readoldthings

The Story So Far

Over the course of the last three posts, we've looked at the Transactional Analysis theory of Eric Berne, and the Dramatic Triangle of his student Stephen Karpman. I want to briefly summarize these ideas before we continue.

Transactional Analysis views social life as consisting largely of unconscious games, semi-conscious rituals and pastimes, and conscious (formal) rituals, and conscious procedures and operations. These are collectively known as transactions.

As individuals, we are capable of manifesting three different ego-states, which Berne calls the Parent, the Adult, and the Child. The Parent is concerned with judgment and opinion. The Parent may be overt or covert, and consists in behaviors learned from one's own parents. In the overt or direct Parental ego state, the individual simply behaves like one of his or her parents; in the covert or indirect state, he or she acts as their parent taught him or her to act. The Child is also dyadic. The Natural Child includes the individual's capacity for spontaneity, creativity, and wonder. The Adapted Child consists of behavior patterns learned in childhood, often in response to trauma. The Adult, meanwhile, is capable of reason, planning, and objective analysis.

In the Karpman Drama Triangle, individual's take one of three roles, viz. the Hero or Rescuer, the Victim, and Villain or Persecutor. Very often, these roles are learned in childhood, and so may be considedred functions of the Adapted Child. Although the Rescuer sees himself as a hero, and the victim sees himself as innocent, none of these roles are actually innocent; all are pathological. Their continued interaction produces Drama and human suffering.

And so we have an image of our predicament. We are-- frequently or occasionally, as the case may be-- trapped in a series of programmed behaviors, not at all unlike NPCs in a videogame.

Now the question becomes, what are we to do about it?

The Shadows in the Cave

In The Return of the King, Frodo says the following to Sam regarding the monstrous Orcs:

The Shadow that bred them can only mock, it cannot make: not real new things of its own. I don't think it gave life to the orcs, it only ruined them and twisted them...

Like his friend C.S. Lewis, Tolkien was well acquainted with the ideas of Plato, and in this brief quote he is summarizing one of the key ideas of Plato's Republic. This is the allegory of the cave: our material world is akin to a cave in which we have all been imprisoned, and the material objects we encounter here are like the shadows of puppets on the a wall. Unacquainted with reality, we believe that the shadows are all that exists; having never been free, we are unaware that we are imprisoned.

In the previous series on this blog, I discussed the way that these concepts are understood in the tradition of the Druid Revival. This world of Shadows, Plato's Cave, is what we call Abred. In its lowest reaches it is Annwn, the world of the Dead. When we ourselves behave as automotons, we are essentially behaving as if we were ghosts. Thus Abred and Annwn are in a real sense identical to one another; most of our life here in Abred-- this place where we are supposedly alive-- is the life of a ghost. Riffing on the similarity between the Greek word "soma," which means body, and "Sema," which means "tomb," Plato wrote that "Soma is sema," the body is a tomb. I haven't seen a discussion of this anwyhere, but I've often wondered if his "cave" is not a natural cave, but a round barrow, an artificial burial chamber of a type that was employed throughout Europe during the Bronze Age. The goal of the spiritual life is to become aware of the true nature of this world and find our way out of the Cave, into the Sunlight of the Real World.

And so this is a world of the Dead, and it is also a world of Shadows. That is to say: The objects we encounter here with our senses are less than real. But, again, they aren't totally novel. The Shadow cannot create. Rather, they are reflections of a higher, truer, and more real plane of existence.

If all of this is true then two things follow:

First, all of these destructive patterns, including the games analyzed by Berne, the Karpman drama triangle, and the maladapted forms of the Child and Parent ego-state must be relfections, however dim, of higher, truer, and more noble ideals.

Second, the process of overcoming game-playing, roleplaying, and other automatic behaviors of these sorts is identical to the process of escape from Plato's Cave.

The Supernal Triad and the Dramatic Triangle

When we meet with a destructive automatism such as the Karpman drama triangle, our question should be, "Of what higher power or more noble ideal is this a base reflection?" After all, it could not have any existence-- even a shadow's existence-- if it weren't a reflection of something of the higher realms, and ultimately of something in the Divine. The Orcs are always corruptions, never creations.

The Hero and the Hero

Let's start with the Rescuer. Also called the Hero, and for good reason. Hero, in ancient philosophy, is a technical terms. The Heroes were a class of souls intermediate between angels or the higher daimones and ordinary human beings. Like every being, from the archangels on down through the ranks of daimones, to human beings, to animals, plants, and minerals, they exist as part of a chain of emanation from the highest gods. This is why in mythology and legend they are termed "sons of Gods." Romulus is a son of Mars, Aeneas is a son of Venus, and so on. Every being manifests the powers and activities of a particular god on their peculiar level of existence. In Classical times, Socrates, Plato and Pythagoras were venerated as heroes in the series of Apollo. In Christian terms, heroes are called saints; other traditions might call them xian or boddhisattvas. As in modern times, the Catholic and Orthodox churches have procedures for canonizing a person as a saint only after they have died, so in ancient times it was only after death that a man was discovered to have been a hero and to have been fathered by a God. Thus an ordinary soul may be seen to ascend to the rank of "Hero." In Christianity, the goal is for every person to become a saint.

We can say, then, that in the performance of the Rescuer role, an ordinary soul is trying to become a Hero. The trouble is that they are not doing it in the right way, or for the right reasons. The Rescuer rescues for the sake of his own ego, and so he is always looking for Victims, and for Persecutors. He claims his motive is Justice, but it is only a parody of Justice. This is because actual Justice consists in the right relationship between things, and, as we have seen, one cannot have a relationship with a Persecutor or a Victim. Relationships require truth. The Rescuer is always on the lookout for more Victims to save, and so he absolutely cannot allow his Victims to form their own identities or their own opinions. If you look at radical left-wing literature you will find an enormous amount of this sort of thing. Whenever any identified Victim-class-- proletarians, women, people of color-- refuses to accept the identity given to them by the Rescuer-activist, this can be ascribed to concepts like "false consciousness" or "societal Stockholme syndrome." This allows the Rescuer to keep rescuing a Victim no matter what the Victim herself wants.

