In this dialogue, Socrates tells José about his psychedelic experience and the two discuss the influence of repressed conflicts on seemingly rational truth claims in a variety of domains.
Personae: Socrates, José
J: Greetings, o Socrates! But you seem to pensive, what is the matter?
S: Hola, José. How is everything?
J: Good, good, I mean, I just came back from the agora and, boy, Meletos seems to be super pissed off by you. Says you’re spoiling the Athenian youths with your ceaseless questions.
S: Spoiling them?
J: Yeah, and he’s kind of got a point, to be honest. These kids have lost all respect for poor Laches since you’ve demolished that guy in front of everyone in your last debate the other day.
S: They’ve lost respect that they shouldn’t have had in the first place. He doesn’t know shit about the subject of courage, and subsequently, he has no business being our general. Who would you prefer to set him straight? Me on the agora or the Spartans on the battlefield?
J: Okay, but just because he can’t give you a coherent definition of courage doesn’t mean he isn’t courageous.
S: Yeah, but if he can’t come up with a good definition in an hour-long discussion on the topic, this does mean that he can’t think straight. And don’t you think this might turn out to be a problem next time the city is under siege?
J: Well anyway, so what’s this worried face of yours all about?
S: I’m not exactly worried, just a bit shaken. You see, I’ve taken part in the Eleusinian Mysteries some days ago and I’ve had some insights that I now struggle to integrate into my general world view.
J: What kind of insights?
S: It is tough to put into words. Impossible to put into words even, in a certain way, because it concerns the nature of words, of thoughts and language itself.
J: Oh no, have you overdosed on Derrida or something?
S: Dude, right, deride Dada-Derrida.
J: Splendid! You should start writing poems like the post-structuralists do!
S: Very funny… Okay, so honestly, some days ago, I would have gladly laughed along but I’ve changed my mind on the topic since. Also, neither of us really has a clue about any of Derrida’s positions, but, of course, this doesn’t keep us from making fun of him.
J: If he had wanted anyone to have a clue about his positions, he should have made his books a little easier to read. But enough of that, fill me in on your experience so I finally know what the hell you are actually talking about.
S: As you know, I used to be an ardent proponent of rationality…
J: “Used to be”? Does that mean that you don’t dismiss my account of unlikely coincidences anymore?
S: You wish! I still believe it to be an example of pernicious superstition and I still think that rational criticism is due.
J: What do you mean then?
S: José, I would gladly tell you if you stopped interrupting me all the time.
J: Sorry, go ahead.
S: So… I don’t even know if rationality would be the right starting point… You know what? I’ll just tell you directly about my experience. But you’ll need a little bit of context to get why it’s significant to me, I hope you don’t mind?
J: Story-time with Socrates! Light the campfire, get your marshmallows ready, everyone!
S: So, during the week that preceded the Eleusinian Mysteries, I had been angry most of the time in a more or less subtle way and for no particular reason. As I closed my eyes to meditate, for instance, it wouldn’t take long until I would find myself in an imaginary argument with some one or other of my acquaintances.
J: As one does in meditation.
S: As one does indeed. Anyway, one day I sat down to meditate with Theopheros and the first thing this guy says to me is “They should rename the agora and henceforth call it the masturbatorion. Each time you guys debate some philosophical question I get the feeling that it’s all just about intellectual masturbation.” As he said this, I immediately got mad at him. The anger just boiled up inside and burst out of my mouth into his face before my brain had the slightest chance to grasp what was going on. He apologized readily enough, but the damage was done. Our meditation was spent in agitation, and we didn’t part on good terms that day.
J: But why were you so bothered by his words?
S: That’s the million-dollar question. And my rational mind was quick to find an answer. I had seen Theopheros plenty of times on the agora pontificating away about philosophical questions and giving spontaneous speeches on meditation that were completely unasked for.
J: Not entirely unlike you, some might say…
S: Not unlike me at all! And this is precisely my point! I mean, how can you act like that and then criticise me for acting the same way? Talk about a double standard! And this was also in part why I exploded in his face like I did. I just thought he was obviously being a hypocrite.
J: But I bet your ego was hurt, too.
S: Of course, it was. You know how much I love debating and pointing out the weaknesses in my opponent’s positions.
J: And pointing out your own intellectual superiority in the process.
S: Yes, that too. But who are you to cast the first stone?
