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AS civilization progresses and primitive man comes more and more to occupy his mind with ethical ideals and to recognize moral standards, many of his primitive desires and natural emotions are found to be greatly at variance with these new standards of thinking and living.
This conflict between the biologic instincts and emotions and the later acquirements of civilization is sometimes very annoying to the individual. The average person seeks to avoid this unpleasantness by rigorously suppressing the objectionable thought, the offending complex. This emotional repression is nothing more nor less than resorting to the technique of pushing out of the mind some unacceptable feeling or objectionable experience. For instance, it is entirely possible for one to experience the emotions of love and hate for the same person, in varying degrees and under various circumstances. It is entirely possible for us to love a person because of one set of traits and to hate the same individual because of the possession of other traits which are objectionable. This is not compatible with peace of mind, however, and sooner or later we set about repressing either our love or our hate.
Right here I want to take issue with the exponents of the purely Freudian theory of emotional repression. The teachings of Freud tend to lead us to believe that it is always the objectionable, the undesirable, the unworthy thought or emotion that is suppressed; but in actual experience I do not find this to be the case. I find that individuals are given to suppressing either the good or the bad, the desirable or the undesirable, according to circumstances. For instance, one may not only suppress sex thoughts which interfere with the religious ideals, but one may also come to the place where he suppresses religious convictions so as to give more free expression to sex emotions. Any of our profound emotions may conflict and thus lead to more or less suppression.
Now these suppressed wishes, feelings, emotions, and experiences are sooner or later organized in the subconscious into definite complexes; and it can easily be imagined that such complexes, existing as they do in the subconscious mind, are all the while directly at variance with, and opposed to, our every-day consciousness and behavior.
One of the results of this systematic suppression of unpleasant and undesired experiences is that we are subconsciously on our guard lest these experiences be discovered and be brought to light. This is one of the explanations of the so-called defense reaction. Professor Gault has called attention to this in his Introduction, and, as he has suggested, we are all the while on the defensive, trying to put up a front to society which will be directly opposite to that which we are more or less conscious of having suppressed and put away down into the subconscious realms of the mind.
The defense reaction is nothing more than an exaggeration in our conscious behavior of the very opposite to those things which we may be conscious of having suppressed in our inner life.
Some one has suggested that the cynic is really sentimental at heart; the bully is really a coward; the hard-boiled and unromantic bachelor may be, after all, very affectionate and tender, as is sometimes shown when he falls in love in middle life. From adolescence his affections and sentiment have been repressed, and now they all but engulf him as the accumulated repression breaks loose. We fully understand how those who have an inferiority complex often develop a superficial expression of vanity and conceit, extending even to the borderland of braggadocio. There is no question that sometimes prudishness is only the result of the more or less conscious and long-continued suppression of normal sex desires. In fact, when we find ourselves experiencing any set of unusually strong and insistent emotions, either likes or dislikes, we would do well to suspect that we may be indulging in some sort of defense reaction in a subconscious effort to compensate for feelings and impulses of the opposite sort which we may be continuously and subconsciously suppressing. This is particularly true of prejudices and certain forms of intolerance. It is very difficult for the average person to tolerate in other people those things which he is consistently and persistently suppressing in his own experience.
Emotional suppression really consists of two distinct factors: the effort to push unpleasant things out of the consciousness and the further effort to prevent their return to consciousness.
We are desirous of suppressing those things which are unpleasant to our sense of self-respect, which offend our ego. We are particularly intolerant of those which assault our personality-pride. Again, we are all the while desirous of getting rid of those ideas, feelings, and memories that offend our moral ideals and ethical standards. In fact, we practice the suppression of any sort of psychic experience that is unpleasant to our every-day consciousness.
Summarizing in another way, it may be said that we make an effort to suppress all unpleasant memories, and to repress those primitive instincts which are inconsistent with current civilized society; that is, our unconventional biologic urges.
We form a habit of doing these things. We cultivate a memory for the agreeable, and try to put out of our minds the undesirable and unpleasant. Of course, we do not wholly succeed; we all have unpleasant memories which bob up now and then, and which we would give almost anything to be finally rid of. Nevertheless, on the whole, we do succeed in the practice of this repression technique; we actually do get rid of the majority of those things which we dislike to entertain in our daily consciousness. This habit of holding on to the pleasant and suppressing the unpleasant is shown in many phases of our daily lives, as, for instance, in the fact that we may easily mislay a bill, but are hardly likely carelessly to throw about a large check which has come in as a remittance.
