Tag: Carl Jung

Collective Subjectivity = Reality :: The Utility of Phenomenological Thought

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

In my last post, I explained the differences between and the proper uses of the terms ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’. To recap, these terms do not describe the positions from which one perceives. Of course, everyone perceives subjectively, and objects don’t perceive at all. Therefore, the subject/object spectrum is not a spectrum on which one may judge a matter’s truth-value. The spectrum simply describes the nature of the matter at hand — subjective means “of a subject” and objective means “of an object”. Having said that, how can we define truth more broadly? What determines it?

I think that we can, in many conceivable instances, equate truth with reality. This is based on one of two popular definitions of reality. The first, more popular definition in which we cannot equate truth and reality, and the one I reject, is that of objective, Newtonian-scientific reality. This holds that there are mathematical laws and principles out there in the universe, already discovered or waiting to be discovered, which the forces of nature can be reduced to. Proponents of this view hold “rationality”, in all of its vagueness, as the singular Platonic ideal which dictates what is true, real, and meaningful. It follows from this that mechanistic science holds the key to all knowledge. The problem here is that mechanistic science (not all science) is founded in the metaphysical belief in materialism. Materialism suggests that all reality is comprised of quantifiable matter and energy. Humans, and all living things, are “lumbering robots”, as Richard Dawkins claims. Consciousness, ethics, morality, spirituality, and anything else without a known material basis is subjective in nature and thus superstitious, irrational, and not real. As I have already explained, this worldview rests on a straw-man distinction between what constitutes subjective and objective, for it assumes that this distinction creates a spectrum on which to judge a matter’s truth-value (the more objective, the more true).

Remaining consistent with how I have distinguished subjective and objective is the second, less popular, and in my view, much more useful way of defining truth and reality: what is real is what affords us action and drives us toward a goal. The definition is as simple as that, but its implications have a tremendous amount of depth rooted in the unknown. Instead of holding one Platonic ideal (like rationality) as the key to all truth, there are an infinite number of ideals that humans conceptualize, both individually and collectively, in order to achieve their ends. Therefore, this view affords relevance to a wide range of perspectives even if the nature of the objects being perceived is unknown. The rationalist view, by contrast, is limited to the assumption that the nature of everything has already been determined to fit into one of two metaphysical categories: objective reality or subjective delusion. (This Newtonian theory of reality I have just explained, by the way, is a long-winded way of defining ‘scientism’, a term I often use in my posts.)

Nature doesn’t obey laws; humans do, so we tend to compartmentalize everything else in that way because that makes it easier for us to explain what we want to know and explain-away anything we don’t want to know. What we don’t want to know is what we are afraid of, and as it turns out, what we are afraid of is the unknown. So, when anomalies, whether personal or scientific, that don’t fit the already-established laws arise, a Newtonian thinker will categorize it as illusory in order to explain it away. This doesn’t work because even we humans have a propensity to break the laws that we create for ourselves, and this can be a very productive thing. The degrees to which this is the case depends on our individual psychological makeups. People who are high in the Big-5 personality trait conscientiousness, for example, tend to obey rules because of their innate need for outward structure and order. Those who are low in that trait are more likely to break rules, especially if they are also low in agreeableness which measures one’s tendency to compromise and achieve harmony in social situations. Openness, on the other hand, the trait correlated with intellect and creativity, allows one to see beyond the rules and break them for the right reasons — when they are holding one back from progress, for example. These are just three of five broad personality traits that have an abundance of scientific research to potentially confirm their realness and usefulness, even as a rationalist/Newtonian might perceive them. However, the tendency of someone to break rules as a result of their psychological makeup does not only apply to political laws. We also create collective social rules among groups of friends and unconscious conceptual rules for ourselves in order to more easily understand our environment, and those systems satisfy the same basic human needs and take the same hierarchical forms as political order does, and they serve purposes that contrast only in terms of their widespread-ness.