J: No, I’m guilty of it also. Who isn’t? It feels great to be right. But go on with your story.
S: Yeah so, my rational mind had it all laid out quite neatly, so I decided to write him a letter.
J: Classic.
S: Setting my arguments up in a structured way, listing situations of the past that proved my claims…
J: Like an attorney would.
S: Precisely. Needless to say, he didn’t take it well. He sent me a letter back rejecting most if not all of my accusations, but I found his text to be full of logical flaws and misrepresentations of what I had said. It was all rather half-baked in my eyes. So, I started writing a second letter, taking apart his response…
J: Oh boy…
S: … when it occurred to me that something else must be lurking beneath the surface of this conflict. After all, even then, my reaction seemed to be somewhat out of proportion. And I knew that I wouldn’t convince him, no matter what I said. The rational route seemed like a cul-de-sac. So, why not examine the anger instead and learn something about myself in the process?
J: Seems like a good call to me.
S: And meditation hadn’t really provided me with any satisfactory answer. After all, I had meditated on my anger for a week before this had happened without gaining much insight into the issue. So, I decided that I needed something with a bigger calibre, so to say. I decided to confront the problem head-on and partake in the Eleusinian mysteries.
J: Sounds like the perfect set-up for a bad trip. How was it?
S: I got my answer and many more. Normally, I listen to the cittern music that is played on such occasions, but I have observed in the past that this makes my mind get caught up in the story lines of thought that it spins for itself.
J: But surely, these story lines can be informative also, don’t you think?
S: Absolutely! But this time, I wanted to go as deeply as I could to really get to the root of the issue. So, I sat in silence and focused on my breath, doing my best to interrupt all story lines as soon as I noticed them and to stay with the bare sensations as well as I could. At some point, any sense of time was lost. Sensations swept by, some inspiring fear and discomfort, others blazing with an aura of mystery. No clear objects could be discerned in the vortex of oddities, for the stream of appearances was now fully submerging my consciousness and the discerning faculty of my mind itself seemed to have been put out of operation for the time being. I let everything arise and pass away at its own pace in the periphery of my awareness while coming back to the breath over and over, holding on to it as I would hold on to a rope in the midst of a roaring mountain torrent. Then at some point, I entered calmer waters and found myself in silence, face to face with my fear of not being good enough.
J: The fear of not being good enough?
S: Yes.
J: How did it appear to you?
S: I can’t really say, I just knew that this fear was within me. I saw it quite clearly and this clarity stood in strong contrast to the murky vagueness of everything that had preceded it. Also, it didn’t feel as though I had learned something new about myself, more like as if I had remembered something that I had known already, only that my awareness of it hadn’t ever been this lucid before. I saw this fear of not being good enough and I saw all the activities that it inspires in me so that I don’t have to feel it. The philosophical debates and other intellectual ambitions and also this constant striving for self-development, spiritual and otherwise. I do it all to escape this nagging, ever-present fear. And when I succeed, when I win the argument, when I manage to write a witty poem or win the game or whatever, I get high on my own achievement, I get excited and cocky. But any achievement breeds the expectation of future achievements, for, after all, one is never done achieving. And what if I fail to meet these expectations of future success? I used to get depressed, nowadays I get frustrated and angry. Angry at myself and angry at others for not being good enough.
J: But why would you get angry at others?
S: I think there is always a symmetry between the judgements we make about ourselves and those we make about others. If intelligence is important to you, you’ll find yourself judging others on their intelligence. If fashionable cloths don’t play a role in your life, you won’t waste a thought on how well others are dressed.
J: Are you giving this example because you are always walking around in rags?
S: Right, sure. Anyway, do you get what I’m trying to say?
J: Sure. First, you get frustrated because you don’t live up to your own standards, this frustration then breeds a lot of angers that lurks inside waiting to lash out at the next opportunity or at the next person that calls you an intellectual wanker. Straightforward enough.
S: Right, but you see, this whole dynamic was hidden under the rational surface of my thinking mind. As I said, I could have made an excellent case against Theopheros and I’m pretty sure I could have convinced you that I’m right and that he’s wrong. And yet, I was deluded. But the problem was not at all that my arguments themselves were flawed in some way, you see?
J: So, you don’t mistrust your rational abilities?