And so the Antidote to the Rescuer is to develop a sense of Justice. Actual Justice is the right relationship between things, starting with the right relationship between the components of one's own soul. Before we try to help someone, we must ask ourselves if they need our help, if they have asked for it, if the sort of help they're asking for will actually do anything to improve their circumstances, and what we ourselves are getting out of it. If you lend her that six hundred dollars, will it really help her in the long run? When you listen to him rant for hours on the phone about how awful it all is and everything that They've done to him this time, will it improve his circumstances in any way? And if the answer is "No," as it usually is, the next question to ask is, "What are you getting out of it?"

And what about Victims, and Persecutors?

The Victim and the Wise Man

In the first case, it must be said that sometimes we actually are victims-- that is, real victims, rather than Victims with a capital v. Sometimes someone hurts you, and you didn't see it coming, and you didn't have the opportunity to get out of the way. Sometimes a natural disaster forcers you to leave home, or a global disaster forces you to stay in your house for months on end. Sometimes a war breaks out. Sometimes a large number of your political opponents declare that everyone who looks like you or who believes the things you believe is evil, and launches a society-wide campaign to harm you. It really does happen.

These are real situations. The trouble again is how we respond to them. We become Victims when we adopt that role as our identity. We become Victims when we stop trying to either help ourselves, or to learn from a difficult situation, or to maintain our self-control, but instead delight in our suffering, refuse everything that could help us, and make matters even worse than they were. The Victim, then, is a parody of the capacity to be affected by events, which is, also, ultimately, the capacity for wisdom. This may seen odd, but consider that there is no awareness of any kind without change; to become aware of any object of knowledge one must be affected by it, and therefore be changed by it. In this life some things are in our power, many other things are not. Wisdom consists, in part, in knowing the difference; it also consists in learning how to respond to situations, especially those which are largely beyond our control The best illustration of this principle, to my mind, comes from a well-known passage from the Discourses of the Stoic philosopher Epictetus:

How do we act in a voyage? What is in my power? To choose the pilot, the sailors, the day, the hour. Afterwards comes a storm. What have I to care for? My part is performed. This matter belongs to another, to hte pilot. But the ship is sinking; what then have I to do? That which alone I can do; I submit to being drowned, without fear, without clamor, or cursing God; but as one who knows that what is born must likewise die. For I am not an immortal being, but a man; a part of the whole, as the hour is part of the day. Like the hour I must be present, and like the hour I must pass. What matter, whether by drowning or by a fever? For in some way or the other, pass I must.

Suppose two men on the ship of Epictetus. They have, let us say, made the voyage together; therefore they have mutually agreed upon all the details that are under their power-- both have helped select the ship, the pilot, the sailors, the hour of departure. But now the storm comes. Both are going to drown. One falls to his knees, throws his head back and screams. He curses God; he curses his friend; he demands the sailors do something, even though he knows they cannot. The other also fall to his knees-- but gently, in control of his body. He is kneeling to pray. He gives thanks for the life that he has lived. He reflects, briefly, on his sins, and asks that they may be forgiven. In his last moments, he asks that his family be blessed and protected. The wave comes. Both men drown. Each is a victim of fate, but only one is a Victim.

The Villain and the Brave Man

Sometimes the ship is sinking, and there is nothing to be done.

But sometimes, the ship is not sinking, but is being sunk. And sometimes there is something that can be done.

Suppose the same two men on the same voyage. But now the ship is attacked, and pirates come on board. Imagine them swinging cutlasses, saying "Yarr," and all the rest of it. Suppose there are women and children on board, and these will surely be taken and sold into slavery if the pirates prevail. And suppose both of our men have swords.

Now, in one sense, we would seem to have a classic Dramatic Triangle. The pirates are the persecutors, the women and childrne, the Victims, the crew and our men with swords, potentially at least, the Heroes.

Suppose one of our men has spent the last year reading books by Eric Berne and Stephen Karpman. He's gotten in touch with his Inner Child, and he read today's blog post and so he knows that line form Epicetus. And so he throws down his sword and stretches out his neck to the pirates, saying, "It would be better to die now that my hour has come, then to play your game and become a Persecutor in my turn."

And the pirates cut off his head. The End.

Except that his friend is still alive, and he still has his sword. There is still something that can be done. But if he is going to do anything, he is going to need to call upon a reserve of violent, aggressive energy from somewhere within himself. This is a major part of the thymos as a component of the soul, and the reason that this word is often interpreted as "anger." It's why I usually translate thymos as heart. If he has the heart, he will unsheathe his sword, charge the pirates, and kick their lousy asses back into the ocean. And you had better believe that he is going to have to act like a Persecutor in order to do so.

And so the Persecutor role is revealed to be a shadow of Courage. Suppose our pirate-slayer, upon defeating his enemies, discovers that actually, he really enjoyed the fight with the pirates. He especially liked how scared they were when he charged them, and how good it felt to hurt them. And so after the voyage, he gets his own ship, and he goes looking for pirates. Before long, he's cleared all the pirates out of the Sea, probably hanging them publicly. But it's still not enough. There have to be other pirates out there. Or friends of pirates. Or people who know pirates, or who could be pirates if given the opportunity. Years go by, bodies hang from the gallows, and our brave man has become a Persecutor in his turn.

