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Featuring articles by Dr. Shalit as well as updates, news and reviews about his many publications.
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Neumann on the Feminine
The hero and his shadow: psychopolitical aspects of myth and reality in Israel
In an era of faked and alternative news, and when Netanyahu wants the media to be his shofar, a megaphone for him, his family and his government, I was reminded of Moscow in the 1970s, which I mention in the beginning of my book The Hero and His Shadow:
Return
to the Source
Psychiatric diagnoses
change in the course of time not only because of increasing knowledge and
accumulated wisdom, but also according to the zeitgeist; that is, the
prevailing collective consciousness. For instance, a biological understanding
of mental phenomena is prominent during periods of conservatism, while
environmental influences are accentuated during periods of greater liberalism
(Group for the Advancement of Psychiatry [GAP] 1983, p. 14; Shalit &
Davidson 1986, p. 61). When one view
dominates, a compensatory one thrives in the backyard. When psychiatry and medicine are ruled by
drugs, biology and technology, there is a complementary interest in alternative
medicine and eco-psychology; when genes shape the soul, the psyche influences
the immune system.
Psychopathology
changes over time, and so, for example, anorexia – reminding us that there is a
fatness of soul behind the fragility of body – takes the place of hysteria,
which used to tell us that there is libido behind the girdle. The anger and the boredom of the borderline
personality replace the guilt and the internal conflict of the neurotic.
Meaninglessness and alienation substitute repression and anxiety.
A society’s
prevailing collective consciousness influences the perception of
psychopathology. While visiting Moscow
in the mid-1970s, I was surprised to see so many people walking in the street
talking to themselves, freely hallucinating.
I realized that private madness did not disrupt the delusion of the
collective, while publicly telling the truth was a malaise in need of hospital
‘treatment.’
Psychologist and
society are interrelated. This
relationship becomes particularly critical when society is governed by a
powerful ideology or Weltanschauung, with a concomitant stress on
adaptation and conformity, or in case of a totalitarian regime. During the
years of the military junta in Argentina, many of those seeking out the
psychoanalytic temenos, the protected space of therapeutic rapport,
needed to know the analyst’s political stance in order to confide in him or her
and to feel protected from the persecuting authorities.
Psychology (and
medicine) can be put in the hands of a totalitarian regime and used for
purposes of interrogation and torture.
The ultimate transformation from healer to killer, the mechanism by
which one is engulfed and participates in a regime’s distortions, is described
by Lifton (1986) in The Nazi Doctors.
On February 25, 1994 – half a year after the Oslo accords, which marked
the beginning of a process which seemed to lead to reconciliation between
Israelis and Palestinians – the physician Baruch Goldstein brutally killed
twenty-nine praying Muslims from behind, in the Cave of Abraham, holy both to
Muslims and Jews. His act was carried
out with the sharpness of a surgeon’s scalpel, in Hebron, that most sensitive
spot on the Middle East map of conflict, and may have caused an escalation in
Palestinian terrorist attacks. Yet, for
both Palestinian and Israeli, all too often it seems that the destruction that
follows when the shadow is cast onto the other, carries less weight than
the burdensome recognition of the shadow within oneself.
Contents
Preface The Beggar in the Hero’s Shadow
Chapter
1 Return to the Source
Chapter
2 From My Notebook
Chapter
3 From Dream to Reality
Chapter
4 Origins and Myths
Chapter
5 From Redemption to Shadow
Chapter
6 Wholeness Apart
Chapter
7 Myth, Shadow and Projection
Chapter
8 A Crack in the Mask
Chapter
9 The Death of the Mythical and the
Voice of the Soul
Glossary
Bibliography
Index
The former takes us through the history of the heroic creation of Israel, including the darkest “shadow” behaviors of the Jewish state in the 1948 massacre of the Arabs of Lydda.
In the latter work, Erel Shalit tells us why.
This is no simplistic psychological analysis. The brilliance of this Israeli Jungian analyst is that he offers no easy solutions, plumbing the paradox of the necessary heroic identity of the Jewish state, and yet, around every corner is the shadow of every hero: the beggar, the frightened one, the part of all of us that is dependent on forces outside of our control.
It is also very important to note that Erel Shalit’s book is fascinating reading for anyone interested in the inner workings of the soul. On one level Israel is the backdrop for the author to explore how shadow, myth, and projection work in all of us, regardless of our life circumstance, nationality, environment, or history. It even includes a comprehensive glossary of Jungian terms that has some of the best definitions I have ever encountered, and hence a find for readers new to Jung.
And, of course, for people who are fascinated by the scope and depth of the story of Israel, this is a simply great read. It stands alone, but read as a companion to Ari Shavit’s My Promised Land, Erel Shalit’s Hero and His Shadow gives us The Spirit of the Depths in all its dimension. We may not be able to resolve the Arab/Israeli conflict, but we can learn many things from this brave, complex Israeli author, that we can apply to healing the inner and outer wars in our own lives.
Reviewed by Elizabeth Clark-Stern, author of On the Doorstep of the Castle, Out of the Shadows, and Soul Stories.
This is a fascinating book. Shalit’s
thesis is that when we examine the psychology of Zionism, we find two parallel
but opposing trends. On the one hand, we see the hero, the warrior, the
pioneer, the fearless man of doing.