Regardless of our individual psychologies, there are commonalities that all humans share in terms of which types of goals we have and which types of things drive us toward or away from action. Those things are, therefore, collectively subjective across humanity and are what I would like to propose the most universally real and true things (insofar as anything can be universally real or true at all). This leads me to elaborate further on this goal-oriented view of reality.

Since I used Newton as a scientific lens through which to understand the rationalist theory of reality, I will do the same thing to explain the goal-based theory that I am proposing, but this time using Darwin. Philosophically speaking, Darwin did not commit himself to his theories in the same law-sense that Newton did his. In fact, many of Darwin’s ideas have recently been found to be rooted in psychology rather than in hard mechanistic biology. His main principle can be summed up with this: nature selects, and we make choices, based on what we judge to be most likely to allow us to survive and reproduce. That is all. Everything else is just detailed justification which may or may not be true or relevant. In fact, Darwin left open the possibility that the details of his evolutionary theory not only could be wrong, but that they probably were, and he was very serious about that. To take all of those details literally leads one into the same logical trap that the “skeptics/ new atheists” fall into when they obsess over the details of the Bible — they oversimplify and misrepresent its meaning, and therefore overlook the broader, most important points that exist. These are straw-man arguments, and they demonstrate a persistent, juvenile lack and rejection of intellect.

The reason Darwin’s main evolutionary principle is psychological is because it is consistent with Carl Jung’s idea of the archetype. An archetype is any ancient, unconscious pattern of behavior common among groups or the entirety of the human population and their ancestors. The need for all living beings, not only humans, to survive and reproduce, is undoubtedly real. It is something we understand so little, yet it drives an inconceivably wide range of behaviors, most of which are taken for granted to the extent that they are unconscious (e.g. sex-drive is causally related to the desire to reproduce). It is not only in the natural world that humans would have to desperately fight for their life against other species, but even among ourselves in the civilized world have there been instances of radical attempts to wipe out masses of people because one group saw another group’s ideologies as threatening to their own survival and prosperity (e.g. both Hitler and Stalin led such endeavors in the 20th century).

Perhaps, instead, if we equate truth with this archetypal, goal-oriented conception of reality, then we can come to a reasonable conclusion about what constitutes truth: that which affords and drives us to action. That is to say that (capital-T) Truth, in the idealistic, rationalist sense, probably does not exist, and if it does, our five senses will never have the capacity to understand it. The best we can achieve and conceive is that which is true-enough. For what? For us to achieve our goals: survive, reproduce, and make ends meet, and if we are very sophisticated and open, to also introspect, to be honest with ourselves and others, and to live a moral and just life.

Who Has Midlife Crises and Why

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

Psychologist Carl Jung spoke of a process called ‘individuation’ whereby one gains an elevated degree of self-awareness and is therefore able to take crucial steps toward cultivating his ideal personality (i.e. ‘self actualization’ in Maslownian terms). In layman’s terms, this process is called a ‘midlife crisis’. My proposal is that this is a period of growth that everyone experiences, and the sooner it happens, the easier it is to overcome.

According to social convention and many professional circles of psychology, a midlife crisis is considered a bad thing. For example, a psychiatrist named Sue may claim to have seen this instance many times before. Sue describes it empirically as stress at work and in the family that has accumulated over time, and then it was suddenly unleashed in different forms. This places the blame on the individual for not communicating his inner thoughts and feelings as they arose, so Sue will offer her therapy services to fix the problem by teaching better communication.

A neurotherapist named Ben might also claim to have seen this many times before, but he will take a more materialist approach. Ben will confine the problem to the brain by assuming that something simply went wrong with his neural functioning, and that the matter is beyond his control. He might suggest that the only solution is to undergo neurotherapy in his clinic to realign normal neural pathways in the frontal lobe of the brain.

Both the Sue and Ben, as well as most people in general, see this crisis as a problem that needs to be fixed, and that the only way to do that is via the specific methods in which they have been trained. “I understand. Let me handle it. You can trust me.” is what they will tell their potential patient. Given their wall of shiny degrees in there cozy, inviting office, it is difficult to turn down their offer no matter the cost, as long as they can convince you that you need it.

