Kramer, Joel. The Guru Papers (pp. 219-229). North Atlantic Books. Kindle Edition.
In describing the dynamics of the struggle for control within a divided person, a danger lies in conceiving the parts too literally as separate entities battling for ascendancy. (Reification is a danger of all models.) This is not our view. We look at the two sides as compartmentalized aspects of the person that are tied into and dependent on each other. That is, the way each side expresses itself when in seeming control is in reaction to knowing and often fearing the other side.
Even folk wisdom recognizes that the human mind creates compartments, and that each, when activated, mysteriously seems to take on a life of its own. (“Don’t let the right hand know what the left is doing.”) Why the mind creates boundaries within itself must involve something in one compartment being unacceptable to another. Values are what determine unacceptability. Each compartment contains a configuration of thoughts, memories, and emotions that need to compete for expression because they operate under a different, conflicting set of values.
Calling the struggle for control essentially normative means that values lie at the heart of it. Values are taken on, most usually socially approved ones, that define what a good person is. For simplicity, we call the valued or ideal part of oneself that internalizes and tries to exemplify these values the “goodself.” In order to be the kind of person the goodself constructs as an ideal, control must be maintained over that which interferes. Of course, if living up to one’s ideals were in fact all a person were about, there would be no need to employ control. One would simply display the wanted virtues without conflict, hesitation, or effort. What interferes are the parts of being human that do not fit the values. The very need to exercise control indicates that something else is going on that must be contained—something that would otherwise come out and not display the wanted virtues. We call this “something else” the “badself” because what comes out when it is not being inhibited by the goodself is very different, often the opposite, of the consciously proclaimed ideals.
We want to make explicitly clear at the outset that we call this devalued part the badself not because it is actually bad, but rather because the goodself and typically society judge it to be so. This caveat also pertains to the goodself. We are aware of the drawbacks of the nomenclature goodself/badself due to their connotations, which seem to imply they are actually good and bad. This we emphatically do not wish to convey. Although neither is essentially good nor bad in our eyes, we have found no better words to represent the psychological distortions that result from the old moral order’s dualistic, authoritarian split into good and evil. Neologisms are justifiable insofar as they offer something new. So we are bending language by constructing one word out of two (goodself instead of good self), intending this contrivance to be a reminder that the goodself does not contain all that is valuable, and the badself is not devoid of worth. The nature of this inner split will become more clear as the chapter moves along.
Any model that purports to describe or explain aspects of internal life risks appearing overly simplistic or reductionistic. Yet, dividing the psyche into the goodself and badself is no more (or less) simplistic than the dualistic moral order that divides the cosmos into good and evil. If part of what is socially designated as bad is an inescapable aspect of being human, this context sets the stage for dividing people’s psyches. It is from this split that an internal struggle for control ensues. The two sides are formed and perpetuated in reaction to each other, that is, by their ongoing battle. What results is that the goodself has aspects one would be far better off without; while the badself contains elements that need to be legitimized and expressed. Our view is that health and well-being involve truly being whole, which means not internally warring.
In general the goodself takes on some or all of the following constellation of values: A good person does one’s duty; is responsible, reliable, truthful, temperate, industrious, and productive; works to improve oneself and maximize potential; can put aside immediate pleasures for more important future results; does not use or hurt others merely for one’s own enhancement or enjoyment; obeys the rules that make society work; takes other people’s needs and wants into account. Often the highest good is considered putting others or something other than oneself first. The job of the goodself is to remain in control to ensure these values are lived up to.
In contrast, the badself consists of the parts of oneself that are devalued, and often suppressed or repressed because of not fitting into the values internalized by the goodself. Because it is usually the underdog, this unwanted part of oneself lies or dissembles to get its way. It cares little about future consequences or their effects on others; it uses and manipulates people; it is hedonistic and often reckless in the way it gets and sustains its pleasures; it is more interested in fun than accomplishment; it pushes against boundaries, restrictions, taboos; it flirts with danger; and when crossed it displays so-called negative emotions and behaviors such as anger, pettiness, and vengeance.
