics, has shown us that such a simplistic understanding is inadequate. There are no discrete “atomic” particles, and furthermore, the smaller an observed particle is, the more indistinguishable it is from energy. Additionally, particles seem to “relate” to one another, almost as if they “mattered” to one another. Quite a few “field theories” have emerged from these scientific observations. Field theories point to the depth of connection and influence we have with one another, no matter how unseen or unconscious.

I contend that a similar broadening of our thinking will be necessary for us to understand the nature of community, and to develop in our ability to embody healthier communities. For the sake of this essay, I will assume that the quality of “mattering” is akin to divine presence. (Just to be clear, I am not assuming the divine to mean some other worldly “person” who lives in “heaven” and who intervenes in life in response to human petition.) I am looking from the other way around. This concept of interaction and mutual influence that goes far beyond the mindless smashing of billiard balls is both mysterious and awe-inspiring. How mutual “mattering” plays out can also be paradoxical, like the concept of “enlightened self-interest” where the activity of doing good for “the collective” is ultimately good for the individual.

One way to think about what I have referred to as “mattering” is by clarifying the idea of compassion. Jesus says: “Be compassionate as your God is compassionate.” While this may be a stretch, I read this to mean that compassion is “divine.”

My question I am working on is two-fold: What does compassion mean? And can it be fostered in individuals and communities?

In many sacred texts, compassion goes together with love and mercy. One could say that “Agape (one of the Greek words for love is “an attitude of unconditional good will towards others,” Compassion is “the inner experience of that attitude,” and Mercy is “the outward expression of love/compassion”. As I think about it, Compassion might be the “animating force” that manifests the idea of love into acts of mercy. Compassion is the means by which agape lives in us and from which it is expressed. So, I wonder how can we increase our capacity to experience and embody divine compassion?

If we simply employ “rational self-interest,” we jump from the idea of a caring community directly to the “good” acts that we believe create that community’s environment. While this equation may make logical sense, I think it is hard to sustain in practice. The development of compassion may provide the inner motivation, the energy if you will, so that we will be able to create and nurture ever healthier communities.

It seems to me, also, that compassion is a necessary foundation for the development of a deeply ethical culture, one that is not motivated by survival-based fears. Fear has held sway too long in human history, including business, politics, and religion. I hope that the time for us to develop our deeper capacity for compassion, because Love/Compassion/Mercy is the only antidote for fear.

I had planned to write more about the process for nurturing compassion, but I’ve written enough for this post, so the process discussion will have to wait.

So, this is how I see things today. What do you see?

Wayne Gustafson
“The Promised Land is within and among us.”
Community of Promise