More likely than not, both Sue and Ben are acting in their own self interests first. They are business people as well as medical professionals. Indeed, the term ‘crisis’ itself carries a derogatory tone, and the professionals have learned to capitalize on that. Their outward warmth, their technical language, their comfortable offices, their alleged understanding the situation, etc. are tactics that they use to keep their business running. That is not to say that their practices are completely useless, but rather, that either service will likely have more or less the same effect for the very same condition because neither comes close to attacking the root of the issue. In fact, they unknowingly focus on fixing the same exact thing (outward communication of inward feelings) since language expressions are actually channeled through the frontal lobe of the brain!

Meet my friend Jay. Jay is 38 years old, and he is an officer in the military. To this point, Jay has led a respectable life of service and duty. He is a devout Christian, goes to church every Sunday, and does community service with his church. He worked hard in high school and in Boy Scouts; he graduated and became an Eagle Scout; he went to college, worked hard, graduated, joined the military as a lieutenant, worked hard, got married, worked hard, had two kids, and then he continued to work hard to maintain that for the years following. Jay is a doer: Make a decision, work hard at it, and you will lead a successful life.

Jay never really questioned the position he was in, and things seemed to be going great, but then, seemingly out of nowhere, he began to have what is commonly known as a midlife crisis. He became a bit depressed and self-conflicted. His temper shortened, and he frequently had emotional outbursts at his wife and kids. With some reluctance, he finally agreed to grant his wife’s request and seek help. He began going to Sue, the psychiatrist, both alone and with his wife. Things seemed to improve for one or two days following each session, but then he would revert back to his ordinary behavior. Sue’s methods weren’t really working for Jay. He got impatient and started to believe that the process was being prolonged, and that he was spending more money than he needed to.

Jay began to seek other forms of help, and then he discovered Ben’s neurotherapy practice. Upon first meeting Ben, he felt a bit more confident moving forward. Ben explained, using much technical jargon, how important the brain is in processing information and making decisions. Though the claim that the brain is important is true, indeed it is necessary, he went on to convince Jay further that his methods were “more scientific” than traditional therapy because they are “backed by modern neuroscientific research”. Jay became convinced that neurotherapy was the answer, and he began treatment. After a few months, however, as Jay’s optimism wore off, so did his patience; his behavior took the same turn that it did before and after psychiatric therapy. He began to feel misled into thinking that these therapists were offering a sure-fire, algorithmic solution that was actually, in some sense, a scam. It turns out that he was right.

The absolute root of a “crisis” is unknown to Sue and Ben because it is, in the conventional sense, unknowable. A crucial part of it deals with knowledge that does not likely have its foundations in the material world, nor is it solvable by simply making a few practical, sure-fire adjustments in one’s everyday life. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that most people like Jay have so much trouble wrapping their minds around something that is different in nature from their materialism-based work and education and their practical, habit-based personal lives, especially when the people who they put their trust and money in are misleading them. It is difficult for them to realize that there is more to themselves than their brains, bodies, and the feedback they gather from the external social and material world. This was exactly Jay’s predicament. He wanted to put his trust into a system to manage his life from the outside-in, but nothing was working. He was forced to turn inward and deal with it himself.

There is a continuous process of personality development in everyone, and without its sufficient maturation, one simply cannot optimally handle the stresses of life. Understanding a midlife crisis, or any crisis for that matter, and taking steps to solve it is a personal journey. It requires one to discover, embrace, and cultivate the auxiliary side of the personality in conjunction with the continuing development of the dominant side. What I am alluding to is certainly not to have solved this puzzle for everyone, necessarily, but rather that it is each person’s job to solve their own puzzle for themselves. There is indeed a highly-effective model one can keep in mind to better understand the self and its place in the world: the cognitive functions as described by Carl Jung.

