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Showing posts with label individualism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label individualism. Show all posts

Thursday, October 16, 2025

The Paradox of American Individualism


Individualism and Collectivism by Pecardenass (Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0)



One of the keys aspects of the  psychotherapy paradigm I write about is that family member often sacrifice part of themselves if the kin group seems to need them to. Americans can have trouble seeing that since it contradicts a common world view that they have.  

 American history is the story of an immigrant nation forged in a new world with ever-expanding frontiers. Because of this history, the prevailing outlook of Americans throughout much of their development has been a rather individualistic one. Particularly since the American Revolution, the majority of Americans have tended to value independence, freedom of thought and expression, and economic competition with a profit motive. We are less willing to make sacrifices for the collective good, and the circumstances in which such sacrifices are made are more circumscribed.

 However, the forces of togetherness have not disappeared. In fact, the idea that a collectively held ethical system should champion the individual is inherently paradoxical. Those of us who like to view ourselves as free to pick and choose which collective norms we will adhere to and which we will reject must face the fact that this freedom is granted to us by the group. It can also be taken away by the group. In addition, we learn how to be self-sufficient only through training given to us by our family system.

 Our world says to us, "We will make you independent." How are you that independent if you got that way because the group told you that you could.

This creates an internal contradiction which is characteristic of dialectical systems. As individuated as we are, we are all still part of a collective.

 To illustrate, let us look at the example of the young American radicals as they existed in the late 1960’s when "radical" ideas were in vogue on high school and college campuses. The case of the modern, young, campus Communist indeed proves the point that, as independent as Americans like to think of themselves, we cannot successfully divorce ourselves completely from the collective of which we are a part.

A Communist is, by definition, an individual who has accepted an egalitarian variant of collectivism as a personal philosophy. That is, he or she believes that the needs of society are more important than personal ambition and that everyone should be an equal partner. For instance, after the theoretical demise of the "dictatorship of the proletariat," all decisions in a factory are supposed to be made collectively by the workers for the "greater good." No one would work "for" anyone else. In taking a position against personal aggrandizement, the Communist is taking a position in which the balance between the individual and the group tilts more towards the later than does the prevailing American ethic.

But can an American act out this philosophy successfully? Two characteristics of the campus radicals were revealing. First, they often touted their own ideas as being superior to the ideas of the American "establishment." Most of the Communists that I encountered were the most elitist people I had ever met. They thought they knew more about what is right and wrong than anyone else. Paradoxically, elitism is contrary to Communist philosophy! Another interesting characteristic of the leftists was that they frequently praised the rather individualistic ethic of "doing your own thing." This last often included rock music and sexual freedom, two commodities which were rare in Communist countries, precisely because of their individualistic nature. In fact, most American Communists have done rather poorly in communist countries, which is why so few of them actually defected.

 The collectivism of the campus radical was in reality a rebellious response, and therefore tied to the prevailing individualistic ethic rather than truly separate from it. By becoming a Communist, it is clear that they were setting themselves apart from the mainstream of American thought, since the vast majority of Americans consider Communism as either totalitarian or unrealistic, and therefore best avoided. 

By distancing themselves from their own culture, which is the collective to which they themselves belonged, these students were for all intents and purposes more individualistic than the Americans they criticized.

 By being individualistic, they were just as American as apple pie, despite their attempts at being something different. Their attempts to reverse the trend of cultural evolution were doomed to failure. However, they were certainly not without influence.  And their attitudes towards authority, sex, and self-expression helped to propel the culture of individualism to new heights.

The balance between the forces of individuality and togetherness that is prevalent in the United States colors everything we do and, without a doubt, colors our ideas about what drives people to do the things they do. For example, Freud's psychoanalysis found a ready market within the more liberal segments of American society in the early part of this century. One of the reasons may have been its initial emphasis on the pleasure principle and on intrapsychic rather than interpersonal factors in neurotic behavior. 

Americans like to think of themselves as somehow responsible for their own problems and motivated by a strong self-interest. Even those persons who are diagnosed as character-disordered and seem to blame everyone but themselves for their own problems often ultimately blame themselves for not being able to cope with the problem behaviors of others. We are not, unfortunately, as free from collective obligations as we might like to think.

 


Tuesday, October 23, 2012

The 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous - a Translation


Getting all of the blame, but none of the credit



One of the central ideas I use in trying to understand the relationships between various theories and treatment models within psychotherapy is that, within all groups of human beings, there is a constant battle (called a dialectic) going on between what Murray Bowen’s protégé Michael Kerr called the "forces of individuality" versus the "forces of togetherness" (collectivism, in politics speak). The dialectic between individual desires and group norms can be seen dramatically within the twelve steps of Alcoholic Anonymous (AA). 




