The Shadow and Literature

Introduction
The integration of the Humanities and the Social Sciences is an important theme in psychosynthesis as it has been in the Jungian tradition for many years. Roberto Assagioli himself had a classical education rich in the humanities as well as in the social sciences. The shadow is a topic which particularly lends itself to such an integration. I wish to consider the shadow, as conceptualized by Carl Jung, as an influence on the evolution of human consciousness as viewed through the lens of western literature, particularly the western literary genre, Dramatic Tragedy. Purification (catharsis), transformation, and spiritual awakening - themes common to Dramatic Tragedy - are very congruent with Roberto Assagioli's ideas about transformation.

The Shadow
Carl Jung saw the shadow as an archetype of the repressed, hidden side of the personality: the parts of experience that have not been integrated into the conscious ego structure. As the ego develops, it cannot integrate all of its experiences because they are too terrifying, too bizarre, too ugly, etc., to be tolerated. They are then banished to the unconscious, i.e., repressed, out of sight, out of mind. If the repressed material is not faced or confronted and in some way integrated into the conscious self later in life as normal steps in maturity, the danger exists of the self being controlled by the shadow.

The proper function of the shadow includes providing tension of opposition (reminiscent of Assagioli's "Balance and Synthesis of Opposites") through which the qualities of perseverance, creativity, perspective, and wisdom are acquired (this is sometimes called "soul making" by Jungians). Thus, the ability to grow toward wholeness, maturity, and generativity, in a word, toward a more evolved consciousness, is gained. Jung gave this human reality the name "shadow," but the experience of the phenomenon has been with us throughout our history.

Dramatic tragedy
The earliest emergence of tragedy as an art form appeared in the ancient Greek world, the Athens of Pericles and Aeschylus, in which the great forces, which the Greeks understood to be the Cult of Apollo (ordered and aesthetic mind and will, aligned with the light of the Transcendent) and the Cult of Dionysus (unfettered and eruptive emotion, aligned with the fertile, dark, chthonic powers of regenerative nature), contended for possession of the Greek soul. A common theme in tragedy, from Aeschylus (5th century BCE Greece) to Eugene O'Neill (20th century America), is the willful struggle of the human ego against greater powers with the failure, in most cases, to effect a balance, a harmony, or an integration of the powers resulting in tragic outcomes or consequences.

Shakespeare's Hamlet, one of the world's most famous tragic dramas, offers a good example. Hamlet, returning from school abroad, finds that his father, a Danish king, has been murdered by his brother, Hamlet's uncle, who has also seduced the Queen, Hamlet's mother, and has usurped the throne. Called upon to set things right, Hamlet is unable to act. His painful conflict and inaction, the eloquent presentation of which is the great literary achievement of the play, produces devastating results; all of the principals die along with several minor characters. The play provides a symbolic purging of the mental/emotional conflicts common to the human condition, the struggle to assume authority and to act decisively in an ambiguous world, but to do so with wisdom and moral propriety. (For an intelligent discussion of this interpretation of Hamlet, i.e., as a stage in spiritual development, see Jungian Robert Johnson's lovely 1991 book, Transformations).

My thesis in regard to the shadow and Dramatic Tragedy is that Dramatic Tragedy has performed the function of allowing a way for people of western civilization to rehearse our relationship with the collective shadow, to at least partially embrace our collective shadow material vicariously, through watching and participating emotionally in a tragic drama which is enacted in our presence. This vicarious experience of tragedy causes an emotional catharsis of terror and pathos and other feelings which is the value of tragedy, according to Aristotle in his famous discussion of tragedy in his Poetics. The experience of catharsis (katharsis or "purification") may open the possibility of taking a new attitude and intention (a metanoia, a "turning around") in relation to oneself, to the world, and to the Numinous (both Transcendent and Immanent) in our lives. Tragedy (and similar art forms) in its encounter with shadow contents offers, I believe, a psychological process involving healing, amelioration, purification, which is similar to some forms of psychotherapy. This seems to me to be a similar dynamic to the one which fairy tales, with their violent and terrifying characters, have provided for children for centuries, i.e., a way to symbolically and safely deal with the frightening mysteries and powers which live beyond ordinary daily life and ordinary waking consciousness.

The descent from the light into the darkness, the deep woods, the cave, the underworld, and the return into the light is a common theme in fairy tales. I am reminded of Assagioli's love for Dante Alighieri's allegory of transformation, The Divine Comedy, which recalls this theme. In tragedy, the theme is similar, but because of the overwhelming nature of the forces, both light and dark, the hero (the ego) is overwhelmed and tragedy unfolds. The conscious strives with the unconscious, the ego strives with the shadow, the cult of Apollo (ordered mind) strives with the cult of Dionysus (untethered emotion); the balance affects the individual's creativity, maturity and wisdom as well as the society's stability, health, and justice. These great stories and myths usually involve the issue of will with its problems and distortions.

Will
Will, that Apollonian quality that got us kicked out of the Garden of Eden in the Hebrew myth, has, like all other Platonic (read superconscious) qualities, a "high-road" version and a "low-road" version.

Hubris: The low-road version, hubris, is much warned against in all spiritual traditions as well as, by inference, in dramatic tragedy. Will is usually considered a masculine quality, but not gender-specific since both women and men can and do express it. According to Camile Paglia, tragedy is a vehicle designed to assist the masculine will to quit the low-road and to aspire to the high-road, to purify one's effort by dealing symbolically with one's fears and other repressed elements.