Within this framework each side needs the other as a foil, and thus each has mechanisms (usually not conscious) for keeping the gamelol going. So the two compartments or “selves” do not coincide with categories of conscious and unconscious, as each contains both. But the side more valued by society and the person would, for this reason alone, tend to be more conscious. Most people prefer to identify with (and show others) their goodself, especially given that society and others who have similar values praise and reward it. Consequently, the goodself has much support in maintaining control. Since the devalued part does not have moral legitimacy to stand up to the valued part, the way it fights for expression is through subversion, deception, undermining (often unconscious), and externalization—“The devil [or my addiction] made me do it.”
We view the feeling of being out of control that occurs in addiction as a secular version of religious possession. Laying the cause of unwanted behavior on an invading external evil spirit is similar to blaming the drug itself. In contrast, we view compartmentalization and the ensuing struggle as a better explanation of both addiction and so-called possession. Feeling out of control really means the goodself is not in control, but instead an unacceptable part of oneself is.
The remainder of this chapter will describe the workings of the battle for control in general and within addictions. We end by giving some indications about how a divided self can become whole, while pointing out the difficulties in doing this within social orders whose power is derived from having people remain divided. For it is this division that makes people especially subject to authoritarian control.
Values can be internalized, expressed, and reacted against in a variety of ways. That we are critical of the process by which the goodself internalizes and self-imposes values does not mean we are essentially challenging the worth of the values themselves. Although there is great variance in the way values are ordered internally, they are often organized in a hierarchy of importance. For some, duty may be a top priority. But this could be duty to country, God, one’s children, the planet’s ecology, or one’s own spiritual development. For others duty might not be a major concern. It could instead be productivity, helping others, truthfulness, or integrity, etc.
Within the goodself/badself division, it is difficult not to place one’s allegiance with the goodself. But the goodself is not as benign as its espoused values make it seem. Authoritarianism is usually masked by lofty ideals that appear to be life-affirming on the surface and are thus hard to fault. And here too, the seemingly impeccable values mask the process by which the goodself creates a driven, cut-off human being. To the extent that its ideals become criteria for living, the goodself becomes the inner authoritarian whose task is to keep the forbidden, “bad” parts under its control. This not only occurs within a person, for often in relationships one person’s goodself can try to control another’s badself, setting off a reactive battle for control between people.
The goodself embodies both the dominant and submissive aspects of the authoritarian personality. Since it uses external authorities to bolster its power over the badself and other people, it is conditioned to submit to authorities. The goodself then is dictatorial, judgmental, structured, often a puritanical harsh taskmaster; and above all it is fearful—fearful that without always maintaining control, one’s life would unravel. If the goodself shows some benevolence toward human frailty, especially its own, it can at times (if not too threatened) allow and forgive little lapses of virtue—for after all, “One is only human.” This safety valve works as long as things don’t get out of hand. Addiction is one way things do get out of hand.
The goodself is involved in “taming the beast,” meaning keeping the carnal, the animal, within acceptable bounds. The fear is that without constraints, the animal (or id, dark side, one’s sinful nature, unabashed and uncaring self-centeredness) would rage forth, leaving destruction, including self-destruction, in its wake. This kind of inner division usually relegates much of self-centeredness and carnality to the badself, thereby distorting and exacerbating them. It also suppresses spontaneity, creativity, and enjoyment for their own sake because these expressions often undermine the goodself’s control mechanisms. It is this division between the animal and the rational, the spiritual and material, and ultimately between the selfless and self-centered that does not allow the carnal and self-centered to be integrated and valued as part of a whole being. Ironically, the division itself with its suppressions ensures that if what is inhibited ever does break loose, it tends to go wild. This in turn confirms the worst fears of the goodself, verifying its need to keep in control. It is around this dynamic that we will describe our views of addiction.