Caveat: while this post may seem critical of some aspects of 12 Step Programs, I want to emphasize that these groups do help a certain percentage of addicts. Being addicted to substances is usually far worse that endorsing any of the problematic aspects of the AA ideology. Until something much better comes along, AA represents the only hope for some individuals. 

The strategy that AA uses to help alcoholics and other addicts is based on techniques used by Protestant religious denominations to convert non-believers. Those, in turn, are based on the techniques that such groups use to enforce group behavioral norms while still allowing a certain degree of individuality, as described by Erich Fromm in his classic book, Escape From Freedom. 

While giving some praise to the individual in a series of clever paradoxes and ambiguities, certain aspects of individuality are ritually denounced - most usually, the "dangers" of unrestricted willfulness. Willfulness, or the desire to follow our own inclinations, is equated with sin, and is seen as leading invariably to de­gredation and despair. 

The alcoholic and the teetotaler really believe much the same thing and need one another desperately. The teetotaler says that self-indulgence leads to ruin, and the behavior of the alcoholic proves the point. Without the example of the latter, the philosophy of the former could not be reasonably maintained. Without the warnings of the non-drinker, the alcoholic would have no one to defy. The success of AA is dependent on a continuing supply of new "sinners." 

The 12 Steps refer to the issue of the individual versus the collective both directly, when the issue of human will is discussed, and indirectly, when they speak of God or a "higher power." To show how often the denigration of individuality arises in Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, I am going to list some quotations from the book. 

Admittedly, I am taking these quotes out of context. The reason that I do so is that, as I will show shortly, the context contains large numbers of contradictory statements that are not juxtaposed for comparison, as well as paradoxical statements, which mask the underlying message. Of particular note is that the entire book is written using the collective pronoun we. 

[Page numbers that are referred to are from the following edition: 
Alcoholics Anonymous. Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions. New York: Alcholics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1981. (Originally published 1952)]. 

…self confidence was no good whatever; in fact, it was a total liability. (p. 22) 

…the average alcoholic, self-centered in the extreme... (p. 24) 

"How he [the practicing alcoholic] does cherish the thought that man, risen so majestically from a single cell in the primordial ooze, is the spearhead of evolution and therefore the only God that his universe knows!" (p. 25) 

…those filled with self sufficiency who have cut themselves off [from God] (p. 28) 

Now we come to another problem, the intellectually self-sufficient man or woman... far too smart for own good... blow ourselves into prideful balloons... (p. 29) 

cut away the self will... (p. 34) 

The philosophy of self sufficiency is . . . a bone-crushing juggernaut whose final achievement is ruin. (p. 37) 

We want to find exactly how, when, and where our natural desires have warped us. (p. 43) 

It is not by accident that pride heads the procession [of the seven deadly sins]. (p.48) 

It is worth noting that people of very high spiritual development almost always insist on checking with friends or spiritual advisers in the guidance they feel they have received from God. (p. 60) 

It is a spiritual axiom that every time we are disturbed, there is something wrong with us. If someone hurts us and we are sore, we are in the wrong also. (p. 90) 

…any success we may be having [in remaining sober] is more His [God's] success than ours. p. 92) 

…personal ambition has no place in A.A. (p. 183) 

…A.A.'s twelve traditions repeatedly ask us to give up personal desires for the common good... (p. 184) 

Moved by the spirit of Anonymity, we try to give up our natural desires for personal distinction ... p. 187) 

…a loving God as he may express Himself in our group conscience. (p. 
189) 

As I mentioned earlier, these types of statements are intermixed with paradoxes and ambiguities. On page 26, we are told that the AA group does not demand any belief or behavior — that all twelve steps are merely suggestions. Of course, on page 174, we are told that any group member that defies the "suggestions" has probably signed his own death warrant. 

We are exhorted to keep an open mind while at the same time to "resign from the debating society" (p. 26). We are told that the best way to get rid of self-will is through our willingness to do so. We are told that dependence upon a higher power is a means of gaining "true independence of the spirit" (p. 36). 


One rather frequent ambiguity in the book is that it sometimes implies that its ideas concerning over-indulgence apply primarily to the issue of alcohol, while at other times it seems to apply its concepts far more generally. Page 36 implies strongly that the twelve steps do not apply just to the issue of alcohol. 

Throughout the entire volume, debatable statements about self-indulgence are mixed up with statements concerning over-indulgence that only a fool would debate. Page 44 sensibly discusses instincts running wild, and, on page 65, we are even told, paradoxically, that God does not expect us to fully eliminate all of our natural drives. 

