
Tolkien famously wrote that the Lord of the Rings was a tale that grew in the telling. If you've ever read any of his early drafts, you know that this is true. The story was initially conceived as another light-hearted adventure for older children, but over the course of his writing it grew into a multi-volume epic far more suited for adults.
In the same way, this series of posts has grown far beyond what I had intended. Today's post was intended as the point of the series. In fact, it was the only thing that I had originally intended to say. But as I've read and thought more on the topic, I believe I've uncovered something larger and deeper, so that today's post will be more of a digression, or perhaps a side-quest. Think of it as the Scouring of the shire sequence at the end of The Return of the King. Can the story go on without it? Yes, as Peter Jackson demonstrated. But something is definitely lost without it-- again, as Peter Jackson demonstrated.
You Cannot Love A VictimI wrote yesterday that one of the major issues with Karpman's "Dramatic Triangle" is that it makes real relationships impossible. When someone is acting the part of the Victim, or the Rescuer or the Persecutor, the real person is not present, and it is impossible to relate to them. We can only relate to their role. And, crucially, we can't really relate to that either, because it's being performed subliminally. The Victim is posing as someone in need of help, and so we respond to that posture. But the posture is false. The Victim does not want help. They either want to remain in a Victim role permanently, feeding off of the energy of their would-be Rescuer, or else they want to rope in a sucker and "flip the scripts" at the right moment, so that the Rescuer themselves becomes a Victim, and the Victim a Persecutor.
In neither case do we have a true relationship. A true relationship requires honesty about intentions; self-awareness on the part of the participants; and respect both for oneself and the other person.
Now, to a certain extent, we are all always roleplaying. This is just a part of human life. Right now I'm playing the role of "blogger." A moment ago I was at the grocery store, playing the role of "shopper." Prior to that I was dropping my daughter off at her school, playing the role of "parent." Before the children woke up I was seated in meditation, playing the role of "occultist." The trouble is not even the roleplaying as such, it is, again, the dishonesty. It is worth recalling Berne's words here:
Procedures may be succesful, rituals effective, and pastimes profitable, but all of them are by definition candid; they may involve contest, but not conflict, and the ending may be sensational, but it is not dramatic. Every game, on the other hand, is basically dishonest, and the outcome has a dramatic, as distinct from a merely exciting, quality.
Moreover, we need others to play roles. When you're sick, you need someone playing the role of "Doctor." The trouble is that, these days, a great number of people who seem to be playing "Doctor" are actually playing "Con Artist" or "Loan Shark."
Small Talk and DancingThis may be a digression from a post which is already a digression, but I think it's worth discussing. I've had two readers comment already that they don't like "small talk." I suspect there are more out there who simply haven't said anything. Small talk feels flat and inauthenic, and for a lot of people, we simply don't know what we're supposed to say. How do you respond to an obviously-fake question like, "How are you doing today?" or, worse, "Hot enough for ya?"
Now, I don't have that problem. At one time I did-- I was socially awkward enough as a teen that I probably could have been diagnosed with some form of autistic spectrum disorder, had anyone been interested in performing such a diagnosis (thakfully no one was.) But I spent a number of years forcing myself to learn how to talk to people in different sorts of situations, how to read social cues, and, above all, how to read body language. Now I get along with most people, and I have no problem with the sort of idle chitchat that makes social cohesion possible.
You see, the key to "small talk" is understanding that it's a ritual. I mean this in the usual sense, and also in the technical sense that Berne uses in Games People Play. Rituals, again, are defined as "a series of simple complementary transactions programed by external social forces." Most forms of small talk are highly ritualized. American small talk, in truth, is as structured a ritual as a Japanese tea ceremony. The trouble is that, here in the United States, we don't admit this fact, either to ourselves or to anyone else. Children may be taught politeness, but they are rarely taught, "Because this is the Northeast, our people greet one another with a ceremonial nod of the head, to indicate respect and awareness. After ten to twenty such exchanges, it is customary to add an additionl, 'How are you?' By no means are you to respond to 'How are you?' with any personal details, as this is the height of disrespect. Instead, you must say, 'Doing all right, how about you?' It is acceptable to leave the second question unanswered; if the other person is walking you must not stop them."
I suspect that if "small talk" were framed to us this way, as a ritual of social cohesion, it would make a great deal more sense. We are the sorts of people, after all, who gravitate toward highly ritualized spiritual practices, from the pentagram ceremony of the Golden Dawn to the Divine Liturgy of the Orthodox Church. I'd bet I'm also not the only one here who has practiced East Asian martial arts extensively, and found their formality greatly preferable to the more informal atmosphere found in boxing gyms and the like.
As I was saying, I personally have no problem with small talk, or with talking to people of any kind.