S: Here is where it gets complicated. I do mistrust them because they didn’t keep me from projecting my inner conflict onto him. But even though I’ve fallen prey to my own projections, I could still be right in saying that he has applied a double standard. You see, what I mean? The fact that I’m right is, in a way, beside the point. What my rational judgement is about, namely the double standard, seems to be at the core of the issue, it seems to explain my emotional reaction, but this isn’t so.
J: But don’t you think that someone else might have gotten angry at him for the same reason?
S: Sure, they might have gotten angry, but not to this degree. Also, why did I not shrug off his comment? If he is logically inconsistent in his reasoning, why does this have to be a big deal for me? Of course, his irrational style of reasoning doesn’t allow for effective intellectual inquiries, but then again, aren’t there an awful lot of people who are guilty of the exact same thing? So, why doesn’t their existence upset me? Well, presumably because you can’t wait for the world to be in perfect order before you allow yourself some peace of mind.
J: Waiting for everyone else to agree might take too long.
S: Exactly. But why did I let his comment disturb my tranquillity then? The reasons that were consciously accessible to my mind seemed insufficient to account for this.
J: And this is what shook you?
S: Yeah, I’m just very used to relying on my rational faculties and it was very sobering to see that living up to the rational standards I have advocated last time doesn’t guarantee that my perspective is undistorted by unconscious inner conflicts. I can be right, but still be wrong, if you catch my drift.
J: This is exactly the kind of paradoxical formulation that will earn you recognition in post-structuralist circles!
S: Quite amusing…
J: Okay but jokes aside. What exactly is missing from the rationalist picture then?
S: I’d say this picture doesn’t take into account the psychological motivation of an utterance.
J: What do you mean by that?
S: Well obviously, we don’t just say what we say because we hold it to be true, but rather because saying it fulfils a certain psychological function or rather, because it satisfies some psychological need.
J: You mean the need to find out the truth?
S: You have a very favourable view of the human psyche if you really think that the need to find out the truth is the predominant drive behind our utterances.
J: No, I don’t think that. But try to be more specific, this all still seems quite vague to me.
S: Okay, let’s say you are fighting with your partner and in the heat of the argument they say something that is really hurtful to you. Now, you ask them why they said what they said, and they respond: “Because it’s true!” What is missing here?
J: I would feel like they are evading the question.
S: Yes, but how so?
J: Not the question game again…
S: Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. There is a lot more to be said about their utterance than whether it is true or not. Maybe you have hurt them by some remark you thought to be perfectly innocuous but which they, on the other hand, perceived to be a malicious attack. So now the angry utterance you get in return is, from their perspective, nothing but a defensive counterattack, a legitimate response to your aggressive recklessness. There is a whole emotional dynamic going on behind the scenery. And this is what you want to know when you ask why they said what they said.
J: And this is what you call the psychological motivation of their utterance?
S: For lack of a better word. But you get my point, right? The act of saying whatever it is they said doesn’t just have the function of stating the truth. Of the many channels through which interpersonal communication travels, the rationally intelligible content is but one.
J: Okay, but this seems to be quite trivial. Any mediocre psychoanalyst that spends his days pressing his farts into his pretentious armchair and sucking on his pipe-shaped penis-substitute could have told you this. And surely, you were aware of the psychological dimension of truth claims before partaking in the Mysteries. So, what’s this fuzz about now all of a sudden?
S: It is one thing to know this in the abstract, it is quite another thing to experience it concretely in your own mind.
J: Yes, true, but if we come back to your example, I still don’t see the significance of it all. If the fight ends and my partner and I go over the argument again, surely, we can simply talk about the psychological dimension of what happened. Okay, so you were angry because I made this careless remark and then you lashed out at me. As I know now that you react sensitively to this topic, I’ll be more careful in the future. Problem solved.
S: Is it solved, though? Granted, you have reached a pragmatic agreement about how to deal with this kind of situation in the future, but you haven’t gotten deep enough in your problem analysis to see what is really underneath your partner’s aggressive reaction.
J: What are you talking about? If they were perfectly honest with me, they would just tell me, don’t you think?
S: Yes, they would tell you what they think underlies their aggression but what makes you think they know the truth? I didn’t know the root of my anger until I explored it during the Mysteries and there is no chance in Hades I would have found it in my sober every-day life. These things are simply buried too deeply to access them that easily.