Alignment: The high-road version of the will, on the other hand, spiritual alignment, as it is sometimes called, involves aligning our personal will, with that of a Transpersonal Will (as implied in the Lords Prayer, "Thy will be done...") and doing it in the particular way that this task is understood in one's particular spiritual tradition. For example, it may look quite different depending upon the path or tradition one is pursuing-perhaps ascetic devotion, perhaps humanitarian service, perhaps aesthetic creation, perhaps liturgy or dance, etc. Alignment is one of the great contradictions of ego-consciousness; this is the level of consciousness at which most of us are identified at this point in our species' history, a solitary, independent self with conscious self-awareness. Yet, we are called upon to transcend this ego we have worked so hard to build.

Psychotherapy as a "tragic art" is the theme developed brilliantly by G. Kenneth Bradford in an article, "Tragedy and the art of questioning in depth psychotherapy" (in Humanistic Psychologist, Autumn 1989), about the issue of depth questioning in psychotherapy. Aletheia, the ancient Greek concept of truth revealed in self-disclosure or "unconcealing" is the goal of such an effort, he says. Following Nietzsche's development of the themes of Apollo and Dionysus in tragedy and his description of their power to address the human condition Bradford compares psychotherapy and tragedy:

Like tragedy, psychotherapy is involved in a questioning which seeks to bring pathos [associated with Dionysus] out into the open, to give it a voice (logos) [associated with Apollo], and to listen to it. Therapeutic questioning is an occasion of interrogating the yawning that gapes as one opens to the unknown. It occurs as one confronts one's ignorance and entertains that void. But an abyss can only be faced by coming to its edge and standing one's ground there. Nietzsche notes that this occasion is effected by an artistic jubilee, in which the two artistic deities of the Greeks, Apollo and Dionysus, ground and abyss, reason and passion, participate in a dynamic interchange to inspire and compose a work of art (p. 228).

As I researched and began to write about this artistic correspondence between tragedy and psychotherapy at this level of depth, I was reconnected with the feeling that we, that is, psychologists, therapists, healers, share a profound and venerable tradition in the collective human journey. I experienced a deep sense of gratitude about my work; I was reminded again that I am permitted to participate in a sacred process of purification, creation and reunion.

But can we, if we meet life in its light and dark sides, expect to live with meaning and passion? Meet and transform our shadow elements? Exercise goodwill? May we grow in wisdom and compassion, in soul and spirit? The wisdom of the great spiritual traditions seems to say "yes," as does the tradition of depth psychotherapy: we can grow in soul and spirit. It seems that we may also learn from the great tradition of tragedy as well as through other means to stay open to the shadow and to embrace and integrate it in our lives and our world. We may learn to cultivate the possibilities of living in a dynamic balance of the shadow and the light.

Shadow as Evil
Yet, there is a tendency to regard shadow as evil, particularly from Western religious perspectives. Steven Diamond, whose 1991 article, "Redeeming our Devils and Demons" (found in Zweig and Abrams' Meeting the Shadow), deals with psychology's struggle with the concept of evil. Following psychologist, Rollo May, Diamond resurrects the word "daimonic" to represent a more balanced idea of the "demonic." (This is the famous "Daimon of Socrates" which is now popular again due to James Hillman's recent book, The Soul's Code.) Diamond quotes Rollo May: "The daimonic is any natural function which has the power to take over the whole person. Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples. The daimonic can be either creative or destructive and is normally both... Our age is one of transition, in which the normal channels for utilizing the daimonic are denied; and such ages tend to be times when the daimonic is expressed in its most destructive form." Commenting now himself, Diamond goes on, These turbulent times force us to come face-to-face with the ugly reality of evil. For lack of a more psychologically accurate, integrating, and meaningful myth some people seize upon the timeworn symbol of the devil [demonic] to express their disturbing encounter with the destructive side of the daimonic [i.e., the shadow]...... The problem appears to lie in the split between good and evil promulgated by Western religious tradition, a rigid dualism that condemns the daimonic as being evil, and evil only. (pp. 183-4)

Conclusion

Indeed, it seems that literature, particularly Dramatic Tragedy, can be a powerful medium to help us move collectively in taking this step toward transformation. We in psychosynthesis can appreciate the depth of this since through the life and work of Assagioli, we have a close relationship with the life and work of his colleague, Carl Jung, and further, because through psychosynthesis we understand the spiritual power of transformation. "We must not," as a colleague of mine said recently, "allow ourselves to be mangled by the jaws of Either/Or." Let us remember Assagioli's "Balance and Synthesis of Opposites." We need both light and shadow, both Transcendence and Immanence in our spiritual journey.

Dennis Wynne is a co-founder of the Psychosynthesis Institute of Minnesota where he functions as a teacher, psychotherapist, mentor, and spiritual advisor. Dennis is a former English and History teacher. He has written extensively about the need for collaboration and integration among the humanities and the social sciences. His particular interests are in the area of social psychosynthesis. Dennis can be reached at: Address: 3320 1st Ave So., Minneapolis, MN 55408. Tel. # (612) 827-3173. E-mail: DWynne@aol.com