And so we see that the antidote to Rescuing is Justice of which Rescuing is a shadow. The antidote to Victimhood is Wisdom, of which victimhood is a shadow. And the antidote to Persecution is Courage, of which Persecution is a shadow.

These three together form the virtue of Temperance, which is self-control derived from self-knowledge.

On another level, the Persecutor is a shadow of the divine capacity of action; the Victim is a shadow of the capacity for affection; and the Rescuer is a shadow of the capacity for reflection. These three are also the supernal triad of Kether, Chokhma, and Binah. On a human level, these manifest as the virtues of patience, which is the capacity to suffer what must be endured; courage, which is the capacity to change what is amanable to change; and wisdom, which discerns between the two.

That, of course, will sound familiar, and it suggests a short spell as an antidote to the Rescue Game:

God grant me to the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

To Be Free Is To Be Alive

Of course, it isn't enough simply to know the words to a prayer or a quotation from Epictetus. To become free of these sorts of automatic behaviors is quite literally to become alive, after spending what seemed like life as ghosts in a ghost-world. This requires a great deal of ongoing work. And there is not one method, but there are many. In the next post I want to discuss some of those methods, and in so doing to together this series of posts and the previous one.

In order to continue our discussion, we're going to need two additional concepts. The first of these is the idea of the ego state.

Ego States

We've seen in a previous post that Sigmund Freud's 3 parts of the psyche is essentially the division of Plato, but with the terms reversed. In this way of thinking the appetite, which is the Freudian Id or the Platonic Epithymia, is in control, while the higher part of the psyche, the Freudian Superego or Platonic Nous, is an ephemeral social construct. Berne was originally a Freudian, but broke with classical Psychoanalysis to develop a theory both more subtle and more powerful. Like Freud and like most psychologists-- including our latter-day neuroscientists-- he envisioned a tripartite psyche. But his categories are different from Freud's-- or Plato's-- and quite a bit more subtle than the former's.

According to Berne, we each have within us three possible ego states. This aren't distinct "parts" of the psyche, or of the brain for that matter. Rather, they are three distinct modes in which we can interact with other people. The ego states are:

The Parent

The Adult

The Child

It would be easy to see these as akin to the categories of Freud or Plato, but, again, that isn't quite correct. For Berne, the Child ego state is a set of behavioral patterns which carry through from childhood. Some are natural to the individual; these are termed the natural Child. Others are learned in response to outside stimuli; these are the adapted Child. The concern of the Chlidhood is emotion, intuition, creativity and spontaneity.

The Parent ego state is also learned in childhood, but here the individual is not behaving the way they did as a child, but the way that either they saw one of their parents (or a parental figure) behave, or the way that their parents (or parental figures) wanted them to behave. Thus, like the Child, the Parent comes has two forms. These are a little different from the Child, in that only one is an active ego-state. The Parent is especially concerned wtih judgment and opinion. When its influence is direct, the individual takes on the Parent ego-state and acts as one of their parents did. When its influence is indirect, they act as the Parent wanted them to behave.

The Adult, meanwhile, is the ego-state in which we are capable of reason.

In Platonic terms, these can be seen as different levels of the nous. The natural Child, capable of creativity and intuition, is the higher phase of the nous. It is also resembles the concept of yuan shen, or "original spirit," in the Taoist tradition. Yes, this is the origin of the concept of the "Inner Chlid" which has seen so much abuse in New Age circles. One of the principles of Catholic Moral Theology is "Abusus non tollit usum," or "Misuse does not take away right use." The mere fact that a concept has been abused does not render it useless thereby. The Adult is the ordinary reasoning mind or dianoia. The Parent, meanwhile, concerned with judgment and opinion, may be compared to the lower phase of the nous, the seat of doxha or opinion.

It might be better, however, to see the entire discussion as concerned with the Thymos, as Berne was, above all, a social psychologist, and the Thymos is concerned with the social emotions. Again, though, there is another tradition whcih will shed more light on this system from a spiritual and esoteric perspective, and we will come to it in due time. For now, there are two points which we must consider.

First, from the perspective of transactional analysis, it isn't a problem that each of us carries a childlike ego-state within us, or is capable of childish behaviors. As Berne writes, "the Child is in many ways the most valuable part of the personality, and can contribute to the individual's life exactly what an actual child can contribute to family life: charm, pleasure, and creativity." The problem comes in when you have a person who learned inappropriate behaviors in Childhood, or whose Child takes over at inappropriate times or in an unproductive way. People who were abused as children, for example, may carry within them a Child state which is angry, fearful, and aggressive; the lack of proper socialization often leads them to yield to this state too often and at inappropriate times. Seeing a violent parent in every ordinary interaction, they lash out in fear, thinking that they are "fighting back," but are in fact not fighting back against an aggressor but themselves acting aggressively.

Similarly, as the seat of opinion and habit, the Parent is necessary for human survival. Life is difficult and complicated; if we had to take the time to form a reasoned judgment in response to every possible new set of circumstances, we'd never get anything done! An inner Parent who teaches us, "This is the way things are," allows us to navigate the vicissitudes of life. It also allows us to be actual parents to actual children. The problem, again, comes in when the parent takes over at inappropriate times, or when the lessons learned either directly or indirectly from one's parents are destructive. Of course, the classic example is the abused child who grows up to become an abuser. This person may flip from a Child ego-state, protective themselves from non-existent threats, back to a Parent ego-state, abusing a child to enforce compliance as they had once been abused, in a single interaction.