I do, however, have an absolute terror of dancing.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love music. The constraints placed upon my time by work, fatherhood, and the 80 other things I like to cram into my day don't allow me much time to practice these days, but I can play any instrument in the guitar family reasonably well, and I enjoy doing so. And I also like to move, and I'm good at it. The issue isn't one of "not getting" music, or of being uncoordinated. One of the absolute worst experiences for me is when someone tries to force me onto a dance floor. Women often do this to men that they think are "shy," and a number of former girlfriends of mine used to try to do it to me. I hated it. I'm not shy, and I don't mind making a fool out of myself. Many people list "public speaking" as their greatest fear-- but public speaking doesnt' scare me. Dancing scares me. And the reason is simple: When people start dancing to contemporary music, I have literally no idea what to do.
And, what's worse, they all seem to know exactly what to do. They switch seemlessly between pantomiming an epileptic fit, having sex in public, and pretending to be lawn equipment, as though they had some invisible companion telling them exactly what to do. "All right everybody, act like you just washed down 25 sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka. Okay, now we're doin' it doggy style. Now it's time to be a malfunctioning sprinkler system. Back to doggy! Grandpa's lawnmower! Ride 'em cowgirl! Kid staring at a videogame for too long in the 1990s!" All the while whatever appalling music bangs on, Boonta-boonta-boonta-boonta-boonta-boonta...
On the other hand, on those rare occasions when I've participated in more formal dancing, I've enjoyed it greatly. It's structured, it's as graceful as a taijiquan form, the music is pleasant and, best of all, you're told exactly what to do, and exactly when to do it.
I'd like to suggest that contemporary dancing is similar to American small talk. Both are highly structured rituals with their own grammar and their own intended result. But both are, for whatever reason, informal, covert, and even subliminal. I managed to figure out the grammar of small talk a long time ago, though it took far more conscious observation than I suspect it's supposed to. I expect the grammar of modern dancing to remain forever beyond me. Oh well.
You Cannot Love A Victim, Part IIBut back to the topic at hand.
As I was saying, it's impossible to truly relate to someone when they're playing a covert role, especially a destructive role like those found in the Victim-Rescuer-Persecutor triangle.
And you also can't relate to someone when you are
projecting the role onto them. I want to emphasize this. It's very easy to talk about other people acting like Victims, or like Persecutors or Rescuers. It's important to look inward and realize that we ourselves are often very comfortable playing these roles. And, like everyone playing a role in a drama, we go looking for others to play the other parts. Every Othello needs an Iago, a Cassio, and a Desdemona, and if no one is volunteering he'll assign the roles himself.
Now, most of the time, the people we choose to play the other parts in our drama are other human beings. This is natural enough, of course. But the trouble with people-- living, conscious, ordinary people, people who can talk back to us-- is that they're capable of figuring out the game, and of refusing to play. And so it frequently happens that we go in search of nonhumans to play the parts we need. This is very helpful, because nonhumans either cannot talk, or else talk in a way that it's easy for us to ignore, or in a way that we can easily substitute our own delusions for their actual communications. And this becomes a very big problem indeed, because the combination of the dramatic triangle with personal delusion also goes by the name of
religion.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am obviously not saying that all religion is false, or destructive. I am saying two things. First, many people substtitte a combination of drama and delusion for actual religion and actual spiritual practice. Second, for the sake of this post I am taking a very expansive view of the word "religion," to include any form of relationship to or belief in the Unseen. I am not a member of any church-- not really-- but for the sake of this post I must be considered as highly religious, since I spend a considerable amount of time in prayer, meditation, and ritual every single day. People who call themselves "spiritual but not religious" are highly religious, and often the most prone to delusion.
And so for the remainder of this post I'd like to give some examples of beings that are not Victims, and ought not to be treated as such. In each section I will describe the game, and give a rough assessment of the Roles. Then I will give an antithesis. In Berne's work, every game has an antithesis, which is a means by which the game may be stopped. In this case, I intend the antithesis to be a way of thinking about things which should short-circuit the Dramatic Triangle.
The Gods Are Not VictimsThe Game: Although it's somewhat less common today, it has for many years been fashionable in pagan circles to see the "Old Gods" as victims of the wicked persecutor, Christianity. Sometimes, as in the case of American Feminist Wicca, this is also wrapped up in another Rescue Game which sees women as the victims of men. Ground zero for this point of view is the 2001 TNT mini-series version of Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon.
In this version of the Game, the Ancestors were peacefully worshiping the Old Gods, and everything was fine. But then along came those dastardly Christians, and they pulled down the statues of our gods, and put churches in their places. And now the Old Ways are lost, and our people suffer under the oppression of the Pale Galilean and his priests and ministers.