J: Okay, so how could we ever be absolutely certain that we haven’t fallen prey to some unconscious conflict that distorts our perspective? Doesn’t this possibility then always loom in the background?
S: So it seems.
J: But this sounds very much like a sceptical scenario to me like the cartesian one. “How could I ever be sure of anything? After all, an evil daemon might manipulate my perceptions so as to misguide me in all of my judgements.” Or like in “The Matrix” where what you take to be your life is merely a sophisticated simulation fed into your brain by a bunch of robots that want to harvest your body warmth for energy production.
S: In my eyes, that’s a central flaw in the movie. Why would they take humans that could potentially wake up to reality and overturn their robot dominion? They should have taken cows instead or some other mammal that is a little easier to handle.
J: Boy, “The Matrix” would have been quite a different movie.
S: Nothing but lush meadows stretching from one horizon to the other, a herd of cows ruminating peacefully on the vast plains…
J: But we digress. Obviously, my point is this: If some of our inner conflicts are unconscious, we can never be sure that our perception of a given situation is undistorted. Therefore, we must doubt our perception at all times. But this doesn’t make sense, no one can live their life like that. Scepticism only makes sense if you have to spend the whole winter sitting idly by the oven as Descartes did. As soon as you go about your day and start being involved in practical matters, you automatically assume that most of your perceptions are trustworthy. You simply would not be able to live if every single perception would throw you down the rabbit hole of sceptical scrutiny.
S: You are quite right, but this is not how I would suggest we deal with this problem. First of all, Descartes was mainly concerned with the deceptive nature of sensory perceptions whereas I suspect the thinking mind to be the chief culprit in this story. Second of all, as Descartes was sitting by the oven doubting the veracity of his brain’s representations, he was thinking about these representations, right? But this would be the wrong move according to the picture I’m painting.Consider my own example, thinking about the inconsistencies in Theopheros’ moral judgements. As I came to suspect that my rational analysis of his behaviour wasn’t perfectly innocuous, it wouldn’t have made any sense to produce a second rational analysis to take apart the first one. If the tool of rationality is flawed, you can’t use it to fix itself. You see? For if I thought about the distortions in my thinking, how could I ever be sure that these metathoughts about my thoughts are not distorted as well?
J: I don’t really see how this would help you escape the paralysis of ubiquitous doubt. You’ve just added more things to the list of things you can’t rely on.
S: Well, firstly, you would not be “thrown down the rabbit hole of sceptical scrutiny” each time you perceive or think something because sceptical scrutiny comes in the medium of thought and thoughts can’t help you out of the ditch. Secondly, I’m not telling you to cast doubt on each representation of your brain alike. Some representations are obviously more trustworthy than others. The fact that you see a chair in front of you doesn’t seem to be prone to distortion by psychological projection in the same way as my thoughts about the conflict with Theopheros do.
J: So, we should mainly doubt our thoughts and not our perceptions?
S: Exactly.
J: Because thoughts are more deceptive than perceptions?
S: So it seems.
J: Yes, so it seems. But how can you be sure?
S: Look, I’m not playing the skeptical game here. I’m not doubting everything and then trying to build up my knowledge about the world and other people from some unshakable fundament, like Descartes did. What I’m saying is that some of our representations of how the world is are highly untrustworthy. How do I know this? Well, I have experienced the illusion of my judgement about Theopheros dissolve into nothingness and the picture that emerged after this illusion had dropped away, was vastly different. And experience shows that thinking is way more prone to this sort of illusion than sensory perception
J: Okay, but if thinking is untrustworthy and if critical thinking about thinking is still thinking and therefore untrustworthy, how do we deal with this situation?
S: You just drop the thought as soon as you notice it, like you would in meditation.
J: And by dropping it you mean…
S: I mean becoming aware that a chain of thoughts has begun that has taken away your attention from the immediacy of the present moment. As soon as you notice this, you gently pop the thought like you would pop a soap bubble with your fingertip.
J: So, we should strive not to think at all anymore?
S: No, this is not what I’m saying. If you want to dig a pond, you obviously have to make a plan by thinking about the different steps you have to take and about the order in which you take them. If Sparta were to besiege Athens again, we should think very hard about how best to defend it. But we should be way more careful when it comes to forming judgements about others. Let me give you an example. If you catch yourself hypothesising that your friend is overly critical of your artistic work because he has got unacknowledged pride issues and is therefore simply envious of your achievement, I think you should hold this judgement lightly and be aware that you might quite possibly be wrong.