This leads to neatly to the second point. Every relationship into which we enter is between one or more of our ego-states, and one or more of the other person's ego states. This is best illustrated by an image:

Patterns in Relationships

As we can see from the diagram, every person can relate to another in one of 9 different ways, and the other person can respond in one of 9 different ways: that is, as Parent to Parent, Parent to Adult, Parent to Child; Adult to Parent, Adult to Adult, Adult to Child; Child to Parent, Child to Adult, or Child to Child. In all transactions, one participant begins the interaction; this is called a transactional stimulus; the other returns the interaction; this is called the transactional response.

As the above diagram illustrates, it often happens that social interactions or transactions occur between people in different ego-states. A person in their Child state may engage another person in either their Child, Parent, or Adult state. In a marriage, a working spouse might, upon returning home exhausted from a long day at work, lapse into a Child state upon arrival, hoping for their partner to enter into a Parent state and care for him. There's nothing especially wrong with this. In a healthy relationship, the other spouse's Parent is activated in a nurturing mode and cares for their partner. The two can then return to an Adult state to discuss their finances. Then both can shift into Parent mode in order to get their kids through dinner and bed time. After the kids are asleep they can remain in Parent mode if they want to discuss the problems with the youth these days, shift back into Adult if they need to make plans for the weekend or Christmas, or mutually downshift to Child mode if they have fun and games planned for the evening.

From this perspective, it's easy to see how things can go wrong, and they can go wrong in one of two ways. Let's return to the exhausted working parent, returning home from a long day. Since stay-at-home dads seem to be increasingly common, especially in the wake of Covid-- I know of several in my own neighborhood, including myself for several years-- let's make it the wife. She returns home from a long day, and all she wants is to be cared for for a little while, until she can muster the energy to help clean up dinner, get the kids to bed, and so on. In transactional terms, she is in Child mode, approaching her husband's Parent. If he responds with gentle sympathy, perhaps bringing her a glass of wine and magnanimously refusing her offer to help with dinner, all is well. But suppose his own father treated him or his mother badly in moments of weakness, demanding that they "toughen up" because there was "work to be done?" He may then respond inappropriately, frequently by lapsing into Child mode himself. If he responds to her with, "Where do you get off sitting down while I'm busy making dinner!" he is acting the abusive Parent. It also happens quite frequently, as I understand it, that moder men left at home find themselves incapable of such tasks as cleaning, cooking, or looking after the children. In this case she may come home exhausted, hoping quie reasonably for a bit of Parenting for her Child, only to find another Child sitting on the couch, perhaps suckling from a bottle of beer, expecting her to take care of him as she takes care of the rest of her children.

(I hasten to add that this example is not drawn from personal experience. I'm very far from being a saint, but on those days when my wife works and I am at home, I make sure she comes home to a clean house, dinner, and a beverage of her choice. Real men know how to run a vacuum cleaner.)

Finally, transactions may occur between multiple ego-states simultaneously. These are called ulterior transactions, because one of the levels of interaction is hidden. This is very frequently what is happening with games. For example, consider two young adults sitting around a campfire with their friends.

Person A: Did you know there's a creek nearby, away from the fire?
Person B: I had no idea! Would you show me?

On the surface or "social" level this is an Adult-Adult discussion about riparian habitats. Under the surface, on the psychological level, it is a Child-Child discussion about sex.

Another example, drawn from Berne's book:

Salesman: This one is better, but you can't afford it.
Housewife: That's the one I'll take!

On the social level, this is an adult-adult discussion about price. On the psychological level, the salesman's Adult has carefully triggered the housewife's Child. Salesmen are often very good at this, and will vary their tactics depending on what they're selling. The last time we bought kitchen appliances, a shrewd salesman did an excellent job of convincing my wife that we needed a microwave that could also function as a convection oven or an air-fry system, even though the cost was three times that of a normal microwave. In a similar manner, the last time we needed a new car another salesman did an equally good job of convincing me that I'd certainly need a Jeep instead of a more reliable Honda, given all the off-roading I do (I don't). Looking below the surface, it's easy to see a little girl playing house, or a little boy playing with toy cars, in each of these interactions. Again, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Who doesn't love playing with toy cars? But it can be a bad thing, when ego-states are deliberatley triggered for the purpose of manipulation, or when we are unable to recogize that our Parent or our adapted Child has inappropriately taken control of our reasoning. More on this in a moment.

The Dramatic Triangle

Now I'd like to introduce another concept developed by one of Berne's students, Stephen Karpman. Here again, this is best illustrated by an image:

The Drama Triangle is not so much a game as a set up for multiple games. Drama, in this sense, requires three participants: A Victim, a Persecutor, and a Rescuer or Hero. The Victim is innocent. Something awful is happening to them, and it's not their fault. It's the Persecutor's fault. The Persecutor is guilty. And the Rescuer is here to help.

If you return to the story which opened this series, you can see the three roles in action. The woman who just needs six hundred dollars to keep from being evicted is the Victim. Her Persecutors are legion-- today it's her landlord, tomorrow it's her ex-boyfriend. Her Rescuer, in the story, is you. For now, anyway-- once you get to her apartment and find another man there, you'll switch to Persecutor, as you are meant to, and she'll have a new Rescuer. One who hasn't yet been bilked out of six hundred dollars.

But what happens next?

The Switch

Let's return to the character of our Rescuer as he leaves the apartment that night. No, put the mask back on-- as you leave the apartment that night. You raced over there, your heart pounding, not knowing what you'd find, knowing only that she needed your help. You run up the stairs, two at a time. You grab the door handle. It's locked. You bang on the door. No answer. There's a window; you find it open, crawl through it, land on the floor. Up on your feet--

And there he is, coming out of her bedroom, hastily pulling his shirt on. And there she is, coming out after him, wrapping a blanket around herself.

You start screaming. Don't you? Maybe you tell him to get the hell out. Maybe you grab him, and there's a fight. And before long, there are police sirens, and now you find yourself in the back of a cop car, broken and bewildered.