Two different yet interrelated questions are relevant here: First, why is it that one wants or needs to express traits judged undesirable at all; and secondly, how does one go about doing so? The latter deals with how the badself gets the goodself to relinquish control.
Just as those with political power have the advantage of official ideology and sanctions over usurpers, so too do the goodself’s judgments carry more weight. These judgments about what it is to be a good human being are programmed from childhood and stand underneath one of the most powerful control mechanisms of the goodself—guilt. Most parents rely heavily on guilt to control children’s behavior by making them feel they are bad for being self-centered and disobedient. This plays a primary role in creating a divided personality, as it makes people feel bad about basic aspects of themselves. A non-fragmented person could treat guilt simply as information that a discrepancy exists between one’s values and behavior, both needing to be reexamined to determine which, if either, is appropriate. In contrast, a divided person’s goodself uses guilt as a driving mechanism to remain in control.
The goodself has all the weight of tradition, accepted morality, parental conditioning, and social structures on its side. Accumulation cultures all place high value on the means of accumulating, namely work. Having a divided self may or may not be essential in making a “work ethic” work, but it is essential in producing people who are driven to justify their existence. Humans are the only animal so driven, and here, too, guilt plays its part. Guilt about being bad often results in needing to prove to ourselves and others that we are worthwhile through achievement. Work and accomplishment, and the rewards and praise they bring, are mechanisms that can keep the goodself in control.
This endless need to get better creates a mysterious core of tension that is the motor driving many. Although living with this tension comes to seem normal, what results is an inner torture chamber from which another part of oneself is desperately trying to escape. So calling addictions “escapism” has a strange truth and irony. What is requisite for all of this to operate is a core of deep self-mistrust and even fear of oneself. Authoritarian moralities that denigrate the carnal and the self-centered implant the mind control that is necessary for such self-control. All mind control operates under the guise of self-control.
We are not denigrating either self-control or accomplishment. There is deep satisfaction in a job well done, in enlarging the scope of one’s capabilities, or in helping others to do the same. Accomplishment and self-control are intrinsically tied to each other and are essential human needs and expressions—as are leisure and spontaneity. Rather, we are showing the mechanisms operative in the struggle for control in divided people who fear loosening control because they fear themselves.
In fearing oneself, what is actually feared is one’s badself, and that without being continually pushed by the goodself one would end up a slothful person of no worth. We look at the inner battle for control as involving an inner authoritarian, armed with moral righteousness, caging needed human expression that does not have an adequate voice—i.e., a historically well-articulated alternate set of values capable of validating needed expressions of carnality and self-centeredness. (Carnality, our animal nature, which involves satisfying basic needs, has an intrinsically self-centered component.) Thus the badself’s route to power is subversion, seduction, and casuistry to sabotage the goodself’s rules. People so divided both cage themselves and reactively try to escape their cage. Here people operate under and rebel against implanted “shoulds,” which guarantees a life of conflict.
Since society defines maturity as assuming roles and obeying rules, the badself often looks like a rebellious child next to the goodself’s adult veneer. Although there is a similarity between the way the badself subverts and a clever child wheedles around adult authority, the goodself is no more truly adult than the badself it tries to contain. The badself’s attempt to compensate for lacks of expression through extremes is just part of the game. It, too, is a symptom of a polarized authoritarian morality that has bought the framework which makes the goodself “good,” and so it gets its pleasures the only way it can—through being “bad.”
The badself exerts a powerful allure—that of spontaneity, shameless self-indulgence, cutting loose, throwing caution to the winds, and other taboo enticements, including forbidden expressions of sexuality. Breaking out of the goodself’s boundaries can release a charismatic energy that is seductive to others. Society’s fondness and indulgence for fictional heroes who outwit authorities and break rules is legend, as is the romantic appeal of the frontier—that lawless place beyond convention. In contrast, portrayals of pure virtue, where the goodself reigns supreme, are of little interest. The mythic figure, the outlaw hero, vicariously offers an outlet for a repressed culture by igniting a safe collusion with people’s badselves. Thus society puts forth a double message: “Rebellion is bad and dangerous,” on one side; and “Rebellion is not only exciting and exhilarating, it is freedom,” on the other. Double messages from parents have been shown to cause schizophrenia in children. The double messages a society puts out likewise must fragment its members, but here the resulting pathology is disguised by being the social norm.