J: And if my friend in turn tells me that I don’t accept his criticism because I can’t stand the idea of being imperfect? His judgement of my reaction might equally be clouded by his inner conflicts, might it not?
S: Yes, it might and probably is to some degree.
J: But how could we ever find out who’s right then?
S: Not by thinking about it, that’s for sure. You can’t cut through the impenetrable copse of psychological projection by rational means.
J: Oh look, it’s the title!
S: What?
J: Never mind.
S: Anyway, what I conclude from all of this is that I basically never perceive other people as they are. I mistrust my judgements about them, but this doesn’t paralyse me at all. On the contrary, it is very liberating to give others the benefit of the doubt. I can forgive them more easily because I know that the flaws I see in them might be an illusion and I take their explicit judgements about me with a giant grain of salt because I know they might be distorted.
J: Okay, this seems reasonable enough to me.
S: Poor choice of words.
J: Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean. But do you then think that we will for ever remain in this agnostic limbo with regards to others and ourselves?
S: No, there are clearly methods for debunking the illusions of the thinking mind. Meditation is one.
J: But didn’t you say that it doesn’t cut deep enough?
S: In my case it didn’t, but I was after quick results that would put an end to my chronic anger. Maybe I would have gotten the same insights in the long run relying on meditation only. But it might also be the case that some issues are simply never brought up by meditation and for these, you need other tools.
J: Tools like the Eleusinian Mysteries?
S: Yes, or effective psychotherapeutic techniques to release the trauma that you have accumulated over the years.
J: Well, I kind of see your point, but I honestly liked our conversations better when we were still doing good old theoretical philosophy. I’m just not the kind of guy who likes to wake sleeping dogs and rummage in the psychological dirt of his own unconscious mind. And what’s more, I don’t really think I’ve got that many issues to work through. I mean, everyone has got issues so some degree, but if you don’t show pathological symptoms, I simply don’t see why you should touch any of that.
S: Well, almost everyone seems to think that, yes, there might be some issues in the depth of their mind, but, no, these issues don’t prevent them from living happy and fulfilling lives. Until they make the disconcerting experience of stepping out of some major illusion. And then they notice that most of their past life was based on false hopes and irrational fears acquired during childhood.
J: I think, you’re exaggerating.
S: I disagree. There are loads of people who think they are doing just fine, who are convinced that therapy is for lunatics only, but whose whole personality structure is just one big defense mechanism that shields them from feeling some repressed emotion. Their whole life and identity are structured around this end. But you would not classify them as pathological because they are functional, they go to work, they have a marriage, albeit one without much in the way of authentic communication, they raise their kids and see their friends, they drink much but so does everyone else, in short, they live what is considered a normal life. But when you talk to them, they simply never seem to be able to relax and just be themselves. They do all kinds of apparently useless stuff to distract themselves and stir up their mind because they can’t stand the things and feelings that emerge as soon as it settles down. Just think of the energy that this constant struggle for emotional suppression consumes. So, no, I don’t think that therapy is only for those who show pathological symptoms and I also think you are mistaken in saying that you don’t have much to work through.
J: Yeah, you think that I’m mistaken. But didn’t you just say that your thinking is mostly distorted?
S: Yes, but I don’t think I’m contradicting myself here.
J: You think you aren’t.
S: Look, of course I could be mistaken. But the chances are pretty high I’m not. Everyone has got some pretty ugly stuff buried deep inside. Why would you be the exception? Think about how often you notice supposed projections in others and how seldom you notice them in yourself. Do you think this is because there are none to notice? Or do you think that you are simply overlooking the beam in ye own eye? Your parents seem to have a lot of psychological issues that you might put off as likable quirks because you are used to them. Don’t you think you have inherited at least some of them as they raised you? I know for a fact that you used to be somewhat of a chubby outsider as a kid. Do you really think that this has left no mark on your personality?
J: No man, I’m not buying it. And let me let you what, Popper was right in saying that these psychoanalytic diagnoses are unscientific nonsense. There is nothing I could say to you now that would convince you of my standpoint. You make the hypothesis that I have some repressed inner conflict that distorts my perspective. If I agree, this confirms your hypothesis. If I disagree, this is exactly what someone would do who has repressed an inner conflict, thus, your hypothesis is confirmed again. It is confirmed in both cases, however the world turns out to be. Therefore, you hold it to be true independently of how the world turns out to be. From this it follows that it doesn’t hold any information about the world, which is just another way of saying that it is unscientific nonsense.