What happened?

In the days that follow you hear rumors about yourself, how you went crazy, what a creep you acted like.

And slowly, you realize:

She wasn't the victim here. She never was. Not of her ex-boyfriend, not of her landlord, not of you.

No, the real victim...

...Is you.

For a while you hold onto it, this realization of what's happened to you. After a while, you start to wonder if other guys have gone through the same kind of thing. You begin to look online, and you find that, yeah, it's actually not that uncommon. There are even whole groups out there for men who have been abused by women, like you have. Not nearly as many as for women that have been abused by men, of course. But there are some. Soon you discover a whole internet subculture, with an entire philosophy and a political program. And now the whole thing starts to make sense.

You discover, of course, that society is actually run by the demented ideology of Feminism. It took control some time in the '60s, when radical activists, often Jews and frequently on the payroll of the CIA, took over our universities and cultural institutions. From Andrea Dworkin to Gloria Steinem to Angela Davis, these radical feminists took over the culture and created a kind of simulation of reality, convincing men that they themselves are the problem, that we live in a destructive patriarchy, while the actual structure of our society is a dastardly matriarchy.

What happens next? Do you remain in Victim mode, bewailing your fate on every online message board you can get your hands on, calling yourself an "incel" and insisting that it's the fault of the Longhouse Gynocracy that you can't get a date? Do you become a Rescuer, running a forum for Men Going Their Own Way and helping other victims of the Matriarchy to come to terms with what's happened to them? Or do you, perhaps, shift into Persecutor mode, perhaps taking your wrath to YouTube or Twitter and filling the internet with misogynistic tirades about how women should never have been allowed the vote, perhaps... doing something worse.

Roleplaying

The man in the foregoing story played all three roles in the Karpman Triangle. He began as a Rescuer. He met a damsel in distress, and he wanted to help her. He paid her rent. He helped move her furniture. He raced over to her apartment when she said she was in trouble.

Then he suddenly found himself shifted into Persecutor. How did it happen? He didn't have any plan to hurt anyone. He was there to help. But as soon as he met someone else in Rescuer mode-- and with her ensconced in her role as Victim-- his own role shifted, and he became a Persecutor.

After that, of course, he became a Victim. And then, in the usual way of things, he managed to find opportunities to play all three roles as a new member of the Men's Rights internet subculture.

The thing to notice is this:

His victimization was real. These sorts of things really do happen, all the time. The man in my story is a mashup of two different men I know, the women, of two different women. And I know other men who have experienced these sorts of things.

But I know women who have gone through the same kind of thing, in abusive relationships with men. Sometimes they become radical feminists, dedicated to protecting their fellow women from the abuses of the patriarchy. Sometimes they just know that all men are awful.

But there is one thing that the man in my story, and the people on whom he is based, never become:

Honest.

Consider how things began. He was a Rescuer, wasn't he? If asked, he would say that he sincerely wanted to help. Now consider whether this is true. There is one ulterior motive, which he almost certainly had, which is obvious. But he may have had others as well. Perhaps he was, himself, a committed feminist, and when she came into his life and told him about all the ways she had suffered at the hands of men (her ex-boyfriend, her landlord, inevitably her father) he was filled with a righteous desire to help her, and in that way strike a blow for women everywhere. (Don't laugh; I know of one man who found himself in this exact situation, almost down to the details, who believed exactly this.) Perhaps he's simply spent his whole life "helping" people, because he learned to do so caring for his chronically ill mother in childhood, and now he gets an emotional thrill out of it. Perhaps the motive is something else.

The point is this: People who consistently find themselves in the Rescuer role do so because they want to be there. We can imagine plenty of other Rescue Game scenarios, besides the one I've shared here. Who doesn't have the friend who only ever calls them to complain about how badly their life is going? If you offer sincere advice and disengage once they are (inevitably) unwilling to follow it, all well and good. But what if you pick up their call, every single time? What if you listen for hours, only complaining later to your other friends or your mother or your husband about how draining it is to talk to her? Maybe you've even done some research into esoteric and paranormal phenomena, and so you know you're dealing with a Psychic Vampire-- a fact which you share with all and sundry. It hardly matters. At this point, you're clearly in it because you're getting something out of it. You want to be the Rescuer, and if your Victim were to change, the game would be over. But you can't admit it to yourself. You can't be honest.

That Victims are dishonest is equally obvious. Now, we are not saying that there is something wrong with someone because they have been abused. Many people have been abused, and not because they deserved it. It's wrong to abuse people, and it's wrong to be abused. But haven't we all seen the person who finds themselves in the Victim role, again, and again, and again? Or who finds themselves in the Victim role once, and does absolutely nothing about it, even though it's within their power? Or who maybe isn't even really a Victim- it's just that they were once victimized. Or maybe they weren't even victimized, but someone who looked like them was victimized. But it doesn't matter; now they're the Victim forever and ever and ever.

And then there are Persecutors. The odd thing is that, very often, in their own minds, they don't see themselves that way. No-- they see themselves as Victims. This is actually one of the very few things that the sort of sensationalistic killings-- you know, the sort that people like to use as proof of whatever political position they already believed in any way-- actually have in common. The perpetrators, despite obviously being in a Persecutor role, almost inevitably see themselves as victims. And they see their victims, whom they have often never even met before, as Persecutors.

While the Rescue Game is active, therefore, there are no real relationships. True relationships can only occur between real people, not people playing roles. And so real relationships require honesty.

The Rescue Game, Writ Large

From this perspective, it's easy to see that much of 21st century American "politics" consists entirely of games, especially of the "Rescue Game" variety. For any given issue that you can name, our political discourse is defined by a class of Victims, whose innocense is permanent and unquestionable; a class of Persecutors, whose guilt is equally permanent and unquestionable; and a class of Rescuers, who are just here to ehlp.

