Tag: psychology

Temple of Bacchus in Baalbek, Lebanon

Unstructured Reflections on Love: Libido Transfer

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

Libido transfer. — To a certain extent, when someone is totally in love, (the essence of) the loved one replaces the self of the lover. We come across this in Sigmund Freud’s An Outline of Psychoanalysis, where the libido of the lover is transferred onto the object, which is the beloved. For the sake of simplification, here, let us assume that the lover in our story is (as is so traditionally) a he, and the loved one is a she. When a man falls madly in love with a woman, something in him changes. His friends notice this first and say things like, “He’s become a different man,” or in sadder scenarios, “He’s not one of the boys anymore.” They don’t understand the transformation their friend is going through because they haven’t been struck by love yet themselves. According to the lover’s psyche, the beloved is no longer a separate individual; reversely, he no longer represents himself alone. The representations (or the qualities) of her self are merged with his, and his actions now represent the synthesis of his self and hers. Love makes him an extension of the person he loves. Then it goes further than that. It is not enough that their souls are entangled and have formed a Gordian Knot, but instead of prioritizing his needs and desires, he now starts prioritizing hers. (Symmetrically, if the relationship is a mutualistic symbiosis, she also becomes an extension of him — after becoming more like her, he sees her in the mirror, and vice versa.) At this point, when the man has become possessed by love, his self’s independence begins to diminish. The invisible love leash chokes him when the distance (as well as the time) between him and his beloved expands. He feels incomplete, even guilty, when separated from her. He gives up his freedom, changes his habits to match his partner’s, and sacrifices whatever he must to preserve the fetters of love. And it’s not only his behavior that changes; he starts to see things from his beloved’s lens. He interprets and experiences life differently by identifying with her needs, desires, wants, ideologies, beliefs, culture, traditions, and emotions. He says, “If she’s happy, I’m happy,” or (in jest), “Happy wife, happy life.” [A test: How do you know if you are the lover or the beloved in a certain set of circumstances? If the actions of the other aim to please you, then you are the beloved. If it’s the other way around, you are the lover.] [I must add a note here: Although the lover-beloved balance between two individuals in a relationship isn’t always in equilibrium, we must remember that love isn’t a one-way relationship. In a healthy romantic relationship, there ought to be scenarios in which you are the lover and scenarios in which you are the beloved, (unconsciously) switching roles with your partner as you go. You’ll need to take turns because you cannot be both the lover and the beloved simultaneously. You can play one role at a time.] The lover must be brave, ready to take big risks. He needs that Kierkegaardian leap of faith. He needs to close his eyes and jump. To love is a courageous act. One must be ready to do crazy things for love. He must surrender to it. Unlike popular belief, a healthy romantic relationship has nothing to do with the preservation of physical or mental health. A healthy romantic relationship is a spiritual relationship that may sometimes include sacrifices such as the surrender of mental or physical health. Nonetheless, the altruistic lover who lets go of his ego altogether is not a real lover; he is a symbiote with an ego mimicking the beloved’s ego. The altruistic lover is the beloved’s machine that generates recognition and satisfaction. The opposite of the altruistic lover, the narcissistic lover, is also not a real lover; he is a parasitic symbiote. He only loves lovers, not beloveds. Those who resist libido transfer suppress (and prevent the development of) true love. They are not ready for true love simply because they are not ready to sacrifice themselves on its altar. They will not be remembered as great lovers… It is no surprise that many individuals resist transferring libido to a loved one. (Their number, in fact, far exceeds those who truly love.) They fear potential heartbreak, they lack trust in people, and they don’t want to lose themselves and their freedom. (Withholding libido transfer is the safer option for those who want to keep the self unblemished.) But when these individuals simulate acts of love by repeating what they read in books and what they see in movies, they’re not loving, they’re only playing the role of the lover. They’re playing it safe and are not really invested in the relationship. They are only showing love but not genuinely loving. Unknowingly, they are pretending to love. They don’t know that those who want to remain who they are cannot love absolutely. When the time of sacrifice comes, they’ll ask, “Why would I live for someone else when I can live for myself?” They’ll ask, “Why would anyone want to lose their self, their Ich, their ego?” While some sacrifice themselves for love, they sacrifice love for themselves. What they don’t get is this: when you love, you don’t lose yourself; you become more than yourself.