S: Well, I can’t possibly come up with an argument that will convince you to adopt my standpoint either. And in trying to do so, I would be contradicting myself in a way. If my point is that the rational mind is seriously flawed, then it wouldn’t make much sense to try and come up with a convincing reason, for, after all, by giving you a good reason, I would again be addressing your rational mind. As I said, you won’t be able to think your way out of this.
J: But what are we then supposed to do according to you?
S: I’ll be repeating myself here. I think we should apply the therapeutic techniques I have named before to see what lays buried deep inside and in the meantime, we should refrain from taking our own rational judgements too seriously, especially those about other people. Before we do this, it simply doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to go on with our classically philosophical investigations.
J: But you haven’t shown this to be the case yet, have you? Okay, I agree that our judgements about social interactions might often be distorted. But what about all the classical philosophical questions? I could see how what you’re saying might have some consequences for moral philosophy, but what about the theoretical issues we are usually concerned with? In a world contorted by psychological projection, the question of how consciousness arises in the brain would still be a legitimate question and an interesting one, for that matter.
S: But why do you find it interesting?
J: Well, why wouldn’t I? It’s one of the big enigmas in this universe!
S: Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that almost all people we know who are really killing it in philosophy, the hardcore nerds, the well-read geeks and so forth are socially incompetent and hyper-quirky?
J: Where are you going with this?
S: I get it, we philosophers are interested in the theoretical questions themselves and you might even be right in saying that as we think about these questions, out perspective is not distorted by our inner conflicts because the subject matter itself is too abstract and too far removed from our daily live. Although this point is also debatable. But let’s grant you all this for the time being. Now, couldn’t the activity of philosophising itself easily be interpreted as an avoidance behaviour? Think about it, you sit alone in you room for hours on end and when you finally do talk to others, it’s mainly about impersonal intellectual problems. You can spend the whole day talking to people without ever having to reveal anything about yourself. How great is that?
J: First of all, speak for yourself. And second of all, doesn’t the same criticism hold for meditation?
S: Quite so, and I bet there is a bunch of people who use meditation in order not to be triggered in social situations. But in contrast to philosophy, meditation can actually make you step out of your rational illusions.
J: But isn’t philosophy concerned with the very same project? When I make you give up your position by convincingly showing you that it’s founded on bad reasons, don’t I thereby also make you step out of your rational illusion?
S: Yes, I get your point and you are right in a way. I come closer to the truth in the process, or at least I’m moving further away from falsehood. But philosophy doesn’t cut deeply enough either. You can’t step out of the medium of thought by doing philosophy. I presume this is why most continental philosophy is so dreadful to read. These guys…
J: … and gals…
S: Right. These guys and gals are very aware of some ways in which the rational perspective is distorted and they try to amend this flaw by inventing a new style of writing, a style that doesn’t make use of the allegedly sexist or transphobic or colonial or capitalist categories of though, that parodies them or subverts them or what have you. But I am afraid that this project is bound to fail because they still use language and the medium of thought.
J: So, you think they are wrong in what they’re saying?
S: No, I don’t. Quite the contrary, it is highly likely that our thinking is unconsciously distorted by these factors but thinking and talking about it can only get you so far. And inventing a new murky and unbearably idiosyncratic style of writing almost certainly won’t bring you closer to the truth.
J: But these people probably wouldn’t subscribe to the idea of objective truth anyway, don’t you think?
S: I know, and they might even be right in doing so.
J: But doesn’t the whole idea of stepping out of the illusions of the rational mind presuppose the notion of objective truth?
S: Good point. I hope not. Thus far, I have only presupposed that you can be more deluded or less so. Stepping out of your illusion is a step in the right direction, but this doesn’t necessarily imply that there is some perfect endpoint you are stepping towards.
J: But why do you trust this experience of the dropped illusion?
S: What do you mean?
J: I mean, I get it, our inner conflicts can become conscious and then you see things differently from how you saw them before. What makes you so sure that this constitutes a step in the right direction? Your judgement that you are less deluded now than you used to be before could also be distorted, after all.