The most cringe-inducing example of this that I have ever seen took place around ten years ago. A group of left-wing activists who were members of a radical environmental group blockaded a highway leading into a town. The town was a small village on an American Indian Reservation. The activists explicitly defined themselves as "white allies of the Indigenous people." And the purpose of the blockade? Why, that was to prevent a delivery truck from replenishing the town's one liquor store with alcohol. In this way, the White Allies hoped to rescue the innocent Indigenous Victims from the wicked Persecutors and their fire water.

Now, it's worth noting that the activist group in question is, frankly, one of the creepiest I have personally ever seen. It is based in a cult of personality around its leader and is marked by constant purges of low-ranking members for failure to grasp subtle details of radical theory. To put it plainly, it really sucks to be part of this group. But that's not what I want to focus on right now. What I want to point out is that, in this scenario, the activists themselves are the only ones with any agency. The liquor salesmen are wicked Persecutors who simply can't be reasoned with. The poor people of the reservation simply can't help themselves; their oppression, their genetics, the White Man or some other damned thing simply forces them to buy liquor, get drunk, and beat their wives and children.

In fact the Rescue Game often works this way, at least in the minds of its players. Rescuers act; everyone else simply plays a role. At least, that's how it appears on the surface-- at the ulterior level, anyone may initiate a Rescue Game, simply by advertising the role they wish to play, and inviting others to show up. I once watched a woman stand in front of the entrance to a roadside rest center, prominently displaying her breasts. When a man noticed her, she would then approach him and explain that she'd run out of gas, and did he have just a little money so she could get herself and her baby to the next town?

Of course, the Rescue Game is at the root of all of our current "Woke" political movements, from "anti-racism" to "feminism" and "Trans liberation" and everything in between. Unfortunately, as I tried to demonstrate above, it's also at the root of most of the right-wing responses to Wokeism. These largely consist in accepting most of the distinctions drawn by the Woke, but then reversing the identities of the Persecutors and the Victims. Rather than Jews being victims of Antisemitism, we're all victims of a conspiracy of Jews. Whites are victims of black violence, men of misandric matriarchy. "Longhouse gynocracy" remains my favorite term for our supposed condition of female rule, for its sheer histrionic absurdity. And so on.

Religion and the Rescue Game

But there is another area where the Rescue Game manifests itself, and that brings us to the major point of this post. The Rescue Game is at the center of much of modern religion. And it is especially common in those forms of alternative religion in which I myself and many of the readers here participate.

Once again, however, it seems we've run out of time. Tomorrow we'll conclude this series with a discussion of precisely who is not a victim in religious matters, and how we can move on to a life without games.

The Victim

Everybody's had this experience.

Someone comes into your life. Perhaps they're a friend or a family member; often they're somebody new, met at work or school.

The first thing you learn about them is that they've suffered. She was fired from her last job for following the rules too closely. His last girlfriend cheated on him and stole all his money. Her father drank and ran off with another woman. His professor failed him even though she knew it wasn't his fault he didn't turn in his essay. It wasn't her fault her last roommate kicked her out of the house. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't make it into work that day. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't his fault.

The second thing you learn about them is that it wasn't their fault. They've suffered: And someone always did it too them. In fact, someone is doing it to them right now. Her last boyfriend went psycho and she had to move into a new place. But now the landlord is going to kick her out if she doesn't come up with six hundred dollars by Friday, and there's no way she can do that because she just had to spend all her money having the apartment repainted (no evidence that the apartment has been painted). He needs a place to stay, just for a few nights, so that he doesn't end up on the street (he shows no evidence of having looked for a place to live.) She needs to take the class for free because all her money has to go to take care of her daughter (then why is she always going out to bars?).

And so the third thing you learn is that they need something from you. (And you ignore the parenthesis. For now.)

The third thing you learn is also the fourth thing you learn. And the fifth thing you learn. And the sixth thing you learn. You give her the six hundred dollars so she won't lose her place. Next week she needs your help rearranging her bedroom. The week after that she needs a ride to a doctor's appointment on the other side of town. She'll pay you back once she can find a job, but it's just so hard. She never finds the job. The week after that she doesn't need your help, and someone mentions seeing her out with another guy. The next day you get a series of deranged text messages about how this guy is going to kill her. You stop what you're doing, jump in your car and drive over there. Of course there's another man there (no evidence he means her any harm or even knows about you). You become jealous; you lose your temper; you say things you'll regret later. She accuses you of stalking her and demands you leave.

Congratulations: In the next version of the story, you're the psycho ex-boyfriend. In fact, right now she's telling her new target all about how horrible you were to her. He can't even believe the way you just showed up like that, uninvited! And now he learns that thanks to you spending all her rent money, the landlord is evicting her, and she'll need to move into a new place next week. That is, unless there's some way she can come up with six hundred dollars by Friday...

Games People Play

Interactions like this are as common as they are destructive. In the 1960s, a psychologist named Eric Berne noticed that many of his patients acted out repeated patterns like this one, taking one or another role as the occasion demanded. Originally a Freudian, his close study of actual human behavior lead him to found a new school of psychology called Transactional Analysis. His book Games People Play is the foundational popular text of this school, and I strongly recommend it; I rank it as one of the two or three most helpful books I've ever read that were written by people who lived during the Twentieth Century. According to transactional analysis, if you've participated in any of the interactions I've described above, you've been a player in a very specific sort of social phenomenon called a game.