The book's discussion of pride also presents us with a mix of statements that confuse one type of pride — unwarranted pride — with all types of pride. It is also fascinating that, shortly after discussing the alcoholic's generic pride, the book goes on to discuss the alcoholic's generic feelings of inferiority and inadequacy. Are we to assume that alcoholics are both truly proud and ashamed of themselves simultaneously? 

Allow me to translate the 12 Steps from the collectivism vs. individualism perspective. In step one, addicts admit their powerlessness over their own impulses. The way to stop behaving self-destructively, says step two, is to turn to a power greater than ourselves. Step three defines exactly what it is that we are supposed to do in relation to that power. We are supposed to turn our will over to it. We must not trust our own instincts, but only some power greater than ourselves- the collective, of course. 

In step four, we make a moral inventory, in order to discover our liabilities. The type of "defects" under consideration here are spelled out quite dearly. They are the old familiar seven deadly sins. Notice that the issues of the harm that we have done to others and making amends to others do not come up until steps eight and nine — after this moral inventory. We must deal with our own intrinsic evil before we can address the evil that we have inflicted upon others. 

In step five, we are to admit the exact nature of the wrongs discovered in step four to ourselves, God, and another person. We cannot be honest with only ourselves and God; after all, we may be deluding ourselves about God's will. We must confess our sins to others. We must let them know that we were not in control of our impulses. 

The AA book clearly compares this step with the confession of sins in organized religion. In the group meetings, members announce their names and add, "and I am an alcoholic." They say there is no shame in this, but clearly members are ritualistically humiliating themselves in front of the group. 

They may say that they are doing this in order to overcome the denial characteristic of the alcoholic. However, if alcoholism truly is a manifestation of willfulness, then, when practicing alcoholics insist that they can control their drinking whenever they want to, they are telling the truth. The real denial comes when they "admit" that they were not deliberately choosing to drink all along, but were responding to their "disease." 

Steps six and seven involve asking the higher power to remove our shortcomings; again this is to be done before we even consider the harm that we have done to others. The concept of humility and our own powerlessness over our impulses is stressed. 


If we do well in the future, the credit goes to the higher power who has removed our shortcomings. If we screw up?  Well, that's just our own shortcomings.

After we deal with the harm we have done to others in steps eight and nine, step ten involves continuing the process of self-criticism that had begun in step four. The priority goal of this process is self-restraint and the avoidance of pride. This is accomplished by attributing any sobriety we have achieved not to ourselves, but to God. Kindness and love to others arises from our devotion to God, not from our own selfish instincts or will. 

Step 11 involves the personal relationship to God. We are to meditate. and pray to God "as we understand him." On what this understanding is supposed to be based is never specified exactly. In fact, the book takes a religious stance by adopting the notion that the Lord works in mysterious ways which no mere mortal can understand. 

It is clear that what happens in the world is not supposed to happen according to our own notions of right and wrong or our own will. We are to pray for what God wants, not for what we want; we are to ask only for knowledge about God's will for us and His power to carry it out. 


This knowledge does not involve specific answers to behavioral dilemmas, but only knowledge about how we might best forget ourselves and serve the collective. Only then will love, forgiveness, truth, and harmony come about, and we will be rewarded by a sense of belonging to the group. In the twelfth and final step, we are encouraged to spread the gospel, and to apply it to all of our affairs. 

Why are the anonymous groups so powerful when it comes to stopping compulsive behavior? (At the risk of offending the devout, I am going to discount the possibility of divine intervention.) I submit that the answer to the question lies in the fact mentioned above —that both the practicing and the recovering AA alcoholic prove the point that individual will power is a bad thing: Many of the families of addicts are grappling with problems created by the increasing value placed on the individual by society at large, and how the newer prevailing philosophies conflict with the need for their families to function according to an old set of rules. 

Practicing alcoholics appear to be rebelling against collectivist tendencies by indulging themselves with no concern for the health and safety of loved ones or anyone else. They often lie, put others in double binds, defeat expressions of caring and concern, and drive while intoxicated. 


Many individuals and family members directly involved with the problem of alcoholism argue that this behavior results primarily from the influence of the drug, but the 12 Steps argue more convincingly than I ever could that they really do not believe it. The behavior of the alcoholic is clearly attributed to a self-centered attitude. 

The alcoholic's willfulness, pseudo-selfishness (they are really self-destructive), and lack of concern for others, however, does not work. Alcoholics end up depressed, humiliated, and often physically ill. Their rebellion has failed. Willfulness has failed. The only way to happiness is to return to conformity. When they stop drinking and join AA, their lives improve. 


This proves beyond a doubt that conformity is superior to willfulness. By providing such proof, they help to reinforce the role functioning of other family members who are themselves experiencing internal pressures to express selfish impulses at the expense of old established family rules.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Are We as Individualistic as We Like to Think?