When certain primitive urges or other unpleasant feelings and experiences have been consistently and persistently suppressed, they become organized at length as subconscious complexes; and when that takes place, it is possible for these complexes of repression to seek to gain for themselves action and expression in the life of the individual by indirect methods and through such round-about channels as the various neuroses - fatigue, anxiety, unreasonable fears, hysteria, and even semi-conscious experiences.
There can be little doubt, as will be shown in subsequent chapters, that much of our hysteria is, after all, an effort on the part of these imprisoned complexes to seize the domain of personality for the time being, and thus to find temporary relief in a roundabout mode of expression. We know that this is true, because, by properly disposing of these psychic skeletons hidden away in the closet of the subconscious, we are often able to relieve sufferers from various forms of the psychoneuroses.
In the case of persons of strong constitution and balanced nervous systems, it is, of course, possible to indulge in this sort of subconscious repression throughout a lifetime without precipitating serious nervous disturbances. It is in the case of those who are constitutionally neurotic that this sort of subconscious suppression results so disastrously.
Rationalization is another pitfall into which neurotic individuals early fall. We are not always able to suppress our undesirable memories and unpleasant emotions so as to keep them entirely out of the conscious memory, and so we gradually fall into another species of self-deception in an effort to get along more peacefully with this undesirable residue of psychic life which we are not able completely to suppress. We are tricked by our own inner consciousness into practising a form of deceptive insincerity upon ourselves. We develop as system of false logic designed to enable us either to reject or to compromise with certain unacceptable facts which are constantly coming to us from the outside world, and which we cannot bundle up as an unpleasant complex and sink into the oblivion of the subconscious.
The vast majority of people fear to make new discoveries. We are afraid we shall be upset by them; that the smooth running of our day-by-day consciousness will be disturbed by newly discovered facts. We dislike to be constantly rearranging our ideas and readjusting our standards of thinking and living. We like to go on somewhat after the care-free manner of nursery days. We don't like to have our mode of life interfered with, and so when anything disconcerting comes up we develop a system of logic which enables us, with some show of conscious fairness, to reject the new and hold on to the old, although strict sincerity would compel us to admit that the old ways are wrong and the new ways better; and so truth has a rugged, uphill road to travel over the inertia of human prejudice, this inborn disinclination to remodel our ways.
Another feature of the practice of this foolish reasoning: we all object to having our pride injured. We dislike to view our naked selves. We really hate to be shown up, and so we are always on the defensive, lest we be led into some sort of practical admission that will injure our pride, debase our ego.
We are particularly eloquent - and, on the surface, logical - when we argue against some idea which we dislike, which we have made up our minds we will not accept; this sort of foolish argument will be kept up in the mind until we develop an intense hatred for the thing which we have settled we will not accept. You know the old saying, "Convince a man against his will, and he'll be of the same opinion still". Now, this process of arguing inside ourselves against what we wish to keep out of the mind has been called rationalization. And rationalization is nothing more nor less than a technique of thinking designed to help us in repressing those things which are unusually difficult of suppression. If we find that forgetfulness and the ordinary pushing of undesirable ideas out of the consciousness will not serve to repress them, we resort to rationalization.
We employ rationalization in our efforts to smooth over and cover up the tender spots in our experience. It is marvelous with what ingenuity we will take some real weakness of character and argue ourselves into recognizing it as a virtue. If it were not so tragic it would really be amusing to see patients, in the consulting room, rationalize after this foolish and insincere fashion, even going so far as to try to convince the doctor that the obvious plague spots of the mind should be treated with consideration and tenderness rather than be attacked with rude determination to effect their complete obliteration.
We are all conscious of more or less that is inconsistent in our living. We dislike to get right down to brass tacks and settle our conflicts, harmonize our complexes, compose our disagreements, and otherwise put our mental house in order. We much prefer this easier and lazier method of psychic rationalization. We want to do something which, our better nature or mental censor tells us, isn't just right; and so, instead of resorting to true logic, calling conscience to the bar, hearing the testimony and settling the matter in accordance with the real facts, we resort to rationalization, which is nothing but a dishonest way of finding a reason for doing what we want to do or believing what we want to believe.