Groups easily form around eliciting and reinforcing either the good or badself; these alliances serve as a mechanism to bolster the control of that side. Whom people associate with is often based on needing allies to support one side or the other. Gangs of young males urging each other on to rebellious deeds is an example of a collusion between badselves, while 12-Step programs function as a support for the goodself. In such support groups the goodself’s inability to control the addiction on its own is what connects the members. Previous to joining, it was often also the addiction (getting high together) that connected them to others. In both the repetitive drunk and the strict teetotaler, the relation to alcohol is a foundation of personality and the central focus of life.
The badself has no monopoly on destruction, including self-destruction. Groups that exacerbate the inner split and justify violence also form when people surrender to a leader or an ideology. Here ideals of purity (and purifying) are the basis for rampaging violence via racist lynch mobs, “law and order” vigilantes, or armies under the lofty banner of righteousness or fulfilling God’s will. They all use “doing good” as the grounds for callous brutality. Any culture or person whose identity is predicated on superiority, moral or otherwise, is particularly susceptible to this. Living up to images of superiority requires a severe inner authoritarian, which in turn vindicates external severity and ruthlessness as a means to some purified end.
Socially sanctioned violence, be it war or capital punishment, is capable of destroying anything as long as it can be justified with shared moral principles. We strongly suspect that the deeper the split is within a person or culture, the greater the potential for destruction. The highest and therefore most unlivable ideals cause the greatest split. This framework explains how a whole culture (Nazi Germany) could commit monstrous atrocities it later deplores.
In the struggle for control between the two selves, what is really in control is the polarized unconscious system itself. That is, neither side is conscious of participating in a system where each side colludes with the other. The goodself needs something “bad” to control, and the badself needs something to react against. In order for the goodself to justify its power, the badself has to be excessive. Each side needs the other to exist at all, quite literally, because each can only live in opposition to the other. So however torturous, both selves need to perpetuate the split. Ultimately, the inner battle for control depends on the dynamics between the two selves remaining unconscious. The more extreme and inflexible the inner compartments, the more people oscillate between them in a seemingly inexplicable fashion.
In our view, much of what is called psychopathology also displays the ways people accommodate this unconscious struggle within themselves. To hint briefly at this line of thought: Neuroses are ways of expressing self-centeredness and being self-absorbed that would otherwise be unacceptable—psychoses even more so. Whatever else psychotics are doing, they are creating a walled universe with themselves in its center that leaves no room for others. Psychotic “dis-integration” comes from an inability to integrate parts of oneself judged bad or wrong. Many psychotics are very sensitive and painfully aware of the hypocrisy masking so much of social interaction where people pretend to be far more virtuous than they are. They are unable to cope with the so-called negative aspects of being human, such as aggression, not only in others, but in themselves. Their solution is to leave the field of normal human interaction.
The sociopath or psychopath who has that mysterious ailment of being without conscience has adopted as a survival strategy the negation of the goodself, which results in loss of empathy and care. This adaptation is more likely the result of an emotionally impoverished childhood than of conscious choice. If intelligent, a psychopath maintains the guise of conventional morality and is never discovered. Elevating self-centeredness (the badself) as the only reality, the sociopath’s access to human connection becomes power and domination. Although bright psychopaths are usually able to construct safe ways of getting their power needs met, some resort to violent outlets which can become compulsions, serial murder being an extreme example. The most heinous crimes are often committed by those who are noteworthy for being unnoteworthy. Serial killers, like Nazi leaders, are renowned for their outward ordinariness.