Immediately, one might question this method. Good. You should, but don’t question it without knowing anything about it, or at least in a way that presupposes bias. It is a continuously developing theory outside of institutional psychology. The reason for this is simply that it does not seem to fit the existing ideology of institutional science on a broader scale: materialism – all reality in the universe is founded on and comprised of quantifiable matter and energy. I have explained in several previous posts, just as well as several professional scientists and philosophers have explained in recent years, why science must move past the materialist worldview in order to progress, no matter the cost. That is not up for debate, so I will prevent any further discussion on the matter by saying this: To dismiss Jungian psychology on the basis of their being “no evidence” for it presupposes that the only evidence is the type that materialism relies on. This is circular reasoning. There in fact has been no materialist attempt to disprove it to begin with. In other words, to stick to such an unsupported principle is to assume it is “guilty until proven innocent”, as in wrong-until-proven-by-materialism. The premise for my proposal here is about people. All people are unique, but there are baseline psychological tendencies by which we operate. This is, as we should all agree, indeed obvious upon any amount of close observation of one’s social environment. That, I will submit, is in itself a form of evidence worthy of a discussion. Having said that…

Each person’s dominant cognitive function, according to Jung, is either introverted or extroverted, and either a mode of judgment or perception. There are two ways of making judgments (thinking and feeling) and two modes of perception (sensing and intuiting). If one’s dominant function is inwardly perceptive, say, introverted intuiting (Ni), then his auxiliary (secondary) function will be an outward mode of judgment, either extroverted thinking or feeling (Te/Fe), to balance out the dominant function.

Of course, everyone necessarily has the capacity to both perceive and make judgments, to extrovert output and introvert input, to think and feel, to sense and intuit; we otherwise would not be able to survive in any social or professional setting. We all do all of those things to varying degrees, indeed. One of those functions, however, is naturally dominant. It is our own personal “standard operating procedure” under normal conditions. When we are confronted with a crisis, we are forced to operate with more depth; i.e. we must work harder do deal with the death of a loved-one than to decide what to wear to go to church, obviously. This does not mean we abide by our SOP more closely than usual. In fact, it implies the opposite: that we must be more flexible about our dominant function. We need balance between our most dominant modes of perception and judgment in order optimally deal with stressful situations. The auxiliary function is what we all struggle with cultivating at some point in our young adulthood to middle-aged lives. It is the one that is more repressed, but it is necessary to use in support of our dominant function if we are to deal with crises healthily.

Whether one is introverted or extroverted in general depends on whether his dominant function is introverted or extroverted. An introvert will likely develop his extroverted auxiliary function earlier in life than an extrovert will develop his introverted auxiliary function because, especially in extroverted-dominated western societies like the United States, functioning in an extroverted fashion is forced upon introverts. Extroverts more easily fit in right from the start, but they have personal crises later in life.

Jay, for example, is Te (extroverted thinking) dominant, which means he is an extrovert with left-brained thinking tendencies. He is outgoing, decisive, and abides by cold, hard, logical systems (e.g. mathematics, law, protocol, etc.) to make judgments about reality. This is very useful in his military environment which values this type of rule-based reasoning very highly. He has a wide circle of social and professional connections and makes a good living. From the outside-looking-in, he is viewed as a success by his peers; the American dream is very Te-focused, and Te-dominants (and Fe) are the most likely to buy into it. However, on a more personal level, as he is learning in his midlife, he is only outwardly, not inwardly, organized. An introverted thinking-dominant (Ti) personality, by contrast, will have a well-structured, internal set of logical rules and principles, but to other people, he may seem outwardly messy and disorganized because he dismisses conventional rules.

For his entire life to this point, Jay has identified himself based on the rules that he followed (by his commanding officer at work, by the Bible in his moral decisions, and by his wife at home). He lived the first half of his life constantly focused on planning for the future and managing himself in an outward fashion. He was accustomed to getting things done – acting now and thinking later. Now that things have settled down, there is no more planning to be done. What is he to do?

The answer is: Don’t do anything. Think. Process. Reflect. Jay’s most obvious problem is that he was not able to turn inward and think independently, apart from the rules set before him. He had been so busy living up to standards external to himself, he had never even considered himself to be a conscious, independent, introspective being. In fact, he was afraid to because he naively associated introspection with feelings, and feelings with weakness. That, after all, is the popular opinion in American culture.