Rationalization is resorting to the magic methods of the nursery. In the days when we were children in our cribs, if we wanted something, or desired to be rid of unpleasant surroundings, we merely uttered a cry, and as a rule we succeeded in getting what we wanted; but as we grow up, we are forced to abandon our cry-baby stunt; and thus, to the adult, rationalization becomes a substitute for his infantile crying. Foolish reasoning becomes the new magic wand with which he can make his situation in life more pleasant and acceptable. He "kids" himself into believing that the thing he knows is not right, is, after all, not far from right, and perhaps is altogether just and righteous. This is a subject which we will discuss more fully in a later chapter.
Many neurotic individuals almost wear themselves out with this constant process of rationalization, this ever-present effort to find a reason that suits their purpose and convenience. Presently this becomes a subtle habit of one's inner life; it becomes the accepted technique of the subconscious, and the subconscious censor accepts this as the normal mode of reasoning and so is able constantly to push up into the conscious mind entire groups of logical arguments, ready made, thus putting us only to the trouble of saying "yes, yes", and going on with this merry whirl of self-deception and dishonest living. In time the subconscious becomes so expert that it is able day by day to "kid" us into the enjoyable belief in whatever we wish to believe.
We are peculiarly prone to rationalize on such matters as politics, religion, sociology, and even prohibition. I am amused frequently in my office at the way people reason about such a commonplace thing as tobacco. This is a subject on which I seldom find any attitude that is fair, sincere, or scientific. Those who use tobacco rationalize in its behalf much as a mother would argue in defense of the virtues and beauties of her own offspring. The majority of those who do not use tobacco likewise rationalize against it in the same unscientific and unreasonable fashion.
But the great mischief of this habitual rationalization, this effort to sustain our self-pride, to bolster up our self-defense, is that it interferes with our progress in life. It is the great enemy of education, the great foe of truth, and we cannot hope to break ourselves of this tendency toward rationalization until we cultivate the habit of looking at things honestly, fairly, and squarely - until we learn to face facts willingly, to desire the truth, to accept all the evidence and to reserve judgment until the evidence is all in. We must wait until we are thoroughly convinced that we have been honest with ourselves and then render judgment, and, like real men and women, abide by that judgment and see that it is enforced in our consciousness.
If will is the chief executive of the human intellect, and our various mental powers may be regarded as the cabinet of the psychic administration, then we can only come to regard reason as a wholly servile attorney general, ever ready to supply its master and chief executive with apparently logical and superficially legal reasons for doing anything that its master really wants to do. The sophistries of the subconscious, together with the deceptions of selfish human nature, will furnish sufficient evidence to enable the court to hand down decisions which will in every sense justify us in pursuing the course we really want to pursue.
Human reason is far from being true to logic and loyal to truth. Man, after all, is ruled by his heart and not by his head; I repeat, whatever it is that you really and truly long to do, reason will sooner or later find justification for your doing. Of course, to some degree, all this is modified in the case of the enlightened and disciplined mind of the educated individual.
For the purposes of this narrative we will call a certain young woman of twenty-seven, Jane. Jane was a movie fan, and how the silent drama did thrill her! Hardly a day passed that she was not at the movies - indeed, she went twice a day, and sometimes three times. This constant arousal of her emotions without adequate opportunity for expressional relief gradually wore on her nerves until she was compelled to seek medical advice. There is no question in my mind that this tendency to allow the mind to dwell upon exciting and emotional scenes in the motion-picture house, this repeated arousal of the strongest emotions that surge in the human breast, without providing any opportunity for the mind and body to respond to these emotional urges, represents a real and very deleterious strain upon the nervous system.
At the height of this movie debauch, our young lady began to entertain a secret love for a man in the neighborhood; he was unmarried, but was already engaged, and this affection she bottled up in her own soul, never telling anyone about it until she confessed it in the medical office.
Here, you see, is a vicious combination of circumstances: A highly unstable and semi-hysterical woman in almost constant attendance at the movies, having her emotions inordinately aroused, is all the while suppressing a secret love affair securely within the confines of her own soul; and, as this experience always does, sooner or later, it got her - she collapsed. After six months of training, in which she was taught how to indulge in legitimate self-expression - in her case more particularly in public singing - she was eventually able to go to the movies once a week without any deleterious effect, and in time succeeded in eliminating and sublimating her affection for the man, who was married soon after her collapse. She seems now well on the road to complete recovery, and there is no reason why she should not enjoy good health, as she has learned how more properly and naturally to live her emotional life.