This unfortunate point of view has been helped along by many Christians who quite enjoyed playing Persecutor in the Rescue Game, delighting in tales of-- for example-- Saint Boniface cutting down the sacred oak tree of Donar, or mocking "hippies" who "worship trees." (More recently, Christians have shifted into the Victim mode in the Rescue Game, on which more later.)
Antithesis: The pagan philosophers of ancient times all agree that the world is governed by the Gods and overseen by their benevolent providence. If this is the case, is it really possible that the gods could be "defeated" in this way? The truth is that early Christianity in many parts of Europe made a conscious effort not to destroy the pagan cultures it encountered, but to "baptize" them. And so seasonal festivals remained, but they were given a Christian significance. Pagan philosophers like Plato and Aristotle were preserved. Often the gods themselves continued to be worshiped explicitly-- but now they were seen to be under the final dominion of the Holy Trinity. Later, of course, their worship was transferred to saints with suspiciously similar names. Even the Sacred Oak of Donar was not cut down to make toilet paper by greedy lumber barons; its wood was used to make a church.
Moreover, there may be a very good reason why things turned out the way they did. In much of the Old World, pagan worship meant human sacrifice. It isn't pleasant to think about these days, but it's a fact and it's unavoidable. One of my favorite illustrations of this point is recounted in Michael Enright's
Lady With A Mead Cup, and concerns the Christianization of Norway. The Norwegian people, it seemed, were reluctant to abandon the worship of the Aesir in favor of Christ. And so the Christian King Olaf made them an offer-- They could remain pagan, he said, but the number of human sacrifices would certainly need to be increased, and the gods would no longer be satisfied with slaves or prisoners of war. Once their own heads were on the chopping block, the nobles were much quicker to accept the new way of doing things. What would you have done?
Now, the immediate temptation is to continue to play the Rescue Game, but to switch roles around, so that now the Christians are Victims. Way back when, the Christians were persecuted by the wicked pagan worshipers of the demonic Old Gods, and now those old devils have made a resurgence and begun persecuting the Christians again! This is a view that has become very popular in certain Right Wing circles in the last few years, thanks to the efforts of a few irresponsible Christian and Jewish authors who I won't name here. What I'm suggesting here, though, is not a conflict between either Innocent Victim Old Gods and Persecuting Christians, or between Victimized Christians and Persecuting Old Gods. What I'm suggesting is that
if the world as a whole is governed by divine providence, and
if the focus of human religious life changes with the ages (as it seems to),
then those changes are themselves overseen and even dictated to us by the Divine. By God, the Gods, or (as I see it) God and the Gods. The Old Ways give way to the New, and then with time they become the Old Ways, and another New Way emerges. Today it seems that the cycle of ages has come round again. The New Ways have become Old again, as they always do. And now another New Way is being born.
This is all as it should be.
The Earth is Not A VictimRelated to and often directly caught up in the idea that the pagan gods are Victims is the idea that the Earth Herself is a Victim. Again, this is often wrapped up in both paganism and feminism. Many ago, I attended an activist gathering in the Pacific Northwest specifically organized around the ideas of radical feminism, radical environmentalism, and Wicca. For these people-- including for myself, at the time-- the Earth, both feminine and divine, was the ultimate Victim. Of course, our thinking was greatly helped along by the fact that the Earth does not speak English and so was unable to say "Shut up, kids, I'm a lot older than you and I'll be here long after you're gone."
Of course, these days, the great Persecutor of the Earth is "Climate Change," which has the added advantage of being highly abstract and difficult to prove. This makes it a perfect vector for the most theatrical sorts of games. As I wrote a little ways back, "invasive species" are another favorite of the defenders of the Earth. Oddly enough, one rarely hears about serious issues like industrial pollutants, the prevalence of artificial carcinogens in the environment, or the decline of world fisheries from the Earth's defenders these days.
Around the time I was attending the radical get-together described above, I was also working for a conservation organization, leading crews on behalf of the Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management in various backcountry locations in the Pacific Northwest. One of the projects to which I assigned was billed to the public as "habitat restoration." It seems that the snowy plover, a little bird who lives on the Pacific Coast, was in danger, and we were there to rescue it. How? By combing the beach for miles, pulling out every last stalk of European beach grass that we could find. Oh, and also Scotch broom, and Himalayan blackberry.
You see, it seems that, unlike the native dune grasses of the Pacific Northwest, the European beach grass tends to grow upward and then die, creating dense piles of organic matter. This matter then forms pockets of soil, which become home, in succession, to shrubs and to trees, finally culminating in forests of Sitka spruce and shore pine, where once there had been only empty sand dunes.