When we see Iranian Shiite Moslems parading down the street during the day of Ashura, cutting their own foreheads and literally whipping themselves into a frenzy during a religious ceremony, we often come to the conclusion that the entire country has gone stark raving mad.


Surprisingly, however, we all do the same thing to a much lessor extent. As I described in previous posts Of Hormones and Ethnic Conflict and The Meaning of Life, we systematically discount our own natural tendencies to subjugate ourselves for the good of the group to which we belong. In particular, if our family system requires us to squeeze our thoughts and behaviors into some pigeonhole, we too will find ways to force behaviors upon our­selves which are otherwise unnatural for us. We sense that our impulses to do otherwise must be destroyed.

The ways in which we accomplish this are all subsumed by the term mortification. In recent times the word mortification has come to mean something akin to severe embarrassment or humiliation, but that is not what the word meant originally.

In the Oxford English Dictionary (first published in 1933 and reprinted in 1961), we find among the different senses of the word the following definitions: 
  • Mortification. In religious use, the action of mortifying the flesh or its lust; the subjugation of one's appetites and passions by the practice of austere living, especially by the self infliction of bodily pain or discomfort. (p. 678).  
  • Mortify. To bring into subjection (the body, its appetites and passions) by the practice of self denial, abstinence, or bodily discipline. (p. 679).  
  • Mortifying. Involving mortification or repression of natural appetites and desires. (p. 679)  
In earlier times, mortification was viewed as a conscious process by which one constrained one's own behavior within certain narrowly defined limits. Individuals actively searched for ways to push away those natural inclinations that were not in keeping with group norms. They figuratively tried to kill them off.

In particular, people felt that they had to keep a rein on their "animal" impulses. These impulses came to be known as the seven deadly sins: pride, greed, lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth. These" sins" might be seen as roughly corresponding to Freud's concept of the id.

Not surprisingly, skill at mortifying oneself was most thoroughly developed in austere religious orders. By becoming involved in large numbers of compulsively-performed rituals (some of which bordered on the bizarre), members of such orders had little time for self-indulgence.

Even so, the process of mortification through discipline, abstinence, and compulsive behavior was deemed to be ineffectual. No one short of Jesus' could be that perfect. For this reason, most of these groups also had some form of confession - a ritualized self-denunciation in front of the group or its leader - to cleanse from the soul the remnants of self-seeking tendencies.

Most people nowadays are not aware of the importance of the process of mortification in everyday life. This lack of awareness is most likely due to prevailing individualistic values. The loss of such understanding is, however, of relatively recent vintage.

The Victorians in England were certainly aware of mortification, although by around the turn of the century before last it was already the focus of some derision. It was satirized by name in no less than three Gilbert and Sullivan operettas.

In The Mikado, a character named Pooh Bah has to "mortify," not only his own pride, but his family pride. He does so, however, in order to save his own skin. It seems that in order to save his town from losing its charter (something which represents a collective need), someone has to volunteer' to satisfy the whims of the Mikado (the king) by allowing himself to be executed. Pooh Bah declines to volunteer, justifying his refusal on the grounds that it is necessary for him to refuse to indulge his family pride.  Family pride, he argues, would be served rather than mortified by his accepting the job.

In Iolanthe, the queen of a group of fairies has to "mortify" her sexual attraction to a mortal man, and has a problem doing so after one of her favorite subjects has been caught marrying a mortal. This play satirized societal prohibitions against marry­ing across the rigid class lines present in the England of that day.

In Princess Ida, women in a feminist school have to "mortify" their attraction to men in order to maintain their group identity. The mortification, as well as the group identity, dissolves when the school is infiltrated by some charming and handsome young men.

From my point of view, the impulses that are most often mortified by today's individuals can be conceptualized as being those inclinations of their real selves which conflict with the roles that they have been playing within their families. People have acquired these roles because the roles seem to be required in order to maintain family homeostasis.

In Chapter 3 of my book A Family Systems Approach to Individual Psychotherapy, I discussed several ways in which individuals try to rid themselves of some of their own impulses. Some of the forms of mortification that I described correspond to the psycho­analytic concept of defense mechanisms. In general, modern families and individuals have to do for themselves what was once done for them by the larger group.

Where we once had group censure and political exile, we now have family invalidation and emotional cut-offs. In place of fire and brimstone from a preacher, individuals create their own frightening, irrational thoughts in order to scare themselves out of this or that desire. Instead of going to the confessional, they criticize themselves for their base inclinations and find ways to loathe themselves. Rather than engaging in prescribed rituals, they form their own reaction formations, compulsively acting in ways that run counter to their underlying desires. We have all devised ingenious ways to put ourselves down, subjugate our passions, and force ourselves to conform to collective standards or family needs.