Jay’s midlife crisis is common among all left-brained judging (Te or Fe dominant) personalities, who encompass about half of the American population according to psychologist David Keirsey who was a leader in modernizing Jung’s principles in the 70s and 80s. This process manifests itself in different ways and at different times.

First thing’s first: we need to change our terminology. This crisis is not really a “crisis” at all, in fact; it is a period of growth whereby the extrovert discovers the introverted side of his or her personality, or the introvert attempts to align his internal rules with outer reality. Jay’s dominant function, as I have mentioned, is called extroverted thinking. It is a way of making judgments: being quickly decisive and taking impartial action based on established rules. What he lacks is a cultivated ability to inwardly process the information that he is acting on. That function is a mode of perception. Jay’s perceiving function, once cultivated, will act as the support for his decision-making, and will improve that process to a huge degree. The perceiving function specific for Jay is called introverted sensing (Si). This function collects data based on personal experience, traditions, and principles for the sake of themselves. His personality suits the military and other managerial positions perfectly. When his auxiliary Si is underdeveloped, he follows the rules and doesn’t question them, while almost entirely neglecting his own interests.

What it means for Jay to develop his auxiliary Si function is to improve the way he collects and interprets data and flexibly adapts his existing principles to the constantly-changing environment. This is an internal process. It will improve the way he perceives himself in relation to the data as well as the way he perceives the data itself. He will use this introverted Si perception in conjunction with his dominant Te judgment to make well-rounded decisions.

I used Jay as an example because he possesses the most common type of Jungian personality construction among men in the United States (ESTJ according to Myers-Briggs). The most common type for females (ESFJ) is very similar (Fe/Si dominant/auxiliary instead of Te/Si). If you don’t relate to Jay or his Fe counterpart, that is fine. There are 14 other forms of cognitive functioning, according to Jung. And that is not to take anything away from the individuals within each of those categories. As with anything, there is an immeasurably wider variety of uniqueness among individuals within each group than there are generalized differences among the groups themselves. Having said that, Jungian cognitive typology is not more than a guideline, albeit a very effective one, to keep in mind as one deals with the struggles of life. At the same time, however, don’t blame anyone other than yourself if you reject the system out of principle alone amid a personal crisis.

Cheers!

Typology as a Step Toward Critical Thinking

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

One of the key aims of philosophy, for the individual, is to simply become more open-minded. It is to broaden one’s understanding of what is logical and illogical, rational and irrational, not merely to himself, but actually. This is extremely difficult, so most philosophy course syllabi will include a disclaimer such as this one:

WARNING!
Doing philosophy requires a willingness to think critically. Critical thinking does not consist in merely making claims. Rather, it requires offering reasons/evidence in support of your claims. It also requires your willingness to entertain criticism from
others who do not share your assumptions. You will be required to do philosophy in this class. Doing philosophy can be hazardous to your cherished beliefs. Consequently, if you are unwilling to participate, to subject your views to critical analysis, to explore issues that cannot be resolved empirically, using computers, or watching Sci-Fi, then my course is not for you.
–Rob Stufflebeam (University of New Orleans)

Harsh? For many, it is. After extensive, philosophical examination of our beliefs via criticism from others or otherwise, we should find that they are founded on many assumptions. Of course, one cannot make any argument without some preexisting assumption(s). Perhaps the challenge, for some, lies in choosing which assumptions to submit to and which to debate. For the philosopher, though, the challenge is much more broad and often more difficult. Philosophy isn’t about formulating beliefs from nothing, but rather, if not to develop beliefs which can be justified and maintained in a logically consistent way, to eliminate belief altogether.

It may seem ironic that the aim of the philosopher is precisely to not have “a philosophy” in the conventional sense of the term. I would argue, though, that this is not a conscious aim of philosophy (perhaps that is the conscious aim of art). After all, good philosophers are not grumpy, old, bigoted skeptics in the way some may think. Rather, this unbelief is merely a byproduct of having explored a subject in a philosophical way, i.e. impartially. As I explained in a previous post, There are no “philosophical problems” per se; there are only philosophical approaches to a problem, and one can approach any problem philosophically.