Sunset Somewhere in Lebanon

Unstructured Reflections on Life: Normative Adversity

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

Normative adversity. — There are certain challenges (and obstacles) in life that we are, from the day we are born, expected to face. In most cases, it’s only a matter of time until we do so. Common challenges like family disputes and conflicts with romantic partners, job loss and other workplace issues, academic challenges, stress, aging, and life transitions like getting married or becoming a parent — they are called “normative” adversities precisely because they are normal (and predictable). Even if one takes preventive measures, he is bound to undergo (most of) them eventually. [Note: An excessive amount of preventive measures to keep normative adversities at bay, such as a zero-risk lifestyle, will only keep the person from living a fulfilling life. It’s fine if one is careful, as long as he isn’t too careful.] Although many such “normal” challenges are consequential, they are not (and shouldn’t be) too much to bear (in normal conditions). Society expects us to deal with them without making a lot of noise. Nonetheless, at different times in our Sisyphean pursuit of happiness and security, the boulder we continuously roll to the top of the mountain (or occasionally carry on our shoulders) gets heavier and heavier and heavier. Splinters of anxiety, bits of worries, flecks of inconveniences, and failures pile up and congregate to eventually form a massive crisis. We burn out. We halt. We fall. We lose. We are tempted to give up and let go of what we’ve been trying to achieve for so long. We ask ourselves, “Will I survive this one, or is this the end of the road for me? Will I be able to overcome this awe-inspiring, terrifying obstacle? What am I trying to hold on to? What am I trying to prove? Is it really worth it?” We almost always almost give up but don’t. This is when we remember that what we’re facing, even though it’s overwhelming, isn’t anything that is outside of the normal. Millions of people have experienced in their own way what we are experiencing now in our own way. It is a part of life, of the way the world works. So, even though the challenges we’re grappling with may seem or even are crippling, they’re bearably crippling. As long as there’s something to hold on to, they are like quicksand we can pull ourselves out of. But there are no guarantees, of course. We can purchase all the insurance plans in the world (health insurance, car insurance, home insurance, travel insurance, life insurance, etc.) and take all the security measures in the world (bodyguards, CCTVs, alarm systems, etc.) and still feel insecure. Why? Because nothing can protect us from life’s uncertainties. There’s no certainty of the future for anyone, and misfortunes are keen to knock on our doors. However, if we listen to our human spirit, we will know that it is not afraid, it wants to put up a fight, it wants to carry on. And, here, we can already hear the incantation of Samuel Beckett’s words in our hearts. First, the quote from The Unnamable that says, “I can’t go on. I’ll go on.” [Even when it’s impossible to go on, when all hope is lost and the future is uninviting, we have no other choice but to take a step into the next moment. We’ve always been sliding downhill on the arrow of time, from our past towards our future, haven’t we? There’s only one direction. And we can imagine that the arrow of time extends downwards, not upwards or horizontally, because the future is the force of gravity that’s pulling everything down…] Second, another Samuel Beckett quote. This one is from the story called Worstward Ho, and it says, “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” And I hope that, to no one’s surprise, the answer is always to keep on trying. The answer is to own it, face our fears, turn challenges into meaningful experiences, and transform boring tasks into caves we can explore, seas we can dive into. Understanding the concept of normative adversity and accepting it — that most of the challenges we face are normal — is the (only real) way to cope with our day-to-day struggles. We have the same unique challenges as the rest of the world population, and we must deal with them our own way. “When you have done this,” Schopenhauer writes, “you will order your expectations of life according to the nature of things and no longer regard the calamities, sufferings, torments and miseries of life as something irregular and not to be expected but will find them entirely in order, well knowing that each of us is here being punished for his existence and each in his own particular way.” [Note: we shouldn’t take punishment as the sad fate of every man here. Disagreeable things are the seasonings of life. Whether we like it or not, we must be a little masochistic to be able to enjoy being human. They say, “No pain, no gain.” The destination may be paradise for everyone, but the journey is for the few, for those who are ready to get hurt while paving new paths — the risk-takers and adventurers.] So, briefly put, what are we saying here? When it comes to normative adversities, all we need to do is take responsibility, deal with them (calmly), and carry on.

Sisyphus Brings Happiness to the Working-Class Man: Notes and Quotes from A Happy Death by Albert Camus

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

In The Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus writes that “all great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning.” This is what I have in mind when I read A Happy Death, which I consider to be the ridiculous beginning of his later works, especially The Stranger and The Myth of Sisyphus.

Summary of Albert Camus’s A Happy Death

A Happy Death is a short novel by Camus that was published posthumously in 1971, 11 years after the author’s death. It is about a man actively chasing happiness. His name is Patrice Mersault. He is driven by his will to happiness, and he is prepared to do anything to attain his goal, even kill. He believes that once he has time and money, he can finally be happy. The day-to-day stuff, like his work, is keeping him from actualizing his happiness. He wants to be free. Mersault says vehemently, “I have my life to earn. My work — those eight hours a day other people can stand — my work keeps me from doing it.” (And isn’t this, at least subconsciously, the hypothesis of Everyman? Everyone I’ve ever met who works a traditional nine-to-five job has a plan or a dream to become a free man one day. These men can (or will) only be happy when they have enough money to finally own themselves, when they become free to spend their time and energy the way they desire. But the majority of these men are money worshippers who lack faith. They pray but don’t believe. They are not willing to do everything to be free; they can stand the “eight hours a day” and, therefore, will never be free.) Mersault’s “will to happiness” leads him to kill a rich man and take his money, which enables him to live a happy life. “Like warm dough being squeezed and kneaded, all he wanted was to hold his life between his hands.” And he gets what he wants.

(Patrice Mersault is a go-getter who can be gently compared to Daniel Lugo from Pain & Gain, the 2013 movie directed by Michael Bay, in which a gang of bodybuilders spoil themselves with the riches of a man (they think) they killed.)