S: True, but I don’t believe it to be.
J: Yeah, but on what grounds? I presume you are not basing yourself on any rational reason in doing so.
S: No, it’s a gut feeling.
J: Since when are gut feelings more trustworthy than rational arguments in your world view? These Mysteries really do fry your brain…
S: I think many things come down to gut feelings. When you don’t find an argument convincing, but you can’t see yet were its weakness lies, it is your philosophical instinct, your gut feeling, that will lead you to your goal. Likewise, how do you know that you are being honest with someone? There is a certain phenomenological feel that comes with honesty and that you can use as an indicator of how authentic you are being at that moment. You know it deep down in the core of your body that what you are saying is what you really think and that you are not hiding anything. After having dropped the illusion about Theopheros, I felt less deluded in this very same way. I just felt it with my whole being. Sure, the logical possibility that I’m wrong about this still persists, but it doesn’t hold any importance to me.
J: Let me guess! Because it doesn’t feel important.
S: Exactly.
J: Oh boy, I liked the old Socrates better.
S: Yeah, tough luck, pal.
J: So, you are saying that we should just drop our reservation about these continental philosophers and their theories and just buy their positions? That our rational judgements are clouded by all these different factors?
S: It depends on what you mean by “buying into them”. You could adopt the abstract opinion that this is so and still be unaware of the actual distortions. For instance, you could adopt the opinion that your perspective as a European white male is distorted by sexist and racist categories of thought and still be unaware of how this distortion operates in your life, let alone get rid of it. As I said, you won’t be able to think your way out of this. Feeling bad about these distortions and chanting “mea culpa” in unison in your critical whiteness or critical masculinity circles probably won’t do the job.
J: But don’t you think that these critical masculinity circles can confront you with your own prejudice?
S: Okay, yes. I was being hyperbolic for the effect. I do agree with that, but I remain sceptical as to how far this will get you. But there is, of course, another issue.
J: Namely?
S: Well, the criticism that someone’s perspective is clouded by discriminatory prejudice is also psychologically motivated in turn.
J: What do you mean by that?
S: The same as at the beginning of our conversation. Let’s say the judgement is true and the addressed person is indeed racist. Now, the act of making the judgement itself doesn’t just serve the function of stating the truth. Rather, it is also fulfilling some psychological need. Just consider all the things a political ideology can do for you psychologically. It reduces this hyper-complex world to a manageable size by stating that it is really all about class struggle or about postcolonial power dynamics or about the clash of cultures that is aggravated through unregulated immigration. Choose your political camp. All these different scientific disciplines with their plethora of empirical knowledge? They’re all dominated by white men in their fifties, don’t even bother to look into it. Statistics is fundamentally flawed, too, and this is good news if you had a tough time with mathematics at school. Your own critical categories are all you need to know. Working on your projects is hard? Don’t fall prey to the subtle influence of capitalism! The ideals of productivity and progress need to be ardently criticised! Your political opinions give you a sense of moral superiority for you belong to a select elite of progressive thinkers who know what’s wrong with this world and have an easy recipe for how to fix it. You surround yourself with like-minded people who share your linguistic codes, your opinions, your fashion style and, most importantly, a common enemy. A political ideology gives you meaning and direction in a fundamentally absurd world, it gives you a sense of belonging when you feel lonely and a sense of power when you feel weak.
J: But hold up. Yes, I agree, political ideologies have these effects on those who hold them to be true. But this doesn’t mean that their positions are wrong.
S: That’s exactly my point! I fundamentally agree with most of my liberal friends’ opinions, but many of them hold these positions for the wrong reasons, so to say. Have you ever asked yourself why so many people seem to grow out of their political radicalism? They turn thirty, maybe they’re involved in some serious relationship with the prospect of children on the horizon and all of a sudden, their passionate longing for the communist revolution or the downfall of the patriarchy dies down a little. I wonder why? Have their opinions stopped being true? I don’t think so, but the psychological function these opinions had served are now being taken over by other things. Their romantic relationship maybe, their work, their kids, whatever.
J: Okay, I agree with most of what you’re saying here. But does it really matter? Let’s take the liberal criticism of racism for instance. Who cares what the psychological function behind this criticism really is? The person in question would still advance the anti-racist project, wouldn’t they? If this helps them cope with their juvenile weltschmerz in the process, all the better, no? Maybe you don’t use political ideologies for this purpose, but I don’t exactly see you go out in the streets and protest against racist violence either.