What do philosophical approaches to problems do for us? The short answer is “lots of stuff”. Let us consider this example: Let us suppose that a man named Scott stands at the foot of a deciduous forest in the winter long after all of the trees’ leaves have fallen off. In front of the forest, in Scott’s plain view, are two large, lush, and green coniferous firs. Scott’s wife, Cindy, asks him “how many trees do you see?”. He answers “two”, for the firs, so green and lush, are the clearest things in his immediate view that resemble what he conceives to be trees.

Cindy’s question initially seemed like a very straight-forward, mathematical question. But Scott jumped to the conclusion that firs, not trees in general, were the objects Cindy wanted him to count. Of course there are many deciduous trees directly behind the two firs. He could have very well replied ‘a bunch; too many to count’ if he had simply looked past the eye-catching firs to the vast-yet-barren, leafless forest. As we know, the deciduous trees are every bit as alive as the firs; they’re only dormant for the winter. Even if Cindy’s question specified the firs as the trees for Scott to count, answering in a straightforward way might pose more questions, leading to a philosophical discussion about, say, mathematics (e.g. what is meant by “two firs” when the trees literally have so little in common?).

This is just a metaphoric example, but the point is this: an aim of approaching questions in a philosophical (and similarly, an artistic) manner is to gain the ability to see past what is immediately present to us. After all, what is immediately present to us are often dubious assumptions formulated by culture, nurture, institutions, etc.

Immediately, one might see why this type of “critical thinking” can not only be difficult, but get us into trouble, and it often does. Not only are individual’s beliefs founded on assumptions which are very often irrational, but the same is the case for belief systems of businesses, institutions, and personal relationships. People in these contexts can be very sensitive to criticism. “Power-in-numbers” exists and is very often harmful in a philosophical sense, for collective bodies are generally more easily influenced by foolish belief systems than individuals are (cult mentality). Those who break from the group and question things in a fundamental way are only thinking for themselves. They become outcasts, albeit curious and honest ones. Just as an individual should strive for harmony between his outer world and inner self, so should a group be resistant to any type of dogmatism. How do we achieve this?

There is no sure-fire solution, for if there were, it would follow that all people innately think the same way, and this is obviously not the case. In fact, thinking for yourself, which is to say, thinking differently from everyone else, is absolutely vital if you want to thrive in any regard. Philosophy and critical thinking in general can help if one is up for the challenge, but it is not advisable for just anyone to dive right into philosophical reading and discussion (Philosophy is difficult, and few people have the natural tendency to think openly about sensitive subjects to the extent that one must to be successful in philosophical discussion – see the WARNING above). There are other ways.

Each person has a different mind which presents a new set of challenges – challenges for which they will find solutions only if they come to terms with themselves first. For an outwardly-focused extrovert, this generally means finding comfort in one’s own skin. For an inwardly-focused introvert, it means finding one’s place in the outer world. However, it is much more complicated than that. This has been one basis for why I think Jungian typology, personality psychology, and light aesthetics, for the general population, present more relatable ways to deal with questions that are normally of concern to ethics and moral philosophy. No one broad ethical theory will satisfy everyone, and I find it nearly impossible to adapt such a theory to a wide range of people in a conceptual sense, and even less so in a practical sense. Typology is an extremely effective method for understanding one’s self and others.

How can each individual maximize his or her ability to think, act, and thrive? First of all, we must acknowledge that every person has his or her own version of the “good life”, so it is his or her goal to figure out what that is and aspire to it by maximizing his or her cognitive potential, so ethics does not, at least initially, seem to be of much use. This sort of “self-actualization” can be vital, also, for maximizing one’s participation in philosophical discussion. However, before one subjects him or herself to harsh philosophical criticism, it is advisable for one to come to know him or herself. Jungian typology is a great method for taking that first step, and then, perhaps, philosophy can pave the rest of the path.

To be continued…