On the other hand, we see the shadow, the
dark side, the Diaspora-side, the weak and fearful. We came here with our
shadow. You see this dichotomy between the internal feeling of strength and
forcefulness, and on the other hand a terrible fear.
In order to properly understand Israeli
society and the sometimes strange responses in certain political circumstances,
we need to understand this terrible fear that is hidden within us.
Prof. Yoram Yovell, author and
psychoanalyst.
An outstanding psychological
study of one of the world’s most complicated and fraught political situations.
Monday, April 10, 2017
A Tale for Pesach
Abel Pann |
A legend tells us that at the very moment the children of Israel went into the Red Sea, Mount Moriah began to move from its place, along with the altar for Isaac that had been built upon it. The whole scene had been arranged before the creation of the world. Isaac was bound and placed upon the altar, and Abraham raised his knife.
Henri-Frederic Schopin |
Far away, at the Red Sea, God said to Moses, “Moses, My children are in distress, the sea is blocking their path and the enemy is pursuing them, and you stand so long praying?” Moses asked God, “What should I be doing?” God said, “Raise your staff!” Moses lifted his staff, the waters of the Red Sea parted, and on Mount Moriah the voice of the angel went forth and said to Abraham, “Do not raise your hand against the boy, or do anything to him” (Gen. 22: 12).
(A midrash from Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael)
The two events, the Parting of the Red Sea and the Binding of Isaac, do here not take place along the timeline of history, but are synchronistically juxtaposed.
In both cases, God tells his earthly representatives to raise the knife or staff:
In the one case, God asks Abraham to reaffirm their covenant by the sacrifice of the son. The actual deed of sacrifice to the gods is then exchanged for its symbolic representation, which is a significant stage in the process of civilization and acculturation.
In the other case, God tells Moses to stop praying and raise his staff, to do the actual deed of parting, of dividing, of differentiating the sides, which is an essential act of consciousness (separating this from that, for instance to know good from evil).
Both take place simultaneously. The one does not follow the other, and one does not take place at the exclusion of the other. The sacrifice, not as a concrete deed but as a meaningful reaffirmation of the transcendent dimension, beyond the acts of the ego, enables depth and soulfulness. However, consciousness and the actual deeds of humans in the realm of ego-reality, are equally necessary, and required for the manifestation of the soul.
The following are excerpts from the novella Requiem: A Tale of Exile and Return (also available in Hebrew as חזרה: סיפור של גלות ושיבה):
. . . .
Truth was, Shimeoni essentially agreed with Derrida on many points, such as his interpretation of Abraham’s covenant with God of circumcision.
The Divine Father’s archetypal scar inflicted by generations of fathers of the flesh on generations of consent-less Jewish boys seemed to Professor Shimeoni, as indeed to Derrida, to be a repetition-compulsion, rather than the profound internalization of memory.
Jacques Derrida |
“Does not compulsive repetition constitute the dangerous engine of fundamentalism?” he wondered, “in contrast to an enlightened process of internalized memory, in order to liberate the trauma.” Is this not the very opposite of that monumental cultural transition when the knife is taken out of Abraham’s hand, turning the actual, concrete sacrifice of Isaac into the acculturated representation by his Binding, the akedah?
The knife need not actually cut, in order for man to humbly bow before the transcendent image of God. Shimeoni adhered to Einstein’s view of God, as when he says that the religious attitude is the knowledge and emotion “of a knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty,” and when he expresses his belief in the God of Spinoza “who reveals himself in the orderly harmony of what exists, not in a God who concerns himself with the fates and actions of human beings.”
. . . .
Truly, he repeated to himself, the binding of Isaac signifies this striking cultural transition from literalness to symbolic representation.
God told Abraham there is no need for complete sacrifice, only a sacrifice of the complete (shalem), in order to be seen (yireh), to be recognized, to be named, to become completely human. He will suffice with sacrifice-by-proxy.
Rather than being trapped in the harsh reality of actual deed, reality can be transformed into images; rather than slaying the flesh of the son, the soul can expand by the creation of images that represent reality. By substituting the sacrificial animal for the actual son, the story of the akedah represents the separation of meaning from act, which is essential to culture and civilization.
But war is the destruction of representation and civilization, said Eli to himself, thereby arguing with Heraclitus that War is the Father of All. The tragedies on the battlefield are all too real and irreversible, and the essence of trauma of battle and war and Holocaust, is the loss of the representative symbol – all that remains is the hellish repetition of trauma.
Yosef Haim Yerushalmi |
But war is the destruction of representation and civilization, said Eli to himself, thereby arguing with Heraclitus that War is the Father of All. The tragedies on the battlefield are all too real and irreversible, and the essence of trauma of battle and war and Holocaust, is the loss of the representative symbol – all that remains is the hellish repetition of trauma.
. . . .
Nothing represents the loss of symbolization more than the survivor from hell who holds on to a dry slice of bread. In hell, there are no mirrors and no images, no images in the mirror, only the bare walls of suffocation. In the cruel reality of war, the knife is raised and the angels circle above, repeatedly descending, attempting to divert the hand that holds the knife from descending upon the son, until the angels have all gone, and the son is no longer bound but sacrificed, the knife ripping out the soul of life and Isaac laughs no more.
Chag Sameach! חג חרות שמח
Thursday, April 6, 2017
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