We can summarize A Happy Death as follows: the protagonist wants to be happy but doesn’t have the means (time and money), so he kills a rich man, takes his money, and basically opts for an early retirement. He takes regular swims and long walks along the beach and spends a lot of time with women. He builds a happiness routine and, at one point, talking to one of his girlfriends, he says, “Yes, I’m happy, in human terms.” And, of course, the book ends with Mersault’s death, which is — the title of the book — a happy death.

The Working Class Man’s Fantasy

What is A Happy Death? It is the working-class man’s fantasy: you’re suddenly rich (because you won the lottery or robbed a bank or whatever), and now you can do whatever the hell you want. You don’t have to sell your time anymore. You don’t have to work. You can now exit the matrix. You are finally free.

One character called Celeste, although he is a restaurant owner and not technically a working-class man, when he is asked what he would do if he suddenly got a lot of money, says, “I’d buy myself a hut out in the country, I’d put some glue in my navel and I’d stick a flag in there. Then I’d wait to see which way the wind was blowing.” Although he is being funny, isn’t what he is saying the big dream a lot of us share? Being (financially) independent, being (absolutely) free, et cetera.

Yes, it is the dream, but it’s also a mistake.

For the mistake is thinking that that quantity of experiences depends on the circumstances of our life when it depends solely on us. Here we have to be over simple. To two men living the same number of years, the world always provides the same sum of experiences. It is up to us to be conscious of them. Being aware of one’s life, one’s revolt, one’s freedom, and to the maximum, is living, and to the maximum.

— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

Sisyphus Brings Happiness to the Working-Class Man

Patrice Mersault has “become aware of the essential and immoral truth that money is one of the surest and swiftest means of acquiring one’s dignity.” Money is the means by which one actualizes his inner self, i.e., externalizes it to make it part of the physical world.

In his book on identity called Identity: Contemporary Identity Politics and the Struggle for Recognition, Francis Fukuyama writes:

The foundations of identity were laid with the perception of a disjunction between one’s inside and one’s outside. Individuals come to believe that they have a true or authentic identity hiding within themselves that is somehow at odds with the role they are assigned by their surrounding society.

And to clarify it further, Fukuyama adds: “Oftentimes an individual may not understand who that inner self really is, but has only the vague feeling that he or she is being forced to live a lie.”

Mersault felt like he was being forced to live a lie. “My work keeps me from doing it,” he says. His work keeps him from earning his life, and the only way to actualize his inner self, to unchain his “will to happiness,” is by acquiring money.

In the first part of the book, in a conversation with Zagreus (the rich man Mersault ends up killing), we observe how lost Mersault is. Like many of us who nurse pints of beer in bars after working hours, he feels trapped and doesn’t know what to do. He says, “I feel like getting married, or committing suicide, or else subscribing to L’Illustration. Something desperate, you know.” Zagreus smiles and blames it on Mersault’s poverty. Then Zagreus compares himself to Mersault. Zagreus has all the resources, but he is crippled and cannot enjoy life. Mersault, on the other hand, is his opposite: he has the body to enjoy life but not the resources. “Your one duty is to live and be happy,” Zagreus tells Mersault, and the latter laughs. He says he cannot do that because of his eight-hour shifts and that it would be different if he were free. And here, it becomes crystal clear for us readers why Mersault ends up killing Zagreus to take his money and why it is “okay” to kill Zagreus (because he cannot live anyway).

But is being financially free a prerequisite to happiness? That is the question we need to ask after reading A Happy Death. Can the man who sells his time for money — the employee — never be happy? If so, then happiness is not accessible to the working-class man, not even to the middle-class man. Only the millionaire or the billionaire who chooses to abandon the business world can be free and, therefore, happy. That’s what we conclude from reading A Happy Death. In The Myth of Sisyphus, however, Camus changes everything. He writes, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” This is the sentence that undermines A Happy Death. When we are allowed to imagine Sisyphus — “the futile laborer of the underworld” — happy, we can finally also see that the working-class man can eventually attain happiness.

Of course, this does not mean that we must cease rebelling. It does not mean we must stupidly embrace (fake) stoicism. It does not mean that we must surrender our freedom. But maybe we’ll talk about this another time… I will give you the quotes now and go crack open a cold one.

Quotes from A Happy Death by Albert Camus

In this flowering of air, this fertility of the heavens, it seemed as if a man’s one duty was to live and be happy.

— Albert Camus, A Happy Death

‘Only it takes time to be happy. A lot of time. Happiness, too, is a long patience. And in almost every case, we use up our lives making money, when we should be using our money to gain time.’

— Albert Camus, A Happy Death

‘Don’t think I’m saying that money makes happiness. I only mean that for a certain class of beings happiness is possible, provided they have time, and that having money is a way of being free of money.’

— Albert Camus, A Happy Death

He knew now that it was his own will to happiness which must make the next move. But if it was to do so, he realized that he must submit to time, that to come to terms with time was at once the most magnificent and the most dangerous of experiments. Idleness is fatal only to the mediocre.

— Albert Camus, A Happy Death

There must be a minimum of ignorance in order to perfect a life in happiness. Those who lack such a thing must set about acquiring it: unintelligence must be earned.

— Albert Camus, A Happy Death