Emotional troubles, of course, are not all due to suppression of sex-complexes. As I shall endeavor to explain in a subsequent chapter, there are other complexes which are capable of making quite as much mischief when they are unnaturally suppressed. To illustrate this, let me relate the story of a young married woman with an inordinate social ambition. She was what you would call, in modern terminology, a social climber. She had the entrée into society, but she didn't have the wherewithal properly to carry on. There was more or less trouble at home because of the money she spent on her social activities, but, notwithstanding all this, she aspired to gain the top round of the social ladder, and she had all but succeeded when her over-exertions and her suppression of the mixed emotions connected with her social climbing resulted in her undoing. She had a nervous collapse - literally went to pieces.
This woman confessed to me that she used to "burn up" with envy at the thought of her social rivals; that she indulged in anxiety to the point of emotional white heat when she heard of the achievements of women in her social set who were gaining on her or forging ahead of her. She told me that since early girlhood she had indulged this inordinate longing for social leadership. In this particular case there was a great deal of suppression on her part of the urge to power. The emotion of pride was involved in her manifold activities, and she was very sensitive in this respect. When she met with any temporary defeat or social slight, she was intensely hurt, and she harbored the desire for revenge against those who chanced to incur her displeasure.
She was much interested in charitable work, civic enterprises, etc., and rationalized to herself that all her social ambitions were justified because of the good she would do when she once attained the unquestioned leadership of her set. Her foolish and deceptive subconscious made her believe that all her strivings were unselfish and that her ambitions were wholly altruistic. Nevertheless, the crash came, and it was in a sanatorium that she found herself when she began to realize what a fool she had been. She afterward said to me: "Doctor, it doesn't pay to harbor inordinate ambition. It doesn't pay to want too much, and most of all it doesn't pay to suppress in your mind and nurse in your heart, grievances, grudges, or any other emotional sore spot".
Not long ago I came in contact with rather an unusual case of mental disturbance brought on by emotional repression; it further illustrates my contention that ill health from emotional suppression does not always indicate that the suppressed emotions are of a sex nature. This is a case of the suppression of religious feelings. The subject was a business woman about forty years of age, who had had average religious training in her youth, and who had given more or less attention to her religious emotions until she was about thirty years of age, when she came to Chicago and became connected with a large concern. Business and social activities and other "cares of this world" multiplied, and before long she found herself quite neglectful of all things religious. Notwithstanding her absence from church and her apparent indifference to everything of a spiritual nature, she had the constantly recurring conviction that she should pay more attention to these matters; but she kept putting this aside, suppressing it. She rationalized, telling herself that the religion that had been taught her at home was largely superstition, but she gained little comfort from this line of reasoning; so she began to indulge in the rationalization that she was too much occupied with her other duties now, and would attend to these matters in the future; that she perhaps had paid too much attention to religion in the past, and that it was due to herself now to take full advantage of her business and social opportunities. She became fairly happy with the life she led, all the while subconsciously - and sometimes consciously - suppressing, repressing, putting out of her mind, this urge to spiritual growth and development.
Years went by and her health began to fail. She grew nervous, began to suffer from fatigue and eventually from insomnia, and it was only then that she sought medical advice. You can be sure it was quite difficult to find out what was the matter with her. She didn't know. A thorough examination revealed that she was organically sound. She professed to be happy in every respect and assured us that there was no emotional conflict going on in her mind; but the sounding-line of emotional analysis revealed in the depths of her soul this suppressed conviction, this subtle struggle, this spiritual starvation, this suppression of religious emotion - and when these things were brought out and placed before her she was frank to confess that the root of her trouble had been found. Before a week had gone by she had established connection with a group of friends who were engaged in religious research, friends from whom she had been more or less separated for years. In two or three other ways she made connections of a religious or spiritual nature, and within one month from that time she was a new woman, gaining in weight, to some extent relieved of her fatigue, and enjoying refreshing sleep almost every night.
I have never in all my professional experience seen a more remarkable or rapid transformation than this one which followed the discovery of repressed emotions and their normal elimination.