In the following series of posts, I'm going to discuss Berne's theory of games and similar, simpler social transactions out of which they emerge. I'm going to suggest that a particularly destructive game dominates our political life in America. And I'm also going to suggest that the way that we do religion and spirituality, and above all the sorts of alternative religion and spirituality that are familiar to the readers of this blog, are also highly dominated by games of this sort. Finally, I'm going to suggest a way forward, to a spirituality without games.

The Structure of Transactions

The basic theory of Transactional Analysis is that human beings require social recognition from one another, which Berne called "strokes." In a small child, "strokes" are basically literal. An infant needs to be physically handled, or it can literally die from emotional deprivation. In an adult, a "stroke" may amount to nothing more than a nod of recognition from a neighbor-- but it serves the same purpose. As Berne points out, the use of solitary confinement as a method of torture is proof that adults too may be killed or badly harmed by emotional deprivation.

Most of our interactions, meanwhile-- and especially those which seem to be spontaneous-- are in fact highly structured methods of exchanging strokes. These exchanges are called transactions. In every society transactions are highly structured and repeated, but people often remain entirely unconscious of them.

A simple transaction can be described as follows:

A: Good morning. (1 Stroke.)
B: Good morning. (1 Stroke.)

The End

In this scenario A and B are neighbors but have little else in common. In Berne's terms, each receives 1 stroke from the interaction. It isn't that either has calculated what they need from the other person, or what they're going to give that person. It's that each simply "knows," on a level prior to consciousness, that the level of their relationship demands that each provide the other with a single stroke and receive his stroke in turn. The number of required strokes, the method of providing them, and the obligation to provide strokes at all vary from one culture to another, and are one of the ways of analyzing and understanding that word, "culture." Within the United States, there are some areas in which the obligation to a neighbor consists entirely of a nodded head. To respond with a smile and a "good morning!" is to elicit a sense of confusion and "What does he want?" In other areas, a "Good morning" may easily lead to a (scripted) conversation about weather, grass, and the like. Other factors may influence the sort of transaction to which one is permitted/obligated. Where I live in rural Maryland, for example, men and women very rarely speak to one another. Even husbands and wives don't seem to like each other very much-- at least, I rarely see them demonstrate the slightest interest in being in one another presence-- and to speak with an unaccompanied person of the opposite sex is something of a faux pas.

In any case, the scenario described above is a very simple form of transaction, called a ritual. Rituals, in Berne's words, are stereotyped, simple transactions programmed by external forces. Greeting, leavetaking, and exchanging pleasantries at a checkout line are simple, informal rituals. ("Hi, how are you?"). Formal rituals are more complex and far less subject to individual or regional variability; the apex of these are highly structured rituals like the Catholic mass or the coronation of a king. From Berne's perspective, informal rituals are actually more interesting. Among other things, the informal ritual's lack of an overt script means that you can analyze how well socialized a person is by how effectively they perform them. Consider the man who responds to a stranger's "Hi, how are you?" with, "Oh, I'm terrible. I just got off the phone with my mother-in-law, and it looks like her brother has cancer. Cancer, can you believe it? The doctors are saying they're going to have to remove his lymph nodes. Just imagine. I had a cousin who had lymph nodes removed and his arm swelled up with lymphedema and got all fat and purple, you shoulda seen it. I was worried they were going to have to amputate-- Hey, where are you going!?" Well, such a person has just revealed a great deal about himself, utterly unrelated to his mother in law, her brother, or his cousin.

Now, it's quite possible to have interactions with other people that are not scripted. Such interactions, governed by reason and directed toward specific ends, Berne calls procedures and operations. These are simpler than rituals, in that there are no scripts or lines to remember; one can honestly say something like "I'm heading to Richmond today, do you happen to know if it's better to take 15 than 495?" receive an answer, and move on. Of course they can also be more complex, as in a large group project or a serious planning session. In the case of procedures, the primary form of interaction is transparent and rational-- and as such, there is little to say about them, and so we'll move on.

Pastimes

More complex than informal rituals are pasttimes. Pastimes are defined by Berne as a series of complementary semi-ritual exchanges, organized around a single field of material, whose ultimate purpose is to structure time. In the book, it is in the section on pastimes that Berne's sense of humor begins to emerge; I have a feeling he was a fun guy to spend time around, games or no games.

A large cocktail party otften functions as a kind of gallery for the exhibition of pastimes. In one corner of the room a few people are playing "PTA," another corner is the form for "Psychiatry," a third is the theater for "Ever Been" or "What Became," the fourth is engaged for "General Motors," and the buffet is reserved for women who want to play "Kitchen" or "Wardrobe."

Each of these follows a very strict pattern, and you probably know many of them well. PTA: "The kids these days can't function in the workplace." "It's the overprotective parents; when we were kids they let us play outside until the streetlights came on." Sports Talk: "Did you see the Steelers game last night?" "Sure did, Pickett's finally coming into his own as a quarterback." General Motors: "How do you like the 2018?" "It's great, I really like the automatic doors and the backing camera." And so on.

The purpose of a pastime is to structure time, but it serves several other purposes as well. First, it stabilizes each individual in his or her social role. This role, which is what Jung called the persona, consists essentially of the part the individual plays in the games of his or her choice. I like playing PTA and my favorite role is "grumpy old man"; you like playing General Motors and telling me about your Ford F-150; she likes playing "Ever Been?" and going on about how Europeans have the metric system. According to Berne, an individual's role, and the larger position of which it is a manifestation, stabilizes very early on in life, and we spend most of the rest of our lives justifying that role and that position.

Pastimes also form the basis for ongoing acquaintance and friendship. Two women who meet at a party and play a rousing game of "Ain't it Awful!" are likely to meet up later that week for more of the same. Moreover, the pastimes that one participates in are reflections of social class, and finding a new set of pastimes is a major part of upward mobility. Working class people don't play "Ever Been?" Many upper middle class ("PMC") subcultures frown on "General Motors," and consider "Sports Talk" a major faux pas.