S: You’re right, they’re doing the dirty work and I’m not.
J: Right.
S: Look, my point is this. Why do you think politicised people often react so allergically to differently-minded people? Or why their debating culture is often so rigid and intolerant? Just think about it: Imagine you have some belief p…
J: Now we’re talking!
S: …and you are not just convinced of the truth of p, but you’re also emotionally invested in all these different ways in your belief that p. Being a believer of p gives your live meaning and direction. Believing p is the most important property that you and your peers have in common and on which your comradery is based. If I were now to criticise p, I wouldn’t just challenge your belief that p, rather, I would thereby also call into question your whole narrative of how you fit into this world and so on. I would at the same time touch all the psychological and existential trauma that believing p served to cover up. Not only does this impede the free exchange of ideas and a truly critical discourse, it is also an avoidance strategy for not dealing with the pain that is at the root of all the outrage.
J: Okay, couple of things. First, it’s not like liberals are the only ones to blame here.
S: José, I’ve never claimed that.
J: But you keep using them as an example.
S: Yeah because I’m not friends with any right-wingers. And guess why that is! As I’ve stated many times now, I fundamentally agree with almost all liberal positions. But if you’re take these ideas and weaponize them to subdue others or if you use them as an anaesthetic to numb your trauma, I think you should work out your issues first.
J: Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world?
S: Exactly, though I’m not entirely sure whether Peterson really lives up to his own standard.
J: Why not?
S: That’s a question for another time.
J: Right, whatever. My second point is, that it’s not just political activists left and right who are playing this game.
S: Dude, I didn’t claim that either. Ironically, psychoanalysts are among the first ones to blame, with their elitist demeanour and their pompous prose.
J: … he said, casually using the word “pompous”.
S: Or go read some Nietzsche. Much of his philosophy consists of insinuations that some generally applauded ideal is really covertly serving some base psychological need like the will to power or what have you. But then, he never seems to really question his own motives.
J: Well, I mean, he openly admits that he himself is motivated by these psychological motivations and he owns them quite explicitly.
S: Yes, but the motivations he does ascribe to himself always make him look kind of cool and strong and like he’s got it all figured out while the rest of the world lies dormant in the slumber of ignorance.
J: Wake up, sheeple!
S: Right. He never opens up to show his fears and vulnerabilities. However much of it is true, to me, most of his philosophy just seems to serve the construction of this sort of invulnerable persona, this mask that conceals his insecurities and sadness.
J: In other words, all this übermensch-talk is just one big overcompensation for his inferiority complex.
S: Your words, not mine, but I’m not disagreeing either. I think you get my point. And yet, as before, none of this even touches the question of whether what he says is true or not.
J: Man, I don’t know. This all seems like a super grim world view to me, even for your standards.
S: What can I say, you’re probably right. It’s hella grim. It’s all one enormous tragedy. We’re all busy running around and avoiding our past trauma, not listening to each other, not really showing up in the interactions we have, not opening up to the present moment for fear of being triggered, keeping others at arm’s length to protect our vulnerability, shutting out the paint, but shutting out our sense of vivacity in the process. And the worst part is, we think this is normal, we don’t even notice that this is so. This is just what life has always felt like with most people seeming kind of flat and most things feeling kind of boring. As I was tripping during the Mysteries, it occurred to me that this whole world is but one gigantic car crash going on in super slow-motion. Just cars over cars crashing into each other, where each car is hit from behind, gains momentum and then hits the car in front of it.
J: And what do you think this vision means?
S: I think this is how trauma is passed on from one generation to the next, from one person to the next. I felt like I just woke up to the fact of this huge car crash going on all around me. I feel like I urgently need to take control of my own car. We all need to do this.
J: Okay, so let me tell you this. I see where you are coming from, but I still think you’re kind of overreacting.
S: I thought so, and I didn’t really expect to convince you. As I said, I’ll not change your mind by means of reason. You’ll need to come and see for yourself.
J: And partake in the Mysteries? No way, Socrates. That shit fries your brain.
S: Right, right… I have nothing further to add then.
J: Yeah, thanks for sharing anyway.
S: Pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, if got a spinning car to take care of.
J: Alright. See you around, Socrates!
S: Take care!
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