Are you thinking, "Okay, what's the problem? Aren't forests good?" Of course you are, but that's because you're not an environmentalist. You see, the trees and the thick shrubbery beneath them then become habitats for owls, racoons, foxes, skunks, and feral cats. And those no good predators go down to the beach and they eat the poor snowy plovers! Now there are no more empty beaches fully of scattered dune grass and little white birds, but dense forests full of birds and animals, and even more undesirable plants like (fat, juicy, delicious) Himalayan blackberry. it's just awful! Surely we need to spend millions of dollars in federal grants to remove all this grass. At once!
As we used to loudly proclaim at Earth First rallies, "The Earth isn't dying, the Earth is being killed."
Antithesis: The antithesis to this game is simply to become aware of hte fact that the Earth, and the living world of Nature, is much bigger and much older than you, and will be here long, long after you're gone. One of the best ways to do this is to find a piece of woodland or another natural place near your house and really get to know it. Learn the animals, the trees, the plants, the natural history, the water cycle, the geology. Learn to love this place, on its own terms. As you grow in knowledge you'll find out that much of what you considered "nature" is considered "invasive species" by environmentalists. Go into the woods and snack on some Himalayan blackberries, or gather some garlic mustard, dandelion, and plantain greens for sandwiches or spring salads. Or just watch some honeybees at work. Then decide whether or not you care.
The Ancestors Are Not VictimsThis goes along with the discussion of the gods above. In this version of the Game, it's not the gods, but our own ancestors, who were irreparably harmed by those dastardly Christians. Or perhaps those dastardly Englishmen, or white people, or whoever.
For the sake of this discussion, I want to focus on the religious dimension of this particular Game. Another day we can talk about the racial/ethnic side. Here again, the story is that the Christians (or perhaps the Muslims, or the Jews, or even the Buddhists, depending on where your particular ancestors are from) came along, and they destroyed all of our beautiful ancient traditions, and now our people live in subdivisions and worship Jesus. It's such a shame.
Now of course, there was in fact a concerted effort to forget much of our traditional culture in the Twentieth Century. This is true for almost every version of "our traditional culture." There is nothing wrong with etiher recognizing this or attempting to reverse it. It becomes a problem, as always, when it becomes a Game. That is, when we ourselves become Victims of the great destruction, or Rescuers looking to save our ancestors, or Persecutors looking for some no good Christians (or whatever) to give a piece of our minds. In one version of this Game, our people are traditional ethnic Roman Catholics, who lived in tightly-knit ethnic neighborhoods in the Northeast and the Upper Midwest. But then along came World War II, and the dastardly Jews got into the government and decided that they would need to break up the ethnic neighborhoods, especially identifying the Irish, Germans, Italians, and Poles for this round of ethnic cleansing. And so-- in an alliance with the lousy Protestants and a few sneaky Catholic Fifth Columnists-- they conspired to import hordes of Southern Blacks to Northern cities, while simultaneously building up faceless, soulless suburban neighborhoods. The suburbs were the carrots, the blacks were the sticks. And here we all are, living in subdivisions while our churches lie in disrepair in the old cities.
Of course, the pagan version has the Christians marching off to Ireland and Germany and Scandinavia and destroying Our People's ancient traditions and converting them, entirely against their will, to a new religion and a new way of life.
Antithesis. The antithesis to this game is to recognize that, as hard as it may seem to you, your ancestors chose their way of life on purpose, for reasons that seemed good to them.
An anecdote may help illustrate the reason they would have done so.
A friend of mine is a member of an American Indian tribe whose reservation is in Texas or Oklahoma. This tribe is now Roman Catholic. The reason? In the 19th century, a terrible drought struck the people's land, and they began to suffer from want of water and food. They did rain dances and prayed to their Sun God, but to no avail. Finally, they went to a Christian missionary for help. He agreed to pray for them, but only on the condition that they take down the statue of their god in the center of their village and allow him to put up a crucifix instead. This was done, and the droubt promptly ended.
Accounts like this are very common in the literature. Valerie Flint's excellent study
The Rise of Magic in Early Medieval Europe makes this case in great detail. The fact is, many of the ancient pagans converted to Christianity because the Christian bishops were better at magic than the pagan priests!
Now, it remains to be seen whether this will persist. I personally see very little power in the rituals of the Novus Ordo Catholic Church, for example. Not "no power at all," mind, but little. Here again, though, we mustn't fall into the trap of seeing the modern Catholic Church as the victim of the Novus Ordo or of Vatican II. There's a reason that the overwhelming majority of the world's gigantic Catholic population went along with the reforms, as awful as they might seem to us and, again, if we believe in Divine Providence, we have to see its hand here. My own view is that the burning of the Notre Dame cathedral was an omen of the final denouement of European Christendom. Something new will rise in its place-- perhaps something which looks Christian, perhaps something very different.
That's all for today. Tomorrow I hope to wrap up this series-- but we'll see. Again, it's a tale that is growing in the telling.