Games

Finally we come to games. Games are akin to Pastimes, but they are distinguished by three key traits. First, they are more complex than pastimes, often involve a series of tightly scripted moves. Beyond that and far more important, games are distinguished by their dishonesty. Two men engaging in "Sports Talk" know that they are talking about the football game and enjoying doing so, even if their specific words and phrases are more or less scripted. But two men playing a game of "I've Got You Now, You Son of a Bitch!" are likely to be totally unaware of their motives, even as each chooses his next move exactly in order to ensure the desired outcome. That outcome, finally, is the third distinguishing feature of games. Every game ends in a carefully pre-determined outcome, even as its players claim totally ignorance, and innocence.

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.

I want to now look at a few specific games detailed by Berne, and then at another model of gamesmanship produced by one of Berne's more recent followers. This will illustrate the scenarios discussed at the beginning of this post. And it will also, we will find, have profound implications for spiritual practice in a world of covert games.

If It Weren't For You

Berne opens his discussion of games by illustrating a marital game he calls "If It Weren't For You." It should be familiar from its very name alone. Berne claims it is the most common of games played by married people, and you can probably guess the moves before I even write them.

Mrs. White complained that her husband severely restrictd her social activities, so that she had never learned to dance. Due to changes in her attitude brought about by psychiatrict treatment, her husband became less sure of himself and more indulgent. Mrs. White was then free to enlarge the scope of her activities. She signed up for dancing classes, and then discovered to her despair that she had a morbid fear of dance floors and had to abandon this project.

Now, we can imagine the same scenario taking place in any number of different forms. Mr. Black had always wanted to live in California, but his whole family was in Massachussetts, where it's always cold and gloomy and everyone is so up tight. If it weren't for them, he'd be living his dream in the warm California Sun. Finally, decided to throw caution to the wind and by a one way ticket to L.A. Within six months he found himself totally out of his comfort zone and moved back to the snow and the cold and the miserable people of the Northeast. Miss Gray had always wanted to find a man and get married, but someone had to take care of her ailing mother and none of her other siblings were willing to help. At last her mother died. Miss Gray had several suitors and went on a number of dates, but soon discovered that she was terrified of sex and so broke off contact with the men once things started moving in too intimate a direction. For a time she lived alone, but then-- never doubt the working of Providence!-- her elder sister came down with M.S. and needed a live in caretaker.

In each of these cases, we see that the person who is "It" in the game, while appearing to suffer, in fact gets exactrly what tehy want. In Berne's example, Mrs. White has carefully chosen a domineering man for a husband, which keeps her from having to face her fears and also allows her to confirm her own belief that all men are tyrants. Mr. White, meanwhile, lives in terror of being alone and has chosen someone who will never leave it. As Berne puts it, their surface-level interaction looks something like, "You can't go out dancing tonight, I need someone to make my dinner!" "You never let me do anything!" But their covert interaction is something more like, "You must never leave, I'm terrified of being alone." "I will stay, as long as you keep me from facing my fears."

Other Games

The Games that Berne describes are as familiar as his pastimes. In "I've Got You Now, You Son of a Bitch!" Mr. A arranges for a plumber, Mr. B, to install a new set of fixtures at a set price. When Mr. B submits his bill, it turns out he's gone several dollars over the agreed upon price, due to unexpected expenses arising. Mr. A calls up Mr. B, they have a good shouting match, and Mr. B agrees to reduce the bill. Mr. A is satisfied that he doesn't have to spend as much money-- but the truth is, he doesn't realy care about the money. He loves shouting at people, and he loves confirming hsi belief that everyone is always trying to screw him over. And the truth is, Mr. B had fun too, because he was playing his own game. When he sits down at the dinner table that night, he'll regale his wife with the story of the awful Mr. A, and she'll get to join him for yet another round of Why Does This Always Happen To Me?

Some games are much more serious, and can have far more serious consequences. Berne points out that the prototypical childhood game for most criminals is not "Cops and Robbers" but "Hide and Seek." When a child plays Hide and Seek, the emotional climax comes when he is discovered-- especially if this comes after a good long chase. Many criminals carry this same behavior into adulthood, seeing how much they can get away with and then secretly delighting in finally getting caught. "Alcoholic" is a four-player game, with roles for the Alcoholic, the Persecutor (often his or her badgering spouse), the Rescuer (sometimes a therapist, sometimes his AA sponsor), and the Enabler (who may also play the Persecutor or the Rescuer, dependingon the number of available players).

If you think about it, I'm sure you can come up with similar games in your own life. I have several family members with whom I hate going out to dinner. Somehow it always happens that no matter what sort of restaurant we pick, no matter the day, no matter the time or the city or the style of food, we always get terrible service. The food is late, it's cold, the order is wrong, the waitress ignores us, she spills our drinks, they charge us for an extra hamburger and refuse to take it off the bill. It happens without fail. For many years I simply put up with this, but then I noticed that these ladies-- they're all ladies-- absolutely love sharing the stories of their awful service, after the fact. In fact, even before I read Berne's work, it became quite clear that the story was the point. These gals love going out to dinner, but by and large they aren't interested in food. They're interested in playing a round of "Aint It Awful!"

But I'm afraid I play my own games, and, if you think about it, I'm sure that-- unless you've done some serious work on yourself-- and I hope you have-- but in most cases, I'm sure you do too.

Tomorrow we're going to continue the discussion, drawing on another thinker in the same tradition, and applying these concepts to the spiritual traditions that inform this blog. In the meantime, I leave you with the thought--

What's your favorite game?